Pentecost
Text: John 20:19-23 Sean C. Kim St. Mary’s Episcopal Church 28 May, 2023 The first time I saw a person die was at my father’s deathbed 14 years ago. In the final moments of his life, Dad was blessed to be surrounded by family and friends. We were at North Kansas City Hospital, standing around his bed and sharing memories, when I noticed that he stopped breathing. Unlike Hollywood depictions that mark the moment of death with great drama, there was very little drama when Dad died. There were some muffled sobs but mostly silence. Part of it was the culture of my family. We don’t show emotion in public. But it wasn’t just that. What struck me most about my father’s death was that he simply stopped breathing. It was so peaceful, almost unnoticeable. Breath is life. We draw our last breath when we die. This is not just a biological fact; there’s some fascinating theology behind the connection between breath and life. In the account of Creation in Genesis, we read “the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being” (Genesis 2:7). It was the breath of God that gave life to Adam and birth to the human race. In today’s Gospel from John, we have another story of breath and life. Following Jesus’ crucifixion, the disciples are in hiding for fear of their lives. It is Sunday, two days after Jesus’ death. Earlier in the day, they had heard a strange story from Mary Magdalene about seeing Jesus alive at the tomb. The disciples are confused. And then suddenly Jesus appears to them in the room. He stands in their midst and greets them: “Peace be with you.” He then shows them his hands and his side. This account of Jesus’ first post-resurrection appearance to the disciples concludes with his breathing on them and saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit” (John 20:19-23). This is a direct recalling of the Genesis story of Creation. Just as God breathed life into Adam, now Jesus breathes new life – a life of the Spirit – into his disciples. The Holy Spirit’s descent in John’s Gospel, sometimes called “the Johannine Pentecost,” is not as well-known as the account in the Book of Acts. We are more familiar with the Holy Spirit coming to the disciples and other followers with the sound of rushing wind, tongues of fire, and speaking in tongues (Acts 2:1-11). So, the disciples seem to have received a double dose of the Holy Spirit, the first time when Jesus appeared to them on the day of his resurrection, as recounted in John’s Gospel, and the second, after his ascension, in the Book of Acts. What about for us here today? When and how did we receive the Holy Spirit? Unlike our Pentecostal and charismatic sisters and brothers, we Episcopalians and other mainline Protestants don’t talk a lot about the Holy Spirit. Of the Three Persons of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit seems the most difficult to grasp – mysterious and elusive. But the Holy Spirit is an integral part of our theology, liturgy, and daily walk of faith. Indeed, the Holy Spirit dwells in all of us who call Jesus Lord and Savior. It is in the waters of baptism that the Holy Spirit comes to us. Just as the disciples received the Holy Spirit when Jesus breathed on them, we receive the Holy Spirit, the breath of God, when we are baptized. This is reflected in our liturgy. Some of you may have noticed that at our Easter Vigil a few weeks ago, during the blessing of the water in the baptismal font, Fr. Charles blew on the water. This ancient practice of ritual blowing represents our belief in the presence of the Holy Spirit, the breath of God, in the waters of baptism. I have heard that in the Orthodox Church, the priest actually blows on the face of the baptismal candidate, an even more direct allusion to Jesus breathing the Holy Spirit on his disciples. When we receive the Holy Spirit in baptism, our lives are changed forever. In the waters of baptism, we die to our old selves, and we rise to new life. We commit to live no longer for ourselves but for God and neighbor. We vow to love and serve, and to lead faithful and holy lives. As disciples of Jesus, we try to follow his teachings and the model that he has set for us. But we know how difficult all this can be in the face of the many struggles and temptations that come our way. Fr. Larry Parrish, our Priest Associate, and his wife, Mary, are not here with us today, so I’m going to talk about them. I’ve noticed that when Fr. Larry celebrates Mass during the weekdays, he does something different at the dismissal. While most priests and deacons will say, “go in peace to love and serve the Lord,” Fr. Larry, on the other hand, will say, “by the power of the Holy Spirit, go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” And I recently found out, this past week in fact at a committee meeting, that it is Mary who has persuaded Fr. Larry to do this. In my conversations with Fr. Larry and Mary over the years, I have learned a lot from their robust theology of the Holy Spirit, rare for Episcopalians – their previous Methodist background may something to do with it. Fr. Larry and Mary have taught me