The Day of Pentecost: St. George’s, Summerville
June 4, 2017 They were gathered, much as we are gathered. After Jesus’ resurrection the faithful had come together to celebrate the Feast of Weeks, or in the Greek, Pentecost, for it was celebrated fifty days after Passover as an agricultural festival to give God thanks for the first fruits of the winter grain. They also were commemorating the giving of the Torah, the Jewish law, to the nation. “And suddenly, from heaven there came a sound like a mighty wind, and it filled the house where they were sitting.” A rush of wind. Can you feel it? The breath, the wind, the Spirit, all the same word in Hebrew. The effect for them 2000 years ago was apparently overwhelming and they would never again be the same. There has been much in the news about wind, particularly tornadoes and as we embark soon on a new hurricane season. There is a professor of atmospheric science named Richard Peterson who visits and teaches about his specialty – wind. Most of us I would guess are not wind sophisticates. I mean really, how many intelligent things can one say about wind? We can watch the Weather Channel and follow local meteorologists. We step outside and feel warm breezes or cold fronts approaching. And yes, we know wind can be powerful and we better be aware when going out on the local rivers. We trust too that airplane pilots are paying attention. But what else is there? The wind scientist knows something of the intricacies of wind and indeed it is wonderfully complex, but perhaps all we need for now is the definition offered by a sixth grader: “The wind is like air, only pushier!” Consider that the pushiness of wind is one of the central points of the Feast of Pentecost. We do not need to know the subtleties of wind to appreciate this stirring moment in the life of God’s people. We need only recognize the power of such a force. The strength of the wind explains something of the way the Holy Spirit works. If God is going to deal in any substantive way with the wreckage of the world that human beings have created, that is, rescuing God’s people from all the ways in which we continue to destroy one another and the planet with which we have been gifted, all the ways in which we live contrary to God’s vision of love and justice, God is going to have to offer the extraordinary power of the Spirit. God breathes new life into us now just as Jesus promised to give us another Advocate or Helper, the Holy Spirit, to be with us forever. The description in Acts is like a violent or mighty wind because nothing less will work! The great miracle of Pentecost is found when the closed up and secluded followers of Jesus move out into the public square. The surge of the Spirit pushes the fledgling Church then and we the Church now out of the upper room in Jerusalem, or this building here of St. George’s, into the board room, the courtroom, the surgical waiting room, the grocery store line, the high school cafeteria, wherever it is our day may take us. As one of our post-communion prayers says – “Send us out to do the work you have given us to do.” Every Eucharist is a sending rite. This same Holy Spirit is recognized in our Baptism and stirred up for release in Confirmation. It is the Holy Spirit, the relationship of love between God the Father and Jesus – who is given to us! It is the same Spirit we are asking today to strengthen, empower and sustain those coming forward for the laying on of hands. When the wind blows, things happen. Branches sway, sometimes trees are uprooted, windows rattle. We don’t always like that part especially if it is things uprooted in our life and the windows of our complacency get rattled. Yet even in that first Pentecost, as the wind blew, a new world was coming into being. The people of God began to discover that the old ways of relating to one another and thinking about God had been blown out the window! Why do you think Jesus was always being accused of eating with the wrong crowd? It was a breath of hope and life the likes of which had not been known – that things really could be different. Our call today is to join a conspiracy, a conspiracy of the Holy Spirit. Think about it. The word “conspiracy” literally means, “breathing together.” Pentecost was and is a conspiracy of breathing together for the good. The rush of the wind broke down barriers to reconfigure lives and embrace whole new relationships across all dividing walls. The Spirit was poured out, the account in Acts tells us, on “all flesh,” referring to God’s dream from the book of Joel for the unity of all people. Perhaps there is no better definition of the Church than the people of God, called out to breathe together, to break down the walls that divide us, offer radical forgiveness and acceptance to anyone and everyone and have our own lives forever changed in the process. Pentecost says we live in the hope that Cretans, Arabians, Parthians and Galileans, examples of people in any time who are radically different in origin, history, language and even ideology, can come together as unified in the Spirit of God. It was true then and it can be true in our day. We are, one more time, being invited to dream God’s dream for all flesh, the entire Creation. It is the only reason St. George’s exists, so that this may be a place where the dream of God is lived and can take root in us. Holy Spirit, push us out, reveling in the wonder of God among us, to be God’s new presence for the sake of the world. Bishop Skip Pentecost mosaic in the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis (Missouri), via Wikimedia Commons Wind. The book of Acts tells us it filled the house where the followers of Jesus were sitting. Acts also says the wind came suddenly with a sound like one that comes with the rush of violence. The effect was apparently overwhelming and those gathered would never again be the same.
