By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Today is our final Sunday in the Season of Creation. This season is relatively new, originating in 2017. Yet the seeds for it were planted in 1989, when the head of the Orthodox Church proclaimed September 1 as a day of prayer for creation.* The World Council of Churches was instrumental in helping this day of prayer shift into an entire season, which now runs from September 1 to October 4.* The Season of Creation was embraced by Pope Francis and other church leaders, and is now celebrated across the many branches of the Jesus Movement.* Throughout this season, we renew our relationship with our Creator, and recommit to prayer and action, as we care for, “this fragile earth, our island home.” ** It is incredibly comforting and empowering to know that we are not doing this work in isolation. Far from it. We are laboring alongside 2.2 billion Christians and even more of our Interfaith siblings; and we will bear far more fruit working together.* Which is a way of saying, change is possible. Addressing the climate emergency is something that we can actually do, together. During my sabbatical, you gave me the gift of time to pray, go on retreat, walk, read, listen, tend to my relationships with my loved ones, to be quiet with our Creator God and simply listen. What I gathered in the quiet, and in the witnessing of the world around me, was that the climate crisis is the moral issue of our time. Our Creator is yearning for us to see and understand that climate justice is social justice, as climate change perpetuates and magnifies structural inequalities and injustices. The climate crisis exacerbates and intensifies every issue we pray and care about, every concern which our outreach ministries seek to address. Climate chaos and climate denial are significantly impeding our work as the Church to bring about God’s dream for this world. As the Church labors for God’s dream, we find roadblock after roadblock, due to flooded out roads, with no place to redirect the floodwaters. This summer I joined Julie Carew and two of our parish youth, Hendrick Carew and Logan Blais, at the Episcopal Church’s It's All About Love Festival in Baltimore. We gathered for daily worship, featuring incredible speakers that addressed the festival themes of evangelism, racial reconciliation, and creation care. Each day we choose from dozens of workshops geared around these themes. At some point, I hope Julie, Hendrick, and Logan will share their experiences. For now, I want to share two things I learned about the climate crisis from our time in Baltimore. First, I gained a new appreciation and perspective on what the climate crisis actually looks like on the ground in other parts of our world. I joined our parish youth at an Episcopal Public Policy Network workshop. We were asked to share our name, where we were from, and an issue our community was facing as a result of climate change. Logan, Hendrick, and I reflected on the ways the climate crisis is harming our local farms and disrupting the local food economy; the consequences of this summer's intense flooding; and the challenges of caring for the Connecticut River watershed. We heard from Episcopalians living in Honolulu, who were still dealing with the aftermath of an event in May 2021, when the Navy spilt 19,000 gallons of jet fuel into Pearl Harbor. The fuel was not cleaned up properly, which resulted in contaminated water ending up in the naval base’s drinking water, impacting 93,000 military families and civilians. This was on top of a simmering frustration that the state of Hawaii gave up recycling in 2019, due to a changing global market around recycling and waste output. The most eye opening reflection came from an El Salvadorian elder out of the Diocese of Central America. She said, “I hate to say this, but the biggest climate crisis we are facing [in El Salvador] is the people of the North. I’m sorry to say it, but they say advocating for environmental change is urgent, but they are not acting like it is urgent.” The room fell quiet for a moment, as we let this uncomfortable truth sink in. It was a humbling reminder that however challenged we may feel by the climate crisis here in the Global North, we reside in the part of the world where the vast majority of the world’s wealth is found.*** Even when things are bad, we have access to more resources. Whereas, the largest populations of the world’s poor reside in the Global South.*** As difficult as it may be for us to accept, the reality is, the world’s poor did not cause climate change, but they face its worst consequences and have the least to say about it, making it more challenging to escape poverty and increasing the scarcity of resources.