that all our efforts to love and serve, and to be faithful and holy are in vain if we think we can do them on our own. Even with all the hard work and spiritual disciplines, we will never be satisfied. We are doomed to failure. It is only through the power of the Holy Spirit, dwelling in us, that we can overcome the challenges and obstacles. The Holy Spirit is the source of our strength, wisdom, and guidance. The Holy Spirit is no less than the life-giving breath of God in our lives. We cannot live without the Holy Spirit. On this Feast of Pentecost, we commemorate the descent of the Holy Spirit on the disciples. Pentecost is the birth of the Church. Filled with the Holy Spirit, the apostles went out into the world to proclaim the Gospel and establish the Church’s foundations. In our baptism, we, too, have received the Holy Spirit, and we are called to continue the work that the apostles have begun. So, dear sisters and brothers, by the power of the Holy Spirit, go in peace to love and serve the Lord. Seventh Sunday of Easter
Robin Rusconi St. Mary’s Episcopal Church Sunday, May 21, 2023 Before I entered the discernment process, I had no understanding of what it entailed. Growing up Roman Catholic, I’d hear that a guy was going to the seminary to become a priest. I might see him occasionally at church, but it mostly seemed like he went away for a few years and came back a priest – like when I went to law school. I applied, got accepted, took tests, and then graduated. There weren’t committees that decided my path unless I was to fall below the measure, or I applied for a special program or role. I pretty much charted my course and decided what classes to take and where to apply for positions. To say that discernment required an adjustment in my usual way of understanding the control I have over my life is an understatement. Don’t get me wrong – for every struggle I have had - be it writing my spiritual autobiography or a paper on the writings of a certain challenging German theologian, I have received tenfold back from my cohort, my peers at BKSM and my time among you all here at St. Mary’s. This process has been a blessing. And while I am way better about ‘trusting in the process’ than when I started, I really hate waiting for decisions to be made about my future, waiting for my graduation, and (God willing and the people consenting) waiting for the bishop to lay hands on my head. Sometimes it feels like all I do is wait and pray. Maybe that is why when I was preparing to write this sermon, one thing I kept thinking about was how the apostles must have felt after they were sent back to Jerusalem. In some ways I wonder if they felt a lot like my cohort and I feel right now. We are all waiting and praying to know and understand what is next - HOW are we called to serve God? All we know is that one of our charges during ordination will be ”to make Christ and his redemptive love known, by your word and example, to those among whom you live, and work, and worship”. What that will look like once we are ordained and start our diaconal ministries, isn’t for us to know - yet. This morning, our reading from the Acts of the Apostles is the culmination of Jesus’s time on earth. Jesus is still teaching and preparing his disciples. Granted, the apostles have experienced a lot in the last 50 or so days that would be hard to wrap your head around. They saw their leader, who they believed would bring about the return of Israel, surrender and let himself be sacrificed in the most humiliating way. Then suddenly, he returns 3 days later with the expected wounds, but otherwise the same – except that he can now appear out of thin air. So, in today’s reading when they ask Jesus is if it is time for him to restore the kingdom of Israel, they were asking a perfectly logical question. If Jesus could rise from the dead and appear at will, what couldn’t he accomplish? As observant Jews, they were familiar with the restoration of the Kingdom of Israel foretold in the Old Testament. Their minds weren’t focused on the creation of an ethereal kingdom. They were thinking in concrete terms – a powerful kingdom returning in a measurable, earthbound period of time. After all their time with Jesus they didn’t understand that he was never talking about a physical resurgence of the nation of Israel, but instead of a spiritual reawakening and return if its people, of God’s people, to their covenant with God. That is why Jesus said “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.” Essentially – “you aren’t understanding. I am trying to get you prepared to be my witnesses. You are supposed to continue my work and proclaim God’s word “in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth”. He is preparing them to understand what the Holy Spirit will bring to them – God’s Kingdom isn’t just where I, Jesus, am going. It’s here on earth too, and it is your call to tell everyone that the kingdom of God is real, is based on love, and everyone who believes can enter. This is the shift that the disciples didn’t grasp. Jesus’s focus had changed. He was no longer preparing them for