Homily to the Council of General Synod on Sunday, November 17, 2013 given by Sister Elizabeth Rolfe-Thomas, SSJD

Homily to the Council of General Synod on Sunday, November 17, 2013

(Readings: Mal 4:1-2a;Psalm 98; 2 Thess 3:6-13; Luke 21:5-19)

When I first looked at the readings for today, they seemed dark and foreboding. From Malachi: “See, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble . . .”. The writer of the 2^nd letter to the Thessalonians tells us to keep away from believers who live in idleness (or in another translation) those who conduct themselves in a disorderly way and not according to the tradition they received from us. . .” In Luke’s Gospel, the disciples are told that the temple will be destroyed: “the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.” This leads into a horrifying description of the end times and all that will happen before the Son of Man appears. There will be signs such as wars and earthquakes, famines and plagues.” It’s no wonder that the end of the world has been proclaimed so many times in the past. I remember back in the 70's or 80's when I was teaching high school, some people were convinced that the world was going to end during our Christmas holidays. We had heard of people building underground bunkers in Australia. Some of my students asked if they needed to study for their exams in January. I told them it was their choice, but if the world didn’t end, there would still be exams so they might want to hedge their bets.

Things can seem as bleak today as they have in the past: we have become so familiar with wars and rumors of wars, with hearing about devastating earthquakes and famines, typhoons and tsunamis, with news of climate change and the effects of global warming and the pollution of our planet. And the sense of impending disaster is not limited to the outside world. We sense it too in our church; we see an aging population, fewer people attending church especially children and young people; less money in the bank and many churches closing. It’s almost an echo of “not one stone left upon another”. It’s so easy to become discouraged. On Thursday afternoon, however, during the World Café exercise, I was particularly struck by something that had been written on one of the paper tablecloths. “Actual circumstances are an obligatory push to mission . . . they are an opportunity for mission.”

Times of crisis are challenging but they can also be seen as opportunities for change, opportunities to take risks, to try something new, to experiment because in one sense there’s less to lose. It’s almost as if we sometimes need to experience major losses in order to envision something new. I can be extremely comfortable with what is until something terrible happens which eventually opens me to new opportunities. When my husband died of a brain tumor in 1992, it seemed like the end of my world at that time. I no longer had a great desire to live. Life was simply putting one foot in front of the other, doing my job as a high school teacher and administrator the best way I could. I couldn’t have imagined at that time that I would enter the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine five years later and embark on a new life that would be completely fulfilling.

When everything is going well, there often doesn’t seem to be the same need to cry to God for help or to listen so intentionally for God’s still, small voice. But when disaster strikes or life seems to be falling apart, we remember that God has promised to be with us always to the end of the age. We become more intentional about listening for the voice of the Holy Spirit within; we may even take time to go on retreat to be more open and attentive to God’s guidance. 

On Friday evening, I took some time to look at the sticky wall. Some of the words that attracted my attention were hope, trust, openness to the Holy Spirit, humility, vulnerability, risking together, flexible creativity and experimentation, celebrating our identity and strengths. And finally a question: What are others both inside and outside the church calling us and needing us to be?”  I think this is a question that is well worth pondering not just at CoGS but throughout the church family.

Phyllis Tickle, an Episcopalian lay woman from the southern U.S. who has written 2 or 3 books on the Emerging Church, believes that these are exciting times in which to live. Among the Anglican Religious communities in North America, all of us are smaller than we once were. Some are down to fewer than 5 members but at our annual conference in Racine, Wisconsin, this past May, there were representatives of about 15 new communities that have been or are now emerging. It was very exciting to hear about how they had come into being and what they are doing. Only a few live together in community or have a mother house as more traditional religious communities do, but all of them are finding ways to be community and to serve in their respective churches and communities. It’s so important to see this present time as an opportunity for new life, for the birthing of new ways of being church. Our readings this morning are not completely dark or without hope. There are positive signs in each of the readings.

The reading in Malachi ends with these words: “But for you who revere my name the sun of righteousness will rise, with healing in its wings.” We saw a beautiful example of this in yesterday’s video [on the 2^nd National Native Convocation in Minaki in 1993].

Psalm 98 is full of love and joy:

“O sing to the Lord a new song, for God has done marvelous things. . . “

“Shout with joy to God, all you lands; lift up your voice, rejoice, and sing.

Sing to God with the harp, with the harp and the voice of song.

With trumpets and the sound of the horn, shout with joy before . . . the Lord.

We have heard this joy in the Lord many times over the past few days especially in the commemoration of Archbishop Michael Peer’s apology to the Indigenous peoples we had last night in the context of a communion service. The 2^nd letter to the Thessalonians tells us not to “weary in doing what is right.”

Even the passage from Luke’s Gospel has words of hope:

“I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.”

On Friday, I so enjoyed hearing Melissa [Green] and Bp. Mark’s report of the World Council of Churches’ conference in Busan, Korea,. While I was saddened that our differing theologies about the Eucharist still prevent Christian churches from coming together around the sharing of bread and wine, I was profoundly moved by Melissa’s description of people coming together in the washing of one another’s feet. To wash someone’s feet or to allow someone to wash one’s own feet is an action of great intimacy. How wonderful that members of so many denominations could enact this sign of servant-hood and hope, providing us with a concrete way in which we can come together in Christian unity.

St. Francis is supposed to have said:

Proclaim the gospel and if necessary use words.

We can give thanks for what Anglicans have done in the past and seize the many opportunities we have to show  by our actions that we genuinely care for one another in the church and even more especially outside the church, not only in words, but in all that we do.

We have a message of healing and reconciliation for the world, a message that was proclaimed yesterday afternoon in such a powerful way. People need to be reassured that healing and reconciliation are possible, that “neither death nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else is all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Jesus call us to feed the hungry, to provide clean water for those who thirst, to welcome the stranger, to clothe the naked, to visit those in prison, to care for the sick. We can’t do everything but we can all do something. We can look at our skills and areas of influence and choose where to focus our attention and our energies so that we can make a difference and have an impact on our world.

Our church may be much smaller than it was, at least in North America, but it can still make a difference. 

The Sermon preached on the Feast Day of St. Margaret of Scotland by The Reverend Frances Drolet-Smith

St. Margaret 16 November

Queen of Scotland, Helper of the Poor, 1093 — Commemoration

Matthew 25: 31-40

Today we commemorate Margaret, Queen of Scotland, a job description impressive enough, but I am more impressed and intrigued by the second notation given her in Stephen Reynolds’ compilation For All the Saints – Margaret is called “Helper of the Poor.”

