Proselytizing for a very politicized faith, fundamentalist Christians and right-wing Roman Catholics have claimed they are being barred from bringing “religious liberty” to the “public square.” In famously secular Seattle, however, Catholics and Mainstream Protestants and Jews have taken to public streets, raising issues of peace and justice in that public square.
People of faith have marched the 1.46 miles from St. Mark’s to St. James Cathedrals in protest against Gulf Wars I and II, decrying gun violence, in support of LGBTQ rights and immigrants who work hard and play by the rules.
The spotlight this month is on retirement of longtime St. James pastor Fr. Michael Ryan. At the cathedral helm for 37 years and a galvanizing force for collaboration by faith communities, and a welcoming, inclusive Catholicism. Not happy at election of the dogmatic, discipline-minded Pope Benedict XVI, Ryan embraced the humane papacy of Pope Francis.
In a tribute spoken from the cathedral pulpit by Rabbi Danny Weiner of Temple De Hirsch Sinai, Ryan has been “a prophetic speaker of truth to power,” a loving pastor, and convener of “a community of faith leaders who have helped find a path forward in turbulent times.”
The ties across doctrinal and denominational lines run deep. The Very Rev. Steve Thomason, dean at St. Mark’s, received a warm welcoming letter from Ryan even before arriving here 12 years ago. (By contrast, the Episcopal Bishop of California was pointedly excluded from the installation of arch-conservative San Francisco Archbishop Salvatore Cordeleone.) “My wife and I consider ourselves part of your extended flock,” Thomason joked in another pulpit tribute. Similar sentiments issued from Weiner: “I don’t know many Catholic clergy whom a rabbi’s wife would view as a spiritual adviser.”
What has made for a bridging of doctrinal differences? The best capsule answer came from the late Seattle Archbishop Raymond Hunthausen, subjected to a hostile investigation by the Vatican. “Dutch” Hunthausen spoke of “the primacy of love” in religious teachings should get primacy over “the power of law and discipline.”
Ecumenical bonds in Seattle date to the 1960s when a KOMO-TV show featured Rabbi Levine, Fr. Tracey, and Dale Turner bringing the good news to “unchurched” Seattle. Similarly, Jesuits from St. Joseph’s joined Episcopal brethren at St. Mark’s for an annual Thanksgiving Eucharist.
But events of recent times have stressed these longstanding bonds. St. Mark’s has championed the Palestinian cause, fraying relations with some in the Jewish community. The Episcopal Church has embraced marriage equality and LGBTQ clergy, while Catholic bishops campaigned against same-sex marriage. Future Seattle Mayor Ed Murray, a devout Catholic (and Ryan friend), tied the knot with longtime partner Michael Shiosaki at a eucharist at St. Mark’s.
But old ties have undergone renewal. “We find the common ground to still be in a relationship,” said Thomason. The key grounds: a shared sense of justice, alarm at spreading violence, and spiritual needs in a secular society. St. Mark’s and a smaller Episcopal Epiphany Parish have adopted a common mantra: “No matter where you are in your spiritual journey, you have a place here.”
The two cathedrals and Temple De Hirsch Sinai offered a different common ground as President Trump took office in 2017 — welcoming immigrants and offering sanctuary to refugees. In years since, push back against Trump-MAGA excess has become a unifying beacon of faiths in Seattle.
St. Mark’s sheltered an undocumented immigrant, long in the country, during Trump I. St. James, likewise a sanctuary, has a long-established immigrant-assistance program. In an memorable evening, keyed to consequences of turning away refugees, Weiner invited two Holocaust survivors to Temple De Hirsch. They delivered a schooling in how authoritarian regimes take power.
Gun violence has also been a galvanizing issue. After the Sandy Hook massacre of first graders in Connecticut, and again following the killing of 50 patrons of a gay nightclub in Orlando, more than 900 people marched between cathedrals, and LGBTQ leaders read scripture from the pulpit of the Catholic cathedral.
