By Rev. Heather J. Blais, RectorWith thanks to Molly, who was willing to have these pieces of her story shared...  Rev. Dr. Molly Scherm (top left), The Philadelphia Eleven (top right), John the Baptist (bottom left); Florence Li (bottom right). What do these four have in common? They were servants of God filled with a burning passion to share a message about the transformative power of God's love. Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us…
These words from today’s collect help us to understand that our God, is a God who is on the move and living among us. While God’s movement is clear in all of today’s lessons, it is particularly noticeable in the gospel lesson (Luke 3: 7-18). John the Baptist was not unlike Presiding Bishop Michael B. Curry. Just as we flocked to Worcester and Pittsfield to hear the royal wedding preacher, large crowds of people were flocking to the region around the Jordan to hear John’s radical message. People were curious about John, some even wondered if he might be the Messiah. Yet John knew he was a servant of God, filled with a burning passion to share a message about the transformative power of God’s love. He felt called to help people realize God was on the move and would soon be coming among them in new ways. His message was threefold: (1) Repent, the Kingdom of God is drawing near, and we must be ready for the world as we know it to change forever. (2) Therefore, we must be intentional and honorable in the way we live our lives. (3) The Messiah is coming; don’t confuse my message with the Christ’s. I am not even worthy of untying his sandals. Be ready. John’s message was a powerful wake up call to a people stuck in the mundane routine of their everyday lives. John’s message is what can happen when God’s people pray… Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us… It is earth shattering what can happen when we pray for God to be among us. The church as the world knew it, changed forever in 1941 when Florence Li Tim-Oi was ordained a deaconess in Macao. Some months later, when Hong Kong fell to Japanese invaders, priests could not travel back and forth to Macao to celebrate the Eucharist. According to A Great Cloud of Witnesses, “Despite this setback, Florence continued her ministry. Her work came to the attention of Bishop Ronald Hall of Hong Kong, who decided that, ‘God’s work would reap better results if she had the proper title’ of priest” (Jan 24). On January 25, 1944 Bishop Hall ordained Florence, making her the first woman priest in the Anglican Communion. Following WWII, Florence endured a bit of controversy and waited to exercise her ministry until her priesthood was acknowledged by the wider Anglican Communion, and then was appointed to serve as rector of a church. Florence endured more hardship during the Cultural Revolution, when all the churches were closed and she was perceived as a counter-revolutionary. She was forced to undergo political re-education, work on a farm and in a factory. When churches reopened in 1979 she was able to resume her public ministry, and in 1981 she was licensed to serve in Canada where she served until her death in 1992. The ordination of the first woman in the Anglican Communion is what can happen when God’s people pray… Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us… For many women who grew up in the Episcopal Church, women were only seen near the altar if they belonged to the altar guild and were setting up for worship. Women could not serve as acolytes, let alone dare dream of the priesthood. One Sunday, when Molly was a teenager, another parishioner from her church, a Chinese woman married to an American, approached her. This woman, who knew what was already possible in China thanks to Florence Li, turned to Molly and said, you need to be a priest. Something about that exchange, coupled with the mystery of the Eucharist itself, stayed with Molly. Despite the fact that there were no role models…Despite the fact that much of the established leadership within the Episcopal Church did not want to see women’s ordination, Molly followed a calling anyway. Why follow this calling? Because that is what happens when God’s people pray… Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us… In July 1974, eleven women deacons were ordained to the priesthood in Philadelphia and became known as the Philadelphia Eleven. In a public statement given by the ordinands, the women said, “We are certain that the Church needs women in priesthood to be true to the gospel understanding of human unity in Christ” (A Great Cloud of Witnesses, July 29). After much controversy and conversation, in September 1976, the General Convention of the Episcopal Church voted to amend the canons to stipulate that both women and men were eligible for ordination (A Great Cloud of Witnesses, July 29). Then on December 31, 1978, only two years after the canons were changed, a young Molly Scherm was ordained a priest in the Episcopal Church. Women like Florence Li, the Philadelphia 11, and Molly, alongside their male allies, helped change the Anglican Communion for the better, all because they were open to the ways God was working and moving among God’s people. This is not to say it was easy, or without enduring