On Sunday I preached twice on the same readings – once at the regular 10 am service, once at Ben Stuchbery’s induction at Holy Trinity, Ste-Agathe/Grace Church, Arundel. Perhaps you can entertain yourself by finding the differences between the two manuscripts, like one of those “find the 5 things that don’t match” brainteaser drawings.
Holy Trinity, Sainte-Agathe, and Grace Church, Arundel
St. Michael and All Angels
The Induction of the Rev’d Benjamin Stuchbery
September 29, 2024
Ben and me after the service
Well, here we are, for this glorious and long-awaited occasion.
Six years ago this week, the Rev’d Jen Bourque preached at my induction at what was then the Parish of the Resurrection, St. Andrew & St. Mark in Dorval, since renamed as All Saints, and used these same propers for the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels. I’m honoured and delighted to be invited to pay it forward for Ben and the parishes of Grace and Trinity today.
I’ve long observed that today, Michaelmas, kicks off a sort of mini-liturgical season that lasts through Christ the King Sunday, with its high point coming on All Saints’ Day on November 1. It’s a season that bridges earth and heaven, during which we focus on both the fruits of the earth at Harvest Thanksgiving, and the eternal and inexhaustible joys of heaven shared with the saints and angels. It is, in many ways, my favourite time of the liturgical year, and in many ways it is paradigmatic for the life of a parish church.
If St. Paul were here with us today, he would address you all as “the saints who are in Christ Jesus at Ste-Agathe and Arundel.” It is here in our parishes that we weep over the graves of those saints who have gone on to larger life, and celebrate the making of new saints at the baptismal font. It is here that we bring the offerings of our work and of the land, and anticipate together that never-ending feast to which God invites us as we gather around the altar.
Today, we formally inaugurate the ministry that Ben and the congregations of Trinity and Grace Church have been doing together for more than a year already, and there is much to celebrate. You all share many gifts.
Ben is just about the age now that I was when first ordained, but he has three years of ordained parish ministry under his belt and is a far wiser and calmer priest than I was until much later in my career. He is a talented musician, a lover of nature, a faithful friend, a caring husband, and the father of two of the cutest and most remarkable children I have ever encountered. He is gentle, thoughtful, and nurturing, while also having the solid boundaries and sense of self that are essential if one is to survive and thrive as a parish priest.
The two parishes who celebrate together today have deep roots in these communities and serve them in a myriad of ways. In tiny Arundel, Grace Church is so thoroughly woven into the social fabric that it is impossible to imagine the village without it. They bring people together over quilts and strawberries, lectures and healing services, providing a faithful presence out of all proportion to their size. Trinity Church, meanwhile, is a stellar example of a parish that practices what it preaches, functioning as a physical and interpersonal hub for services to the local population, especially the Anglophone community in Ste-Agathe. Both are full of talented leaders who offer their gifts with joy and generosity to their parishes and to the communities around them.
These are the saints who come together as partners in the ministry that we celebrate today. And today, in accordance with our feast day, I want to invite you all to be angels for each other.
As my organist who’s sitting over there can attest, one of my additional preaching hobbyhorses is reminding people that saints and angels are not the same thing. We don’t become angels when we die. We don’t get wings, and harps are strictly optional. We are, and will always remain, saints, both now and in eternity, though we will certainly get to be with the angels, and today’s feast is a reminder and anticipation of that.
But the word angelos in Greek means messenger, and that is my invitation for today: that I invite you all, the saints who are in Ste-Agathe and Arundel, to be messengers to and for each other, of God’s love and good news.
I have served four very different parishes in two denominations and two countries since I was ordained, but I can tell you with absolute conviction that the single best predictor of how happy a pastor and congregation will be together is this: whether they are messengers to each other of appreciation, energy, hope, and love.
What do you love about each other? Where is God moving in your communities? What hard work do you see happening? What exciting potential is arising? What stories can you tell that will build each other up? When have you thought, as Jacob does in the first reading, “Surely God was in this place, and I did not know it”? Don’t keep that thought to yourself – share it! Point out your glimpse of God to someone else.
Perhaps it’s the face of a child as they watch a younger sibling being baptized. Perhaps it’s the witness of a saint who has been part of the congregation for eighty years. Perhaps it’s the questions of someone walking through the church door for the first time, seeing things from a new and different angle. Perhaps it’s the quiet effort of someone in the community making sure that someone hungry gets the help they need.
And while there is nothing in the world more serious than God’s mission, I strongly recommend a hearty dose of laughter; I find that the more fun we’re having, the more we can recognize God moving, even among the unavoidable heartbreaks of life. On one memorable occasion in my last congregation, I jokingly invented what I called the “PZ Index,” a measurement of parish health calibrated according to how many reply-alls on the parish council email list it took to go from approving the last set of meeting minutes to proposing the Pastors’ Pancake Cook-Off and Parking Lot Zamboni Derby Fundraiser. (It took us six replies. Sadly, I never actually got to ride a Zamboni around the parking lot.)
Few things bind a community together like a good in-joke. (Heck, there’s even an in-joke in today’s Gospel, when Jesus quips to Nathaniel that “surely here is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!”) And God invites us to look at the world with that same sparkle in our eye, finding patterns of goodness and holiness, learning to anticipate where the Spirit will show up next – and then telling each other about it.
I invite Ben and the people of Trinity and Grace Church to stand. (The rest of you can stay seated.)