**** At another workshop, the Bishop of Central America spoke with great joy about the wonderful work happening in the Anglican Communion Environmental Network. He playfully acknowledged that the Anglican Communion has spent the better part of the last few decades disagreeing about human sexuality; and that of late, leaders are realizing we are far more effective when we remember all we have in common. Every Anglican and Episocopalian shares in God’s call to care for creation. If you are interested in gaining a different perspective on the climate crisis, I would encourage you to follow the Anglican Communion Environmental Network on social media or subscribe to their newsletter. I also left Baltimore with a new appreciation for the incredible toll the climate crisis is taking on our young people, as well as, the incredible wisdom they have to offer us. At one workshop on creation care liturgy, teenagers from Episcopal dioceses in Latin America and the Caribbean, spoke of the climate related worries that plague them. In other workshops, young adults routinely acknowledged the ecological anxiety, grief, and despair that at times overwhelms them. It quickly became clear that young people across the globe are facing the stress and burden of the climate crisis like no other generation before them. There are times when this stress can be compounded by well intentioned adults, who often, without meaning to, place unfair pressure on young people to resolve the climate emergency, as previous generations were unable or unwilling to. While there are many ways we can respond productively, there are two particular ways that I would like for us to consider. First, let’s do what our Creator God has equipped us to do best: pray. Pray as individuals and as a community. Let us pray for every form of life within God’s beloved creation. Let us pray for the wellbeing of our young people. Let us pray for the wellbeing of the world’s poor as they face the worst consequences of the climate crisis. Let us pray that those in a position to act and advocate will do so. The second thing we can do is listen to the wisdom of our young people. In one workshop, a young adult encouraged creation care advocates to lean on spiritual practices that help us connect with nature, recognizing that we cannot afford to get burned out. God’s creation needs us. So we need to take care of ourselves, because this is a long haul endeavor. At a panel workshop on Renewable Energy, Hendrick and Logan went primed with questions about our church’s campus, including how might we shift away from natural gas and our eight boilers? And, how might we go about putting solar panels on our slate or metal roofs? The panelists, based in California, were unsure how to advise them, as they were less familiar with the challenges of old New England churches which spend a good portion of the year in cold temperatures. However, if the adults on that panel listened to them, just maybe, their questions will inspire the renewable energy panelists to do some more learning and digging about how other corners of the Episcopal Church might approach renewable energy. Lastly, one young adult shared an incredible tool for discerning what we can each specifically do to help with climate solutions. She introduced Climate Action Venn Diagrams, created by Ayana Elizabeth Johnson. Each of the three circles invites you to reflect. First, what are you good at? What skills, resources, and networks do you have to share? Who and what do you have access to? What can you bring to the table? Second, what is the work that needs doing? Are there particular climate and justice solutions that interest you? Third, what brings you joy and satisfaction? What gets you out of bed in the morning? What enlivens and energizes you? Then in the center, where the three circles overlap, is a climate action that you may be particularly prepared to take on. While this tool is geared at individuals, I imagine it could be used by families, ministry teams, or even an entire faith community. While the Season of Creation may conclude today, our work for another year has just begun. This is why today’s liturgy ends with a special dismissal, where we are all invited to dedicate ourselves to care for the Earth as we head back out into the world. In this coming year, I hope you will join me in… …observing how the climate crisis is unfolding in other corners of creation far beyond us. …praying for God’s creation every day, and all those impacted by the climate crisis, particularly our young people and the world’s poor. …listen to the wisdom of our young people, and join them in taking action. Amen. * https://seasonofcreation.org/about/ ** Book of Common Prayer, Eucharistic Prayer D *** https://www.rgs.org/schools/teaching-resources/60-second-guide-to-global-north-south-divide/ **** https://gca.org/four-ways-climate-change-undermines-social-justice-and-what-we-can-do-about-it/ By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector There are many layers to the parable in our gospel lesson. Yet as we sit with this story today, I’d like us to try taking the story at face value. In doing so, the story becomes a poignant reminder of our Creator God’s spirit of abundance, generosity, and love for all of creation. The parable begins with a landowner at a marketplace, looking to hire day laborers to work in their vineyard. Some laborers were hired and agreed to work for a denarius, the usual daily wage, which would have been enough to feed a family for 3-4 days.