I had just returned from a moving and spirit-filled three-day conference for women of color in ministry when I read in a social media post that Bishop Barbara Harris had been hospitalized. Immediately I offered up a prayer for her health and made a mental note to add her to the prayers during our worship service the next morning. When I got to the office that Monday, hurriedly I added her name to the prayer list in the church bulletin. Our prayer group lifted her in prayer by name when we gathered that Wednesday after we learned that Bishop Harris had been transferred to hospice care. My heart began to sink, as I contemplated the inevitable next announcement. I awoke on March 14th to the news that the beloved, accomplished, faith-inspiring leader in our Anglican Communion and my personal she-ro in the faith had died.

During my personal devotions that morning, I pondered on what an unusual Lent we seem to be having. Our country is battling a pandemic, houses of worship are closing in an effort to flatten the curve of COVID-19 and now Bishop Barbara Harris has died. How do we mourn the loss of this faithful woman in the midst of widespread illness? Why this loss and why now? While I do not have answers to any of these questions, I do know that nothing can separate us from the love of God, not illness and definitely not death. I found comfort in knowing that Bishop Harris is with our Loving Creator.

Throughout the day I scrolled through the numerous posts about her life and passing on social media. It warmed my heart to see so many touching tributes on Facebook and Instagram. I saw many treasured pictures and selfies of Bishop Harris, smiling with my friends and colleagues. In addition to everything else I felt about the passing of this phenomenal woman, I must admit that a small part of me was envious of my friends because I never had the opportunity to meet my she-ro. I had but admired her greatly from afar.

When Bishop Barbara Harris was ordained and consecrated as the first female bishop in the Anglican Communion on February 11, 1989, I was ten years old and totally unaware of the history that had been made. I did not comprehend the magnitude of that moment and what it would come to mean for women called to ordained ministry.

Growing up in a predominantly Caribbean Episcopal parish, I had only ever known male priests and bishops. I was aware that women priests existed but to see a woman, a black woman, in a mitre was life changing! As I grew older, I came to appreciate how very special this woman must have been to be called by her community where no other black woman had ever gone before. I recall the first time I saw a photo of Bishop Harris. She was smiling in this photo. She was someone who looked like me, black and female; and she was a Bishop.

Like Bishop Harris I grew up in the Episcopal Church and was very active in various church activities from a young age. I served as a youth lay reader, I taught Sunday School and served on the vestry. It was not until I was in my mid-thirties, however that my call to ordained ministry became clear, that I experienced what Bishop Harris described in her memoir, the wonder that God could really be calling me, someone who is both black and female, to this holy work. Bishop Harris acknowledged her doubts and overcame them, walking by faith and trusting in God on the new journey that was the episcopacy. She walked ahead and led the way for me into the priesthood.

At the end of my first of year of ordained ministry, Bishop Harris released her memoir, Hallelujah, Anyhow! I am an avid reader, and I could not wait to get my hands on a copy. As I started reading her inspirational life story, I smiled at the very beginning as Bishop Harris shared how much hymns had permeated her life. I found comfort in the knowledge that just as hymns have deep meaning to me, they were forms of prayer for this great woman of God, and some of the hymns she quoted were some of my personal favorites. I had never met her, nor taken a selfie with her, but as I read her memoir, Bishop Barbara Harris became my friend, at least in my mind.

Becoming the “first” of anything across racial and gender barriers is a daunting task under normal circumstance. Becoming the first woman bishop, as well as the first Black woman bishop in a predominantly white denomination raises the bar exponentially! I appreciated Bishop Harris’ openness in her description of what it was like for her from the nominating process to consecration and in her ministry for the rest of her life. It takes a certain balance of vulnerability, grace and personal strength to withstand and overcome vitriolic opposition to something that God has ordained.

In reading her memoir and other reflections, it became clear to me that Bishop Harris never took one minute of her call or her ministry for granted. She trusted in the God who called and equipped her with the necessary tools to serve humbly not only in the Diocese of Massachusetts but in the church at large. Her witness and passionate activism against injustice, prejudice, oppression and exclusion serves as a testimony and reminder to all lay and ordained ministers of the church that we have a responsibility to do the work Jesus calls us to do, to love our neighbor. To love our neighbor truly is to serve as advocates for those who have no voice, power or privilege. To love our neighbor truly is to put our call to provide for the poor, unhoused, and destitute ahead of our desire for material comforts.

As I reflect on what I would want to accomplish during my ministry, I am encouraged by the life of Bishop Harris. Her grace and tenacity in the face of opposition and institutionalized racism are testaments to the perfect love of our Savior, Jesus Christ. The life of Bishop Barbara Harris reminds us that God moves in God’s own time. The timing of her ordination and consecration as bishop was according to God’s time. Through her work and ministry, the door is opened for many women bishops who have followed the path she initiated. The Episcopal Church, including the House of Bishops looks different because Bishop Harris took the first steps to make it so. Since that beautiful day in February 1989 the Episcopal Church has welcomed more than 20 women bishops, including its first female, and its first African-American presiding bishops. Through God’s hand at work in the life and ministry of Bishop Harris, not only are doors open to the episcopacy, but women of color, women like me, like the women in your families and communities now envision our response to the call to ordained ministry, as lay leaders, deacons, priests and bishops and even deans of seminaries.

The Episcopal Church has lost a giant, a great she-ro but the legacy of Bishop Barbara C. Harris is very much alive! Her mark on the life and ministry of the church is indelible. I call Bishop Harris my she-ro, and, I hope she would not have minded that title, because she modeled for me what it means to be a disciple of Christ. Jesus did not follow the status quo, but turned everything on its head, putting the least and the last first, acting fearlessly in loving those whom humanity deemed unworthy of God’s love and grace. Bishop Harris preached what I preach constantly to my congregation, that no one is beyond the love of God. God’s love and compassion is big enough for everyone.

I count it a treasure and blessing to have lived during the lifetime and ministry of Bishop Barbara C. Harris in the Anglican Communion. I count it all joy to have her life as a reminder also to many women that God “does not choose us because we are finished instruments, but God reshapes and remolds us.” We may not have all the answers, but we trust that God will give us the tools and resources we need to do the work of God. The work of servanthood and discipleship is not easy but then again Jesus never promised it would be easy.

I can rejoice that Bishop Harris is now a part of that great cloud of witnesses after having served God and God’s people obediently, diligently, with a fierce love and commitment. As the church we can lift our voice and joyfully sing the words of Henry Alford:

The strife is o’er, the battle done, the victory of life is won;
The song of triumph has begun.
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!