A Servant for Justice: Baptismal Courage in a Time of State Violence

by

A beloved child of God is dead.

On January 8, 2026, Reuters reported that a 37-year-old Minnesota mother and U.S. citizen, Renee Nicole Good, was fatally shot by a U.S. immigration agent in Minneapolis during a large federal operation, as protests spread in Minneapolis and other U.S. cities. The incident is now under investigation, with sharply conflicting official narratives about what happened in the moments before the shooting.

As people of faith, and as a parish committed to outreach to the least, the lost, and the forgotten, we cannot treat this as just another headline. This is a pastoral emergency. A spiritual crisis. And a moment that demands Christian clarity.

“A Bruised Reed He Will Not Break” (Isaiah 42)

Isaiah gives us the image of God’s Servant, chosen, upheld, filled with God’s Spirit, not to crush, but to heal; not to dominate, but to establish justice. The Servant is gentle and unyielding: “He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice on the earth.” (Isaiah 42:1-4, 6-7)

Isaiah also says the Servant is sent “to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon.” (Isaiah 42:6-7) When a government’s power becomes masked, militarized, and unaccountable, when it targets communities through fear, raids, and spectacle, the Church must hear Isaiah plainly: God is not neutral about captivity. God is not indifferent to state violence.

“God Shows no Partiality” (Acts 10)

In Acts, Peter makes a revolutionary declaration: “I truly understand that God shows no partiality.” (Acts 10:34-38)

This is not a polite religious slogan. It is a direct assault on every hierarchy that declares some lives more disposable than others.

Peter then summarizes Jesus’ ministry: Jesus was anointed with the Holy Spirit and power, and he “went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed.” (Acts 10:38)

That word matters: oppressed.

Not merely unfortunate. Not merely struggling. Oppressed, harmed by systems, crushed by power, targeted by authorities, treated as threats instead of neighbors. The early Church proclaimed that Jesus stands with such people, and that the Spirit anoints the Church to do the same.

Jesus Enters the Water with the Vulnerable (Matthew 3)

Matthew tells us Jesus comes to John for baptism, a baptism meant for repentance, and John resists: “I need to be baptized by you.” But Jesus insists. He steps into the water anyway. (Matthew 3:13-17)

This is solidarity before it is spectacle.

Jesus identifies with people under suspicion, people being searched, judged, monitored, and condemned. Then the heavens open and God names him: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” (Matthew 3:17)

Here is the heart of Christian resistance: before Jesus ever preaches a sermon, before he performs a miracle, before he earns anything, God calls him Beloved.

If we are baptized into Christ, then we are baptized into that same truth: people do not have to earn their dignity. They have it because God gives it.

Naming the Threat: Fascism Is a Spiritual Danger

We should be honest: fascism is not only a political problem, it is a spiritual counterfeit.

Fascism trains people to worship force, to crave domination, to treat cruelty as strength, and to accept lies if they feel emotionally satisfying. It creates scapegoats and calls them invaders. It demands loyalty and punishes compassion. Furthermore, it normalizes the unthinkable until our moral imagination shrinks.

When Christians remain silent in the face of such patterns, we are not being peaceful. We are being formed, slowly, into acceptance of violence.

Isaiah’s Servant does not accept that formation. Acts’ gospel does not accept it. Jesus’ baptism does not bless it.

A Franciscan Word: Stand with the Marginalized

At Saint Francis Parish and Outreach, our identity is not abstract. It is practical: to stand with those pushed to the edges, including immigrants, the poor, the unhoused, LGBTQ plus neighbors, people targeted for their race, religion, language, or disability, anyone the powerful find convenient to threaten.

Today, we grieve Renee Nicole Good. We grieve her family. We grieve a nation where a U.S. citizen can be killed in an enforcement operation surrounded by confusion, propaganda, and fear.

And we also grieve the deeper wound: the steady attempt to make us numb.

But we will not be numbed.