Margaret was an Anglo-Saxon princess who married King Malcolm III of Scotland in 1069. Together they raised eight children (I’m sure they had help) and, also together, they promoted reforms in all facets of Scottish life: in the royal court, in the Church, and in the nation itself. But Margaret is chiefly remembered for her efforts on behalf of Scotland’s poor. She gave away large sums of money and also held institutions, already in place, accountable to their mandates of actually providing relief to those they purported to help: the homeless, hungry, and orphaned. Margaret also provided funds to buy Anglo-Saxons out of slavery, indentured by their Norman conquerors. It is for this merciful act that, to her title of Queen, is added the even greater title — “Helper of the Poor.”

This passage from Matthew’s Gospel marks and makes a resounding end to Jesus’ public discourse, making them extremely poignant “last words”. Here Jesus instructs his followers in “what to do next”, “what to be busy at” – in short, how to live their lives without him there to model it for them. The work includes attending to the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the stranger, the imprisoned – those in actual prisons, as well as those in economic or spiritual, prisons. In short, Jesus is instructing his followers, including us, to be busy sharing the gifts of Grace; gifts as basic as food and water, gifts equally basic to human existence as acceptance, love – solidarity with “the least of these” in every possible way. In doing so, we care for Christ who continues to live among us. Neglecting to do so....well, not to put too fine a point on it...fails Christ.

I’d like to tell you another old story:

It’s a story from the desert – a story from the earliest religious communities dating back to the end of the 2nd century. It’s a story that I think has something to say to us as we try to come to terms with how to live in a world where people are increasingly fearful, un-trusting, and apprehensive to express compassion,. to live compassionately.

A monastic community was in trouble and so the abbess went into the wilderness, seeking wisdom from an anchoress.

She said, “My community is shrinking in numbers, the Sisters are quarrelsome and grumbling, there are few visitors and our worship hardly ever gives me joy. What is to be done?”

The Anchoress said, “Tell the first Sister you meet on your return that the Messiah has come and is in the community.”

“What!” said the abbess, how can that be? They will tell me that I have gone mad.” The anchoress smiled that knowing smile, like anchoresses do . . .

So even though she felt very foolish, the abbess did as she was told. The word spread in the community, from one to another. One by one the Sisters began to change their attitudes, and their behaviour toward each other. Life improved for them all and the community once again became a center of love, peace and compassion.

This “old” story is really about living well in community. And where ever we find ourselves living, be it in families, in parishes, in the places where we work, or in the wider community, we are called to choose, day by day, sometimes minute by minute, how we will live – in harmony, or at odds with one another. Image how life would be if we really believed the Messiah was in our midst. . .

Jesus encouraged his followers to love one another, to care for anyone in need, whatever the need, but he was not naive – he knew that living together is hard work, that people don’t always get along, that we don’t always see eye-to-eye, so he also encouraged his followers to pray for their enemies, to do good to those who persecute or harm them. “Living well in community” is precisely what we ought to be about, whether inside these lovely walls or “out there” in the big world: living lives of prayer and service and welcoming strangers in Christ’s name. The community in that desert story had essentially forgotten “who” they were; they had forgotten how to live together with loving compassion.

In our retreat this weekend, we’ve been considering how God calls us to the task of making peace and in turn to offer peace to others. Despite evidence to the contrary, I’ve been bold enough to suggest that transforming the world is not an impossible task! Fundamental to our lives as Christians living in an often troubled world is the understanding that hope is a choice. Not-so-long-ago, this Millennium, now no longer so new, but remember when we started it? It seemed fraught with possibility and promise, and we had such high hopes. We’re only 13 years in and we’ve already witnessed several wars and rumours of war and in the process, we’ve convinced ourselves we cannot trust anyone, let alone, get along with or help them. The horrific events of September 11^th unsettled us to our core, awakening in us a whole range of primal emotions: fear, anger, disillusionment, revenge, helplessness. After seeing the unspeakable, some were moved to retaliate and we have seen acts of violence and vandalism unleashed on yet more innocent people. We may well wonder where this madness will end.

Well, that will be determined by how we choose to live: in fear, or in love. In anger, or in deeds of mercy. In revenge, or in peaceful pursuits. In helplessness, or in hospitality.

The Sisters in that old story were challenged to see the Messiah in their midst – we too can look for the Messiah in our midst, and see the change not only in others, but in ourselves. The Good News here is that there is no checklist of good deeds to fill out. Jesus is talking about our manner of living here, and it’s one that isn’t motivated out of the fear of Hell or the hope of heaven, for that matter, but a life that’s driven by an authentic love. In a world increasingly characterized by fear and suspicion, what is the Church called to be? How do we change hostility into hospitality?

Compassion is a spiritual practice. Theologian Carl Gregg says “The day-to-day practice of compassion and of love toward your neighbours (and he means, all your neighbours!) is much more important and difficult than simply believing a creed or a set of doctrines.” Think of it: if others are praying that the hungry be fed, the naked clothed, that peace will reign – maybe we can be the answer to their prayer. An exercise the participants in the retreat are doing is making Prayer Flags. Prayer Flags are seen all over the mountainside in the Himalayas. They do not carry prayers “to” God, as many think; rather the prayers are blown by the wind to bless the countryside – silent, powerful witnesses carrying messages of goodwill and compassion that can change the hearts of those who see them. Tomorrow we will each take a flag home with a commitment to somehow be the answer to someone’s prayer.

I am not so naive to think we can make it all better but we are required to make the world right in front of us a little more just, a little more merciful, a little more filled with love. With God's grace, our meagre efforts, however small, will spread from one to another, the world over. We may never see the fruits of the seeds we plant, but as any gardener knows, planting them at all is the thing that matters.

The Reverend Frances Drolet-Smith

Some of you may remember Timothy Matthews, the former Bishop of the Diocese of Quebec. If not, you may remember hearing a blessing he used often, that many have repeated over the years: May God bless you wherever you go, and may you see the face of Jesus in everyone you meet.

Frances Drolet-Smith is an Oblate of SSJD and  a parish priest in the Diocese of NS and PEI

The homily for St. Michael & All Angels by The Reverend Andrea Budgey

 Once, when I was a child – I've forgotten how young – I found my bed made, and I was sure I hadn't done it myself: it was too neat, crisp and smooth, with hospital corners. I thanked my mother for doing it, and she denied having been anywhere near my bed that morning. Since no-one else in the house was a likely candidate, I decided that my guardian angel must have done it. I don't know where I got the idea, since we weren't a church-going family, and I'd never been exposed to Sunday-school, but apparently it made sense to me that an emanation of the presence of God would have come and sorted out this little domestic chore for me. I never worked out what had actually happened, but it must be said that it never happened again.

