The Feast of St. Michael and All Angels

Today is the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels. In most congregations this feast day would be transferred to tomorrow, making today the nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost. But given that this is our patronal feast – and even though my work here does not technically begin until Tuesday, it felt important for me to be with you today so that at our beginning we might reflect on St. Michael: the archangel, but also St. Michael’s, the parish called to be Christ’s body at the corner of Church and Hope in this time and place. 

You all ready?

Every time you walk into this building, whether today is the first time or you’ve been seeing it your whole life, you see this window of Michael slaying the dragon: an icon of the words we heard today from the Book of Revelation. Angels are messengers, remember. They offer a word from God to God’s people. But the archangel Michael is no ordinary messenger! Michael is something like the angelic version of St. George, taking on the dragon in heaven, the dragon that represents the devil and evil and all that hurts or destroys the creatures of this world. The window here depicts that story visually and calls us back to these words from Revelation every week, whether or not we are conscious of it.  

I find the Book of Revelation endlessly fascinating. But today isn’t the day for me to go all the way down that rabbit hole. I’ll just say for today that I think the interpretive lens we need for reading Revelation is something like how we read The Narnia Chronicles by C.S. Lewis or Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings or the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. Which is to say that it is dangerous to read the Book of Revelation literally as if it’s “predicting” some future date when the world will come to an end. But it is important to take it seriously. What it’s about is the cosmic battle between good and evil and Revelation insists that in the end, good will triumph over evil. Michael defeats the dragon, i.e. the devil, and there is no longer room for the evil one in heaven.

The challenge is that we are not so lucky on earth. So we have to come to grips with, as the Baptismal Liturgy puts it, all that hurts or destroys the creatures of God and draws us from the love of God. That’s what evil does. It is real. But in the end, good will triumph on earth as it already has in heaven. And so we do not need to be afraid. Michael’s victory (which is of course part of the larger narrative of Christ’s victory over sin and death) means that we can live with courage and faith and hope. In that end is our beginning. Quite literally, in the life of this congregation, a new beginning. We will have challenging days. But there is no need for despair. We are a place of hope.

This beautiful building is located at the corner of Church and Hope. But as I learned in Sunday School many years ago, even when very beautiful and historic, the church is not the building, and the church is not the steeple, and the church is not a resting place, either. The church is a people. I am the Church. You are the Church. We are the Church together. It’s a simple message, I know. It also happens to be true.

As we seek to live God’s mission we do well to ask what Christian Hope is all about. It’s tempting to think it’s a version of cockeyed optimism. It’s tempting to think that it is about insisting that the glass is always full or at least half-full. But as William Sloan Coffin has put it, the world is too dangerous for anything but truth and too small for anything but love. We need to hold truth and love together, especially when the world we live in or our own lives are a mess. As Dr. King said, “we must accept finite disappointment. But never lose infinite hope.”

Hope is not wishful thinking. Hope is what inspires us to do the work God has given us to do this day and then again to get up tomorrow and do it again. And again. As followers of Jesus we may get weary and we may have bad days but we do not lose heart. Because we remember always how the story ends. Jesus has destroyed death that we might live. And good old Michael has defeated that dragon. Every time we walk in here we can remember that.

I know that the past few years have been challenging here in many ways. And I also know there are conflicting narratives about why that is so. I know there has been hurt and disappointment and as your pastor for the next year or so, I’m all ears. We will have a chance to unpack some of that together when Canon Dena Bartholomew-Cleaver joins us in mid-November to do an historical timeline and reflection to officially begin the process of your search for a new rector.

But here is the thing: we cannot change the past any more than we can control the future. We engage it to learn from it, for sure. But our work is always about the sacramentality of this present moment and the work that we are called to share, as priest and parish, starting today. That is work I am committed to and hopeful about, as I know many of you are also.

Your website says that you are: Warm. Welcoming. Inclusive. But websites can and do say lots of things. We are not unfamiliar with false advertising and words that aren’t backed up by actions. Anyone who has ever bought a “vine ripened tomato” in January knows it’s not like having one in August.

I testify to you all today, however, that every experience I have had so far of this parish is that this is true. Those are not just words on a website. From the first conversation I had on Zoom with your senior warden to the interview I had just three days later in the parish hall with your vestry and to the work that has already begun since then when Hathy and I were welcomed here on September 8 and we shared a meal together afterwards: every single experience I have had here so far has felt warm and welcoming and inclusive. That includes making the rectory feel like a home away from home. And I am profoundly grateful for it all.