What Faithfulness Can Look like Right Now

We can respond in ways that are explicitly Christian, rooted in baptism, scripture, and solidarity:

  1. Pray with specificity, and with names.
    Not vague prayers that float above reality, but prayers that speak truth: for Renee Nicole Good, for those traumatized by raids, for those living in fear, for courage, repentance, and protection. 
  2. Reject dehumanizing language in our homes and communities.
    When people are called “illegals,” “infestation,” “animals,” or “terrorists” without evidence, Christians must intervene, calmly, firmly, consistently.
  3. Practice accompaniment.
    Show up for immigrants and marginalized neighbors in tangible ways: rides, meals, child care, court accompaniment, mutual aid, community presence.
  4. Demand accountability as a moral duty.
    Seeking investigation, transparency, and justice is not being political, it is refusing to let killing be normalized.

Baptized People Do Not Look Away

Isaiah promises a Servant who brings justice without crushing the weak. Acts proclaims a God who shows no partiality. Matthew shows Jesus entering the water, choosing solidarity, and being named Beloved.

So here is our call:
To stand against fascism.
To stand up for those who are marginalized.
To refuse the lie that some people are expendable.
To live our baptism publicly, where it costs something.

Because the Church is not most true when it is safest.
The Church is most true when it is most faithful.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Christmas at the Margins

by

We gather in the stillness and shadow of Christmas Midnight Mass to tell a story the world keeps trying to silence.

It is not a story of comfort or control. It is not a story about power winning through force. It is the story of a child born into danger, poverty, and political violence. A story of God choosing to be with those who are pushed to the edges.

Our lectionary opens Midnight Mass with words that feel almost too familiar to a weary world: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” That light does not arrive with an army or a decree. It comes quietly, carried in the arms of a young woman who has no social standing and no protection beyond faith and courage.

Jesus is born because there is no room. No room in the inn. No room in the systems of his time. No room in an empire that thrives on fear, hierarchy, and control. The Son of God enters the world, already excluded.

This is where Christmas begins.

At Saint Francis Parish and Outreach, we insist on telling the whole Christmas story. Not the sanitized version that fits neatly into holiday decorations, but the real one. A child born under occupation. A family living under the threat of state violence. Parents who will soon have to flee as refugees to protect their child from a ruler who uses fear to maintain power.

Mary and Joseph know what it means to walk with uncertainty. They know what it means to travel while vulnerable. They know what it means to be told, directly and indirectly, that their lives matter less.

That makes the Holy Family deeply familiar to immigrants today.

Across our own community in Augusta and across this country, families are walking in fear. They are navigating detention centers, court dates, sudden policy changes, and the constant anxiety of separation. Many are doing exactly what Mary and Joseph did: protecting their children, trusting God, and moving forward even when the road is dangerous.

Christmas does not allow us to look away from that reality. Christmas demands that we see it.

The Gospel at Midnight Mass tells us that shepherds are the first to hear the good news. Shepherds. Not kings. Not officials. Not religious elites. Shepherds were among the poor, the overlooked, the ones society barely noticed. God entrusts them with the first proclamation of salvation.

That choice matters.

It tells us something about where God stands. God does not align with empire. Nor does he bless systems built on domination. God does not sanctify fear-based politics or authoritarian power dressed up as “order.”

This is why standing against fascism is not a political hobby for Christians. It is a theological necessity.

Fascism relies on fear. It requires scapegoats. It thrives by dividing people into those who belong and those who do not. The Christmas story dismantles that logic at its core. God becomes human without privilege. God chooses vulnerability over violence. The Divine enters history not to crush enemies, but to save lives.

Every time we refuse to dehumanize immigrants, we are living Christmas. Every time we resist narratives that portray vulnerable people as threats, we are proclaiming the Gospel. When we say that no human being is illegal, unwanted, or expendable, we are standing in the light that shines in the darkness.

The letter to Titus, also proclaimed at Midnight Mass, reminds us that the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all. Not some. Not the deserving. Not the powerful. All.