I was reminded of this rather embarrassing childhood episode occasionally when I was working at the Anglican Book Centre, and we would get in popular books about angels. We’d hope that there might be something about angels in scripture and history, but almost everything in that line was about getting the most out of angels – harnessing their power, if you like – for fun and profit, especially your own personal guardian angel.

Now it's true that the tradition of guardian angels – one assigned to every human being – can be said to have roots in scripture, and I think we may all have had moments of feeling inexplicably watched over, or cared for, and whether you ascribe that protection to a personal angelic guardian or directly to God probably depends on your own cultural conditioning and temperament. But really, to “domesticate” angels is to miss several important points. In Hebrew, the word for angel is malakh, “something or someone sent”; the Greek is aggelos, a herald, or messenger. An angel, then, is a messenger of God, or, in some interpretations, an emanation of the divine Will. The angels whom Jacob sees ascending and descending the ladder, in our first reading, are passing, in a very literal way, between heaven and earth, signifying communication between God and humanity, a point of contact between the visible and invisible, the known and the mysterious. That’s what we, like Jacob, desire from God (or think we do): knowing the limitations of our understanding, the gulf which seems to lie between us and perfection, is one of the great frustrations of being human, and the angelic visitations of scripture are a sign that the barrier is not completely impassable – at least in one direction.

The promise Jesus makes to Nathaniel echoes this earlier story, but now it locates the medium of communication precisely in his own person – he has become the ladder by which God descends to be with us, and upon which we are summoned to ascend to God. He joins himself to our human life, so that we can be drawn into the divine life. In both of these stories, there is a promise made to an individual, but its ramifications are far greater than that individual's own comfort or instruction. The promise is made to generations yet to come, and the individual is drawn into the fulfilment of that promise as part of a greater community – Nathaniel's promised vision is not for himself alone, any more than Jacob's was. Think of other great angelic visions in scripture – Ezekiel and the wheel, for example, or Gabriel's visits to Zechariah, to Mary, and to Joseph – in each case, an individual is commissioned to be something more than him- or herself, and to manifest God's power and God's love for others.

In some ways, the whole book of Revelation – bizarre as it is – presents us with a highly complex and elaborated version of that same sort of vision. What John describes is a huge metaphor for the Incarnation of God as a human being, with promises of God's ultimate triumph over evil, and John’s own commissioning to reveal this good news to others. One of the centrepieces of the vision is the battle between Michael and Satan, which we heard in our second reading. Probably because of the way he experienced conflict in his own life, John presents this cosmic struggle in terms of a human war – an instrusion of human violence into the kingdom of heaven. If you read carefully, though, you'll see that most of the detailed imagery we have associated with the conflict in art – weapons, armour, and details of the combat – is supplied from our own imaginations, and from a lifetime of seeing images of Michael with a spear or a sword, casting down the serpent; Milton’s account of celestial warfare coloured by his own experience of Civil War... Elsewhere in the Book of Revelation, John praises the non-violent resistance of the martyrs, and this re-echoing of Christ’s self-offering is of far greater consequence in the triumph of love over evil than any feats of arms, however cosmically irresistible they might appear. It is possible to imagine other, less crudely obvious, forms which the triumph of the angels of God might take, and it's up to our own prayerful imaginations to find them and make them known in the world's search for peace.

Prayerful imagination is also what we are called to use in our own lives, as individuals and as communities. And as we strive to discern, to discover the will of God for us, it's worth remembering something about encounters with angels, the messengers of God. First, we need to be open to hearing the voice of God, in ways less literal, more subtle, more discreet, more intimate, and also more prosaic, than the sudden appearance of a radiant being with a twelve-foot wingspan (although not, perhaps, as prosaic as I imagined as a child). Second, we have to remember that we don’t seek divine guidance just as individuals: like Jacob, we are part of a living inheritance; like Nathanael, we are part of a community, part of the Body of Christ. Finally, we already have an experience of God coming to meet us, week by week, in Word, and prayer, and sacrament – God comes to us, speaks to us, and feeds us, providing the angelic ladder on which we may also ascend into his risen and glorious life. Therefore with angels and with archangels, and with all the whole company of heaven, we laud and magnify God’s holy name, looking with joy and hope to the kingdom which lies before us, in whose building we are called to share. Amen.

The current Humphrys Chaplain to the University of Trinity College and the Saint George campus of the

The Reverend Andrea Budgey

University of Toronto is the Rev'd Andrea Budgey.

Ms. Budgey completed both an M Mus (performance: oboe) and an MA (medieval studies: Celtic languages and literature, music) at the University of Toronto, and in 2006 obtained her M Div from Trinity College. She was ordained priest in January of 2008, and was Assistant Curate at Saint Simon-the-Apostle in Toronto until the end of that year, continuing to serve as honorary assistant, and later as interim priest-in-charge; she is currently an honorary assistant at the parish of Saint Stephen-in-the-Fields, close to campus. She has been involved in community outreach and advocacy for a number of years, and retains a strong interest in ecumenical and interfaith work; she welcomes constructive engagement with both seekers and skeptics. She is also advisory board chair of the University of Toronto unit of the Student Christian Movement. As a member and co-founder of the SINE NOMINE Ensemble for Medieval Music, she sings and plays harp, fiddle, recorder, and percussion, and has directed a number of medieval liturgical reconstructions. She has been an instructor (in Celtic Studies, music, and English) for Saint Michael's College, the School of Continuing Studies, the Faculty of Music, and the Scarborough campus of the University of Toronto, a freelance writer and researcher, bookseller, and calligrapher, and has also worked in radio music production and concert management.

The Homily preached by Sister Elizabeth on the occasion of Sister Rhonda's First Profession, September 25, 2013

Homily — Sr. Rhonda’s First Profession — September 25, 2013

Today is a very special day in the life of Sr. Rhonda and of this Community; it is also the Feast of St. Sergius whom, until this past week, I knew nothing about except that he had been an Abbot and founder of a religious community in the 14^th Century. I’d like to share a little of what I have learned about St. Sergius.

