 Acts 2:42-47
By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Yesterday was a beautiful day in the life of the Church. We gathered at Christ Church Cathedral in Springfield for the consecration and ordination of our tenth bishop - the Rt. Rev. Miguelina Howell. Drawing a record 51 bishops, and hundreds of clergy and lay leaders across our diocese and the wider Church. Bishop Howell is truly so many firsts for our diocese. The first female bishop. The first mother raising young children. The first afro-latina. The first native Spanish speaker, born in the Dominican Republic. These are all important parts of who she is, and the perspective she will bring. Yet what has made her an exceptional leader, and some of the core reasons the Spirit guided us to elect her as our new bishop are her gifts for strategic mission; her wisdom; her relational nature; and most importantly, her profound faith and love of Jesus Christ. Bishop Howell embodies her faith and love for Christ in the way she prays. Whether it be in a liturgy, one on one, or any number of times during the day pausing to turn to God for wisdom and clarity. When someone tries to offer her praise, she’ll often say - to God be the glory. Redirecting those she is with back towards God. Her approach to faith lives into what we see in Acts of the Apostles. She devotes herself, and the flock she now shepherds, “...to the apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (2:42). As the Church, we are called to devote ourselves to these same tasks, to keep learning and growing in faith; to come together as a community, sharing our lives; to break bread together in shared meals and in the eucharist; and to nurture a life of prayer. The passage in Acts goes on to describe the fruits of such devotion: “Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home, and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved” (2:46-47). When we devote ourselves to a life of faith, to a greater good, there is abundance. Not just enough to get by, but abundance. While it's easy to fall into worrying, this passage reminds us what is possible. When we get out of our heads and live into our faith in body, mind, and spirit the Spirit will move and God will provide in abundance. Our call is to lean into that faith with trust, confidence, joy, and hope. As I meditated on this passage earlier this week, an image arose. In my childhood home, in my mother’s room, there was a rocker next to a book shelf that she and my father had stained. There rested a Forward Movement Day by Day reflection booklet. These little booklets feature a verse from scripture and a daily reflection written by a wide variety of folks across the Episocpal Church. It is a tool meant to help the Church of today, emulate the values of the early Church with daily prayer, reflection, and scripture study - knowing others are doing the same each day across the Church. Alongside my mother’s Day by Day booklet, there were items clearly in regular use: her prayerbook, a card with the serenity prayer, rosaries, seashells, photos, and a candle. Whenever I had cause to be in her room, I was drawn to this little corner. There was a specific kind of energy there, and I knew it was a space set apart. Looking back, I can see that energy was the result of hours of prayer. Prayer offered in devotion, and when seeking strength and renewal. She was a single parent, and if you haven’t noticed, I can be a lot. If anyone had reason to seek peace, quiet and prayer - it was her! Yet in this little prayer corner, she would read to soothe her nerves, she would regularly turn to God in prayer, deepening the roots of her faith. It is this regular practice of deepening and strengthening the roots of our faith that lets us face whatever the day has in store, and trusting the challenges we face into God’s care at day’s end. Over the years I found myself creating a similar prayer corner in our home, as well as prayer on the go tools. Signs and symbols that remind me to tend and care for the roots of my faith. Because if we are going to be the Church, we need to keep growing in our faith by deepening our prayer life. The world is hungry for hope, and we have hope to offer in Christ, and the dream and knowledge of a better way, a Way of Love. We are best able to share that hope when we live into what the early Church embodies in today’s epistle. Day by day. Inch by inch. The repetition of our commitment to learning and growing in faith; of gathering together in community while serving our neighbors; of breaking bread and praying together brings abundance. Our call is to:
When we pray, we root ourselves in God’s Love, and we become agents of God’s healing love in the world. This week I invite us to reflect on the role of prayer in our lives.