Grace does not come with conditions. Grace does not ask for papers. It does not demand cultural conformity. Grace appears as a gift.

That grace teaches us how to live. It calls us away from cruelty and indifference and toward justice, mercy, and solidarity. It forms us into a people who refuse to cooperate with systems that harm the vulnerable, even when those systems claim legitimacy or tradition.

At Saint Francis Parish and Outreach, walking with immigrants is not an abstract idea. It is prayer with feet. It is advocacy. It is accompaniment. It is showing up when fear is loud and hope feels fragile. It is remembering that Christ is not only born in Bethlehem but continues to be born wherever people risk love in a broken world.

Christmas is not sentimental. It is dangerous. It threatens every system that depends on fear to survive.

That is why the light of Christmas cannot be extinguished. The darkness has tried before. Empires have risen and fallen. Rulers like Herod have come and gone. Yet the child in the manger still speaks, still challenges, still gathers the poor and the forgotten into a new kind of family.

Tonight, as candles flicker in the dark, we are reminded that light does not need permission from darkness. It simply shines.

May this Christmas find us braver. May it find us more committed to the dignity of immigrants and all who are pushed aside. May it find us resisting fascism in all its forms, not with hatred, but with courage rooted in love.

And may we never forget that the God we worship chose to begin life as a child with nowhere to lay his head.

That is good news. For all of us.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Caminando con el Forastero: Alegría de Adviento, Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe y el Llamado al Coraje

by

Las lecturas de este domingo nos llevan más profundamente al corazón del Adviento, esa temporada en la que la Iglesia sostiene la tensión entre el anhelo y la esperanza, entre lo que está roto y lo que Dios está sanando. Isaías anima a un pueblo cansado: “Fortalezcan las manos débiles y afiancen las rodillas vacilantes” (Isaías 35:3). Santiago hace eco de ese llamado y exhorta a la Iglesia primitiva a “afirmar el corazón” (Santiago 5:8) mientras esperan al Señor. En el Evangelio (Mateo 11:2–11), Jesús ofrece signos del Reino que ya está irrumpiendo en el mundo. Son buenas noticias para los pobres, sanación para los heridos y libertad para quienes están aplastados por sistemas de poder.

Para nosotros en Saint Francis Parish & Outreach en Augusta, estas Escrituras no flotan en el aire como poesía espiritual. Aterrizan firmemente en medio de nuestro ministerio con inmigrantes, refugiados, las personas pobres y aquellas que han sido silenciadas o maltratadas. El Adviento dice la verdad: el mundo está herido pero Dios está obrando en esas heridas.

Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe: Madre de los Marginados

Esta semana también honramos a Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, patrona de la Old Catholic Churches International. Su presencia nos recuerda que Dios suele revelar la verdad sagrada a través de quienes el mundo considera insignificantes. María no apareció a un noble, ni a una familia adinerada, ni a un obispo. Se apareció a Juan Diego, un hombre indígena que vivía bajo el peso de la colonización, la pobreza y el borrado cultural.

Su mensaje fue más que reconfortante. Fue disruptivo. Elevó a un pueblo cuya dignidad había sido negada y desafió a la Iglesia a escuchar las voces que con frecuencia había ignorado. Su Magnificat no es una canción de cuna dulce sino una declaración de la justicia de Dios:

  • los soberbios dispersados
  • los poderosos derribados
  • los hambrientos saciados

Por eso sigue siendo un símbolo para los inmigrantes, los desplazados y todos los que anhelan un mundo moldeado por la misericordia en lugar del miedo.

Caminando con los Inmigrantes en un Clima de Hostilidad

Aquí en Georgia, los titulares nos recuerdan diariamente que nuestros vecinos inmigrantes viven bajo una presión creciente. La retórica política se vuelve más dura, las políticas más punitivas y las comunidades que ya cargan traumas son empujadas a una incertidumbre aún más profunda. Parte del lenguaje que aparece en nuestra conversación nacional refleja los mismos impulsos autoritarios que la Iglesia ha resistido en generaciones pasadas. Se vuelven a crear chivos expiatorios, se promueve la exclusión y se presentan seres humanos como amenazas en lugar de portadores de la imagen de Dios.