* The landowner then kept returning to the marketplace throughout the day - five times in all. On each of the return trips, when the landowner observed unemployed laborers, they hired them, saying: “You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.” Mt. 16:4 At the end of the workday, the landowner instructed the manager to call the laborers over and pay them, beginning with those hired last. Each laborer was handed a denarius - in spite of when they began their workday. This felt like an injustice to those who had worked an entire twelve hour shift. After all, shouldn’t they be entitled to more pay, than those who had only worked one hour? Gently, but firmly, the landowner reminded them that they had been paid the agreed upon wage, and that the landowner’s generosity was actually none of their business. Now, it was a bit unusual for a landowner to be doing the hiring themselves, let alone returning so frequently to hire more workers, but the landowners efforts emphasize how important it is to God that we love and care for one another and all of creation. In Jesus’ parable, the landowner was not concerned with doing what might be perceived as fair, rather, they were deeply concerned with doing what was right. The landowner understood that neighbors were in need of work in order to feed their families, and that they were in a position to employ more workers. The landowner embodied abundance, generosity, and love. We tend to pay attention to the workers who feel they’ve experienced an injustice, but let’s instead imagine what it must have been like for those workers hired at the 11th hour, and still paid a full day’s work. Can you imagine such remarkable generosity? Or have you ever been the recipient of such abundant generosity? I can immediately think of three instances when I was personally on the receiving end of such unexpected and unwarranted generosity. It shakes us to attention, and helps us see the world and our neighbors differently. It is the kind of generosity that humbles us, transforms us, and inspires us to pay it forward. Here at James and Andrew, we have been on the receiving end of such generosity and it is part of what makes today such a historic and important transition moment in the life of our parish. Today, we give thanks for the ministry of Molly, a beloved priest, pastor, and rector. We bid her farewell, for now, as she embarks on a new journey, sharing her gifts with a new community. Clergy come and go from parishes, and it is you, the body of Christ here at James and Andrew, that endures. We influence the life of the faith community through our leadership in worship, liturgy, preaching, sacramental rites, pastoral care, teaching and so much more. Hopefully, for the better. In the healthiest of transitions, we move on, not because we want to go, but because the Holy Spirit has shown us it is time. She reminds us that we have shared our very best selves with the parish and that good work has happened in our time together. While we will now be on different paths, we remain together in our mutual trust and knowledge that Christ our Mother Hen is brooding over all of us, and that our Creator God is doing a new thing. This is a particularly tender moment for our parish, and somewhat different from other clergy transitions. Molly played a unique and vital role in our journey to becoming Saints James and Andrew, as well as, in helping our community to grow in faith. She has consistently offered her grace and wisdom; her wonderful sense of humor and laugh; her gifts for process, asking hard questions, teaching, and incorporating liturgy that features expansive and inclusive language for God and Creation. When Molly was called to former St. Andrew’s in Lent 2016, she was quick to love the community for who they were, while also asking important questions about sustainability. Meanwhile, former St. James had recently been through a program through the Episcopal Church Building Fund that had the community asking similar questions about how to adapt to a changing landscape. We began explicit conversations about the possibility of merger, understanding that combining the gifts, strengths, traditions and resources of the two congregations (including human faithfulness, energy, and creativity, as well as material and financial assets) had the potential to result in a faith community that was far stronger and more dynamic than the sum of the parts.The Holy Spirit was clearly at work, and if I do say so myself, She was in rare form. Because in a matter of four months, we had agreed to a gospel merger. This was not an ‘official merger’ model that existed. It was the result of asking ourselves how Christ would call two communities together. We felt the right thing to do was to come into