He is the first gay Episcopal bishop of Connecticut. He reminds people, ‘God loves you completely.’ – Hartford Courant

The Rev. Jeffrey Mello had wanted to be a priest since he was a boy growing up in Cranston, R.I.

That was before he came to know himself as a gay man.

Mello foresaw the obstacles ahead, because he also wanted to get married and have children. Mello thought his dreams were beyond achieving.

But as a lifelong member of the Episcopal Church, which has accepted gay priests for years, and whose priests may marry and have a family, Mello was in the right spot to make all those dreams come true, and more.

On Saturday, Mello, rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Brookline, Mass., will be consecrated as the 16th diocesan bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Connecticut, the first openly gay bishop in the diocese. He succeeds Bishop Ian Douglas, who has led the diocese since 2010.

The ceremony, at which Presiding Bishop Michael Curry will be the chief consecrator, will be held at the Connecticut Convention Center and all are welcome.

Mello, 54, said he was “terrified” that being gay would bar him from the priesthood and a family, and that he would “have to give all of that up.” But he was fortunate that his family and his church accepted him for who he is.

“When I was coming to understand myself as someone who was gay, and this was in college, I never worried about what God thought and I never worried about what my family thought,” he said. “I was incredibly blessed to have grown up in an environment where I was assured of God’s love for me, and of my family’s love for me.”

“They weren’t explicit,” he said. “I never heard my priest growing up talking about GLBTQ issues from the pulpit. But I heard over and over and over again that God’s love was abiding and abundant and eternal.”

I heard over and over and over again that God’s love was abiding and abundant and eternal.

—  The Rev. Jeffrey Mello

Mello is married to Paul Daigneault, founder of SpeakEasy Stage Company in Boston. Their son, Ardani Mello-Daigneault, 22, is in college.

Mello has been a teacher and a social worker who has worked in an outpatient psychiatry clinic at Massachusetts General Hospital. He has focused in his ministry on young adults, which he plans to continue to do as bishop. He said he never thought a lot about whether he would become a bishop.

“It’s always been a practice of just trying to figure out what the next right thing is,” he said. “And I got to a point in my ministry where a combination of my own experiences and what parishioners and colleagues were saying back to me about what they were seeing in my ministry, that I started to wonder, is bishop something that is next for me?”

It was his husband who persuaded him finally to seek the priesthood. When he chose to put his name in for bishop, he said, he decided that, if it didn’t happen, “then the no would be the church’s, not mine. All I can do is put myself forward.”

As the first gay bishop of Connecticut, Mello said it is both a big step for the diocese “and it’s just who I am. And I think that that’s all we can hope for for anybody, which is that they understand themselves to be fully beloved children of God, and that God calls all of who they are, and uses all of who we are to effect the work of God in the world.”

Mello is aware, though, “that this is not still very much an important issue for folks, particularly when it relates to the church.”

And it goes both ways. “There’s been so much history where the church has acted not in the best interests of people on the margins, particularly GLBTQIA+ folks,” he said.

For many, having a gay priest can be a healing experience, he said, just as it was when women first were accepted as priests.

“I think about the young people who are wondering, is there a place in the church for me?,” Mello said.

“Does the church think I am a beloved child of God? And I think one of the things that I’m excited about [doing] in my ministry as bishop is to get that word out about who we are as a church,” he said. “And so, yes, God loves you completely. And wants you to bring all of you. You don’t have to check a part of yourself at the door to come into this church, and I don’t think that’s a message that everybody hears enough.”

For Christians, the best example is Jesus, Mello said. “God sends God’s self into Jesus and says, let me make this clear for you and let me actually show you what it looks like to live on Earth as fully beloved and fully loving.” That’s the message the church needs to send to those who are unsure whether they belong, he said.

One of his favorite stories in the Bible is of the apostle Thomas, who was not present when Jesus appeared to the others. “We love to call him Doubting Thomas, but he only said, I want what you all got. I loved him too. I lost my everything too,” Mello said.