his death and resurrection, for HIS actions. Instead he is preparing them for THEIR next steps and the restoration of the kingdom of heaven on earth. One example of this change is when they ask him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom?” After answering their immediate question, he changes the focus – “…you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria…”. Jesus said the Holy Spirit would act and then the disciples would become his witnesses. Jesus’s role in their ministry is soon to be that of a former teacher who has imparted all of his wisdom and set his students off on their own path. We see this change again in today’s Gospel from John. It is another perspective of Jesus’s ascension and his words immediately preceding it. Together with the Apostles, we are privy to a conversation between Jesus and God. In what has been called Jesus’s Farewell Prayer’ we hear Jesus intervening with his Father to “protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.” Jesus tells God that he has taught the apostles everything. They just need to be brought into Jesus’s and God’s relationship – to be god-filled. It is clear that the way forward isn’t about Jesus acting anymore “And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you”. Jesus has handed off his ministry on earth to his disciples, and to all of his disciples across the ages. One thing I have learned in my discernment process is that in the eyes of God once we are baptized, we are all preparing to be God’s witnesses. Just like the disciples, Jesus is trying to teach us the way of love. We are learning, growing, and training to be his witnesses in the world. We are all to go to the uttermost parts of the world to proclaim his love – but most importantly to show his love to those who need it most – the outcast, the hungry, the ill, the poor. It is all of our calling to go forth as witnesses of God’s love and the hope of the resurrection. But it is also about timing. About listening, praying, and waiting, because we are on God’s time, not ours. Like the apostles, we will all have our times of waiting. Of praying, and not knowing what is next. The key is that we are ready and listening for God’s call when it comes. If we do this, we will live into the promise of Jesus’s Ascension. As one commentator said, “Ascension Sunday, is a day to celebrate the ongoing work of the Risen Christ, to pray without ceasing that the Spirit will empower us for witness, and then to actually go out into the world and bear witness to the Risen Christ, so that the Kingdom may come in all its glory. Amen. Sixth Sunday of Easter
John 15:1-8 (extended to verse 11) The Rev’d Charles Everson St. Mary’s Episcopal Church Sunday, May 14, 2023 Last week, we heard the chapter before today’s gospel passage in which Jesus tells his disciples that he is going to prepare dwelling places for them. When they ask where he is going, he reveals himself as the way, the truth, and the life, and says that those who know him will know his Father also. In other words, he responds not by pulling out a map and showing a location, but rather by giving us himself. It’s about relationship, not a place. The same is true in today’s reading about the vine, the vinedresser, and the branches. Jesus uses the word “abide” nine times again not referring to a place, but rather a relationship. “Abide in me as I abide in you,” he says. This passage is often seen as a launching point for the preacher to give you three ways in which you can abide in Jesus (for example by prayer, reading the Bible, being generous, and so on). The problem is that “abiding” isn’t something to do. Abide is a passive verb in Greek. It’s not something you do, it’s who you are. In this metaphor, Jesus is the vine, and we are the branches. What do branches do? Work really hard to stay connected to the vine? No, branches simply exist as part of the overall vine. All you have to do is be a branch. If you’re worried you aren’t abiding, you are abiding, because a person who is not abiding isn’t worried about this at all. Whoever does not abide in Jesus is apparently thrown into the fire and burned. Jesus isn’t saying, “You’d better abide or else! This is a description of being. The vine was a common image used in the Hebrew Bible to speak of Israel as God’s people and conveyed the ideas of divine love and divine judgment. And it was a common image in the minds the disciples as they listened to Jesus speak these words as the Jewish Temple was surrounded by a giant golden vine. The vinedresser here is still God, but the vine is not Israel, but Jesus. The branches are part of the vine, that is, part of Jesus’ mystical body, the Church. Through the waters of baptism, we are grafted into Christ’s body, the Church, not because of our own works, but by the unmerited grace of God. All of the baptized make up the branches of the vine, with God the Father pruning and cleaning so that we all may bear good fruit. Like last week, this passage is all about relationship, not a list of rules. That said, branches only exist as part of the greater vine, not in isolation. This