I have never experienced the oncoming of a tornado. The description I hear often, however, is about how it sounds like an approaching freight train. Atmospheric scientists have a lot to say about the study of wind. I remember a conversation with a meteorologist in a parish hall during my Sunday visitation concerning wind shear that told me more about wind than I would ever have imagined. It is wonderfully complex and intricate. Yet I do like the description of a sixth grader who reduced her observation of wind to, “It is like air, only pushier.” In Acts the people of God had gathered to celebrate the Feast of Weeks, fifty days after Passover. They were giving God thanks for the first fruits of the winter grain. They also, as faithful Jewish people, were commemorating the giving of the Torah, the Jewish law, to the nation of Israel. This was the occasion of the gathering that brought Jesus, the Apostles and Jesus’ mother, other family members and friends into one place. The description of the wind coming upon this particular group tells us it would take an extraordinary movement of God to bring unity to a world that too often seems bent on separation and estrangement. Sometimes we seem better at building walls than tearing them down. The chaos of the world calls for a new ordering, a new commonality. Nothing less than a pushy, gale force can bring God’s justice to a world too often given to destruction rather than the breath of peace. The miracle of Pentecost is at least two-fold. Each was speaking the language of the other and they understood one another. In a desert father story, Arsenius asked an elderly Egyptian monk some questions and another overhearing them commented, “Abba Arsenius, you have a strong education in Latin and Greek. Why do you discuss anything with this peasant?” He replied, “True. I have knowledge of Latin and Greek, but I do not yet know this man’s alphabet.” What if we brought that attitude to every conversation, every political discourse, honoring the dignity of every tribe, language, people and nation? The other miracle is how those gathered are transformed from the closed forum to go out into the public square. The surge of the Spirit, that pushy air of breath and creativity, moves the fledgling church out of the upper room into Jerusalem. That same Spirit pushes us out of our own church enclosures into the board room, the school room, the surgery waiting room, the grocery store, the high school, the assembly line, the halls of Congress – anywhere and everywhere in order to breathe the hope of God’s Spirit on all. The Book of Acts tells us, quoting Joel, that this Spirit was poured out on ALL flesh. This is God’s dream of the unity of all people. As Elizabeth Barrett Browning said, “He lives most life whoever breathes the most air.” Bishop Skip Detail of Visitation by Rogier van der Weyden, c. 1445, via Web Gallery of Ar It is hard to imagine what was likely a twelve to fourteen year old Mary taking off alone into the Judean hillside on a four-day journey, even if it was to visit her cousin Elizabeth as two mothers-to-be. Many assume that this meeting was not specifically historical, but a literary and theological device used by Luke to bring the two together so that both may praise the God active in their lives and establish John, Elizabeth’s son, as Jesus’ precursor.