According to one author St. Sergius is the most loved of all the Russian saints, 2^nd only to the Virgin Mary, especially in Northern Russia. In another book I read, he is described as a ‘peasant saint’ (in character if not by origin) — simple, humble, grave, gentle and neighbourly. [These words might describe Rhonda except for the word “grave”; her joy has a tendency to bubble up to the surface in giggles or gentle laughter, especially when doing exercises in the therapeutic pool at St. John’s Rehab. The last few week or so she’s had difficulty keeping her feet on the ground.] St. Sergius has been compared to St. Francis in his love of nature, a rather wild kind of nature compared to that of Italy. There is a story, perhaps apocryphal, that he once fed his last piece of bread to a bear who was hungry, and thereafter he and the bear became friends.

St. Sergius lived during the time when Russia was occupied by the Mongol Tartars; he and his parents & brothers were driven from their home in Moscow so they moved into the forest north of Moscow and started farming there. After his parents’ death, Sergius, at the age of 20, went deeper into the forest about 45 miles NE of Moscow to seek spiritual solitude. He convinced his older brother Stefan to join him and together they built their individual cells and a small chapel. [According to Jane deVyver,] “he lived a very austere ascetic life, marked by extreme poverty, hard physical labor, and profound humility and simplicity.” This was too much for Stefan who returned to the monastery where he had been living before joining Sergius. For some years Sergius lived a solitary and extremely austere life, keeping long vigils in his tiny chapel. However, as so often happens with hermits or mystics who try to live a solitary life, others learned of this holy man, were attracted by his life, and began making their own cells close by. By 1354 a number of other monks were living the communal life with Sergius although they soon learned that living the communal life was much more difficult than living as hermits. It was only the selfless conduct of St. Sergius that held them together. Thus began the monastery of the Holy Trinity — to whom Sergius was devoted — the first of approx. 40 monasteries founded by him and his disciples, “in the most impracticable places”.

Sergius was perhaps best known for his humility. He only became a priest and abbot of his community after continued persuasion by his monks and much later when the Metropolitan of Moscow & principal bishop of the Russian Church asked him to be his successor, he flatly refused saying: “Who am I but a sinner and the least of men.”Sometime after the death of St. Sergius, his original wooden church of the Holy Trinity burnt down and was replaced in 1422 by a white stone church for which Andrei Rublev did much of the iconographic work, including his most famous Holy Trinity icon which you see in front of the altar.

The readings for today were well chosen for St. Sergius. The first reading from Sirach talks about seeking wisdom, rising early to seek the Lord, opening one’s mouth in prayer and asking pardon for one’s sins. These are important qualities for all monastics — well, some might disagree with me about “rising early” to seek the Lord but Sr. Rhonda is an early riser. What is true is that as Sisters, prayer is our primary vocation. We believe that our ministry must be upheld, informed and permeated by prayer. The most essential aspect of our daily personal prayer is listening, opening ourselves to God to discern God’s will for us both individually and corporately. Prayer is not intended to make us feel comfortable (although there will be times of consolation). Prayer is meant to challenge us and open us to God’s transforming love and, as you know, being transformed is not comfortable. As monastics, we keep trying to open ourselves to what God is calling us to be in the depths of our being. Discernment never ends. Today God might be challenging me to be more patient or more understand- ing; tomorrow something may happen which is challenging me to be more forgiving, and next month I may feel called to let go of resentment or of controlling others or of some other weakness God has uncovered in me.

The desire for wisdom and a deeper relationship with God involves journeying more deeply into ourselves — seeking the true Self which God created us to be without any of the masks we’ve all learned to wear to protect ourselves from being hurt by others. We have no idea where that journey is going to take us. Just as St. Sergius moved out into the deep forest 45 miles NE of Moscow to seek God and found an area of wilderness, extreme poverty, and frightening creatures, so when we seek a deeper relationship with God and with ourselves, we too may find wilderness, inner poverty, and demons that we would rather run away from. But the only way to deal with those inner demons or fears is to face them in a safe place.

We may feel inadequate, believing that we have nothing to give: “Why would God call me to this life?” We will definitely be challenged by the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, in different ways at different times. Poverty will mean something different to each one us. Is it giving up my freedom to travel or to buy a Starbucks coffee whenever I feel like it or to take someone out for a meal? Am I ready to give up a one-on-one relationship with someone and thus be open to “to love the world for the sake of Christ”. Am I willing to be obedient to the needs of my Sisters and to the leadership of this community, especially when I’d prefer to do something my own way. It is easy to see the vows only from a negative point of view, but the vows also free us to be the people God is calling us to be and to use our gifts to serve others and one another.

For the last few weeks I’ve been reading a book entitled The Emergent Christ by Ilia Delio. In her chapter entitled “the Inner Universe” she writes about the poverty of being:

“Poverty is not so much about want or need; it is about relationship. Poverty impels us to reflect on our lives from the position of weakness, dependency, and vulnerability. It impels us to empty our pockets—not of money—but the pockets of our hearts, minds, wills—those places where we store up things for ourselves and isolate ourselves from real relationship with others. Poverty calls us to be vulnerable, open, and receptive to others, to allow others into our lives, and to be free enough to enter into the lives of others.” (p. 124)

“On the level of human relationships poverty allows us to be open to one another, to receive and share with one another. Poverty is the basis of personhood because it involves kenosis or self-emptying. Only care for one another truly humanizes life.” (p. 126)

This is what each of us is called to as Christians and it is seldom easy. In Ps 34 appointed for today, the psalmist says, “I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth” (vs 1) and (vs 4), “I sought the Lord and he answered me and delivered me from my fears.” St. Sergius was first and foremost a man of prayer; that is what attracted others to join him. And prayer is about relationship — relationship with God — which in turn enables one to have good relationships with others. The essence of prayer and love is “presence”, that is, taking time to be fully present to God or to

whomever we are with. It’s about seeking to uplift others and draw the best out of them. Love does not worry about success but about being the best one can be. This is a challenge in whatever work one does and it is the challenge Sr. Rhonda experiences on a daily basis in her ministry in the Guest House. Some days, when everything is going well it may seem easy. But there will be other times when someone is being demanding or critical or a pain in the neck. Then, all she or we can offer is loving, compassionate presence.

The Gospel reading for today sums up the Christian life and the life of a monastic: “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Sr. Rhonda has found her treasure in seeking this deeper relationship with God and offering herself to God through service to God’s people; God has responded by giving her “more than she can ask or imagine”. May God bless you, Rhonda, as you continue your journey in the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine.