this marriage as partners, just as we hope any newly married couple would. If our merger was to be successful, we felt it needed to be irrelevant who had more or less money, people, resources, energy, opinions, or anything else. What mattered is that we knew, with God’s help, that we would be better together. So on April 23, 2017 the good people of former St. Andrew’s gathered in their beloved church building in Turners and began the first part of the service, while those at former St. James did the same. The folks in Turners then took cherished symbols of their life together - from the cross carried in the procession, Advent frontals, a flying dove, and more - got into their vehicles, and followed a police escort all the way to Federal Street School in Greenfield. From there they got out of their cars, and in a procession, made their way to former St. James church, led by bagpiper, verger, crucifer, banner bearer, and acolytes along the sidewalk, while the folks in Greenfield stood on the lawn loudly singing in welcome. Then we went inside together and became a new body of Christ, a new faith community, the people of Saints James and Andrew. I offered the sermon that day, and I ended it by saying, Only God knows what ministry, mission, and spiritual growth will unfold as we come together to become one new parish. Yet, I assure you, I have never felt more joyful, more hopeful for our future than I do today. I have never felt more respect, and admiration for your faith and courage as the people of God. I will say I believe and feel all of this ten times more today, than I did on Emerging Sunday. A sure sign of the Spirit. When we walked through those doors together and entered into our new relationship, we did so with hope and trust that our Creator God was with us. Yet we had no idea what the future would bring as a new community, let alone the challenges faced by every community in the pandemic. At any point along the way, we might have chosen to operate from a posture of fear and scarcity, but instead we chose the abundance and generosity we see embodied by our Creator God throughout the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. Every day since, in times of great joy and complete uncertainty, you have persevered as a body of Christ. You have embodied Saints James and Andrew’s mission, where we affirm that: 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. These last few months, like you, I have been thinking and praying about this transition for our community. Each time, I land in the same place. There is a very real and profound sense of sadness that this chapter of our life as a parish is coming to a close, yet there is an even greater sense of gratitude for ALL God has done in and through this community these last six and half years. Sometimes 1+1 = 2, but in our case 1+1 = 10. We have experienced the abundance of our Creator God again and again. We have become a beautiful mixture of former St. James, former St. Andrew’s, and only ever Saints James and Andrew. We have learned to recognize that change is healthy, a sign of life, and that new people with new ideas are a blessing to be welcomed. We have grown and deepened in our faith. We have doubled down in our outreach and mission. We have become leaders in our community for creation care. And we boldly proclaim God loves and welcomes all, no exceptions. Thanks be to God. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. So dear ones, let us give abundant thanks for the many ways we have been blessed, for Molly’s role in the life of our community, for all God has done here and continues to do, and for these new paths that lie ahead. Amen. * See commentary by John Carroll at WorkingPreacher.org ** Readings: https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp20_RCL.html By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Today I want to invite us to reflect on Paul’s Letter to the Romans (13:8-14). This is Paul’s longest letter, which is why in most translations of the Bible, it is placed immediately following the four Gospels and Acts of the Apostles. It is the last of the letters attributed to Paul believed to have actually been written by him. The letter has often been considered ‘Paul’s theological last will and testament’, as it has profoundly shaped Christian belief and identity - for better and for worse.* One of the most unfortunate results of this letter is how it has been used to perpetuate a dangerous and harmful belief that Christianity is superior to Judaism. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. In the Jewish Annotated New Testament, theologian Mark Nanos offers an entirely different way to interpret the content of this letter.** It is grounded in the simple fact that, like Jesus of Nazareth, Paul was a devout Jew who practiced Judaism. One of the dangers of reading history backwards, is we have a cognitive bias, as we know how things have already turned out, leading us to ignore essential information.