None of this reduces the magic and delight of the scene, however. I find that every time I read it I have womb envy. It reminds me of Jacob and Esau “leaping” as they struggled in Rebekah’s womb, portending future relationships and the movement of God always on the arc of the liberation of God’s people. Even the encounter of Mary and Elizabeth is rife with themes of liberation. On the darker side it all has the scent of crisis moments found in the Hebrew Scriptures surrounding the Exodus saga. Mary flees much as Moses fled after his crime. She is “untimely pregnant,” outside of the likely clan arrangement of her day. Her pregnancy is an affront to the social and religious order and therefore a crime punishable by death. In the midst of it all, God is delivering into history the great liberator and prince of peace, Jesus the Christ. Light is promised. Singing in exaltation infuses the moment as Elizabeth cries out her hymn, “Hail Mary.” Mary responds with the great hymn of liberation we know as the “Magnificat,” again connecting us to our Jewish roots through Hannah’s song of praise for God’s great acts of setting God’s people free. I was making a call on an elderly woman who, according to her son, had not spoken for ten months. He joined me for this particular visit and spoke of the pain of not being able to communicate with her and wondered if anyone was “in there.” As our time unfolded in our visitation, I learned through the son of his mother’s great devotion to Mary. When I offered prayer, I led with “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you,” Elizabeth’s words to the mother of Jesus. At that very moment his mother’s eyes took on recognition and she, in clearly enunciated English, joined us in the rest of the hymn. It was a moment of being set free for her son and for his mother, as later that night she died. Something leapt in all of us, the stirring movement of God’s Spirit always making new and redeeming what is right in front of us. It was a new day. Mary and Elizabeth were open to the God-surprise in their own life circumstance. Each day gives us an opportunity to offer ourselves to this same possibility. We might even find ourselves singing new songs of hope and liberation for all God’s people. Bishop Skip The Seventh Sunday of Easter: May 28, 2017
All Saints Episcopal Church, Hampton Caught in-between. How do we begin to make sense of the time from Ascension Day to today, still in the Great 50 Days of Easter, and anticipating Pentecost next Sunday? Jesus is raised from dead, now taken up into heaven. One moment he is among them; the next moment not. Really? It is clear to me that we are not saying Jesus ended his earthly ministry with the equivalent of a rocket launch. And art depictions of Jesus’ feet sticking out of the bottom of a cloud as we gaze from below I do not find helpful. Even the Scripture from Acts we heard today asks the question, “People of Galilee, why do you stand looking up towards heaven?” What we do discover, however, is language that suggests a change in location. Whatever the Ascension is, it is that – a transition that incorporates a sense of loss on the part of the disciples as they say goodbye, yet also a moment of glory for Jesus. As Jesus takes his leave in bodily form on the earth, there is a transition in the life of the disciples then and in the life of those who would be his disciples now – you and me. It participates in the movement all of us are always a part of, and that is the movement from life to death to life again. In case we have forgotten, we were baptized into Jesus’ death in order to be raised with him even now, in this life. It is the central meaning of baptism – dying and rising. A cursory hearing of today’s news events hand us glaring pictures of death, literal and metaphorical, acts of non-love of the highest order and they break our hearts. “Let God’s enemies be scattered” Psalm 68 proclaims. Who isn’t horrified by the events in Manchester, England and the attack on the Coptic Christians in Egypt? We are burdened with the images of starving children in Syria and South Sudan. In the renewal of our baptismal vows we will promise once again to work against everything that corrupts and destroys God’s people and God’s earth – all that conspires against God’s love for the entire creation. At the same time, on this same earth, we discover life: the beauty of a mountain vista or a piece of art, re-creation in communities restored, possibility, hope, healing, love renewed, restoration of a polluted stream, justice, peace and all things being made new. It is the ongoing presence of God who promises to restore the earth and establish his reign of love through us. We commit again this day just by showing up here to be such followers of Jesus. Big transitions – it is what we are about, moving from death to life, with Jesus. Of course, life itself is about transition, that is, leaving what we know and moving toward something new and yet to be. I can remember as a child being terrified when my parents left me at home with a babysitter and having to learn to trust that they would return. Those graduating this spring, along with their parents, know of transition as something exciting, yet there is the unknown of what life will bring that must be faced. It raises some anxiety at times. It is what we see in the life of the disciples as Jesus leaves them. It is their graduation day. Everything is changing. He will no longer be among them in the way they have known him to be. Having been raised from the dead and then among them for 40 days teaching and preparing them for the future, he now takes his leave. We call it The Ascension. In Jesus’ resurrection God