Como cristianos, no podemos fingir que no lo vemos. El ministerio de Jesús deja claro que quienes son empujados a los márgenes no son preocupaciones opcionales sino centrales para el Evangelio. Cuando describe los signos del Reino a los discípulos de Juan, comienza con esto: “a los pobres se les anuncia la buena noticia.”

Caminar con los inmigrantes no es una postura política.
Es una postura evangélica.

En Saint Francis, vemos la sacralidad de este llamado cada día. Conocemos familias que huyen de la violencia y la pobreza, personas trabajadoras que soportan largas horas por salarios que apenas alcanzan y niños que se adaptan con valentía a una nueva cultura mientras cargan pesares que ningún menor debería llevar. Recibimos de ellos más de lo que damos: resistencia, alegría, fe y un testimonio vivo de esperanza.

Decir No al Abuso y a la Normalización del Daño

El abuso, ya sea personal, político o estructural, prospera allí donde el silencio se vuelve norma. El Adviento desafía ese silencio. Insiste en que Dios no acepta la crueldad como algo inevitable. Las palabras de Jesús a Juan, “Bienaventurado el que no tropieza por causa de mí,” hablan del valor necesario para seguirle cuando la compasión se vuelve contracultural.

Decir no al abuso significa rechazar la normalización del lenguaje de odio hacia los inmigrantes. También significa resistir toda retórica que divide a las comunidades, que justifica el daño o que trata a las personas vulnerables como desechables. Asimismo significa apoyar a quienes sobreviven la violencia doméstica, la explotación laboral, la violencia estatal y todas las formas de maltrato. El Adviento nos llama no solo a esperar a Cristo sino a caminar en su camino ahora.

Una Palabra Final para Nuestra Comunidad

Al celebrar a Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, recordemos que ella está con los pobres, los inmigrantes, los sobrevivientes y los silenciados. Nos recuerda que Dios ve a quienes la sociedad pasa por alto y que la ternura puede ser revolucionaria.

Sus palabras a Juan Diego resuenan hoy en nuestra parroquia:
“¿No estoy yo aquí, que soy tu Madre?”

Que esa seguridad fortalezca nuestras manos, firme nuestras rodillas y profundice nuestra determinación de caminar con el forastero, enfrentar la injusticia y proclamar esperanza en un mundo que la necesita con urgencia.

Pax et Bonum,

Obispo Greer

Walking With the Stranger: Advent Joy, Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the Call to Courage

by

This Sunday’s lectionary readings bring us deeper into the heart of Advent, that season when the Church holds tension between longing and hope, between what is broken and what God is healing. Isaiah encourages a weary people: “Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees” (Isaiah 35:3). James echoes that call, urging the early Church to “establish your hearts” (James 5:8) as they wait for the Lord. And in the Gospel (Matthew 11:2–11), Jesus offers signs of the Kingdom already breaking into the world—good news for the poor, healing for the hurting, freedom for those crushed by systems of power.

For us at Saint Francis Parish and Outreach in Augusta, these Scriptures do not float in the air as spiritual poetry. They land firmly in the middle of our ministry with immigrants, refugees, the poor, and those who have been silenced or mistreated. Advent tells the truth: the world is wounded, but God is at work in those wounds.

Our Lady of Guadalupe: Mother of the Marginalized

This week we also honor Our Lady of Guadalupe, patroness of the Old Catholic Churches International. Her presence reminds us that God often chooses to reveal holy truth through those the world considers unimportant. Mary did not appear to a nobleman, a wealthy family, or a bishop. She appeared to Juan Diego, an Indigenous man living under the weight of colonization, poverty, and cultural erasure.