*** We have traditionally been taught that Paul was a convert to the new religion, Christianity, and like some other converts before and since, he belittled his previous religious tradition.** Paul came to be seen as the great evangelist who liberated converts from Judaism. This view characterized Judaism as legalistic, focused more on external ritual rather than heartfelt beliefs; and with performing good works in order to earn God’s grace. These views were further compounded during the Protestant Reformation, when Martin Luther described Protestant Christianity as a ‘religion of grace’ and Judaism and Roman Catholicism as ‘religions of law’. Most scholars today find these characterizations mistaken. At the time of Paul’s writing, Christianity did not exist as a separate religion.** Jesus of Nazareth began a movement within Judaism, and Paul understood it as his calling to further that movement. Paul cared deeply for this movement, and dedicated his life and ministry to its success. He believed Jesus was the Christ, ushering in a new era of God’s reign on heaven and earth. Paul dedicated his time to planting churches; offered general counsel, training, and teaching; and helped communities sort through conflict.**** Unlike most of the other communities Paul worked with, he had not been to Rome. He knew of the community in Rome, just as they knew of him. Rome was the beating heart of the expansive Roman Empire. If you were to imagine the city of Rome as a large circle, the vast majority of the population within that circle were Gentiles, or pagans. Within that circle, is a very small circle, representing the minority Jewish community. Within that circle is a tiny circle, representing the Christ-following Gentiles within the Jewish community. Even though we are talking about a very small population, their proximity to the powerful leaders guiding the government and economy of the Roman Empire made them more visible than other Jewish communities may have been. If the community thrived, that was good news for the growth of the Jesus movement and Paul’s endeavors to further that movement elsewhere. Likewise, if the community was wrought with conflict and strife, that could limit the growth of the Jesus movement, and Paul’s ability to raise capital for his endeavors. Whatever direction the community went, it could ripple out beyond Rome and affect the Jesus movement throughout the empire. In his letter to the Romans, Paul was writing specifically to the Christ-following Gentiles.** He was concerned about the deteriorating relationship between Christ-following Gentiles and the Jewish community within Rome. According to theologian Mark Nanos, “Paul was a Jew who saw the Christ-following groups as an authentic expression of Judaism…he engaged in an outreach to the Gentiles because he believed that in Jesus the awaited age of God’s restoration and rule, beginning with the Jewish community, and extending beyond it, had dawned.”** Paul felt that the Christ-following Gentiles needed to understand how they should live and interact within the Jewish community. He believed that Christ-following Gentiles did not need to convert to Judaism through rituals like circumcision, in order to become full members of the Jewish community. In fact, he longed for the Christ-following Gentiles to see themselves as full members, and urged them to engage in the Jewish communal way of life. Paul had good reason to be concerned with this growing tension. Christ-following Gentiles were becoming resentful, as they felt their claims for full inclusion were not being accepted, which was at least partially true, as there were some Jews within the community who refused to accept them. Theologian Mark Nanos writes: “These Gentiles are tempted to presume that they are replacing the Jews, whom they see as having lost God’s favor by not accepting the gospel message. Instead of advancing the gospel, their attitudes threaten to undermine God’s designs, and Paul writes to change their attitude. Now that they have acknowledged the God of Israel…Paul imagines that these Gentile followers will help persuade his fellow Jews to see that God’s plans are being fulfilled in Paul’s ministry.” Communities are complicated, and the Jewish community in Rome was no exception. Similarly, Paul had his own motivations, which were primarily for the well-being of the mission, but also were a little bit about him. I imagine the same could be said about our own motivations at times. I’ll confess, Paul’s Letter to the Romans was not always my favorite text, primarily because of the way it has been traditionally interpreted over the years, but I found theologian Mark Nanos’ perspective, grounding Paul within Judaism, incredibly helpful. It gave me a new appreciation for the tender dynamics within the community of the faithful in Rome. The Christ-following Gentiles in Rome likely had identified with the majority culture before joining the Jewish community. They were vulnerable and took a risk joining this minority culture. Maybe they thought they would be welcomed with open arms or maybe they were nervous about joining this community. In any case, they experienced some rejection and judgment. And what do we so often do when we feel rejected? We begin to draw our own conclusions, and may choose to judge in return, further straining relationships and in this instance, harming the community. This is about as human of an experience as it gets. Our identity is shaped by so many factors - our age, ethnicity, gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, size and weight, educational attainment, academic and social achievements, family makeup, geographic background, language, learning style, citizenship, and beliefs.