has defeated death and everything that would tear us away from God’s love and one another. In the Ascension, Jesus is held up, that is placed at the helm, the control room if you will, of the entire cosmos. Church language for this is “Lord over all,” as he has “authority over all people” in the words of John’s Gospel. So why is this significant for us? Today we promise again to follow Jesus as Lord and Savior. We vow to organize our life around him and his Good News – that his love carries the day. Which then means of course that we do not organize our life first around a sporting event, college or vocational choices, money, spouses, bosses, or political agendas, but around Jesus and as any of these things fit into his desire for us. And maybe even more, the Ascension tells us that our lives, even while still on this earth, are caught up in something far more grand than we can imagine. Jesus’ great prayer in the Gospel today notes that he “is no longer in the world, but we are in the world.” It means that even as Jesus is no longer among us as a man he now dwells in each of us. He is not only among us, he is in us! And because Jesus’ Spirit is in us, we are left now to be the ongoing presence of Christ in the world. We have work to do. The celebration of the Ascension moves us from passively waiting for Jesus to come and fix things, to becoming witnesses confident in God’s presence in us. Our baptismal responsibility commissions us to actively participate in the work of the Holy Spirit. Like Jesus, we go into the world vulnerable, suffering, praising, praying, sometimes misunderstood, misjudged, yet also vindicated and celebrating. You go bearing in your body the dying of Jesus to all that opposes God’s love and justice, so that the life of Jesus may also be displayed and shown forth in your life as you participate in transforming the whole creation. Your call is to go wherever God and life takes you, even to the ends of the earth. You are to be witnesses to these things. Bishop Skip A message from the Bishop
Dear Clergy and People of The Episcopal Church in South Carolina, I encourage all in every parish and worship community to celebrate the Feast of Bishop William Alexander Guerry on Sunday, June 25. This is an excellent opportunity for teaching and for offering a clear historical context for one of the ways we have been at our best in the Episcopal Church as witnesses to the liberating Gospel of Jesus. Tell the story. Gather folks for a conversation before or after the liturgy. Preach boldly. Materials have been posted on our website that you can use for your bulletins along with propers for the day. May our eyes and ears be opened that we too might be set free as ambassadors of God’s “healing words of forgiveness.” Blessings to all in Christ, Bishop Skip The Fourth Sunday of Easter: May 7, 2017
The Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd, Summerville “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly,” the “they” meaning, you, me and especially today the two young people being confirmed. That’s as good a vision statement as there is. Life abundant, to the full, maximized, being the person created each of us to be. It was way back in the 2nd century that Bishop Tertullian said, “The glory of God is a human being fully alive.” I trust it goes without saying that the abundant life Jesus promises does not mean possessions, money or stock portfolios. We recognize the lie in the two-page spread of the Volvo advertisement that says above a picture of a beautiful car: “Meet your salvation.” And even though we might chuckle, we know the untruth of the line on the t-shirt that says: “The one who dies with the most toys wins.” Yes? When have you felt most full, a moment when your cup was running over? I think of my daughter’s wedding a couple of years ago with my heart nearly bursting out of my chest and saying to the people attending: “Gathered here this night are most of the people I love most in the world.” I also recall standing in an orphanage in downtown Amman, Jordan holding in my arms a wounded Iraqi child. She was Jesus and in that moment it was only the longing for love that bound us together. It is that all-embracing abundant love that is called forth in God’s people as we celebrate these Great 50 days of Easter. So what are the implications of the abundant life Jesus gives for this community here at Good Shepherd? Why do you exist? For what purpose are you here as a parish? Have you ever, while driving around, noticed various church signs, you know, the ones with messages on them? I do a lot of driving around the Diocese and come across many, some better than others. One read: “Repent, now is the day of salvation.” Another: “Christ is your fire insurance,” I assume alluding to the threat of burning in hell. I don’t like those kind much. Down the road, from a different denomination: “Mother’s Day is coming. Virtues are learned at mother’s knee, vices at some other joint.” Clever perhaps, but less than stirring. I wonder, what does the world that knows little about Christianity, except for such signs, think about us? One block down, another church sign: “Big garage sale next Saturday. Cheap prices, great deals!” And then, just down the road in the same town, another sign: “We’ve got room for you at our table. Hospitality practiced here. Everybody welcome.” Nice, the best of all of them. The trouble is it was a sign in front of a restaurant, not a church. The Jesus we discover today is the one who calls us each by name. It is a statement of profound relational intimacy. This ideal Shepherd is the one who kept telling stories of the unlimited nature of God’s love and reach. He came to tell