Sermon from Sunday September 1st, preached by Sister Debra

Let us pray, gracious God may the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight for you are our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

“For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves

Sister Debra

will be exalted.” The fact that this text appears with little difference at least ten times in the gospels suggests how deeply ingrained it must have been with-in the heart of the leaders and people of the early church. Without a doubt this would have been a constant theme in the teaching and preaching of Christ. It also would have been as revolutionary an idea in Jesus day as it is in ours.

We live in a world where personal achievement is what people strive for. We live in a world where people are rewarded for making it to the top and where getting to the top by any possible means, regardless of how one might do it and who one might step on, on the way, is not only tolerated, it is often encouraged. We live in a world where those who exalt them-selves are habitually rewarded and those who humble themselves are frequently either dismissed, pitied or viewed as objectionable.

In our gospel reading this world view is turned on it head. This morning we are reminded that those for whom the world would dismiss pity and openly ignore are the very ones whom our Lord teaches will be exalted ---- and subsequently the individuals who have power and see themselves as being entitled to the riches of the kingdom will be the ones who are humbled. It seems that a prominent theme for today is pride and humility.

All of our readings today follow this theme. Pride in Jeremiah might be understood as our insistence on digging broken cisterns for ourselves. Instead of looking to the wisdom of God in all circumstances we look to God when we are in trouble. When things are going well the temptation to rely on our own ideas and imaginings is more than we can resist and we give into it. That is, until the next crisis. So the cisterns we create for ourselves are broken. We need God in order to be whole.

In St. Paul’s letter to the Hebrews we are challenged to consider that true humility consists of a selflessness on behalf of others that is based in the eternal self-giving nature of Christ. We listen again to these familiar sayings, “Remember to show hospitality. There are some who, by so doing have entertained angels without knowing it.” Be content with what you have; for God has said, “I will never leave you or desert you; and so we can take courage and say, ‘The Lord is my helper, I will not fear.’ Finally, Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever, so do not be swept off your course.”

Do not be swept off your course? I believe I was swept a little off my course when I was preparing this meditation for today. Humility is a difficult attribute to talk about. Mother Teresa said, “If you are humble, nothing will touch you, neither praise nor disgrace because you know what you are.” One of the challenges that I have been faced with as a Sister of St. John the Divine is discovering who I am. I am learning that as I discover who I am, that is the person God has created me to be, the need to rely on others opinions about who I am is lessening. It may be that there is a relationship between ones sense of personal internal security and pride and humility. I need to think more about this.

I believe that what Mother Teresa was talking about and what Jesus is encouraging us to imitate can be observed in the following story. Robert Roberts writes about a fourth grade class in which the teacher introduced a game called "balloon stomp." A balloon was tied to every child's leg, and the object of the game was to pop everyone else's balloon while protecting one's own. The last person with an intact balloon would win.
The fourth graders in Roberts' story entered into the spirit of the game with vigor. Balloons were persistently targeted and destroyed. A few of the children sought refuge in the corners and on the sidelines, but their balloons were eventually stomped just the same. The entire battle was over in a matter of seconds, leaving only one balloon inflated. Its owner was, of course, the most disliked kid in the class. It's hard to really win at a game like balloon stomp. In order to complete your mission, you have to be pushy, rude and offensive.
Roberts went on to write that a second class was introduced to the same game. Only this time it was a class of mentally challenged children. They were given the same explanation as the first class, and the signal to begin was given. But the game proceeded very differently. You see the only idea that seemed to get through was that the balloons were supposed to be popped. So it was the balloons, not the other players that were viewed as the enemy. Instead of fighting each other, the children began helping each other pop balloons. One little girl knelt down and held her balloon carefully in place, like a holder for a field goal kicker. While another little boy stomped it flat. Then he knelt down and held his balloon for her. It went on like this for several minutes until all the balloons were vanquished, and everybody cheered. Everybody won.
So often in our world, we tend to think of another person's success as one less opportunity for us to succeed. I know I have been guilty of thinking this way. There can only be one king or queen of the castle. Jesus encourages us not think in terms of winners and losers. Jesus encourages us to think about the person whom we are dealing with. We are to look for the best in everyone. Doing this is not a simple feel good activity. It is also not an easy thing to do. We seem to be wired with tendencies toward unhealthy competitiveness.

Jesus invites us to adopt a perspective that encourages us to think about one another and live with one another in ways that are life giving and life promoting. This way of thinking inspires us to look for the good in all we meet and in every situation. This kind of thinking when we act upon it can be as freeing as it is life changing, both for us and for all whom we encounter.

I would like to conclude with a prayer that was found in the pocket of a child’s coat discovered during the liberation of Ravensbruck concentration camp. Ravensbruck was a Nazis concentration camp built in 1939 where over 90,000 women and children were murdered. The prayer that was found says:
O Lord, remember not only the men and woman of good will, but also those of ill will. But do not remember all of the suffering they have inflicted upon us: Instead remember the fruits we have borne because of this suffering, our fellowship, our loyalty to one another, our humility, our courage, our generosity, the greatness of heart that has grown from this trouble. When our persecutors come to be judged by you, let all of these fruits that we have borne be their forgiveness.

May the generosity and grace of God guide and direct each one of us as we consider the place of pride and humility in our own lives. May we remember to show hospitality to all whom we encounter not only because of who we might be entertaining without knowing it but because as followers of Christ this is our first inclination. Amen.

Homily by Sr. Debra, August 18, 2013

Readings: Is. 5:1-7; Ps. 80:1-2, 8-19; Heb. 11:29 – 12:2; Lu. 12:49-56

Sr. Debra 

This morning I am going to reflect upon one verse in our gospel reading. I have used this gospel reading this week in my lectio. This is the verse that I was drawn to over and over again. Jesus said, “Do you think that I came to bring peace to the earth?”

I don't know about you, but I was sure hoping that Jesus came to bring peace to the earth. In fact Jesus did bring peace to the earth. In order for our Lord’s peace to have an effect however, the peace offered needs to be acknowledged, accepted and received. This is not something that just happens once and we’ve got it for all time. I believe that it is important that we ask for Christ’s peace on a regular basis. Sometimes several times in the day. I admit that for sometime now I have forgotten that. Even though we say it daily, I had not taken it in.

In the message translation, Peterson translates this verse with these words, “Do you think I came to smooth things over and make everything nice? Not so. I have come to disrupt and confront.” While I don't find Peterson’s interpretation of this passage much more comforting than the NRSV I do find it more understandable. I learned a long time ago that keeping peace for the sake of keeping peace, ultimately does not lead to peace. In fact this stance, often produces the opposite effect, greater turmoil.