I want you all to know as we begin that I didn’t leave diocesan ministry because I didn’t like it. And I didn’t leave diocesan ministry because I was burned out from it. There was a great deal that I found life-giving in that work over more than eleven years. And a lot that gave me hope for the future of the Church even in a time when so many are feeling that the Church is dying. I didn’t leave from; I felt drawn toward. For a few years now I have felt like I needed to return to parish work, to all of it from baptism to burial and all of the pastoral moments in between. I felt called in my belly to be back in the mix of it and once I got clear on that, a way opened up for me to come here. I’ve got some good years left but I can also see retirement from here. I want to work hard and try to be faithful as an interim here as I can be; to make a difference with more limited time constraints. But I wanted to do all of that in a place that seemed ready. And St. Michael’s, you seem ready. I don’t anticipate an uphill battle. I anticipate a life-giving partnership that ultimately will lead you all to clarity on calling your next rector. And that work energizes and inspires me. I pray we will savor every moment of it, even on the hard days.

Words on a web page are meaningless if they are not backed up by concrete actions. You all understand that. I realize that sometimes the clericalism we have inherited from the past means that we treat clergy differently than we do other guests. (That can go either way, in my experience, but mostly I think the average parishioner wants to support their priest.) I suspect and pray and hope, though, that St. Michael’s is as warm and welcoming and inclusive of every single person who walks through these doors as you have been to me. That is our why. That is our purpose. And if we are focused on that, God will help us do the rest.

Let me just add: we aren’t warm and welcoming and inclusive as a means to an end, in order to get people to fill out a pledge card, although it’s great when that happens. We are called to invite, welcome, and connect people because this is what Jesus has taught us to do. He spent a lot of time at table and at parties. In fact so much so that some of his detractors said he was a glutton and a drunkard. Look it up!

Have you seen the Surgeon General’s report from 2023 about our epidemic of loneliness and isolation as a nation? Pause on each of those words and know that it’s not all about the pandemic. We are in the midst of an epidemic of loneliness and isolation. And then, on the cover of that very report, in small print, these words: The U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisory on the Healing Effects of Social Connection and Community.

That’s our language, Church! Social connection and community That’s what we do! That’s what Jesus did. Some may despair about the loneliness epidemic and the isolation so many in our community are feeling. But a parish that takes its name from a dragon slayer, a parish on the corner of Hope and Church, a parish called to be warm and welcoming and inclusive is a people called to bring healing to the neighborhood by offering social connection and authentic community, of welcoming people in to find meaning and purpose and strength for the journey. And then helping those new guests join us in becoming hosts to others.

That’s why we are focused on the theme of belonging this month – that we belong to God and to each other. So we live in hope, knowing with St. Paul that hope does not disappoint or as the New Revised Standard Version of that verse from Romans puts it, “hope does not put us to shame. because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” (Romans 5:5)

One more thing and then I will take a seat. These words from Thomas Merton “You do not need to know precisely what is happening or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize the possibilities and challenges offered by this present moment and then embrace them with courage, faith, and hope.”

Are you ready?

Cats and Dogs

In case you missed the presidential debate between Vice-President Kamala Harris and former President Donald Trump, you should know that this happened in Philadelphia. Now I don't think that Fox News has ever made it onto my blog before. But when I Googled to find that moment on YouTube, that was the first hit. And I think it's good that it's not MSNBC. He really did say this live and millions of us who were watching saw it in real time. It's not AI created. And he was not joking. He was dead serious. 

The lie was exposed in real time. He got it from a person that even Marjorie Taylor Green thinks is unhinged, which is saying something. The same person who said if Kamala Harris wins, the White House will smell like curry. 

But I honestly believe that he believed it which is more disturbing to me than anything else. If he believes a racist fool, then he can be manipulated by a former KGB guy. Here it is, again: 

I cannot count the number of memes I've seen on Facebook since featuring cats and dogs reacting. Most are pretty funny. But cumulatively I find them disturbing and here is why: he was targeting an immigrant community (Haitians) because this is what he does, what he did, what he will do. It's not a misstatement; he targets the vulnerable consistently. And that has real world consequences.

I wrote a post a month ago that can be found here, about the November election. I promised to avoid my own partisan stuff and try to the best of my ability to stick with truth and love and to stay in my lane as an ordained leader, not a politician. Some may be upset that they feel this post ignores those self-imposed boundaries but I respectfully feel I cannot be silent or complicit. 

In the Bible, in both testaments, we are taught not to fear the stranger (xenophobia) but to love them. To love immigrants, to love our neighbors. In both testaments. It goes to the heart of the gospel of Jesus Christ. You don't demonize the other; you break bread with them. You work for strangers to become friends, as Brian Wren puts it in one of his Eucharistic hymns. Full stop. This is true. This is loving. This is how we live our faith.

