Father Thomas McKenzie: In Memoriam

something a little different, and more somber. remembering the life of  father thomas mckenzie, priest of my nashville church.

father mckenzie offering drive-thru communion during the pandemic, no matter the weather

In his Lenten devotional book, Father Thomas McKenzie described people who petitioned the Desert Fathers of the church for a "word" - a proverb, a piece of teaching, an insight. While I never got to know Father McKenzie personally (apart from a singular luncheon at his favorite restaurant, Baja Burrito), I've benefited from being a receiver of his word for nearly my entire college career. 

It was freshman year, and I was seeking a church home in my new town, perhaps the most surprisingly difficult part of college life. After a brief stint attending an Eastern Orthodox church, I returned to Church of the Redeemer, which I had visited a couple years before. Ashamedly, I had first visited in hopes of seeing a certain Nashville celebrity, but what drew me back this time was someone different. I had gone to church my whole life, but only one person had really made me listen. And that person was Father Thomas McKenzie. 

That's because Thomas was a master of sermon form. Every one began with a story from his personal experience. He had the double gift of both remembering large swaths of his life in great detail and pulling insights out of it years later. These stories ranged from wearing mildew-soaked t-shirts, finding a skeleton in a desert wash (at least, I think he did that), to blowing up a gas station (which he definitely did, though accidentally.) These stories were of course a not-so-subtle way of ushering us into his sermon, but as many times as he said "...and to do that, I'll need to tell you a story about..." it never got old. Buoyed by a single glass of water - and no notes - Thomas consistently called the hearts of his parish into God's kingdom every week. He spoke clearly and with conviction - never was it insincere, and his points were organized enough to be evident, yet natural enough to feel like a regular conversation. To me, his most memorable sermon was on Isaiah 42:3, in which he revealed the character of Christ and challenged me to extend more grace to others. I'm not alone in saying this, but he truly was my favorite person to hear the Gospel from. 

Because that was really what it was all about. His conversations, his sermons, his life. No matter whether he was speaking from Ezekiel or John, you could expect each sermon to end in the same place: the Gospel. As a storyteller himself, Father Thomas would trace each idea back to the story he most truly believed in. And by returning to Christ again and again each week, Father Thomas was steadily directing attention away from himself and to the Gospel. Despite writing a definitive book on Anglicanism, despite being the charismatic leader of a healthy church, he somehow kept his head and shunned his pride. 

And beyond that, he just made being a priest cool. He was all in - I think I only saw him once not wearing his white collar, and he could throw Christmas trees into the annual bonfire and make humorous quips with equal ease and charisma. He loved the vastness of the desert and the intricacies of popular movies. He was not a priest sacred and removed from his congregation, but instead one of the most understanding allies willing to go right through the messiness of ordinary life with anyone who asked.

Despite going to a Christian college, Father Thomas and his ministry were my main source of spiritual growth and pretty much the only thing keeping college from being the period of spiritual drought that it often threatened to be. I was always a little disappointed whenever Father Thomas would go on sabbatical since it meant I wouldn't get to hear from him for a while. And as he now enters his Sabbath Rest, it's hard to imagine not receiving more of his bold, witty, and insightful words for the rest of this earthly life. 

if you'd like to know more about father thomas, you can hear one of his best easter sermons here, and the gas station story here.