Let us pray Almighty and eternal God, so draw our hearts to you, so guide our minds, so fill our imaginations, so control our wills, that we may be wholly yours, utterly dedicated unto you; and then use us, we pray you, as you will, and always to your glory and the welfare of your creation; through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. (BCP, p. 831-832, adapted)
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 Luke 24:13-35
By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Our gospel begins with two disciples walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They have lost all hope, having truly believed Jesus was the Messiah. His absence left them reckoning with a faith they no longer understood. Along the way, they encounter a stranger who notices their despair. He seems completely unaware of recent events. As the three travel together, the disciples fill him in. The stranger then reframes their disappointment and doubt, by reinterpreting the scriptures to them. Upon their arrival in Emmaus, the stranger keeps walking onward. When the disciples notice this, they urge the stranger to stay with them. He agrees, and they begin to share a meal together. It is in this moment where everything changes. “When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him…” (Luke 24:30-31a) Then the Risen Jesus vanishes from their sight. The Risen Christ was revealed to them in the breaking of the bread. And in that moment, these brokenhearted disciples are made whole. Overwhelmed by the blessing of this encounter, they return to Jerusalem, eager to tell the others. In life, Jesus taught his disciples that when they break bread together in prayer, that bread will be blessed, and in turn they will be a blessing. In death, Jesus, himself is the blessed one, broken open in an ultimate act of love. In resurrection, the Risen Christ shows us he will be revealed to us again and again in the breaking of the bread. Thousands of years later, we maintain the sacrament of Eucharist. We are nourished and sustained by it. This sacred meal is a ritual reminder that even in our brokenness, we are blessed and made whole in Christ. Christ was blessed and broken, just as we are broken and blessed. When I was twelve, we moved to be closer to my mom’s work. At this point, I was in the delightfully awkward years of middle school, while navigating my own internal sense of brokenness. My father had opted out of a relationship a few years prior. I struggled to understand why one parent sacrificed everything so that I might thrive, while the other couldn’t be bothered to call or write. As we do, I took my father’s brokenness, and internalized it as my own. This is where the fertile soil of shame can blossom. We somehow begin to believe not that we’ve done something wrong, but that we - our very selves - are wrong. Broken beyond repair. My deepest hope at that time was that no one would discover my brokenness. Our move to a new community allowed us to connect with a nearby Episcopal Church after some time away. We began to attend services every Sunday. There were painfully long sermons, screeching sopranos in the choir, and an organ that was played like Phantom of the Opera instead of worship. The majority of that 90 minute service was something to endure. That is, until the priest would make their way to the high altar after the peace. In this moment, when shifting into the celebration of the eucharist, things always felt different. Our gothic church was built from Maine’s granite, and featured a rood screen. This is a giant partition separating the congregation in the nave of the church and the altar party in the chancel, with a huge cross in the top center. I always assumed they called it a rood screen because it was a ‘rude’ impediment to seeing what was happening up on the high altar. I learned much later that the spelling was R-O-O-D, which is an old English word for cross or crucifix. This rood screen felt like a veil, separating the people and the mystery of the eucharist. When it was time to receive communion, the ushers would carefully guide us towards the communion line which would enter through this imaginary veil. We would slowly make our way up several steps, past the choir stalls and organist, up still more steps, until we would finally reach the altar rail. In that journey, something would happen that defied logic. And it happened each week without fail. As Jesus blessed and broke bread with his disciples, Christ became the bread, blessed and broken for us. The power of such a tenderly given gift, made it safe to walk through the imaginary veil of the rood screen, while pulling back our own veils. Revealing to Christ our own wounds, our own brokenness. Being reminded once more that we are fully accepted, loved, and forgiven. All while our community stands before and behind us in this communion line. All while the communion of saints surrounds us. Each of us - in all our quirky and tender brokenness - are made whole in the moment of receiving Christ’s presence in the eucharist. That moment is a sacred mystery, and in many ways it defies logic. I am generally