was somewhat of a new concept to me coming out of the Southern Baptist worldview. For many evangelicals, the only requirement to abide in Jesus is to pray and read the Bible at home. In this view, church attendance and corporate worship and being involved in the wider body of Christ is viewed as helpful and highly recommended, but not essential. On the other hand, you have the Roman Catholic Church with its notion of “holy obligation” which states that the faithful are required to attend Mass on Sundays and certain other high feast days, unless impeded by sickness or other serious reason; the failure to go to Mass on these days is said to be a grave sin that, under certain conditions, can send you to hell unless you go to private confession first. The Episcopal Church is, like you might expect, sort of in the middle. Title II, Canon 1, of the 2022 Canons of the Episcopal Church says, “All persons within this Church shall celebrate and keep the Lord’s Day, commonly called Sunday, by regular participation in the public worship of the Church, by hearing the Word of God read and taught, and by other acts of devotion and works of charity, using all godly and sober conversation.” This expectation is not issued as an edit under pain of eternal damnation, it’s a description of who we are as Christian people. Rather than “holy obligation,” I prefer the term “holy opportunity.” “Abide in me as I abide in you,” Jesus says. When I say that Christianity isn’t all about the rules, it’s about relationship, don’t mishear me. I’m not saying that the Church has no expectations of the faithful. We do. There are expectations, formal and informal, in every relationship. But I don’t think of these expectations as a list of things to get done on a checklist to avoid the pains of hell. The simple expectation to come to church on Sundays and major feasts is more a description of the foundational practice of all Christians – what it means to be a branch on the vine. The branches are fed and nourished by being part of the vine; we are fed and nourished with spiritual food and drink in the Sacraments of the Church. Baptism is how we become branches, and it is in the bread and wine of Holy Communion – especially on Sundays and major feasts – that we are nourished, and pruned, and even made clean by the vinedresser. At the breaking of the bread, we offer and present to the Lord our whole selves, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice to him, asking the Father that we may be made one body with him, that he may dwell in us, and we in him. Each of us – each branch on the vine – is part of the greater whole, but we, of course, maintain our individuality and come to this place with our individual struggles and joys. The vinedresser prunes every branch that bears fruit, that it may bear more fruit. I remember seeing a recently pruned vineyard while on a winery tour in Northern California and thinking that the vine had been pruned back so much that it looked dead! The Christian life is not all fun and games. Sometimes it can be brutal, and sometimes it is joyful. But God is at work in each of our lives, whether we’re bearing fruit right now or are so pruned back that we couldn’t bear the weight of even one, small grape. “Abide in me as I abide in you,” Jesus says. “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you; abide in my love…These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.” Amen. Fifth Sunday of Easter
John 14:1-14 The Rev’d Charles Everson St. Mary’s Episcopal Church Sunday, May 7, 2023 This passage we heard from the gospel of John is a favorite at Episcopal funerals. I did a quick search of my sermon folder and wasn’t surprised that I’ve preached at no fewer than 10 funerals at which this gospel was read. Why is it so often chosen for funerals? Because it makes us feel good to hear these comforting words when we’re in sorrow and grief. “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus says. The disciples were more than troubled when they first heard these words. Despite the fact that we’re in the Easter season, the setting is Jesus’ farewell address at his last supper with his disciples, and he has just told them that he is going to leave them soon. He has also predicted that one of them will betray him, and another will deny him. The disciples are understandably troubled and anxious. They don't know what is going to happen, or where Jesus is going, or how they will cope without him. In the midst of their despair and anxiety, Jesus comforts them, saying, ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling-places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. It feels good to hear “Do not let your hearts be troubled” when you’re faced with grief at the loss of a loved one. It feels good to hear that Jesus prepares a place for his followers and will come again and take them to himself so that where he is, there they may be too. It feels good to hear these words when you are troubled. Yet the disciples were still confused. Despite Jesus assuring them that they know the way to the place where he is going, Thomas, in his