us that love defeats everything, even death. Nothing and no one is beyond his embrace. Jesus was kind of annoying that way as he was constantly rescuing people nobody thought could be saved or was worth being saved. He was relentless, even dangerous, in his kingdom vision where he was always expanding the borders, forever gathering together those the culture tried to separate, forget, dismiss or deem unworthy. Does it ever strike you that much of our public discourse these days seems bent on limiting borders and trying to decide who we can keep out? We’ve even had laws proposed in this country where it would be an illegal act to give water or any kind of aid to an undocumented person – someone who, by the way, Jesus knows by name. I am very concerned, and I hope you are too, by rhetoric that seems to be increasing in volume that is anti-black, anti-woman, anti-immigrant, anti-gay – language that diminishes us and makes us smaller. According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, general intolerance and even domestic hate groups are significantly on the rise in this country. Jesus, in his continued teaching about the Kingdom of God, over and over again holds up a possibility that is dramatically different than this. Christ the Shepherd teaches of a God who is like a careless farmer throwing seed with abandon leading to miraculous growing and reckless harvesting with no sorting out of the good from the bad. He is a Shepherd who not only desires that there be one flock that knows of the love of the Shepherd, he is willing to leave all of them just to find the one that is lost. It raises the question for us always to be considering – what kind of community we are building here at Good Shepherd and what kind of vision we are giving to this community, our neighborhood? Today, with the confirmands, we again have the opportunity to reconnect to our baptismal reality in Christ, to “respect the dignity of every human being,” to “strive for justice and peace among all people,” and to “seek and serve Christ in allpersons.” According to Jesus we have a God who is a bit reckless and extravagant with his love. It makes us a bit nervous. It got Jesus killed. What if someone gets loved or included who we think doesn’t deserve it? But this is the kind of God we have. I wonder – if we were more clear about this kind of dangerous Jesus, living on the edges, might we be a bit more attractive institution because we actually acted out of our espoused values as a people of the Christ, the Shepherd? That’s what folks of the Z generation in the 19-29 age range seem to be telling us! All of us are called to serve out beyond these walls, the places where we live and move and have our being. The world will know we are a people of our word when we exhibit in “word and example” the costly, wild, reckless, self-abandoned love that takes shape in our deeds as we walk this earth. This is the love of the Shepherd. It is abundant – and the world is hungry for it. Bishop Skip Detail of the Maestà altarpiece by Duccio di Buoninsegna, 1308, via Wikipedia. Saint Philip and Saint James, Apostles
May 1, 2017 Some of the apostles are named in pairs on their day of commemoration. Simon and Jude are an example along with today’s candidates, Philip and James. Presumably this is because there is not enough information about them to warrant a day all to oneself. We trust they take no offense, especially when one notices that Peter is named on more than one day. I also assume the manner in which one is remembered on the ecclesiastical calendar does not cause arguments in Paradise at the same level of who will sit at Jesus’ right and on his left; although I think overhearing any apostolic banter on the subject might be fun. You know, being human and all. We do have an occasion in the fourteenth chapter of John’s Gospel appointed for this Feast where we get a glimpse of one of the exchanges between Philip and Jesus. There are other poignant moments recorded between the two. Interestingly, each one of these conversations triggers an important moment of teaching by our Lord. This one occurs at the Last Supper as Jesus prepares the disciples for his leaving by revealing the essence of his relationship with the Father. Philip says to Jesus, “Lord, show us the Father and we shall be satisfied.” Jesus responds with some measure of apparent incredulity, “You have been with me all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me?” When singing in a choir in high school, there was a day when our director had us lean back into the chest of one another in our section to feel the resonance of our voice vibrating through the other. It really was amazing as we not only experienced the voice of the other blending with and supporting our own, we also began to breathe together in a way where we became one voice. That exercise transformed a group of singers with a well-intentioned commonality of purpose, good in itself, into a magical expression of a single breathing organism. As a choir we were never the same. Jesus’ relationship with God is one of unity of being. The life of prayer is one where we are invited by the Spirit of Christ to lean into him and know the possibility of a unitive experience ourselves. When this miracle occurs, by grace, our voices become one. We begin to breathe as God breathes and when we lift our hearts to the Lord, we discover our hearts beginning to realize a syncopation with the very heart of God in God’s hope for all creation. Jesus was telling Philip that to know him was to know God and God’s heart-desire for the world. It is a world where because of Jesus’ death and resurrection we are called to do the work that Jesus did and “…in fact, will do greater works.” May we never limit, in word or action, the reach of his embrace. Bishop Skip The Second Sunday of Easter, April 23, 2017