a great deal of sexism. One of the stories that has stuck with me since meeting Molly, is how a former St. James’ Rector handled receiving an invitation to the service where Molly would be ordained a priest. Molly had been working at former St. James’ as a transitional deacon, by setting the table at the Saturday 5:30 p.m. and Sunday 8 a.m. services. Yet when the invitation arrived, the Rector instructed Molly she would no longer be able to practice ministry at St. James’. Several years later, another Rector of former St. James’, would welcome Molly’s involvement with a group of women who met on Sunday evenings for an alternative feminist liturgy and celebration of the Eucharist. Yet he would not welcome her to celebrate at the main service, primarily out of fear of how the congregation would handle it. Over the last several decades, there have been times when leadership has allowed fear of losing parishioners and pledges to override a basic justice issue in the church. But look at what happens when God’s people pray... Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us… Something has broken open across the Church. Here at SsJA, our merger has brought us full circle. Molly, who was once uninvited from former St. James’ upon her ordination to the priesthood, now serves SsJA as our Associate Rector. Even more horrifying than that, something that surely must keep you up at night with worry, is that for a season, God has called an all female clergy team to serve SsJA. Molly would have preferred I ignore this 40th anniversary. But I couldn’t do that. Nor should we. We must give pause and acknowledge that God has been working in and amongst women like Florence Li, the Philadelphia 11, and Molly. They have changed us for the better. They have helped us to come to know God in different and wonderful ways. Personally, their work is what brought me here today. In sixth grade, I wrote a paper about why I wanted to be a priest when I grew up, and I had no idea there was a time that wouldn’t have been possible. And the only reason it is possible is because of women like Florence Li, the Philadelphia 11, and Molly. Because that is what happens when God’s people pray… Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us… So Molly, forgive the fuss, but know that women like you have made a difference during your forty years of ordained ministry, serving both in the church and at the schools you served. You keep us on our toes, you hold us accountable to God’s dream, all because you believe in the transformative power of God’s love with the same conviction we witness from John the Baptist in Luke’s gospel. I wonder, what else God might be up to, if we keep praying together... Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us…Amen. To learn more about women’s ordination, check out this timeline.
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Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Maria Meza, an assylum seeker, seen fleeing the border with her three daughters, after the US dropped tear gas. BBC 2018. Today we celebrate the Feast Day of St. Andrew, which takes place on November 30th of each year. It all begins when four fishermen, who were simply minding their own business as they mended their nets, were approached by an unusual young man who asked them to, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people” (Matthew 4:19). Some of us might have looked at the young man like he was a bit off his rocker. Instead, the brothers immediately leave their nets to follow Jesus, and become his first disciples.
Throughout the gospels, Andrew tends to live in the shadow of his brother Simon Peter, who becomes one of the disciples in Jesus’ innermost circle. Yet when we do see Andrew, he is consistently drawing other people closer to Jesus. This is particularly clear in John’s Gospel. First, when Andrew runs to find his brother to alert him that he has found the Messiah (John 1:39-41). Again, when Andrew brings a young boy and his simple lunch of bread and fish to Jesus (John 6:7-9). In a miracle meant to remind us of God’s abundance, Jesus uses those few pieces of bread and fish to feed the thousands of people gathered to listen to his teachings. Finally, it is Andrew who ensures that some Greeks, foreigners, who wanted to see Jesus, were brought to him. "Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus" (John 12:20-22). “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Those six simple words hit me like a ton of bricks this week. “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” These words are a reminder that both then and now, not everyone feels as though they have access to Jesus. Maybe we do not feel worthy of such unconditional and transformational love, and so we simply observe it as an expensive item on a top shelf… Something we might finally gain access to when we are thin enough, smart enough, kind enough, generous enough, rich enough… Maybe a parent, or spouse, or boss, or church leader misused their power and said something harmful, with their words, or their eyes, or their actions... And their misuse of power was mistakenly perceived as judgment from God. When really it stems from our broken humanity. The truth that is yearning