filled with an overwhelming sense of peace and unity with God, creation, and the human family. That sense may last a moment, or even days. If we believe in the power of the eucharist, then we believe Christ is somehow really and truly present in that bread and wine. If we believe this, then we believe when we break bread together, and receive the sacrament, we seek Christ to make us whole - if but for a moment. Entering into our hearts, minds, and bodies, so that we may walk more fully in love and faith. Going out into the world, strengthened by Christ’s presence in and with us, all so we might be a blessing to others. Christ was blessed and broken, and we are broken and blessed in this sacred meal we share each week. The practice of regular worship where we break bread together has the power to heal us, shift and change us. Anything is possible when we offer ourselves, to meet the real presence of Christ, in this shared sacred meal. When we engage in this act, we will be renewed, sustained, and nourished. Four years of weekly eucharist, of growing in faith in community, helped me to find my own peace. It helped me differentiate what was mine, and what was my fathers. It helped me to forgive him; to better understand the circumstances that led to his actions. It helped me release the shame that needn’t have been there in the first place. It doesn’t mean these things don’t bubble back up. Yet the pattern of eucharist in community, reaffirming our commitment to the core values of Christ’s Way of Love, are a healing balm empowering us to begin again, and again, and again. Until this earthly life has come to an end, and we enter into eternal life. Where it all shifts from a moment of Christ’s presence in the eucharist to an everlasting experience in the presence of our Creator, Christ, Spirit, and the communion of saints. Our two disciples on the road to Emmaus had given up hope. They assumed they really had gotten it wrong about Jesus, and I imagine it might have stirred up shame, embarrassment, despair, grief, and longing. Yet Christ came to them, walked beside them, and reinterpreted the scriptures so they might better understand God’s saving acts.Then he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread. The disciples left that meal, eager to go and share the Good News. As we prepare to head back into God’s world, to be a blessing ourselves, I would invite us to do some reflecting this week:
Let us pray: Risen Christ, stay with us; be our companion in the way, kindle our hearts, and awaken hope, that we may know you as you are revealed in Scripture and the breaking of bread. Grant this for the sake of your love. Amen. (BCP 139, adapted).  By Julie Carew, Lay Preacher
In our Gospel reading from this week, the time covered is the 8 days immediately following Jesus’s Resurrection, and a lot has happened, a lot of which we don’t know. We do know that Jesus has made several appearances in his resurrected body. And we know that at least some of the disciples are hiding out behind locked doors for fear of what will happen to them. The Gospels tell of the encounters people have with the resurrected Jesus. First, in John, we read about Mary. She had been present at the crucifixion, had observed the sabbath and at “first light” on the day after that- meaning that at the first opportunity she had she went to find him. She arrived and saw that something was not right; the stone closing Jesus’s tomb had been rolled away. When Jesus appeared to her, she didn’t recognize him until he called her by name. What a beautiful moment that must have been! I imagine her so focused on trying to figure out what is happening, clearly distraught, maybe with her head in her hands and then Jesus says her name and she truly feels and sees who is there with her. Let’s reflect on that for a moment. Have you ever heard Jesus call your name? Has Jesus ever spoken to you in a way that helped you to recognize him? Maybe it wasn’t in an audible voice, but have you ever felt like he was communicating with you in a way so specific to who you are and what you needed at that moment, that you couldn’t help but recognize him? Luke’s gospel tells us of the disciples on the road to Emmaus who walked together talking about all that had happened. Seeking Jesus too, in a different way; they were recounting the events, discussing it all, looking for answers. Jesus joined them, coming alongside them, walking and talking with them. But they didn’t recognize him. They finally see who is with them when he breaks bread with them. In doing something familiar with them, something they equate especially with him, they are able to identify him and also take in the things he said during their discussion along the road. Has anything like this ever happened to you? You’re going through a struggle, trying to make sense of things that seem senseless and the Spirit of God comes alongside you, maybe through a friend, or through something you read or learn, maybe just within your own pondering, opening your eyes to how God may be moving, may be working and pulling it all together. Maybe it’s identifying something that