characteristic bluntness and honesty, ask, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" We, too, ask, “What sort of place is Jesus going to prepare for us? And where in the heck is it?” It’s easy to say, especially when someone dies, “They’re going to a better place.” Or “Heaven has gained another angel.” This dwelling place Jesus is preparing for is not so much a place as it is a person. I am reminded of my paternal grandparents’ home which was around for the first 23 years of my life. 8004 Tomahawk Road in Prairie Village, Kansas, where my grandparents Chuck and Trula Everson lived for over 50 years. I remember the phone number – 381-0555 – and this sounds silly, but I think I remember the smell. No matter what was happening in life, I knew I was “at home” when I was there, and that all was right in the world. Though I associate objects and smells with this feeling, the feeling wasn’t really about the place itself, but about my grandparents. When I was there, I felt entirely loved and it felt like home. In response to Thomas’ confusion about how to find the way to follow him wherever it is he’s going, Jesus doesn’t respond with a map, or as set of doctrines the disciples should assent to mentally, or some abstract notion of what happens to the soul between the death of the body and the end times. He responds with himself. He says, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” Jesus is the way to the Father by his death and resurrection through which he paid the price for our sins and reconciled us with God. He has broken down the wall of hostility that separated us from God and from one another and brought reconciliation and wholeness. In the waters of baptism, he has made us citizens of heaven and members of the household of God. Jesus is the way, not so much as a route to somewhere else, but as a pathway to unity with God. Jesus has revealed the truth about God and about us. He has shown us who we are: sinners in need of forgiveness and redemption. And he has shown us who God is: ever-forgiving, ever-loving, ever-redeeming, not because we deserve it, but because it is who he is. He has shown us what life is about: empowered by the Holy Spirit – whom John refers to as the “Spirit of Truth”, loving God and loving our neighbor, day and in day out. Finally, Jesus is the life. As in “eternal life”, or full participation in God’s very being. He himself is this life, and it is in relationship with Jesus that we are invited to be fully united with God in this life and the next. There are those in The Episcopal Church and other mainline Protestant Churches who cringe when they hear this verse because they are embarrassed because some say that Jesus is saying that only those who call themselves Christian and believe in him can get to heaven. Remember, Jesus isn’t making a public proclamation in the synagogue or before the imperial officials. This isn’t meant as some sort of doctrinal proclamation about who gets to heaven and how. Rather, Jesus is comforting his closest friends who were terrified as they were faced with the imminent death of their master and friend. He continues, “If you know me, you will know my Father.” And in case there is any doubt, he adds, “From now on you do know him and have seen him.” He is simply telling his disciples who he is. It isn’t only Thomas who doesn’t understand. Philip says, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus’ humanity comes out a bit in his irritated response: “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” Jesus then echoes something from the beginning of John’s gospel: “No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart who has made him known.” Christianity is all about relationship with a person, not about following all of the right rules. Being a member of The Episcopal Church and St. Mary’s isn’t about genuflecting at the right time or supporting just political causes, nor is it about being able to intellectually understand and assent to each phrase of the Nicene Creed, as important as all of those things are – it’s about growing into a deeper relationship with God as he has made himself known to us in Jesus Christ as individuals and as members of this parish and the wider body of Christ. Dear friends, when you are troubled, be comforted by these words that our Savior said to his friends: ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling-places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. The Fourth Sunday of Easter
