“Family Chat”
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
August 3, 2025
the Rev. Jonathan Hanneman
To watch the full service, please visit this page.
My summer has been uniquely bad. For much of it, I’ve been in significant physical pain. What the doctor and I initially assumed was a simple inflammation turned out to be an abscess that, even after appropriate treatment, somehow grew into a bone infection. So far, it’s required two hospitalizations, three surgeries (one of which included a bone biopsy), an active PICC line, and, hopefully, only six weeks of hardcore, self-injected antibiotics every eight hours. While I’m moving around better day by day, I both remain physically tired and recognize that I’m not functioning at my best mentally, either.
All of this has taken place during Shannon’s summer break from the school district, so rather than spending time rejuvenating before another intense school year supporting special needs students, she’s needed to take on all my normal chores, including daily care and upkeep for our various animals and tending to more than a dozen young trees and shrubs I planted in our front yard this past spring. While I’m deeply grateful for her help throughout the time, it’s hard to express how frustrating it is to watch my best friend—the person I most want to support and take care of—wearing themself out trying to keep up with work that really shouldn’t be their responsibility while not being able to assist them in any substantive way.
On top of that, during the first hospitalization, Titan, our roughly 15-year-old dog, whom we adopted when he was a few months old, decided he didn’t want to eat if I wasn’t the one feeding him. He was fine again once I returned home, but soon after, a mysterious bug bite on his nose lead to a major infection that took a severe toll on his little body, which was slightly heavier than my weight limit restrictions. The vet prescribed medicine that helped him recover from the illness, but whatever the trouble was caused too much damage for his system to bounce back. On Monday, he died, which means I’m also incredibly sad.
Work-wise, I’ve been doing my best to keep up with email, sermon studies, meetings, and other pressing issues from home. Shannon and I are both deeply appreciative of everyone who’s offered and provided support throughout this mess. I’m also incredibly thankful for Mother Jeanne Lutz, Deacon Phil Runge, Deacon Anne Turrie, Senior Warden Norman Duttweiler, and seminarian Nancy Gregory for picking up the slack I keep dropping all over the place. But that said, imagine my excitement upon finally returning to the office this past Wednesday only to be greeted with rumors of how I’m trying to slip away from St. Andrew’s so I can “take over” at St. James’, ongoing murmurings regarding a private event the church hosted earlier this year, and a letter reaming me out for perceived political affronts in one of Presiding Bishop Sean Rowe’s published statements.
I had been managing decently well throughout this all, but on an already deeply compromised emotional system, that last one broke me. So this morning, instead of a sermon, we’re going to have a family chat, of sorts, one in which we’re all going to have to deal with the parish priest not as a religious icon or authoritative figurehead or the tacit subject of everyone’s projected concerns but as a plain old, very raw, and very human being.
So, for starters, no, I’m not leaving St. Andrew’s, nor have I had any real plans to do so since I started here in October of 2021. I have not been using all this “time off” to conspire with St. James’ or any other congregation about sneaking away for some sort of better deal. I have, as I said, been quite sick. St. James’ has indeed asked me to cover a few early services for them this summer—none of which have taken place on a weekend I wasn’t also at St. Andrew’s. And I am helping them, because (a) they’re our local sister church and currently lack official clergy support, (b) I have to drive past their building to make it to St. Andrew’s in the first place, (c) our summer schedule allows for me to cover an 8:00 service over there without impinging on my time here, and (d) it’s literally no extra work beyond what I normally provide the majority of the year—same sermons, same liturgy, same everything.
I’m happy to continue doing what I do for and at St. Andrew’s, and I’m happy to help St. James’ as well. I have no interest in moving or starting over elsewhere—even just across town. I love our people. I love our Diocese. I love the Church. I want to see us all grow and thrive and prosper.
Moving on to issues of discord and discontent, I recognize that not everyone will be happy with everything that I or others in the congregation do, actively support each and every ministry of the parish, or even approve of all activities that take place in different portions of the complex. In general, Anglican bodies attempt to balance our practices and relationships in light of Scripture, Reason, and Tradition. In the American (Episcopalian) branch of that global Communion, we express that commitment by seeking unity in and through Jesus Christ, setting aside constant and often abrasive demands for uniformity of thought or appearance or behavior. This may be our greatest gift to the wider body of Christ. It’s certainly our greatest challenge. Working to understand and accept differences, whether they be theological, social, or whatever, is hard—for everyone involved.
You may not like everything I or we do here. You may not like much of what I have to say. You may not like me—or someone sharing a pew with you right now—as an individual person. And that’s okay. Just know that any pressure or judgment you feel regarding taking part in activities you don’t approve of is coming from inside yourself. I’m happy to have people involved in anything with which they feel comfortable participating. I am happy to support anyone as they create new ministries that reach out to branches of our greater Las Cruces community, no matter if I’m personally familiar with or even particularly interested in the cause. To draw from our collective Baptismal Covenant,[1] I want you to “proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.” I want us to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving [our] neighbor[s] as [ourselves].” I long for each of us as individuals and all of us as a parish to comprehend and fully embrace our pledge to “strive for justice and peace among all people…respect[ing] the dignity of every human being.”