happens as something only God could have done, you recognize Jesus’s hands, Jesus’s character in something that happens and you are reminded that you haven’t been journeying alone. In a third encounter Jesus has, as we see in John 20, our Gospel reading for today, Jesus is seeking out his disciples who are hiding in fear. Jesus goes right to them, showing them his wounds, speaking truth to them directly, bringing them peace, explaining the next steps in their greater purpose and breathing into them new life and energy with which to take those steps. This account is especially powerful in times when we feel afraid and overwhelmed and not sure where to go next. Jesus doesn’t reprimand them for being afraid, he goes to them, meeting them as they are and gives them encouragement, purpose and power. At this point, Jesus has appeared to Mary, the disciples on the road to Emmaus and now to this group of disciples. In each case, there wasn’t an immediate recognition, it took something (different in each case) for them to recognize him. Mary saw who he was after he spoke her name. The disciples walking on the road recognized him after he broke bread with them. The disciples locked away from the outside recognized him when they saw his wounds. It seems like he really met each of them individually and made sure that they saw who he was in the way they needed to see. And now, starting in verse 26, here we are, a week out from the resurrection, and we don’t know much else about what has happened in that week in between. What have the disciples been up to? We know Jesus commissioned the disciples, what are they waiting for? Also, we don’t know why Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus came to the disciples, though we did learn of his interactions with them as they shared with him what happened. Have you ever been envious of someone else’s experience with God? Have you heard a story of someone’s incredible encounter with God and thought, if that had happened to me, surely I would have more faith or trust in God? I can think of several times in my life in which someone shared a story with me, the kind of story that gave me goosebumps, that illustrated God’s love and care for them in exactly the way they needed it. I think it’s pretty understandable in that moment to be thinking, I could really use some of that too! I’m sure you’ve heard Thomas called “Doubting Thomas”, but I don’t know if that’s really fair. Thomas was bold in stating exactly what he thought he needed to believe. In fact, in Eastern Christianity, Thomas’s doubt is not the focus, but this story is instead referred to as “the Believing of Thomas”. Early Church Father and Archbishop of Constantinople, Saint John Chrysostom is quoted as saying1, “Thomas, being once weaker in faith than the other apostles, toiled through the grace of God more bravely, more zealously and tirelessly than them all, so that he went preaching over nearly all the earth, not fearing to proclaim the Word of God...” So, when Jesus returns to the room where the disciples are hiding out, this time, Thomas is ready to see him. Jesus offers his wounds for Thomas to touch, offering him exactly what he said he needed, without questioning. We don’t hear that Thomas even touched the wounds but that he called out, identifying Jesus as “my Lord and my God”. When we look at this encounter, I wonder, where are we in our experience with Jesus? Have we seen and believed? Have we heard Jesus’ commission to share the truth and love with those around us? If not, how do we need to see Jesus? What do we need to trust that this story is true, that Jesus did return to set us free? Jesus says, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe”. When we step back a bit, it seems a little puzzling that Jesus makes this statement at this point. It could be seen as a reprimand, a “you can do better”, but I don’t think he is really speaking to any of those with him as all of those with him HAVE seen and are believing because of it. Jesus 1“Holy, Glorious Apostle Thomas” from The Orthodox Church in America is speaking directly to the believers who will come later, including us. Jesus is leaving space for the rest of us, acknowledging that these few have seen and known him directly, but many, many others will follow. John is good about telling us throughout the Gospel story why he is telling us what he’s telling us, and here he says, “ Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” So, given these stories, these personal encounters and what we can learn from them, let’s take a few moments to reflect on a time during which we needed Jesus to show up for us in a personal way. Maybe it was at the beginning of your faith journey, and that’s part of what brought you to where you are now. Maybe it was in something that made your faith your own after being brought up in a faithful family. Maybe it was in making a big life decision in which you really needed some guidance. Maybe it was a surprise encounter in what otherwise seemed like an ordinary day in your life. When we can reflect on when Jesus showed up for each of us individually, we may be encouraged