Her message was more than comforting—it was disruptive. She lifted up a people whose dignity had been denied and challenged the Church to listen to voices it had often ignored. Her Magnificat is not a sweet lullaby but a declaration of God’s justice:

– the proud scattered

– the mighty cast down

– the hungry filled

Walking With Immigrants in a Climate of Rising Hostility

Here in Georgia, the headlines remind us daily that our immigrant neighbors are living under increasing pressure. Political rhetoric grows harsher, policies become more punitive, and communities already carrying trauma are forced into deeper uncertainty. Some of the language emerging in our national conversation echoes the same authoritarian impulses the Church has resisted in past generations, scapegoating, exclusion, and the portrayal of human beings as threats rather than as bearers of God’s image.

To walk with immigrants is not about partisanship. It is about discipleship.

At Saint Francis, we see the sacredness of this calling every day. We meet families fleeing violence and poverty, workers laboring long hours for low wages, and children bravely adapting to a new culture while carrying burdens far beyond their years. We receive far more from them than we give: resilience, joy, faith, and a living witness to hope.

Standing Against Abuse and the Normalization of Harm

Abuse, whether personal, political, or structural, thrives wherever silence becomes the norm. Advent challenges that silence. It insists that God does not accept cruelty as “the way things are.” Jesus’ words to John, “Blessed is the one who is not offended by me,” speak to the courage required to follow him when compassion becomes countercultural.

Standing against abuse means refusing to normalize hateful speech about immigrants. It means resisting rhetoric that divides communities, justifies harm, or treats vulnerable people as disposable. It also means supporting survivors of domestic violence, workplace exploitation, state violence, and all forms of mistreatment. Advent calls us not only to wait for Christ, but to walk in his way now.

A Final Word for Our Community

As we celebrate Our Lady of Guadalupe, may we remember that she stands with the poor, the immigrant, the survivor, and the silenced. She reminds us that God sees those whom society overlooks. She reminds us that tenderness can be revolutionary.

Her words to Juan Diego echo into our parish today:

“Am I not here, I who am your mother?”

May that assurance strengthen our hands, steady our knees, and deepen our resolve to walk with the stranger, confront injustice, and proclaim hope in a world that deeply needs it.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Walking With the Stranger

by

This Sunday’s readings invite us to imagine a world made new. A world where justice sits at the center of God’s kingdom and where every person, especially the vulnerable and displaced, finds a home. At Saint Francis Parish and Outreach here in Augusta, these Scriptures speak directly into our mission as we continue walking with immigrants, neighbors experiencing homelessness, and all who come to our doors seeking hope.

“A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse” from Isaiah 11:1 to 10

Isaiah gives us a vision of surprising new life. From what looks dead, God brings renewal. From what seems impossible, God creates peace, wisdom, and justice. The prophet’s dream is not only personal. It is social and communal. It is a picture of a world where the poor are defended, where the vulnerable are safe, and where no one is harmed on God’s holy mountain.

Every time we accompany a newly arrived family, help someone navigate paperwork, or offer a warm meal without conditions, we see small signs of Isaiah’s promise. The kingdom of God grows first in the forgotten places.

“Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you” from Romans 15:4 to 9

Paul reminds the early Church that Scripture teaches endurance and gives hope. But Paul also makes something very clear. The welcome we offer others must reflect the welcome Christ offers us. This is not theoretical hospitality. It is practical hospitality that requires effort, humility, and sacrifice.

At Saint Francis, that welcome looks like:

  • walking with immigrant families as they rebuild their lives
  • helping people overcome cultural or language barriers
  • offering friendship to those who feel invisible in a new land

Paul roots this in Jesus Himself. Christ became a servant so that all nations could glorify God. Every nation, every language, and every newcomer finds a place in the heart of Christ.

“Prepare the way of the Lord” from Matthew 3:1 to 12

John the Baptist speaks with urgency. Preparing the way means turning away from what harms others and turning toward justice, mercy, and truth. Real repentance produces real fruit. Real faith produces real action.

