On the Feast of St. Kevin of Glendalough, nineteen years ago today, June 3, 2006, I was consecrated to the episcopacy and made a bishop within the Free Catholic tradition. It was a day marked by equal measures of challenge and grace, shadow and blessing.
The truth is, the day itself was not wrapped in unbroken joy. It was full of hard work, frustration, and the kind of disappointment that only becomes clear in hindsight. Looking back now, I can see in it a foreshadowing of what was to come, the complexities, the heartbreaks, the holy struggles that would shape my years in the Independent Sacramental Movement. But that is not the whole story.
What unfolded that day was also a profound gift.
Consecration was not something I went searching for. In fact, I had turned it down several times before. I was wary, and rightly so. In those days, bishops had a habit of appearing with agendas tucked beneath their vestments, eager to pass on lineage, influence, or ego more than responsibility. If truth be told, I’m not convinced the office was seeking me out either. More than once, I managed to slip out from beneath an episcopal hand just before the “magic words” were spoken, which, depending on your sense of humor, spared me from being turned into a bishop, or perhaps something far less dignified. Between the two, I might have preferred being turned into a frog. Frogs at least retain their authenticity and, as a bonus, are not required to wear a silly pointed hat.
But on that particular feast day, something different happened. I was not simply consecrated; I was commissioned. I was entrusted with forming the Ecumenical Free Catholic Communion, an independent jurisdiction within the Independent Sacramental Movement, shaped by the Free Catholic tradition. It was a charge I did not seek but one I received with sincerity, reverence, and a deep sense of responsibility.
And while there were, undeniably, agendas at play, some sincere, some misguided, the moment itself transcended them. The call placed upon me that day became, in time, a source of immense blessing. It set in motion the spiritual lineage that would eventually grow into the Sacramental Community of the Coworkers of Christ. It opened doors I did not know I needed to walk through. It pushed me toward the contemplative and prophetic ministry that has come to define my life.
So yes, June 3, 2006 was complicated. It bore the weight of politics, personality, and human frailty. But it also bore the unmistakable imprint of grace. It was a day that gave me both wounds and wisdom. A day that taught me to walk more humbly and love more deeply. A day that, despite everything, remains a turning point in my journey.
And that, too, is worth remembering.
In Christ,
+B