“Thomas doesn’t do or ask for anything that everybody else doesn’t get,” he said. “And I just love that story because it reminds me that doubt is a critical part of faith. It’s a part of the journey to wonder and question. And that’s the other thing I love about the Episcopal Church is, it is your birthright to ask questions.”

Mello recognizes he’s about to lead Connecticut Episcopalians knowing “how exhausted we all are right now,” with COVID and other pressing events.

“So my short-term goal is to pay attention to that and ask the question … What is the role for the church in the world today, how do we care for one another? How do we tend to one another?” he said.

Mello said the challenges for the diocese are to determine “where does the church need to be showing up today? I think we make a mistake if we equate how many people are in a building in a particular location with what God needs the church to be doing in that same location,” he said.

Many churches, especially those in the cities, were built near mills and factories, which have long closed, Mello said, and people have moved to different locations.

The question is, “How do we support urban, suburban, rural parishes, who have inherited these buildings, who are trying to be faithful in those places?” Mello said. “How do we support them, lift them up, give them the resources?”

At the same time, he said, “I’m equally curious to be asking, where aren’t we yet?”

Another task, in the midst of a clergy shortage, is to lift up the laity to take greater responsibility for their own communities.

“When you’re in the ordination process, they ask you … what can you do as a priest that you cannot do as a committed lay person, and that list is very short,” he said. “And so I think one of the other things we’re seeing is that gifts of the lay people are being lifted up and shown and that people who are not ordained are preaching and leading worship and praying with people and visiting people in the hospital. So that’s really exciting.”

The goal is “a much stronger, much healthier church, much more able to do ministry where God needs us to,” Mello said.

Melissa Dulla, who worked with Mello as senior warden during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic, said, in her 11 years at St. Paul’s, “I just saw his ability to connect with people and to open people up to an all-encompassing, ever-present, expansive understanding of God’s love. It’s just incredible to see him do it at an individual level and with the whole parish.”

She said while it is bittersweet to lose Mello as rector, “first and foremost, I am really excited for him,” she said. “I’ve always thought that he has such a large message that I want more people to hear it.” And he has “taught us at St. Paul’s how to be a church. And I know we’ll be OK without him,” Dulla said.

Leah Ruger, a member of St. Paul’s for 15 years, two years before Mello arrived, and also a former warden, said, “we were extremely sad to lose him. But, you know, I think he’s a remarkable priest and person and he’ll be a wonderful bishop, and we’ve had time to adjust to it.”

With Mello as rector, “We grew, but I think it’s more that we just kind of deepened our work and our understanding of what we’re about,” Ruger said. “Our community grew just richer and more engaging. He’s the kind of a priest who just exudes warmth and energy and it’s kind of infectious.”

He also “helped many people through significant life crises, and we became a more giving and generous and resilient community, I think, over the time,” she said.

Mello, who was elected Nov. 4 on the sixth ballot as one of five nominees, said he is both ready and not ready to wear the bishop’s miter and to have his fellow bishops lay their hands on his head.

‘Today I’m having this really interesting experience where I can’t wait for it to arrive, and I desperately want time to slow down a little bit so that I can enjoy and be present,” he said. “Because now it just feels like it’s coming so quickly.”

Mello likes to run, go to the theater and travel with his family and enjoys TV shows like “Schitt’s Creek,” “a story of people who have to be taught how to need one another. They just don’t know what community is. And they don’t know what family is,” Mello said.

But “by the end, they’ve created this incredible community of people who love one another and need one another,” he said. “I’m a big fan.”

The consecration will begin at 11 a.m. at the conference center, 100 Columbus Blvd. Full vaccination and face masks are required. It will be livestreamed on YouTube.

The Episcopal Diocese of Connecticut comprises 155 parishes and faith communities and 60,000 people.

Ed Stannard can be reached at estannard@courant.com.

Favorite