St. Mark’s, Port Royal Jesus of Nazareth is risen from the dead. This is THE Easter proclamation, especially in these Great 50 Days of Easter in which we now find ourselves. Of course, this is our central proclamation every Sunday and the reason we declare Sunday our Sabbath as distinct from the Jewish Sabbath of Saturday. I wonder if you are aware that the very first responsibility of a bishop as indicated in the ordination liturgy is to be “one with the apostles in proclaiming Christ’s resurrection?” Today in Acts we read, “This Jesus God raised up, and of that all of us are witnesses.” So our entire life is to be a witness to this truth – Christ is Risen! We have the great joy of renewing this truth through those receiving the laying on of hands today. How might Thomas inform our witness as he is presented to us in today’s Gospel? He refused to believe the testimony of anyone else, even that of his closest friends. Then came the night when Jesus appeared to him in that upper room and Thomas was challenged by Jesus’ invitation to touch the wounds still visible in his resurrected body. Thomas yielded with perhaps one of the greatest statements of faith in the entire New Testament: “My Lord and my God!” What do we do with all of these references to a body? It was C.S. Lewis who said such references “make us uneasy, they raise awkward questions.” To be sure, the Scriptures seem to take great pains to tell us of one after death who speaks, eats fish on the beach, bears wounds from a horrible execution – albeit a different kind of body which appears in a room with locked doors. The Gospel writer, John, is seeking to portray the Jesus in the upper room as the same Jesus who was crucified. However it all occurred, no explanation is given. Although I always think here of new studies in quantum physics, the behavior of atoms and parallel universes, we’ll set that aside for now. Thomas, and therefore we, are confronted with the body of Jesus, resurrected. Out of this encounter Thomas makes a great leap of faith. I am not an expert in equestrian competition, but my daughter loves to ride. One of the things that impresses me most is how she guides a horse to leap over a hurdle. I marvel at her apparent calmness, not true of her father by the way. I did some reading about this and teachers say that even the greatest riders face a common obstacle: their own perception. Some of the most respected equestrian study guides devote entire sections to the rider’s perception. Unless the rider can approach the obstacles with a certain anticipatory confidence, he or she will never be adept at jumping. One author gave this advice: “Take your heart and throw it over the fence. Then jump after it.” Although we plaster the moniker “doubting Thomas” on this man, it is not really accurate. The man in the Gospel is not a pessimistic character prone to doubt. He’s just looking for proof – an empiricist of sorts. After all, dead people don’t come back to life. Not the old body and especially not some new resurrected body. Thomas then is a bridge, a bridge for all future believers who find it difficult to throw their hearts over the fence of the threshold of death into resurrection territory. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” The account gives us mistaken turnings, confused demands and puzzled longings. Such is life for all of us. The struggle of faith is not a smooth, level road to perfection. Misunderstanding and a bumpy ride are par for the course. Thomas represents us in our humanity. Rather than judge Thomas, which the Gospel does not do, the Gospel hopes we will identify with him! And look how Jesus responds. The first thing he does for his companions locked in that room, holed up in death and doom: death by fear; death by guilt; death by alienation; is offer them empowerment and invitation – unconditional, open arms, welcoming us to new life and new possibilities. Rather than savoring alienation, Jesus responds with complete acceptance. Note that he comes into the room with the traditional Jewish formal greeting, “Shalom Aleichem.” “Peace be with you.” The first thing they experience from Jesus is that he remains in relationship with them. He still cares for them. It is the miracle and power of relationship that is maintained by Jesus. He is the one who continues to have faith in the disciples, in us, even when we are not able to do so ourselves. The bond is restored through this great gift of love that continues to show up in seemingly impossible situations. He sees them in their confused, fearful state and offers peace and when they see the scars, they know. Jesus honored and restored them. Alienation is ended. He offered what they did not deserve in this moment – love and acceptance. We might call this in the words of I Peter “a new birth into a living hope.” Without it they stay behind locked doors, never make the leap, and never become witnesses of the One raised up. Christian community is rooted in that love offered in the upper room that night. It is that which empowers us to go forth and be servants of Jesus. We are now set free from all of our locked rooms, whatever they might be, to be God’s person in God’s world. Go ahead. Throw your heart over the fence. He’s already there, waiting to receive you with a word of “Peace be with you.” Bishop Skip |
Bishop Skip AdamsThe Right Reverend Gladstone B. Adams III was elected and invested as our Bishop on September 10, 2016. Read more about him here. Archives
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