to set us free… the truth that Andrew knew… the truth that he tried to tell us by continually paving a path to Jesus… was that each and everyone of us is already good enough, and no one can keep us from the love of God. “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” As followers of Christ, we are called join Andrew in paving a path of compassion, that will draw others nearer to Jesus. In our baptism we make two promises that will repeatedly inconvenience us. We promise to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves,” and to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being” (BCP 305). Our baptismal promises’ are a reminder of our constant calling to take action when we witness hate, persecution, and injustice. We have made these promises as the Church, and as individuals in our baptism, in our confirmation, and again every time we join in the Baptismal Covenant. “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” A few strangers knocked on the door of the Jesus movement, wondering if they would be let in.They could have been kept at bay, yet instead, Andrew paved a way for them. “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” This week a caravan of migrants has come to our border seeking asylum, and when they politely knocked on our door, they were met by armed guards and attacked with tear gas. How do we, as Christians, respond to this, given our call to pave paths of love and compassion to God? Presiding Bishop Michael B. Curry wrote, “What is the Christian way to manage borders? Strength does not require cruelty. Indeed, cruelty is a response rooted in weakness. Jesus was clear about what true strength is and it always is driven by love. There may be many policy prescriptions, but the prism through which we view them should be the same: does the policy treat people with love, acknowledging our common humanity? If the answer is no, it is not a Christian solution.” Many of us today remember the stories of our parents, grandparents, and great grandparents immigrating to America. My husband is a first generation American, because his parents and my father’s in law’s brothers, came to America looking for a better life; looking for a place where there was ample work and the ability to provide for their families. They were not lazy people looking to take advantage of an American handout. Rather they continue to be some of the hardest working people I know. It is the same for many of our forebears who fled from Great Britain, Ireland, Poland, Germany, Russia, and elsewhere in search of food, work, safety, and a better life. We remember their stories with pride, but many of them encountered the same kinds of racism and xenophobia as those looking to cross our borders today. On the table where you picked up your leaflets, I have a handout from the Episcopal Public Policy Network (EPPN), inviting us to consider, A Faithful Response to the Caravan: Five Things to Know. If you are moved to do so, I invite you to go online to tell your congressional representatives to uphold asylum protections. EPPN provides a simple online form with a prepared letter, that with your zip code will automatically detect your congressional representatives. It took me about fifteen seconds to fill out. You can also pray for all those fleeing danger around the world. Particularly as we prepare to approach the manger this Christmas, and we remember that as an infant, Jesus was a refugee whose family fled persecution to Egypt. “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” May we, like our patron Saint Andrew, readily answer the call of Jesus, and draw those near to us, and those who have no voice, closer to God. Amen. Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus is offering us words to live by.
“Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” (Matthew 6:25) Each of us, in our own way, is inclined to worry. Maybe we worry about where our next meal will come from, or maybe we have the luxury of worrying if our meal was sustainably farmed. We might worry about having enough warm clothes for the winter, or if we look foolish in our clothes, if they fit right. Possibly we worry about being able to afford a gift for our loved one, or why we give one another so much stuff we really don’t need, or deep down, even want. We worry about the complexities within our relationships with significant others, siblings, children, in-laws, and friends. We worry about the drama that unfolds as we break bread together during our Thanksgiving meal and beside our Christmas tree. Will Aunt Edith be drunk before noon? Will Johnny even show up this year? Will Uncle Tom storm out, slamming every possible door on his way? Will mom live long enough to see Christmas? Will I still have a job come New Years Day? We find all sorts of ways to cope with these worries, often by over consuming and indulging. Anything that will make us feel better for a bit. Yet, there is another way to live. We can choose to follow Jesus, the Christ, the Love that walks this earth. In doing so, we are committing to a lifetime of putting our trust in God. It’s not just a one time action. It’s a daily, sometimes hourly, conscious decision to turn our worries, our insecurities, our fears, our