to ask him to do so again, or to do so for someone we love and care about who really needs to experience God’s presence right now. We’re one week out from Easter now, and I wonder, what felt real and present to you last week? Was it a time of wholehearted celebration for you? Was it a time of loneliness, not being with someone you would have liked to celebrate with? Was it a time of wondering what happens now? And where is it sitting with you now- does the celebration of Jesus’s Resurrection, of Jesus’s conquering of death, still feel real and present to you? What do you need from Jesus? And will you ask him for what you need? Do you need Jesus to meet you in your grief, in your doubt, in your distance? And are you looking for him? May we seek Jesus and recognize him when he shows up- whether it be in a quiet moment alone, through a friend, through a stranger, through seeking to learn more about him. May Jesus give us peace, God’s peace that passes all understanding, as we go forward after Easter, and may we be filled with God’s spirit, that she would guide us as we seek to share that peace into the world. Amen.  By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector
Matthew 28: 1-10 Alleluia! Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia! Our Gospel begins on the third day following Jesus’ death. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary arise at dawn to visit the burial tomb. They had been waiting patiently to visit Jesus’ grave, ever since Joseph of Arimathea had laid his body there two days prior. While Joseph buried Jesus, two women identified as Mary Magdalene and the ‘other’ Mary, sat across from the tomb keeping watch. When the sun began to set, they needed to return to their lodgings in order to observe the Sabbath. As the sun rose on the first day of the week, the two women were the only disciples to return and visit Jesus’ tomb. The only disciples to find the courage to pay their respects. But they were not the only ones at the tomb. Guards had been assigned by Pilate to keep watch, after those in religious leadership requested this measure of security. Jesus had spoken of dying and rising again on the third day. Those in power were being proactive about quelling such ideas. Jesus was killed for being a disrupter; perceived as fanning the flames of discontent. His enemies - those high up in religious leadership and those governing the region on behalf of Rome - sought to maintain the status quo and keep power in the hands of the very few. And as we witnessed on Good Friday, this cost him everything. One would think the power demonstrated in a Roman crucifixion would have been enough to quell any worries of further talk or action by Jesus’ followers. Yet even in Jesus' death, he invoked fear amongst his enemies. Jesus represented a different kind of distribution of power, a different set of norms and values, ones grounded in God’s love. This was such a perceived threat, that even after his death, those holding the most power do what they can to disrupt the Jesus’ Movement. When the guards report what happens at the empty tomb, they are paid by those high in religious leadership to keep quiet about the truth. They are paid to propagate fake news, and tell people Jesus’ disciples came while the guards were asleep and stole his body. The thing about propaganda and fake news is the truth will always come out. Just as empires with corrupt leaders who use their power for evil ends and the further oppression of others, will always see their reign fall in the end. It may be a fall that breaks little by little, chinks in one armor exposing vulnerabilities that will eventually bring entire empires down. Or it may be more like the destruction of an earthquake that disrupts and breaks down infrastructure of an entire city or region. We do not want to see the suffering of the fall; we do not want to see the destruction of the city - even as we know it is the universe righting itself. As good once more overcomes evil. As love once and for all overcomes death. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary play an important role in this seismic shift that we see on Easter morning. Upon their arrival at the tomb, there is a very real earthquake. It results with a blindingly bright angel appearing before them. The angel rolls back the stone, revealing an empty tomb. The guards are so overcome by fear that they experience temporary paralysis. While fear can be contagious, in this instance, it is not. The women listen with rapt attention, as the angel tells them: Do not be afraid. You are looking for Jesus, but he isn’t here. He has been raised. Come and see where he laid. So the women look in the cool, dark, dank and empty tomb. The space lies in such stark contrast with the angel’s blinding brightness.The angel then tells the women, Do not be afraid. Go. Go and tell the disciples in Galilee, he has been raised from the dead. You’ll see him there. So the women go, embarking on the journey to tell the disciples. Even as a swirling mixture of fear and excitement, courses through them. It seems their beloved teacher and friend has been