The faith community birthed and nurtured the gun-safety movement which, reaching around a hesitant Legislature, went the initiative route to require background checks of firearms purchasers, and voters have since approved two further initiatives. The Alliance for Gun Responsibility now has an annual luncheon with a bidding contest of technology brass. The marches and homilies — especially powerful preaching by Ryan, Weiner and Thomason — made it happen.
The religious right has pursued a transactional strategy with Trump. President Trump put it bluntly to conservative Catholics, as he morphed from pro-choice to anti-abortion, by saying: “I will be there for you.”
Trump has delivered his part of the bargain. Trump-appointed Supreme Court Justices overturned Roe v. Wade. They have affirmed “religious liberty” — defined as allowing businesses to discriminate against LGBTQ customers and spurn contraception coverage in health care plans. In turn, the righteous right have studiously ignored Trump’s lifestyle and lies. The nation’s Catholic bishops have turned down the volume on advocacy for immigrant rights.
A very different message has come from the pulpit here, witness words a Ryan homily last Sunday: “The endless mutual giving and receiving of love within the Godhead makes it possible to love God and love one another. It puts community at the heart of everything.”
Ryan continued, “People coming together on common ground, finding common purpose, seeking the common good. Community is the only remedy — the only remedy — for the hatred, violence, intolerance, and selfish individualism that are tearing our nation and our world apart at this very time.”
As a result of Ryan’s “extended flock,” the faith community here punches above its weight. Seattle used to be home of a discreet bigotry, from no-Jews covenants in exclusive neighborhoods to redlining against loans to Black buyers. Two African-American congregations — the First A.M.E. and Mt. Zion Baptist Churches — worked to end housing discrimination. They were helped by the Catholic Interracial Council. The Church Council of Greater Seattle drew a line against redlining.
A few years back, the Church Council warmly welcomed a retired Archbishop Hunthausen when he came over from home-state Montana to dedicate a statue of St. John XXIII in the nave at St. James. (Ryan was ordained to the priesthood in Rome during the Second Vatican Council.) The Archdiocese of Seattle was largely silent about the Hunthausen visit.
Life as a symbol of authority must not be easy in a region that questions authority. Archbishop J. Peter Sartain recorded videos opposing same-sex marriage as the state prepared to vote in 2012, while Catholics for Marriage Equality fielded 500 demonstrators on the grounds of St. James. Sartain was point man in a Vatican bid to rein in “feminist tendencies” in America’s largest organization of Catholic women. Hundreds gathered for weekly “Support the Sisters” rallies on the cathedral steps.
The late Archbishop Alexander Brunett summed up cathedral-chancery relations in showing me his new office: “The window over there lets me keep an eye on Fr. Ryan.” It was not easy being such a charismatic and beloved pastor in a hierarchical bureaucracy such as the Catholic Church.
And there is the legendary “Seattle way” of making changes. Authority is dispersed. In words of former St. Mark’s dean, the Very Rev. Fred Northup, “This is a city in which everybody gets consulted about everything.”
Catholic laity loved Hunthausen, so much that Rome retreated from plans to strip the archbishop of authority. The openness of Huntausen was celebrated in the community, but was faulted in Rome as “weak doctrinal leadership” — the clerical equivalent of not being a company man. Hunthausen’s doctrinal sins included permitting Dignity, an organization of LGBTQ Catholics, to close a conference with mass at St. James.
Mike Ryan would be bishop of a large diocese in any competently run church. But, as chancellor of the archdiocese under Hunthausen, such advancement was not to be. Instead, Ryan revitalized and renovated St. James, creating a ministry of great music and preaching with passion and brevity. He baptized, married, blessed, and buried — all while serving the community as a convener and progressive force in the national church.
Father Mike Ryan has, in Weiner’s words, “helped us find a path in turbulent times.” Naturally, Ryan kicks the credit upstairs, saying the path should lead to “God’s utter trustworthiness and dependability.” Ryan has become an indispensable anchor of faith in a town known for weak church ties.
A version of this article also appears in Cascadia Advocate.
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