Now imagine being a 7th grade Haitian student going to school in Springfield this week and what it's like for that kid at the lunch table. Middle schoolers can be mean to start with. What's that your mom packed for lunch? Somebody's cat? 

This is not new. Although the former president sows seeds of fear regularly, he didn't invent it. Fear was the tactic used to intimidate black people seeking equal rights under the law. You burn a cross in one lawn and everyone is afraid. Fear is always what you sow to appear to people's worst instincts. "Those people" are coming for Fluffy and Fido. Watch out!

But what he claims is happening is not happening. It's easily fact-checked and the moderators discredited immediately after he said it, leading him to say (of course) that the media is unfair to him. 

But words have consequences. Lies destroy neighborhoods. The truth will set us all free and I pray that we will truly make America great again, this great unfinished experiment, when we remember our core values - the values proclaimed to the world from New York Harbor: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” A place where all are welcomed and where the dignity of every human being is respected. 

New Beginnings

Although my duties as interim priest at St. Michael's Episcopal Church in Bristol, RI do not begin until the end of this month on the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels (Sept 29) I had the chance today to do a "supply" week there, and Hathy was able to be with me, for which I'm grateful. The congregation is still worshiping across the street from the church in the parish house (as is their summer habit) and we filled the room! I'm posting the manuscript of my sermon here as we enter into this new season together. Feeling very grateful. 

Good morning, St. Michael’s. My name is Rich Simpson. I have been called to serve as your interim priest for the next year or so starting on October 1. Until the end of this month I will still be the Canon to the Ordinary in the Diocese of Western Massachusetts. But since I had today open in my calendar, the vestry and I agreed it might be a nice chance to say hello today. So here we are.

I have three tasks this morning. First, I want to tell you a little bit about myself, and how I have come to be here with you for this season of your congregation’s life. And then I want to briefly preview the fall stewardship theme and say a few words about what stewardship is and is not, in my view. And third I’ll get to the Epistle of James and talk a bit about community and the core values of Christian community, which I think matters a lot in the work we will share as this next year or so unfolds. Ready?

I’m here today with my wife, Hathy. (It is “Hathy” by the way, a shortened form of Hatheway, which is a family name.) We met on a junior year abroad at the University of St. Andrew’s in Scotland in 1983-1984. We were both American students there for a full year of study: Hathy from Colby College in Waterville, Maine and I from Georgetown University in Washington, DC. We were married on May 25, 1986 at St. Anne’s in the Fields in Lincoln, Massachusetts just one year after graduating from our respective colleges.

Over the past 38 years, we have raised two sons: Graham and James. Graham will turn 34 this month and James turned 30 this summer. Graham is married to Cara and they have one son, our first grandchild, Julian, who is almost ten months old. They live in Washington, DC. James and Lindsay were married this summer in Killington, Vermont and they live in Jersey City, New Jersey. I got to officiate at both of my sons' weddings and I got to baptize Julian on Pentecost at All Saints Church in Worcester, Mass. I don’t even have words to tell you what a privilege it was to do those things.

I’m not going to give you my whole bio today. There will be plenty of time for that and I’m sure it’s written down somewhere. But for today I do want to tell you that we went to St. Francis in Holden, Massachusetts in 1998 when I was called to serve as their fifth rector, after I’d served a little over four years as Associate Rector in Westport, Connecticut. We stayed in Holden for fifteen years, until James went off to college and made us empty nesters. I loved that congregation and still do; and they loved me and my family back. A little more than eleven years ago the newly elected bishop of Western Mass asked me to join his staff as Canon to the Ordinary and I said yes.

One big part of my job over the past eleven years has been helping congregations in my diocese navigate clergy transitions from the departure of a rector, through a season of transition, and then ultimately into the call of a new rector. We Episcopalians have all kinds of jokes about change but the punchline is always the same: we don’t like it. Lots of light bulb jokes. But the jokes aside, and some of us really do find change challenging, we have to learn to make it our friend. The truth I've discovered again and again is that it's not really change we don't like; it's the grief we experience of what is lost that is challenging. But what is not changing is no longer alive. Sometimes change is slow and sometimes it’s fast but we have to find ways to navigate it and part of my work with you all will be to help us to name and then embrace the new thing God is up to here at St. Michael’s.

