A Canterbury tale

The Rt. Rev. V. Gene Robinson, the first openly gay bishop in the Episcopal Church, is in England this week speaking at churches and advocating for gay rights. As you may have read in Rachel Zoll’s AP story, he was interrupted by an angry protester Sunday while preaching at a church in southwest London. Robinson, […]

The Rt. Rev. V. Gene Robinson, the first openly gay bishop in the Episcopal Church, is in England this week speaking at churches and advocating for gay rights. As you may have read in Rachel Zoll’s AP story, he was interrupted by an angry protester Sunday while preaching at a church in southwest London.

Robinson, describes the emotional scene from his pulpit-eye view on his blog here.

“As I began to preach, this youngish man with long hair and long sideburns, carrying a motorcycle helmet, stood and began to point his finger at me and scream, “Heretic! Repent!”


It was a surreal moment. Of course we knew that something like this might happen. But you can’t really adequately prepare for the reality of it.

My first, fleeting thought was, “What’s going to happen next? Is he carrying something in that helmet? Is this going to be more than angry words?” But almost immediately, I found myself profoundly sorry for this young man. After he had been removed, and the hymn ended (the congregation had sung a hymn to drown out his shouting), when I asked the congregation to “pray for that man,” I was nearly overwhelmed with sadness. All I could think about was that place in his heart which must be filled with such darkness, a place that was meant to be filled with loved, but because of whatever had happened in his life, whoever he has been associating with, it was filled with hate. Someone had to TEACH him to hate like that. He didn’t learn it on his own. For a moment or two, I was nearly overwhelmed by my sense of sadness for him. The tears in my eyes and the crack in my voice were for this child of God who, I suspect, has experienced so much pain and unhappiness in his life.

And then, on with the sermon. Though everyone seemed to appreciate it, it was not my best, and my timing felt off. I meant what I was saying, and it was all true, but I was distracted-wondering if there were plans for further interruptions by possible collaborators in the heckling, still feeling the sadness, and absorbing the trauma of what had just happened. “

Donate to Support Independent Journalism!

Donate Now!