Text: John 10:1-10 Sean C. Kim St. Mary’s Episcopal Church April 30, 2023 Today, we observe what is traditionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday. In our readings, we have the famous Twenty-third Psalm, “The Lord is my shepherd,” and we have the story of Jesus, the good shepherd, in our Gospel from John. Jesus, the good shepherd, is one of the most popular icons in Christianity. Here at St. Mary’s, we have a beautiful stained-glass window in the St. George Chapel that depicts Jesus carrying a lamb on his shoulders. And in our parish office, we have a large, black-and-white picture of Jesus, standing in the middle of a flock of sheep and holding a tiny lamb in his arm. The painting used to belong to one of our parishioners, the late Ms. Faye Hopkins. We are all familiar with Jesus, the good shepherd. But, in today’s Gospel, we find another, less well-known metaphor for Jesus, the gate, more specifically, the gate to the sheepfold. So, on the surface, we seem to have a case of mixed metaphors, two incompatible, confusing metaphors. How can Jesus be both the shepherd and the gate in the same story? Well, setting our literary conventions aside, the two metaphors work together to convey the main point of the story: Jesus, the good shepherd and the gate to the sheepfold, is the source of care, protection, and guidance for his followers. In seeing Jesus as the good shepherd, we have the promise and assurance of his constant presence in our lives. The good shepherd never leaves his flock as he cares and provides for them. And I can think of no words more eloquent than the Twenty-third Psalm in expressing this fundamental conviction of our Christian faith: The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. He revives my soul and guides me along right pathways for his Name’s sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. As followers of Jesus, we are never alone. We are his flock, in the company of other sheep and guided and protected, cared and provided for by the good shepherd. Whatever the circumstances of our life may be, whether we find ourselves in green pastures - when everything in life seems to be going smoothly, enjoying health and success - or the valley of the shadow of death - when we confront a serious illness or death – Jesus promises to be with us. The image of Jesus, the good shepherd, has provided comfort and strength for the faithful in countless situations. In seeing Jesus as the gate, we have a less familiar image than the good shepherd but no less important. I have to confess that when I was preparing the sermon, I had to do some research about sheep. Having always lived in the city, I’m ignorant of farm life and animals. I remember when I first started working at the University of Central Missouri in Warrensburg and began the long drives through rural Missouri, one day I sighted sheep grazing in the fields. I think it was the first time in my life that I had seen sheep in person. And I had thought that sheep were found only in places like England and the Middle East, not in the U.S. and certainly not in Missouri. So, I excitedly called my mother and exclaimed: “They have sheep in America!” In our Gospel text, we read: “I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture” (John 10:9). So, based on what I’ve learned – and please correct me if I’m wrong – the sheepfold is the enclosure where the sheep come in during the night to rest and find protection from thieves and predators. So, it is through Jesus, the gate, that we enter the sheepfold to find rest and protection. Then, during the day, the gate is opened so the sheep can go out, led by the shepherd, to find pasture. According to these images, Jesus, the shepherd, walks with us and leads us in our daily lives, but, as the gate, he invites us to retreat from the world into the sheepfold, where we find rest and protection. Four years ago, April of 2019, about a month before I was about to begin my service at St. Mary’s, I had a conversation with one of our parishioners, Spencer Jasper, as we were concluding our vigil on Maundy Thursday. Spencer, a long-time parishioner, shared with me his love for the church, and he made a comment that will always stay with me. Pointing to our beautiful altar, he said, “This is the gate of heaven.” Yes, this altar, on which Our Lord Jesus Christ offers himself to us, is indeed the gate of heaven. He invites us to enter this sacred space, away from the cares and distractions, perils and dangers, of this world, and to find rest and refreshment. And as we gather at the altar to celebrate the Holy Mysteries, heaven and earth meet. We are joined by the citizens of heaven. Angels and archangels, patriarchs and prophets, saints and martyrs, and our beloved ones who have gone before us – all descend around the altar to join us in praise and adoration of Our Lord Jesus Christ. In the Eucharist, we are given a foretaste of heaven. So, dear friends, we gather at the gate of heaven this morning. In the words of our Prayer Book, we come to receive “the holy food and drink of new and unending life in him” (The Book of Common Prayer, p.363). We come not for solace only, but for strength; not for pardon only, but for renewal (The Book of Common Prayer, p.372). And, when the service is ended and we leave the sheepfold to go back into the world of green pastures and shadows of the valley of death, we will be carried in the arms of our good shepherd. |
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To the Glory of God and in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary
St. Mary's is a parish of the Diocese of West Missouri, The Episcopal Church, and the Anglican Communion.
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