You’ll learn soon enough that I slip in some occasional lyrics from that American theologian from the swamps of Jersey, Bruce Springsteen. So let me dive right in with that on day one with two song references from The Boss. We Episcopalians have to move past our obsession with Glory Days in order to embrace the reality that These Are Better Days. If you aren’t a fan of Bruce that’s ok. What I’m saying in plain English is that it is not an option to go back to the days when this parish was founded, before there was even an Episcopal Church, nor to the 1950s, nor even to a pre-pandemic Church. The world has changed. Our work is to be fully present to the sacramentality of this moment and the challenges of this time and place. In so doing, we invite the Holy Spirit to lead us, like the ancient Hebrews, through the wilderness and toward the promised land. No turning back! Our work, together, is to embrace the challenges of these days.

My second point is shorter, but I was asked to “tee this up” for a four-week time of reflection that will begin on September 29 about Belonging. I’ll be back with you when we celebrate the Archangel Michael and this parish that takes its name from him on that day, at the end of this month. You’ll hear from fellow parishioners reflecting on their own journeys and have a chance to ponder their offerings. Stay tuned. 

Some folks think during an interim they will “wait and see.” This guy, Simpson, isn’t going to be here forever, after all. Let’s get through this to a new call. I get that and I don’t take it personally. But I think that transition times are invitations to lean in and get to work, not to wait and see. And I hope you all are ready to do that. It’s about deepening the ties that bind. That’s where this theme of belonging comes from. And I’ll just add this…

Stewardship is not Christian fundraising. It is true that we need to financially support the things that matter to us and I hope that St. Michael’s matters to you. It’s an expensive operation. You all get that. But faithful stewardship is about something much deeper than making sure the bills get paid, although I know we are all grateful that they are being paid. In a world that feels sometimes like it’s coming apart at the seams, where do we put our trust? Jesus said that where our heart is, our treasure will be also. Where is your heart? More on this next month.

OK, last but not least: the Epistle of James. Do you know that Martin Luther called it an “epistle of straw?” Luther was right about many, many things. But he was wrong about the Epistle of James. He was rightly focused on grace alone saving us but that made him nervous that James was too focused on “good works.” So let’s be clear: we don’t save ourselves. The good we do isn’t a scorecard for God. We are claimed and sealed and marked and loved as Christ’s own forever in Holy Baptism an outward and visible sign that God loves us. And because God loves us, we are called to love God back and love each other. So far so good, right?

But that’s a beginning, not an end. The whole epistle of James is about sanctifying grace, about how God continues to be at work in our lives one day at a time. Melting and molding and filling and using us over time. We do change; there’s that word again. We grow – more and more- into the full stature of Christ. We live and we love and we fail and we fall and we get back up and we learn. So we can’t just say, “I’m saved – I’m going to heaven. My ticket is punched.” No. We say, I need to respond to what God has done in my life by loving God back and by loving my neighbor. One day at a time.

You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself. In other words, we need to walk the talk. One aspect of our dominant American culture is we do say something like that, about inalienable rights and all being created equal. But there is also a strong thread in our culture that makes a big deal of the rich and famous and turns a blind eye to the poor. We didn’t invent that. It’s as old as time or at least as old as the first-century church.

But James calls us out on that. Loving your neighbor? Well, if you treat the rich person who walks into your church differently than you treat the poor person – then let’s just say that’s not loving your neighbor. It’s favoritism and we can do better. For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Have a seat here, please,” while to the one who is poor you say, “Stand there,” or, “Sit at my feet,” have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? 

As a preacher I don’t need to say much more. This is not hard to understand. James is no epistle of straw because he gets to the heart of the matter. And it’s all about belonging – which we’ll be reflecting on during these stewardship weeks. It’s about the kind of community we belong to – which has some core values related to the dignity of every (every) human being.

One of my jobs over the past eleven years was to accompany the bishop to celebrations of new ministry, when a new rector settles into their new parish and the bishop and canon show up and everyone prays that things will go well. It was my job again and again and again – more than 50 times or so over the past eleven years – to offer this charge to the new rector: Having committed yourself to this work, do not forget the trust of those who have chosen you. Care alike for young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor.

I will only be with you for a season, until a new rector is found and called and headed this way. Maybe that will take a year, maybe longer. But I pledge to you that in the meantime I’ll live by that same commitment in the work I do here. And I ask you since we are all in this together to do the same. Let the world know that St. Michael’s is a place where we care alike for young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor. A place where all are welcome. No exceptions.

I’ve covered a lot of ground for an intro and there are hotdogs to be grilled. If your mind has wandered, it’s ok. Here is the cliff notes version. God loves you. Love God back. And love your neighbor. Let that love be made manifest in everything you do and say so that every person you meet sees good news coming. Look for the face of the risen Christ in everyone and let everyone you meet see the face of the risen Christ in you.

 The photo on the right is from the pulpit in the main church where we'll be for the Feast of St. Michael at the end of this month. All are welcome!