Following is a lightly edited transcript of opening remarks by House of Deputies President Julia Ayala Harris to the Executive Council of The Episcopal Church, meeting Feb. 17-19 in Linthicum Heights, Maryland.
Presiding Bishop Rowe, members of Executive Council, our companion church partners, churchwide staff, and distinguished guests:
We gather in a moment that demands not just courage and clarity, but prophetic imagination. The winds of change are not merely shifting the world around us—they are calling us to reimagine who we are as leaders in Christ’s church. Like the disciples in that storm-tossed boat, we might see only the threatening waves. But Christ calls us to look deeper, to recognize that in times of upheaval, transformation takes root—even when the journey seems uncertain.
The path before us echoes with sacred stories both ancient and new. Growing up in Chicago’s multicultural Mexican Catholic community, I saw from a young age how the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe transformed ordinary spaces into sanctuaries of hope. Her face—on kitchen altar cloths, in storefront murals, tucked into worn wallets—spoke of a God who sees the forgotten and lifts up the lowly. She appeared not to the powerful or the rich but to Juan Diego, one deemed insignificant and unimportant by the world’s standards. This witness reveals that God’s transformative work often begins at the margins, just as Mary proclaimed in her Magnificat.
Guadalupe’s image transformed the margins into places of sacred hope, and just as the voices of justice have called us to pay attention to transformation where the world least expects it—so, too, must we, as church leaders, shape our governance not as gatekeepers of an institution, but as stewards of a movement led by the Spirit. This is our sacred charge.
As I address Executive Council today, I speak not just to a governing body, but to the heart of our church’s witness in the world. Our decisions here ripple through the life of every diocese, every congregation, every seeker who is looking to The Episcopal Church
right now as a beacon of radical welcome and transformative love. As we make decisions about resource allocation and policy, we directly influence the capacity of our congregations to serve their communities—whether that’s supporting a food pantry in Appalachia, sustaining a ministry with immigrant families in Los Angeles, or enabling a small parish in Puerto Rico to rebuild after a natural disaster. This is not mere administration—it is a deeply sacramental act of stewarding God’s mission in our time.
We are in what Scripture calls a kairos moment—a time when divine purpose intersects with human decision. The forces that fragment our world into echo chambers of fear and division call us to embody a different way of being—one that mirrors the boundary-crossing, table-expanding love that we see in Jesus. Our baptismal promises are not abstract vows but concrete commitments that shape our governance, these roles in which we’ve been elected by our people to serve. When we promise to “seek and serve Christ in all persons” and “strive for justice and peace,” we are describing not just personal discipleship but institutional responsibility.
The baptismal waters that marked us as Christ’s own forever bind us to the promise that transcends political moments and institutional anxieties. Paul reminds us that our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the powers that would divide and diminish God’s beloved community. This spiritual wisdom calls us to resist not people but the dividing forces of fear, exclusion, and indifference that corrupt our common life.
We see this in the commitment embodied in our church’s decision to stand with our faith partners in protecting houses of worship as sanctuaries of welcome. This is not about politics—it is about embodying Christ’s radical hospitality in our very structures and policies. The Gospel compels us to welcome the stranger, to care for the vulnerable, and to ensure that all who seek spiritual sanctuary can do so freely.
And my friends, if we fail to lead with courage, we risk not just stagnation, but irrelevance. If we fail to structure our church in alignment with our values, we risk losing the trust of those who need us most.
In this work, we are blessed by Presiding Bishop Rowe’s prophetic leadership. He reminds us that governance and mission are two expressions of the same divine calling. But this work is not his alone—it’s for all of us. As Executive Council, we have the responsibility not just to respond to his leadership, but together, to shape, to support, and to sustain a long-term vision for our church, ensuring that our governance empowers dioceses to be the hands and feet of Jesus in their communities.
So as we turn to the matters before us—from stewarding our resources to deepening our missional commitments—each agenda item represents an opportunity to demonstrate what faithful leadership looks like in a fractured world. This is the work before us—not just to talk about justice, but to structure our church in such a way that makes it real. Not just to name our values, but to ensure they shape how we steward resources, how we lead our dioceses, how we create bodies and policies that embody the Gospel.
The world yearns for a Christianity that bears witness to Jesus’ transformative love and redeeming power—a faith that chooses bridge-building over wall-building, understanding
over accusation, justice over complacency. This witness begins here, in how we deliberate, in how we disagree, in how we discern together the movement of the Spirit.
So, my friends, we must not ground ourselves in procedure alone, but in deep prayer and prophetic imagination. As Guadalupe appeared to Juan Diego with a vision of hope, as Mary sang a song of God’s justice transforming the world, may the work we do here herald that same divine promise—that through faithful leadership and courageous action, God is indeed making all things new. I pray that every decision we make reflects not just who we are, but who God is calling us to become.
Thank you for your faithful service to this church we love so very much. May the God who calls us to make all things new—who turns valleys of dry bones into gardens of hope—bless and guide our work together.