No where is this better understood than with family members and friends of substance abusers. Those addicts who have kept their sobriety have had family members and friends who realized that 'keeping the peace for the sake of keeping the peace often lead both to further substance abuse and relationships that were codependent'. Subsequently the very loved ones who hoped they were helping and protecting the one in trouble were in fact enabling the destructive behavior to continue.

Maintaining the status-quo rarely leads to change when change is what is required. Sometimes it is both necessary and vital to ones health to disrupt and confront. Often the sooner this can happen, the soon­er effective healing can begin. I believe that this is what Jesus was getting at in our gospel reading today.

Having said this, I don’t want to give the impression that everyone should just run out and challenge and confront, willy nilly as a way of effecting change. In order for one to attain the desired life changing outcome, 'confrontation and disruption' takes a lot of genuine empathy and love as well as well thought out strategic planning. Jesus is our best example of how to do this.

Jesus challenged different people at different times. He called different people to accountability for their actions or inaction at different times and in different ways. He used stories and examples that the people he was talking to could relate to. He gave those who came to him and those waiting on the fringes all they needed in order to choose. In the end he also knew that the peace he offered could not and would not come about through force. It had to be by individual free choice.

I have to tell you, this whole issue of individual free choice has been a bit of a problem for me. I think if I had been standing in the crowd and Jesus said, “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth?” In my own desperation for peace in the world and in my desire for those I love also to have Christ's peace, a peace I have known, I might have been bold enough to yell out, “Yes Lord! I thought you came to bring peace, and frankly I need you to have come to bring peace yesterday!”

I expect Jesus might have responded to me compassionately and probably with some firmness, with another question. “Do you know the kind of peace I am talking about for yourself?” “Do you have this peace?” Actually I am pretty sure Jesus would have asked this question of me.

I don't believe we can offer to others what we ourselves either have forgotten or don't yet have. Earlier this week I was recalling a personal incident that may be a good example of what I am getting at. When my twin sister Denise and I turned 40 we decided to take a trip to Disney World in Florida. It was not until we were boarding the airplane that I realized that Denise had never flown before. She looked terrified. What I suspected was confirmed when the stewardess was going over the pre-flight safety instructions. I actually thought Denise might get out and walk when the stewardess spoke about what to do in the case of a water landing. The illustration I am getting at came when the stewardess said, “In case of a drop of air pressure in the cabin masks will be released, put your own mask on first before you try to assist someone else.” I realized that I would first need to look after myself by putting on my own mask if I had any hope of helping Denise put on hers. We were fortunate, the flight both there and back was smooth.

I believe that we are invited daily to acknowledge, accept and receive Christ’s peace. I believe that individual acceptance of Christ's peace will be the forerunner to any kind of world peace. Sometimes we are so frightened, disillusioned and angered by what we see happening in the world around us or by what has happened in our own lives that we fail to pay attention to what God is trying to do within us. If we don’t have peace within we will have a difficult time showing the peace of Christ to others.

I believe this inner gift of Christ’s peace was what that the great cloud of witnesses spoken about in our Epistle reading had. D.L. Moody said, “A great many people are trying to make peace, but that has already been done. God has not left it for us to do; all we have to do is enter into it.”

I believe that this is the one thing that the great cloud of witnesses had in common, they individually had entered into the peace of Christ. It was from their personal acceptance of this peace that they wereable to do the incredible things they did and were able to endure the situations they witnessed. So

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with per severance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfect­er of our faith. May Christ's peace enfold us, all dear to us and all who have no peace. Amen.

Homily at the Requiem for Sr. Constance Murphy, SSJD, St. JamesCathedral, Aug 10, 2013

The Reverend Bill Whitla, Associate SSJD

+In the name of God who made us, who gave Love to us, and who fills us with blessed spirit. Amen.

It is humbling to consider Sr. Constance’s long, long life of love and service in her beloved community. Sister Constance was born in 1904, just three years after the death of Queen Victoria in 1901. Who, we might ask, was the American president when Sr. Constance was born? Well, beginning with Theodore Roosevelt, she has lived through the terms of 19 of the 44 Presidents of the United States. And in her own religious order, the Sisters of Saint John the Divine, she has served through the leadership of five of the six mothers superior—only the Founding Mother Hannah was before her.

Some here, like Sister Beryl, will remember her for some seventy years—Sister Beryl went to Qu’Appelle Diocesan School as a boarder in 1943 when she was just turned a teenager. Sister Constance had joined the community ten years earlier, and had already been at QDS for five years before that youngster, now Sister Beryl, arrived. When she first saw her, Sr. Beryl says, “She was in motion, hurrying somewhere, with her arms full of books and papers.” That’s it —a nun in motion, hurrying here and there, teaching the young, a lifetime and more working on behalf of the elderly. She said so herself: “”And I’m just going to go on. Seize the day, that’s my motto.” Well, didn ‘t she just go on—and talk about seizing the day! I only remember her for a mere fifty-eight years,when I was a server for Father Freeland at the Church Home for the Aged, to which she had come in 1958. And, of course, it was in gerontology that she was a pioneer, making an enduring contribution as a founding member with Dean Charles Fielding of the Canadian Institute of Religion and Gerontology and numerous other associations and organizations where her expertise was asked for and freely and incisively given, and for which she received numerous awards—two honorary doctorates, chosen the senior of the year in Toronto in 1999, awarded the Ontario Senior Citizen’s Achievement award, the Confederation medal, and so on—And not least, a canon of this Cathedral! While still in her wheelchair, she was still going —still seizing the day. But—and this should be stressed equally, she was a praying sister, she lived her life with her sisters, and she died in their midst.

In her Baltimore family it was often the custom to name children with at least one of their names from the Bible. So her father’s middle name was Benjamin. She alone, among her brothers and sisters, so far as I know, had no middle name [though some have more recently told me that she did indeed have a middle name—Elizabeth]. She was just Constance. The word means “Steadfastness, firmness, resolution, faithfulness, fidelity . . . Persistence, and perseverance” (Oxford English Dictionary)—all those she certainly was—along with endurance and fortitude., and with the final and not quite so flattering a connotation, stubbornness. But the word “Constance” or “Constancy” does not occur in the Bible—not in the King James translation, not in the RSV or any of the other standard translations. But I have found one passage from the Bible that names the great virtue of constancy, in an almost unknown translation by the Anglo-Irish Plymouth Brother, John Nelson Darby. Here is Darby’s translation of 1 Thessalonians 1: 3–4. Paul was speaking of Thessalonians, but I am thinking of Sister Constance:

“We give thanks to God always for you all, making mention of you at our prayers, remembering unceasingly your work of faith, and labour of love, and enduring constancy of hope, in our Lord Jesus Christ . . ., brothers and sisters, beloved by God, your election.