raised. Imagine how long that day must have been. Eager to know more, to see Jesus, and bring this news to the other disciples. What a relief it must have been when they encountered Jesus on the road. Seeing the risen Jesus, hearing him greet them. The women fall to their knees, grabbing hold of his feet. This is no apparition, but really and truly the risen Jesus. Because Love is stronger than death. Jesus turns to these faithful disciples, reiterating the angel’s earlier message: Do not be afraid. Go. Tell the other disciples in Galilee. They will see me. The women do as Jesus asks. Stopping throughout Galilee to spread the good news to the disciples that Jesus has risen. It was no mistake that the empty tomb was first revealed to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary - followers with no status in the wider culture. Jesus’ ministry has always begun on the margins, with those least visible. Yet when these women show up, in faithfulness and with a deep loyalty to their teacher and friend, their actions become instrumental to the continuation of the Jesus Movement. They become the first evangelists, proclaiming the good news that good has once more overcome evil, and love has once and for all overcome death. Our most beloved stories in literature and film often show what can happen when those least visible, those with least access to power show up for good. It is this first step, the showing up, often in deep faithfulness and loyalty, that we see momentum begin to build so good might overcome evil. And critical for momentum to begin to build, they must realize they are not alone. They are in this work faithfully together - and it lets them move beyond fear so they, too, might go. We see elements of this in the Harry Potter series, in Lord of the Rings, the Chronicles of Narnia, the Time Quintet, and countless others. Eclectic and unusual folk that do not fit into typical molds, come from the margins of their little worlds to band together and create Dumbledore’s Army, the Fellowship of the Ring, and other movements. All for the sake of good overcoming evil, and a shared vision for a better world. In these stories, it is often the character’s fierce loyalty to one another, and to a greater good, that touch our hearts. Hermione Granger uses a spell on her parents, erasing her existence in their minds, all so she might protect them and support her friend Harry in defeating Voldemort. Sam Gamgee devotes his life to ensuring his dear friend Frodo can fulfill his mission, by repeatedly refusing to leave his side and ultimately carrying him over Mt. Doom. The unrelenting steadfastness and trust these characters demonstrate, helps those they walk beside face any fear and go onward with courage. It is this kind of devotion and faithfulness that we see in Mary Magdalene and the other Mary in today’s gospel. Their love of their friend Jesus, overcomes any fear of the political and religious turmoil at play, any nonsense they might face from the guards or religious leaders. They show up in faith, and encounter first an angel, then the risen Jesus: Do not be afraid. Go. Tell the disciples. And because they do, the Good News of Jesus' resurrection becomes known. Over 2,000 years later we still recall Jesus' final week as a testimony of our belief that love, as made known to us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, is stronger than death. Love will always be stronger than death - yesterday, today, and forever. The events that unfold in our gospel, do so because of five simple words. Do not be afraid. Go. The women are told, first and foremost: Do not be afraid. It begs the question: what fears are holding us back? The ones that leave us feeling paralyzed or frozen like the guards. What fears do we need to name, releasing their power over us so we might step forward in faith? Once released, we can join the women and: Go. Go and tell the disciples. All of it urges us to turn to God in prayer, so we might regularly ask: Where are you calling us to go, God? How are you calling us to share and embody the good news this day? Because right now, the world is hungering to be reminded that good does overcome evil, and that love truly is stronger than death. The world right now is hungry for this good news. Hungry for hope. Hungry for justice. Hungry for peace. Hungry for God’s sense of righteousness. Hungry for a love that is stronger than death. On this Easter morning, the Gospel calls us to respond to this hunger by sharing the Good News of Christ’s Way of Love with those we walk beside in our communities and in the wider world. The question for us is: Will we accept this invitation? Do not be afraid. Go. |
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We believe God is calling us to cultivate a community of love, joy, hope, and healing. Jesus is our model for a life of faith, compassion, hospitality, and service. We strive to be affirming and accessible, welcoming and inclusive; we seek to promote reconciliation, exercise responsible stewardship, and embrace ancient traditions for modern lives.
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