This is my charge to you today.
Look at each other. These are the saints God has given you, to be together in this little corner of the glorious communion of the saints in all times and places, under the protection of the Holy Trinity and in the freely given Grace of God.
Be angels for each other. Notice where hope and goodness appear, and point them out to each other, like hikers noticing a beautiful view or a rare bird. Thank each other and thank God, out loud, every time it occurs to you. Never miss an opportunity to be messengers to each other of where you see God’s love and joy breaking out. It could make all the difference.
May God bless your ministry together, this day and always.
Amen.
And the All Saints’ version, from the morning:
All Saints’, Dorval
St. Michael and All Angels
September 29, 2024
Jen preaching at my induction, September 27, 2018
For those of you who will be at Ben’s induction in Ste-Agathe this afternoon – my apologies, because while this isn’t exactly the same sermon, it’s not not the same sermon either.
Six years ago this week, the Rev’d Jen Bourque preached at my induction at what was then PRAM, and we used the propers for the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels. So I’m charmed that the first time I preach at someone else’s induction, it will be on these very same lessons.
I’ve long observed that today, Michaelmas, kicks off a sort of mini-liturgical season that lasts through Christ the King Sunday, with its high point coming on All Saints’ Day on November 1. It’s a season that bridges earth and heaven, during which we focus on both the fruits of the earth at Harvest Thanksgiving, and the eternal and inexhaustible joys of heaven shared with the saints and angels. It is, in many ways, my favourite time of the liturgical year, and in many ways it is paradigmatic for the life of a parish church.
If St. Paul were here with us today, he would address you all as “the saints who are in Christ Jesus at Dorval”, and we chose to highlight that identity as saints when we chose our new name together in 2019.
It is here in our parishes that we weep over the graves of those saints who have gone on to larger life, and celebrate the making of new saints at the baptismal font. It is here that we bring the offerings of our work and of the land, and anticipate together that never-ending feast to which God invites us as we gather around the altar.
As I looked over pictures from that induction service on September 27, 2018, there were many faces of those whom we have since commended to God’s everlasting care – and there are many people in the pews today who have become our friends and fellow saints since then!
These are the saints who come together as partners in the ministry that we celebrate today. And today, in accordance with the feast day, I want to invite you all to be angels for each other.
As you may have noticed, one of my additional preaching hobbyhorses is reminding people that saints and angels are not the same thing. We don’t become angels when we die. We don’t get wings, and harps are strictly optional. We are, and will always remain, saints, both now and in eternity, though we will certainly get to be with the angels, and today’s feast is a reminder and anticipation of that.
But the word angelos in Greek means messenger, and that is what I want to celebrate today: the ways that we can be messengers to and for each other, of God’s love and good news.
I have served four very different parishes in two denominations and two countries since I was ordained, but I can tell you with absolute conviction that the single best predictor of how happy a pastor and congregation will be together is this: whether they are messengers to each other of appreciation, energy, hope, and love.
And I’m happy to say that with you all, my longest-lasting pastoral relationship so far, these messages have been abundant. I have felt appreciated, affirmed and supported by you, and I hope I have managed to express in return a fraction of the joy I have found here among the saints at All Saints’.
And that’s what I will be inviting Ben and his people to do together this afternoon to follow your example. To notice those moments, and point them out to each other. To say, as Jacob says in the first reading, “Surely God is in this place, and I did not know it.”
Perhaps it’s the face of a child as they watch a younger sibling being baptized. Perhaps it’s the witness of a saint who has been part of the congregation for eighty years. Perhaps it’s the question of someone walking through the church door for the first time, seeing things from a new and different angle. Perhaps it’s the quiet effort of someone in the community making sure that someone hungry gets the help they need.
And while there is nothing in the world more serious than God’s mission, I strongly recommend a hearty dose of laughter; I find that the more fun we’re having, the more we can recognize God moving, even among the unavoidable heartbreaks of life. On one memorable occasion in my last congregation, I jokingly invented what I called the “PZ Index,” a measurement of parish health calibrated according to how many reply-alls on the parish council email list it took to go from approving the last set of meeting minutes to proposing the Pastors’ Pancake Cook-Off and Parking Lot Zamboni Derby Fundraiser. (It took us six replies. Sadly, I never actually got to ride a Zamboni around the parking lot.)
Few things bind a community together like a good in-joke (heck, there’s one in today’s gospel, when Jesus quips to Nathaniel, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!”). There’s certainly no shortage of humour here. And God invites us to look at the world with that same sparkle in our eye, finding patterns of goodness and holiness, learning to anticipate where the Spirit will show up next – and then telling each other about it.
So I will always see St. Michael and All Angels as an auspicious feast, since it was the one on which I was officially brought together with you, to be saints together in this little corner of the glorious communion of the saints in all times and places.
Today, we remember the angels who serve God in heaven and help and defend us here on earth. Over the next few weeks we will give thanks for the harvest and the fruits of the earth, and for the sacrifices of those who have laid down their lives; we will celebrate the saints, both those whose names are known to us and that great cloud of witnesses whose names are known to God alone; and finally we will rejoice in the sure and certain hope of God’s reign over all creation.
And, as we have done for the last six years and continue to do, we will notice and point out to each other the glimpses of God we see along the way.
I give thanks, now and always, for the ways God is made known in this place.
Amen.
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