I doubt that the Darby translation was available in 1904 in Baltimore, so I wonder if her name came instead from one of the books that the well-read and well-educated Murphy family had nearby, one that their devout religious upbringings at St. James’s Episcopal C hurch Baltimore, would foster under the Rev’d George Freeman Bragg, himself one of the first black priests in the Episcopal Church, and a tireless worker for black education, black voting rights, and black equality. Through him and through their own interest they would have at hand, Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. And the word occurs only once there too. In the last chapter of the second book, Mr. Great-Heart says to Mr. Valiant-for-Truth

And did none of these things discourage you?

Valiant-for-Truth: No; they seemed but as so many nothings to me.

Mr. Great-Heart: How came that about?

Valiant-for-Truth: Why, I still believed what Mr. Tell-true had said; and that carried me beyond them all.

Mr. Great-Heart: Then this was your victory, even your faith.

Valiant-for-Truth: It was so. I believed, and therefore came out, got into the way, fought all that set themselves against me, and, by believing, am come to this place [and then they sing this hymn]

Who would true valour see,

let him come hither; 

one here will constant be, [there is the word] 

come wind, come weather; 

there’s no discouragement 

shall make him once relent 

his first avowed intent 

to be a pilgrim.

So I think of Sr. Constance as this constant pilgrim, going through the river with Mr. Valiant-for-Truth . “and all the trumpets sounded for them on the other side.”

She was born in Baltimore into what was known as the Murphy clan—and what a clan it was! Her grandfather and grandmother were both the children of slaves and somehow got an education, enough for her grandfather, John Henry Murphy to establish the Baltimore Afro American, the parent of several highly influential alternative newspapers, including one in Washington, that became the largest black paper on the Eastern seabord. He had ten children, and one of them, Sr. Constance’s father, George Benjamin Murphy, born in 1870, became the principal of Baltimore Elementary School 112 where Sr. Constance and many of her cousins attended. Her father had seven children, and Constance was the third child, the second girl. The family eventually became famous; all five of her brothers and her older sister achieved degrees in higher education, as did she, and so did their numerous cousins. Her oldest brother took over the publishing of the Afro-American. Her youngest brother William became a judge. The brother born next after Constance, George Benjamin Murphy Junior, was an eminent journalist, taking over the editorship of the Washington Afro American, and turning it into a major voice for Black America during the troublesome 1940s and 1950s. He immersed himself in the world of the NAACP and worked all of his life for social justice, against Klan lynchings and other terrible racism. Becoming ever more radicalized, he left the NAACP and joined the National Negro Congress to press for gains in the labour movement and equal rights in all areas of life. He numbered among his close friends Paul Robeson and Marian Anderson and the members of the Kennedy family. His newspapers provided the evidence for a petition to the United Nations, “We Charge Genocide” for the abuse of African Americans. For his work for justice he was brought up before Governor McCarthy’s notorious witch-hunting UnAmerican Affairs Committee, defended by his brother the judge. “Who would true valour see, let him come hither, One here will constant be, come wind come weather. It was in this crucible that Sister Constance was forged at the beginning, and the work of education and care for those neglected—in her long term vision the aged—was the work already assumed by the Sisters of Saint John the Divine and they fit like a hand in glove.

Constance had set her heart on joining the All Saints Sisters of the Poor in Baltimore, but because they would not accept her because of her colour, she came to Canada and was welcomed by the Sisters of St. John. The rest, as they say, is history.

How separated she must have felt —separated from a large and loving and active family, separated from her own country, separated from the community she wanted to join by the colour of her skin. Yet welcomed in Ontario, at what had once been one of the ends of the Underground Railroad, by a new community that made her one of their own.

What Paul in the Letter to the Romans is talking about in that remarkable passage when he was writing to those few—perhaps only a hundred—Christians in Rome, and to the Jews there too, was about similar things—how, even in their far-from-Jerusalem existence, they were not separated; even in being isolated in Rome, in the centre of the Empire because of their faith, they were not isolated. But this part of the letter, the culmination of the first half of Romans, is not really about separation at all. Paul mentions separation—but only to negate it —nothing can separate us, he says—His writing here is really about inclusion —the inclusion of all despite all that seems to separate —the ills of human life, even death –and in the life to come, not even angels —nothing in the present or in the world to come, nothing in time or beyond time —all is inclusion of those who are in the love of God in Christ Jesus —and not only inclusion —but union –Paul is instructing those few Roman Christians about union of of them —all of us—in Christ.

God calling the individual —yes certainly—the individual who is faithful and the individual who is a sinner —that is – each one of us being called into this new relationship of life unified. But also God is calling the Gentiles along with the Jews —all are being incorporated —a community of faith and a community of deliverance.

It is that deliverance that Jesus is talking about in the great Eucharistic dialogues in Chapter 6 of John’s Gospel, when the people stretch out their hands to him asking for the bread that satisfies. Chapter 6 begins with the huge Eucharistic feeding of the 5,000—the crowds have brought no provisions with them, the disciples are totally unprepared and have nothing to offer of their own. Only a boy has the five barley loaves and two small fish for the Eucharistic banquet. The miracle occurs, and the people misread it, or ignore it, and so apparently do the disciples. The crowd wants to crown Jesus king—the last thing he wants—and he escapes by boat. Some follow him, and eventually comes to-day’s reading in which the crowd comes to Jesus and asks him, “Where do we get this bread that satisfies?” It seems they—and we—are never satisfied. We desire more and more, and we catch our desires from each other and pass them on again . It seems, then, that the only way out of this loop of stumbling over one unsatisfied desire after another is to finally find what God desires for us.

That is called vocation, and we all hear it and respond to it however we will—Vocation is having our best desires aligned with what God desires, made visible and tangible in Jesus, in the vocation to follow, and to love, and to serve. “Where do we get this bread that satisfies?” they ask. Jesus declares “I am the bread of life”

[one of seven such declarations: I am (he declares emphatically each time, ego eimi) I am the light of the world, the door of the sheepfold, the good shepherd, the resurrection and the life, the true and living way, and the true vine.]