But how that plays out may not always look exactly how any one person might expect. Each of us needs to allow others space to live and serve, just as we ourselves would desire that same gift. But that means we also need to accept that our personal preferences or pieties do not override or veto other peoples’ expressions or commitments to love and serve parties outside of those whom any single one of us might approve. I will never demand that you participate in things that make you uncomfortable or challenge your conscience. However, no individual does or will always get to maintain everything the way they might desire. But this isn’t just an issue unique to St. Andrew’s or the Episcopal Church. If something within a person demands control over others, there is no path that can lead them to contentment or peace—here or anywhere else.
Finally, we come to politics and anticipated biases and stances. I want everyone to hear this very clearly and to know—really, really know—that as your priest, from the absolute depths of my heart, I DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR POLITICAL LEANINGS AND PREFERENCES. I genuinely don’t. I certainly have my own opinions as a private citizen, but as your priest, your political viewpoints are neither my primary nor my active concern. Vote for whomever you want. Support whatever policies inspire you. You’re a free, independent individual. It doesn’t matter if I agree. It doesn’t matter if I approve. It doesn’t even matter if I know! My vow as your priest, which I take very, very seriously, is to care for you, you the individual and you as a whole, whether or not I’m super fond of everything about you as a person. My job is not to judge, nor is my role to condemn. My primary object is to guide us, to the best of my ability, in pathways that lead toward a truer and clearer reflection of God’s nature and character.
Over the past few years, I’ve had people from our congregation chide me because I don’t take a strong enough stance on a variety of policy issues. I’ve also had people threaten and rage at me for pushing what they interpret as political agendas. So as I stated last fall, when I preach, I do not draw my sermons from national news or parrot whatever broadcaster or party it is that you currently hate. Rarely do I intend to address current political issues; when I do, it’s because public figures are openly deceiving people, proclaiming that God demands exclusive support for whatever their cause may be. Rather, what I am looking at and attempting to address are our Bible texts.
I spend a significant amount of time trying to identify and strip away centuries of bad or abusive theology we and others have shellacked onto the Bible, working to understand what the author may have been trying to say as it applied to what we know about their geographic and temporal context, and then struggling to communicate those core truths in a way that makes sense for our world today. I do my best to avoid unnecessary conflict, but it’s very possible any one of you may find something I say offensive on any given day. So let me be clear: I am not and have not been targeting you as an individual. I am not attempting to defile your pet cause. I am not trying to manipulate your vote or twist or disgrace your human allegiances. As I said before, any conflict or challenge you may perceive is a battle taking place within your own self. What I am attempting is to explain for us, God’s Images and God’s Children, how we might more appropriately reflect God’s loving, merciful, and generous nature in whatever situations we may find ourselves.
If what I say stings, or if what you hear from one of our Bible readings burns, that sensation has a name: “conviction.” It’s one of the functions of the Holy Spirit, a warning to slow down and take a closer look at oneself: something in your life—something you hold dear, maybe even something you’ve embraced as a core identity—is not lining up with God’s character, expectations, or desires. Your heart can feel it, and it’s a dangerous phenomenon to ignore. That discomfort is not my attempt to goad or pick on you; it’s God urging you toward growth and change. Only you can recognize the discrepancy between your current choices and what or where God is pointing you. The change you need to undertake will, in all likelihood, also be known only to you! If anyone wants support or guidance working through things, I’m happy to meet and explore issues and concerns with whoever would like support or guidance. But know that even then, there’s very little chance I’m going to tell someone exactly what they need to do. Just as it is not my task to judge, it is not my capacity to dictate God’s specific will. That’s something each individual needs to work out directly with God.
I realize this has been long and, likely, at least as uncomfortable for you as it has been for me. I am sorry for that. I also wish I could tie all this more directly into today’s Bible readings. At the same time, I don’t want to give false weight or imagined authority to what I’ve had to say. I’m not looking for pity or commiseration; I don’t need anyone to try to coddle me or fix my problems or make me feel better.
What I would like is for us all to make an effort to be more compassionate toward one another and at least attempt more open, functionally adult dialog. I’m also hoping that we all can do and be better going forward: forcing fewer demands on one another and living as kindly as we can, both within the Church and out in the community. Simple kindness covers 99.9+% of the Christian life! We need to set aside the stories we tell ourselves about each other and instead work to engage with one another in deeper, healthier ways.
We are one body, united in Jesus’ anointing. History has placed us in a challenging and confusing time. Working our way forward together is hard enough; there’s no need to weigh one another down with extra burdens and imagined slights. The only hope any of us have of making it through these days is by working together. My hope is that you’ll allow me to continue walking with you.
[1] Book of Common Prayer, 1979, pg. 305