The Rev. Ed Bacon is facing one of the biggest dilemmas of his ecclesiastical career: Should he turn over voluminous parish records demanded by the Internal Revenue Service, or resist and risk losing tax-exempt status for his church?
These equally tough prospects explain why Bacon spent all day Tuesday huddled in his wood-paneled office in the neo-Gothic All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena with attorneys and congregants, and in prayer.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Tuesday October 03, 2006 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 2 National Desk 1 inches; 47 words Type of Material: Correction
All Saints Church: Stories in the Sept. 20 and Sept. 22 California sections incorrectly reported that the 3,500-member All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena is the largest Episcopal church west of the Mississippi River. The largest is St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Houston, which has 7,573 members.
The IRS is investigating whether the church engaged in improper campaigning before the 2004 presidential election -- a violation of federal tax law.
Leaning back in his chair and looking pensive but relaxed during a break in his tight schedule, Bacon said, "We're not out to stick it to the feds. The issue here is for there to be communities of faith in this country who are not timid to express their point of view. And to elevate public discourse and interrupt moral bankruptcy."
To understand how the tall, energetic 58-year-old former Baptist from the Deep South came to lead a liberal Episcopal church into a showdown with the IRS, it helps to know that he sees himself as something of a prophet along the lines of Isaiah and Jeremiah, in frequent communication with God.
When God speaks, Bacon said, "I listen closely, and take notes."
Bacon is well known for championing liberal causes -- denouncing the war in Iraq, defending gay rights, supporting a growing role for women in the church. He's also regarded by many as a skilled administrator. He is not shy about standing in the spotlight, and when he delivered a passionate sermon Sunday outlining the church's predicament, TV cameras were rolling when he received a one-minute standing ovation.
Donald Miller, director of the School of Religion at USC, said Bacon has that "rare ability to be both pastor and prophet.... My own feeling is that the IRS could have chosen a weaker target."
Bacon says one of his first encounters with the divine came when he was about 5 and playing alone in a pine grove behind his home and the Baptist church where his father was pastor in Macon, Ga. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by a mysterious sense with a twofold message: You are the most beloved creature in all creation, and so is everyone else.
The experience, he recalled with a laugh, "opened me up to the phenomenon of paradox at a very early age. Years later, a student jokingly described it as 'the theology of the multiplicity of superlatives.' "