Preparing the way today means looking honestly at the things in our society that need to be made straight. That includes the ways immigrants and refugees are treated in our own nation.

What the Government Is Doing to Immigrants and Why It Conflicts With Christian Tradition

Across the country, immigrants face policies that separate families, limit access to due process, prolong detention, and create fear rather than stability. Many asylum seekers wait months or years in unsafe conditions. Others are detained in facilities far from support systems. Still others face rapid deportation processes that make it nearly impossible to present their cases. Policies often prioritize enforcement over human dignity.

Christian tradition, beginning with Scripture itself, stands firmly against this kind of treatment. The Bible repeatedly identifies care for the stranger as a core mark of faithfulness. Israel was commanded to remember that they themselves were once foreigners. Jesus identifies Himself with the stranger who needs welcome. The early Church viewed hospitality to immigrants as a direct expression of the Gospel.

When government systems dehumanize or disregard the suffering of immigrants, those actions fall short of what Christians understand as moral treatment of human beings made in the image of God. While Christians may disagree on political solutions, the Church cannot be silent when human dignity is harmed.

Voices from the Early Church

The earliest Christian teachers did not treat immigrants as inconveniences or threats. They saw them as people bearing the presence of Christ.

St. John Chrysostom taught:

“The stranger and the foreigner belong to God. When you give to them, you honor God Himself.”

The Apostolic Constitutions instructed believers:

“Do not neglect the stranger. For this the Lord commanded, saying, You shall love the stranger.”

Hospitality was not an optional virtue. It was a defining feature of Christian identity.

Walking With Immigrants Today

Here at Saint Francis, we continue that ancient Christian practice. Whether through food distribution, advocacy, pastoral care, or simple companionship, we affirm the dignity of every person who comes to us for help.

Supporting immigrant neighbors is not a political choice. It is a deeply biblical and historical Christian commitment. It is how God shapes us into a people of hope and mercy.

As we enter more deeply into Advent, may we look for Christ in every stranger. May our parish be a place where those who have traveled far, either physically or spiritually, find rest, dignity, and a home.

Come, Lord Jesus. Make us ready.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Walking Together: A Reflection on Scripture, Immigration, and Faithful Resistance

by

Hello, beloved community of Saint Francis Parish and Outreach! As we gather this week, whether in the sanctuary, over coffee, or in the quiet corners of our lives, let’s take a moment to reflect together. I want to invite you into a conversation, a gentle, honest one, about what our sacred scriptures are calling us toward, especially in these turbulent times when the world so often seems divided, anxious, and in need of compassion.

Welcoming the Journey

Here at Saint Francis, our hearts are open to those searching for dignity, safety, and belonging. Whether you’ve been here decades or just arrived, whether your roots run deep or you’re new to town, know that you are part of this journey. This week, as we listen to Isaiah 2:1-5, Romans 13:11-14a, and Matthew 24:37-44, I invite you to consider how these words speak into our lives as we walk alongside immigrants and courageously stand against the rising tides of injustice and exclusion. Let’s reflect on how faith can be a lantern in the night, guiding us with compassion and hope.

Scripture Reflections: Insights and Invitations

Isaiah 2:1-5 – The Dream of Peaceful Pilgrimage

In Isaiah’s vision, all nations stream toward the mountain of the Lord, yearning to learn God’s ways and walk in divine paths. Swords are hammered into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks, every instrument of violence transformed into a tool for nurturing life. Isaiah’s words stand as a dream for our world: peoples walking side by side, not as rivals but as kin, living in peace.

How beautifully this echoes our calling today! We, too, are invited into the gentle work of “walking in the light of the Lord” walking with those who journey from distant lands, war, or poverty, seeking a new home and a safe future for their families. Isaiah’s vision is a radical welcome. It’s a reminder that faith is not just about personal piety but communal transformation, about forging peace where there is division and forging friendship where there is fear.

