Inside a Stained-Glass Window, a Reminder of a Kansas Cathedral's Complicated Past

Years before I became a Catholic, Grace Cathedral, was my parish home. I knew Joe Thompson well. He was an amazing man and I was blessed by knowing him.

From the Kansas Reflector

By Torey Lightcap Dean, Grace Episcopal Cathedral

(I couldn't get the pictures illustrating the article to format properly but you may view them here.)

On Pentecost Sunday, May 28, Grace Episcopal Cathedral in Topeka unveiled and dedicated a set of three stained-glass windows on the inside of its north wall. It was a day almost five decades in the making, because in it essentially completed the process of restoring the stained glass lost to fire in 1975.

While the center image in the new windows beautifully depicts the moment of the Pentecost event, each of the flanking windows presents four historic “witnesses” of Pentecost down through the ages. Keen-eyed worshippers who know their local history may recognize among them the Rev. Joseph Allen Tinley Thompson.

Thompson, an ordained Episcopal deacon known to many as Joe, served both St. Simon the Cyrenian Episcopal Church and Grace Cathedral. His title of vicar at St. Simon’s was an unusual one for a deacon, but it reflected the care and love he gave the people of that congregation.

St. Simon’s was formally organized in 1886 as an Episcopal parish serving Black residents in the Topeka area. Founding members included James Guy (the first Black attorney to argue before the Ohio Supreme Court) whose legal practice was located at Constitution Hall. Invaluable research commissioned by our diocese demonstrates that like any church, St. Simon’s served its community through worship and education; participated as a member of the Episcopal Diocese of Kansas; and played host to ordinations, confirmations, weddings and funerals.

In other words, it faithfully lived up to its Christian vocation to be a helpful witness to the love of God in a world broken by its own devices, including the sins of what we today call systemic racism.

A crucial moment in Thompson’s ministry occurred in 1964, when then-bishop Edward Turner ordered St. Simon’s to be integrated with Grace Cathedral. Joe presided at the final meeting of the Bishop’s Committee on May 1. The minutes of that meeting capture the business atmosphere of a closing church — donating usable materials, balancing the ledger, sending memorial fund money. They conclude, as always: “There being no further business, the meeting was closed.”

The following Sunday, Joe helped bring the St. Simon’s flock to the cathedral. Some remain as beloved and vital members of our church.

Of course, it’s never as simple as just folding the tent and moving down the street.

A few years ago, at the urging of our present bishop, Grace Cathedral began the long, slow work of beginning to understand its own history with respect to race. Our relationship with St. Simon’s became a natural point of focus.

We heard firsthand from members of the Black community who spoke of their reception at the cathedral in 1964. By most accounts, it was uneven. Some talked about being regarded with unspoken skepticism and a neglectful chill. Some remembered learning how to navigate the system but steer clear of anything that felt aggressive. Others talked about being received at a congregation that seemed happy to have them. Memories are complicated; and churches, like people, can contain multitudes and contradictions.

It took some doing on the church’s part for us to be able to hear these stories, but when they came out, it finally felt like we were getting somewhere. As that happened, the idea of Joe Thompson being rendered in stained glass took on additional significance. Having him there to look down on us every time we met for worship reminded us of the long work ahead.

Pentecost is hailed as the day of birth for the church. Christians affirm that day as the coming of the Holy Spirit to “lead us into all truth.” There’s no shortcutting the process: For an institution to function at its best, it has to have regular times of critical self-reflection.

Joe died in 2003 at about the age of 97, the senior deacon of the diocese. As of this writing, he is but one of two honorary Canons of Grace Cathedral. Many of his exploits outside of churches (such as his investment in psychiatric social work, volunteering for the Boy Scouts and the American Cancer Society, being named President George H.W. Bush’s 835th “Point of Light,” and so on) have been detailed elsewhere.

Despite his accomplishments, it’s important to remember that people aren’t rendered in stained glass to collect more honors and plaudits. Rather, they’re meant to serve as illustrations and examples of the light of God shining through the stories of their lives.

I’m happy that among the luminaries of the faith commemorating Pentecost, we have someone in living memory who helps us remember our past — and who I’m sure would want us to set our minds on a better future.