very livelihood over to God. And whenever we realize worry has started to drive us, we can hit the brakes, and turn our attention back to God. This is the rhythm we are called to live into. This is what it means to walk the Way of Love. If there is one lesson Jesus is trying to help the gathered crowd understand, as he preaches his famous Sermon on the Mount, it is that God’s love for us is unconditional. There is nothing any of us can ever do to escape God’s love for us. And all we need to do, to experience the transformative power of God’s love, is to accept it. When we make that daily, sometimes hourly, conscious decision to be in relationship with God, we are accepting God’s gift, God’s love for us, a way of being that acknowledges we are more than good enough, we are worthy of that kind of unconditional love. Jesus points to the examples of God’s love for us in creation: “Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet our heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you--you of little faith?” (Matthew 6:26-30). Stories of trusting in God’s radical love and care for us surround us. In creation, we are reminded by the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. We are reminded by the stories of our neighbors; in art and literature. In Linda Sue Park’s book, A Long Walk to Water, readers are inspired by the true story of Salva Dut, who in 1985 was an 11 year old boy that was separated from his family, in what is now South Sudan in the Second Sudanese Civil War. Overnight, Salva became one of the 17,000 Lost Boys of Sudan. Salva walks with other refugees for weeks on end, struggling to survive, as other Lost Boys and fellow travelers perished from hunger, thirst, disease, wild animals, and military attacks. During his initial journey to a refugee camp in Ethiopia, he reunites with his uncle. As Salva’s body and mind became weaker, he wondered how much longer he could go on. Yet, Salva’s uncle gently pushed him, giving him small goals----just walk to that tree, now just walk to that rock. It becomes Salva’s philosophy for life, one goal, one day, one step at a time. Later, when they were forced to leave the Ethiopia refugee camp, Salva found himself leading 1,500 other lost boys to a refugee camp in Kenya. He led them there using the same small goals that brought him this far. Eventually, Salva learns he will head to a family in Rochester, New York. He describes the strange sensation of putting on so many clothes at once--shirt, shoes, pants, underwear, and socks after years in a threadbare pair of shorts and a t-shirt. On the airplane ride, the bubbles of a coca-cola reminded him of his early childhood, when his father once brought back a single glass bottle for his entire family to sip from. As a young adult Salva felt called to help those in South Sudan gain safe and accessible access to water, and founded Water for South Sudan. With the help of some trusted friends, including his church, St. Paul’s Episcopal, Bishop Jack McKelvey, and the Diocese of Rochester, Salva began to raise funds. The publication of the book, A Long Walk to Water, helped his foundation to soar, and to date they have built 349 wells, each serving 600-750 people. All because Salva chose to trust, as he took one step at a time as a Lost Boy in Sudan, and then again as a young man, when he trusted if he kept telling his story, that eventually they would begin to bring clean water to South Sudan. One way I try to live into the words in today’s gospel, is with a practice I began in late summer. When I find myself worked up, anxious, or unsure of how to handle a situation…When I find myself frustrated with my own shortcomings or those of others... When I am worried about a particular individual…I write a few words on the scrap paper, offer a prayer to God, and place the scrap in the paper box. In doing so...I am physically trying to take my worry and put it in God’s hands. I am trying to let go. I am trying be present to God’s love and let it wash over me. A week or two later I’ll look at the offerings. Whatever has been resolved, I give thanks to God for. If something is still ongoing, I offer more prayers of trust. It’s not a perfect system, but it helps me to let go of my worries and trust in God. As we enter this season of gratitude, as well as, a season ripe with complexities in our relationships with others, I would like to invite us to practice a similar exercise. You each have an envelope, an index card, a piece of paper, and pen. On the envelope I’d like you to address the envelope to yourself. On the piece of paper you will see two questions:
Please write your answers on the index card, stuff the envelope and seal it. No one but you and God will ever see what you write. You’ll have 2-3 minutes, and when you are ready, come forward and put it in this basket, or signal an Usher or myself to come get it from you. In six to eight weeks, I am going to mail these to you. I hope it will be a reminder of all there is to give thanks for in this season, as well as a way to practice trusting in God. Amen. |
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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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