Romans 13:11-14a – Wake Up, Put on Christ

Paul’s letter to the Romans calls us to wake from sleep, for “the night is far gone, the day is near.” Paul urges us to cast aside the works of darkness and to clothe ourselves with the light of Christ. This is not just a private spiritual practice, it’s a way of life that radiates out into how we treat others, especially the vulnerable and marginalized.

Putting on Christ means seeing the immigrant, the stranger, and the refugee with Christ’s eyes: eyes of love, not suspicion; arms that open, not close. Paul’s urgency is clear, the time for compassion and justice is now, not later. Our call is to live not just for ourselves but for the flourishing of all.

Matthew 24:37-44 – Stay Awake, Be Ready

Jesus’ words in Matthew offer a sobering warning: “Keep awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” He describes ordinary people, going about ordinary lives, unaware of the critical moment at hand. The point isn’t to live in fear, but in readiness, in a spirit of alertness to God’s movement, especially in unexpected places and people.

How easy it is to be lulled into comfort, to close our doors and hearts, to look away from those who suffer injustice. Jesus calls us to stay awake, to respond with courage and hospitality when our neighbors need us most.

Walking with Immigrants: Scripture and Solidarity

So, what does it mean for us, as a parish community, to “walk in the light” alongside immigrants and refugees? It means first listening. Listening to stories of hope and hardship, honoring the courage it takes to leave everything behind in search of safety and opportunity. It means seeing Christ in our neighbors, learning from them, and creating space for all to belong.

But solidarity goes further. It means challenging systems that contribute to injustice, standing up when immigrants and refugees are threatened by exclusion, scapegoating, or violence. It means remembering that our spiritual ancestors were migrants and sojourners, and that the call to hospitality is woven deep into our faith.

When we welcome immigrants, we do not lose; we are enriched, stretched, and transformed. Our parish becomes more like Isaiah’s vision: a gathering of many peoples, learning to live together in peace.

Standing Up Against Fascism: Faith-Based Resistance

Fascism is a word that can feel harsh, but it’s important that we name the realities we face. Wherever there is a force, political, social, or cultural, that seeks to divide us from our neighbors, that stokes fear and hatred, that elevates power over compassion, we as people of faith are called to resist.

Our scriptures call us to a higher standard. To “put on Christ” is to reject any ideology that denies human dignity or sows the seeds of division. It’s more than a political stance; it’s a spiritual commitment to love over hate, to courage over fear, to solidarity over silence. We are called, not to withdraw from the world’s pain, but to stand together, to speak out, and to act for justice, even when it costs us comfort.

Practical Steps: Faith in Action

What does all this look like in our daily lives? It doesn’t have to be grand or dramatic. Often, faithfulness is found in small acts of welcome:

  • Greet the newcomer at Mass or during coffee hour. Invite someone new to share a meal or conversation.
  • Support parish outreach to immigrant families, donate, volunteer, or help organize a welcoming event.
  • Advocate for just and compassionate policies. Contact local representatives, sign petitions, or join peaceful community actions.
  • Educate yourself and others about the realities immigrants face. Share stories that build bridges, not walls.
  • Pray for courage, that we might stay awake, walk in the light, and put on Christ’s love each day.

None of us can do everything, but all of us can do something. And when we move together, our small actions add up to real change.

Encouragement and Hope for the Journey

Dear friends, the journey of faith is never finished. Each day brings new chances to walk together, to grow in love, and to become God’s people of hope. As we listen again to Isaiah, Paul, and Jesus, may we be awake to God’s call, ready to welcome, ready to resist injustice, ready to “walk in the light of the Lord.”

Let’s keep going, side by side, building a parish that truly reflects the kingdom dream: a community where all are welcome, all are valued, and peace is possible. May God give us courage, compassion, and joy for the journey ahead.