***** When we feel any aspect of our identity being judged, when we feel othered, we may be tempted to go into a self-protection mode. What is so painfully difficult and unfortunate about that instinct, is it almost never brings about healing or restores relationships. What does bring about healing and restoration in those circumstances, what does give us a new chance to grow, learn, and be our best selves is love, forgiveness, and compassion. Which is why Christ gave us this one guiding principal, which Paul repeats in today’s lesson, “Love your neighbor as yourself. Love does no wrong to a neighbor, therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.” This is true in our personal lives and relationships, and it is even more acutely true in community life. This is at least partially why Paul was so insistent in his letter that the Christ-following Gentiles stick with it, work it out, and be in relationship with their neighbors within the Jewish community, even when they feel judged. Be persistent in love. The more we are able to be persistent in love, the more we are able to engage in the mission Christ has called the Church into. If the Church, in all her iterations, wants to turn this world upside down and right side up again, we must be persistent in love. Even when it's hard. Even when we hurt. Be persistent in love. As we get ready to head back into the world today, I would invite us to do some reflecting this week…
* Neil Elliott, p.1976, New Revised Standard Version ** Mark Nanos, p.285-286 Jewish Annotated New Testament, 2nd edition. *** You can read more about the dangers of reading history backwards in an article by Cambridge University. **** Rich Simpson offers a perspective on Paul’s ministry and motivations with regard to Romans in greater detail here: https://rmsimpson.blogspot.com/2023/06/pauls-letter-to-church-in-rome.html ***** Examples of cultural identity taken from National Association of Independent Schools
“Do not hold on to me…”
Rather, she was to inform the disciples that the resurrected Christ would soon be ascending to God. In her sermon last week, Molly reminded us of Bishop Fisher’s words at our most recent diocesan convention. He reflected: “...[Mary] just wanted the old body back, and the gardener turned out to be the Risen Jesus. She embraces him but the Risen Jesus tells her he needs to keep on moving. But tell the disciples he is Risen. And she becomes the apostle to the apostles…We, too, want the old body back. 2019. Or 1955. But, the old body is gone and Resurrection to something unknown and a little scary is here. And Mary Magdalene goes with this new reality and gives a message to the apostles that changes the world.”* Mary Magdalene could have remained stuck in her fear, grief, and uncertainty, continuing to yearn for and cling to the old body. Instead, she embraces this new reality, and takes Christ’s instruction to heart: ‘Do not hold on to me…’ She shares Christ’s message to the disciples; a message that turns this world upside down and right side up again, as our Presiding Bishop likes to say. Which brings us to today’s gospel lesson. It is now evening on that very same day. Having received Mary Magdalene’s messages, the disciples are now gathered in a house, behind locked doors. John’s gospel states it was their fear that locked them in. Fear of the news they’ve just received and its implications. Fear of how leaders within the Judean community might respond. Fear for their safety. Fear of what was to come. Fear of everything. These disciples, who had dedicated their lives to helping Jesus’ share God’s dream for this world, have now locked themselves behind closed doors. This is most certainly a temptation we have all faced at one juncture or another. The unknown can leave us feeling terrified and stuck. It is also a ripe environment for nostalgia. When we feel like things are falling apart and beyond our control, many of us long for the safety of the familiar, a yearning for the way things used to be. That same desire that initially left Mary longing to cling to the old body. In her book, Atlas of the Heart, Brene Brown unpacks the dangers of nostalgia. She writes, “Across our research, nostalgia emerged as a double-edged sword, a tool for both connection and disconnection. It can be an imaginary refuge from a world we don’t understand and a dog whistle used to resist important growth in families, organizations, and the broader culture and to protect power, including white supremacy. What’s spoken: I wish things were the way they used to be in the good ol’ days.’ What’s not spoken: When people knew their places. When there was no accountability for the way my behaviors affect other people. When we ignored other people’s pain if it caused us discomfort. When my authority was absolute and never challenged.” ** Nostalgia may at first seem harmless on the surface. Yet it can be a mask for our desire for control, power, and an excuse for pursuing our own selfish desires above the needs of the wider community. Like Mary, when she went to the tomb, we may want to cling to the old body. Like the disciples, locked in the house, we may want to remain in our fear; yearning for some false illusion of safety, ignoring the impermanent nature of a life of faith. Yet we know Mary embraces the new reality of the resurrection, and in today’s gospel, we see the disciples do the same. Seemingly out of nowhere, the resurrected Christ appears in the locked house. The risen Christ offers the disciples a familiar greeting, and then shows them his hands and his side. They rejoice. While Acts of the Apostles describes the Holy Spirit being shared with the disciples on the Day of Pentecost, John’s gospel describes it taking place at this moment in today’s lesson. Christ breathed the Holy Spirit upon the disciples. In doing so, Christ has empowered them to share the Good News of God’s love and dream for this world, through the forgiveness of sins. The hour had come for the disciples to abandon their fear and uncertainty, in order to embrace this new reality. While they may not have yet understood the full meaning of this new reality, the disciples chose to trust in the hope and promise of the resurrected Christ. They knew they must move forward in faith, whatever that may mean. John’s gospel continues by telling us one of the disciples, Thomas the Twin, was not present when this all took place. When the disciples shared what had happened with him, Thomas explained he could not believe without seeing for himself. The following week, the risen Christ appeared again at the house where the disciples were shut up together in the same house (though not locked up, so they've grown a little). Christ greeted them, and then instructed Thomas to touch his hands and side. This moves Thomas to believe. The resurrected Christ then says something that was important for the disciples to hear, and even more important for us to hear. The risen Christ says, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” While we sometimes like to offer judgemental commentary on Thomas’ kinesthetic need to see and touch to believe, I do not think that the point of this story is to judge Thomas’ learning style. Rather, I think the resurrected Christ was offering a message to everyone who would come after the disciples, meaning every generation after, including ours. Christ was blessing us for believing even though we did not bear witness to the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth, the empty tomb, or encounter the resurrected Christ. We walk by faith, with each generation building upon the faith of those who have gone before us. Friends, this is exactly what we are here to do today. In just a few minutes, one of our parish’s little ones, Simon Cox, will be baptized and welcomed into the household of God. In our tradition, we welcome infants and little ones to be baptized because the parents, sponsors, and local faith community commit to raising the child in faith. We promise to believe on their behalf, to support, encourage, and foster their faith. Then when they have grown up and become young adults, they can decide whether or not to choose this path for themselves in a confirmation liturgy. Today Simon’s parents, sponsors, and our parish are committing to believe on his behalf. As a faith community, each and every time we baptize a little one or a young person, we are promising that we will be there for them as the body of Christ.
When little ones and youth are ready, they too will take on the mantle of faith along with the rest of the community, to support the next generation of the faithful. Today …we join Mary Magdalene in stepping away from our uncertainty to embrace a new reality. …we join the disciples in releasing our fears and nostalgia to receive the Holy Spirit as our guide. …we join the generations of the faithful who have gone before us, believing even though we have not seen or known firsthand. …we do all this as the body of Christ. As we prepare to head back into the world today, I would encourage us to do some reflecting this week:
Amen. * The Rt. Rev. Doug Fisher, Diocesan Convention address, Diocese of Western Massachusetts, October 2022 ** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UbO7XfPEWo |
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