When Jesus declares that he is the true and living bread, those who hear that vocation stretch out their hands and claim it. —because it is the food that fills, that feeds, that satisfies, not just for now, but bread for life, bread as life, bread as deliverance, bread as unity, bread as community, bread as foretaste and bread as memory. For Constance it was all these things, and now for her, it is the bread of life indeed. As we receive it now, and share it now, there is no separation, but fulfilment, inclusion and union with God and with each other in the bread of hope and the wine of faith, here and now, and still to come. Amen.

The Rev. Bill Whitla

Associate, SSJD

The sermon preached at the Convent by The Reverend Maggie Helwig on August 3, 2013

The  Rev. Maggie Helwig

As some of you know, I'm the parish priest at St Stephen-in-the-Fields, so it is quite meaningful for me to be celebrating the saint with you today. The feast of St Stephen was tradtionally celebrated on December 26, the “feast of Stephen” mentioned in the famous carol, “Good King Wenceslas.” Acknowledging that this is a fairly terrible day to try to get anyone into church, the calendar now allows for the feast to be marked in early August instead; which, as far as getting people into church goes, is not actually all that much better, but there you go.

Stephen was the first martyr of the early church, stoned to death by an angry mob, and the prayers and readings for today focus very much on that, and on the pattern he sets for commitment in the face of, and to the point of, death, without returning violence. But I'd like to look at another aspect of Stephen's story today, because he was not only the first martyr, he was one of the first deacons, and that's something we talk about less and perhaps understand even less well than we do his martyrdom.

It is a striking moment in the very early church, and in its way a troubling one, the point when the apostles decide that they are too busy and important to be feeding poor widows, and create a separate order, the deacons, to deal with all this table-serving business. There was more than just that involved, of course. This was also part of the internal politics of balancing the two main communities in the early church, the native Palestinians from whom the original apostles all probably came, and the diaspora Jews whose native language was Greek – the original deacons all apparently belonged to this second group, and it gave them a place within the emerging structure. But it's clear enough from the story in Acts that the creation of the first deacons was in some part about the apostles judging that service to the vulnerable was not quite worth their very important time and energy. It is one of those moments in Acts when the barely-forming church reveals itself to be a very human community, living out the new life in Christ to the best of its ability but always inclined to slide gently backwards into familiar old ways of understanding.

The word “deacon” comes from a Greek verb, diakonein, to serve. It's quite a common verb, but all through each of the four Gospels, the word is used almost exclusively of women. It is women who serve, who carry out the less prestigious, necessary, life-sustaining humble work of feeding and caring and tending. It is Peter's mother-in-law, raised from sickness so she can serve the apostles their dinner. It is Martha of Bethany. It is the group of women who came with Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem and supported the apostolic mission from their own resources.

Women, I can only think now, very much like the amazing Sister Constance, whose long life of service in this world ended yesterday evening – her birthday into glory, as they say of the saints. Women who, like Constance, got out there and did what needed doing for the sick and the hungry and the aging and the dying, did what had to be done until they could do no more.

Now, I said the word was used “almost” exclusively of women. There is one male person in the Gospels to whom the word diakonein is attached, in fact frequently attached. And that one man is Jesus. In fact, it is the word he uses to summarize the entire meaning of his earthly ministry -- “The Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve,” to diakonein. Jesus, the incarnate Word who bends down to wash the feet of Peter and the rest, did not see diakonia as unworthy, did not scorn the work of slaves and women but identified it as the fundamental work by which we should understand his whole earthly life. All of it – healing and teaching and feeding, walking with the poor and the outcast, going voluntarily into the hands of power, death on the cross and resurrection – diakonia. Service. The Bread of Life waits upon all our tables.

The order of deacons in the church has been through a number of vanishings and recoveries, and is understood differently in different denominations, but it's made clear, in the Anglican and Roman Catholic rites for ordaining a deacon, that it is still intended fundamentally as a call to service. Deacons are called to serve the vulnerable, weak and needy, to feed the hungry and visit the sick – and more than that, to speak for the vulnerable when they cannot make their own voices heard. To bring the suffering of the world into the church and make it known, and call us all to be responsible to that suffering, to tend the wounds of the world and to try to create a better one.

Everyone who is ordained a priest is ordained a deacon first, and remains a deacon forever. But, insofar as all Christians are called by baptism to share in the life of Christ, and insofar as Jesus identified diakonia as the meaning of his life, in that sense all Christians are called, fundamentally called, to be deacons. And we see the work of the deacon at the core of all those lives we recognize as showing forth the truth of Christ. Sometimes I think we don't need so much to remind ourselves of the priesthood of all believers as we do of the diaconate of all believers. In some ways, that life of service, that humility, that openness to the world, which is the first necessary basis of all our various vocations.

Oddly enough, that carol I mentioned earlier, that old favourite about the feast of Stephen, that song actually gets it; for it is, after all, about a king who sets out into the snow and storm to bring food and firewood to a poor man. It's not without meaning that it's set on Stephen's traditional feast day. For it tells us that all human status, all worldly importance, is an incidental thing, and that the real calling is to get out there in the wind and do what is needful. Get on our bikes, as Constance did. So let us do, then, on this feast of Stephen and always.


The  Reverend Maggie Helwig was appointed priest-in-charge of St. Stephen- in- the- Fields in Toronto  in May 2013.

Before her ordination, Maggie worked as a writer, editor, arts organizer, and human rights activist. She spent nearly ten years as an organizer of the Friday Out of the Cold/Out of the Heat meal program, which began at St Stephen’s and is now hosted by St Thomas, Huron Street; she also worked as a parish outreach facilitator for York-Credit Valley, and chairs the diocesan Social Justice and Advocacy Committee. She has published twelve books of poetry, essays and fiction, and her most recent novel, Girls Fall Down (which includes scenes set in a slightly fictionalized St Stephen’s), was shortlisted for the Toronto Book Award in 2009, and chosen as the Toronto Public Library’s One Book Toronto in 2012. She has been the literary editor of Canadian Forum, the co-coordinator of the Toronto Small Press Fair and the associate director of the Scream Literary Festival. Maggie was ordained priest in the Anglican church in January 2012, and has served as the assistant curate at St Timothy’s, North Toronto. She has lived near St Stephen’s for most of her adult life (currently in the Alexandra Park area, a few minutes to the south) and is very excited to be joining the parish as their priest. She hopes to work with the congregation and the community to revitalize their long tradition of engaged urban ministry in the Catholic tradition at St. Stephen- in- the- Fields in Toronto