With hope and in solidarity,

Bishop Greer

We Serve No King But Christ

by

Welcome, dear friends and neighbors! At Saint Francis Parish and Outreach, in the heart of Augusta, Georgia, we gather as a community committed to walking in the footsteps of Jesus, the one true King. This week, our hearts and minds are drawn to the scripture lessons of 2 Samuel 5:1-3, Colossians 1:12-20, and Luke 23:35-43. These passages gently remind us of what it means to serve Christ above all, especially in a world where injustice and division can seem overwhelming.

Scripture Reflections: Leadership Reimagined

2 Samuel 5:1-3 recounts a pivotal moment for the people of Israel: the tribes come together to recognize David as their king. But this isn’t just about politics or power. It’s about unity and humble leadership. David is chosen not because he’s the strongest or the richest, but because he is a shepherd with a heart for his people. The elders affirm, “We are your bone and flesh.” These are words echoing the deep connection and shared humanity that God desires. Today, we remember that our ultimate allegiance isn’t to any worldly ruler, but to Christ, who calls us to care for one another with compassion and integrity.

Christ at the Center: A New Kingdom of Light

Colossians 1:12-20 paints a breathtaking vision. “He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” Christ is the center of the universe and the source of our hope. Our inheritance is not about privilege, wealth, or status, but about sharing in the light of God’s love. This kingdom is radically different from the empires of our world. It is built on reconciliation, grace, and mercy. Every time we say, “We serve no king but Christ,” we are declaring that our hearts belong to something greater than the powers that divide, exploit, or exclude.

The Cross and the Margins: Mercy in Action

Luke 23:35-43 brings us face to face with Christ’s reign from the cross. While others mock, Jesus forgives. While the world rejects, He welcomes. Even as He suffers, He extends hope to the penitent thief, promising paradise to someone society had written off. This is true leadership, one that chooses solidarity over domination, mercy over condemnation. If Christ’s kingship is marked by love for the marginalized, our own lives as His followers must reflect the same radical hospitality.

Justice and Faith: Standing Up in Christ’s Name

Here’s where faith meets action. To say “we serve no king but Christ” is to reject systems and attitudes that dehumanize. It means standing up against fascism, the urge to control through fear and force. It means opposing racism and any ideology that divides us by skin color, heritage, or background. It means speaking truth to oligarchs and structures that put wealth before the common good, and it means advocating for immigrants and refugees, who often find themselves at the mercy of unjust laws and rhetoric.

At Saint Francis Parish, justice is not a slogan, it’s a daily calling. Our outreach ministries strive to greet strangers as friends, to feed the hungry, clothe the cold, and listen to the voices often ignored. Each small gesture, sharing a meal, offering a kind word, walking alongside someone in hardship, is an act of resistance against a culture that prizes exclusion and division. When we welcome the outsider, we welcome Christ.

Community in Action: The Parish as a Living Witness

What does this look like here in Augusta? It looks like parishioners organizing food drives and standing with immigrant families navigating uncertain futures. It looks like educational programs that confront prejudice and teach empathy. It looks like moments of prayer for victims of hate and violence, and for those in positions of power who need the courage to choose justice.

We know that standing up for what’s right isn’t always easy. Sometimes it’s uncomfortable. Sometimes it means risking popularity or comfort. But we remember that Christ’s kingdom is not of this world, and our strength comes from Him. United in faith, we challenge the status quo, not through anger or division, but through persistent love and hope.

A Call to Action: Living Our Allegiance

So, as you go about your week, remember: our deepest loyalty is to the King who wore a crown of thorns, not a golden one. Let us make Christ’s love visible by standing against hate, by refusing to bow before idols of power and wealth, and by standing up for anyone who is marginalized or mistreated. In every conversation, every outreach effort, and every prayer, let us echo, “We serve no king but Christ.”

May these scriptures inspire us to be bold and gentle, steadfast and compassionate. Let’s pray for the courage to see Christ in every person, and the grace to help build a parish and a world where justice and mercy walk hand in hand.

Blessings, friends! Let’s keep seeking, serving, and loving as Christ’s community, right here in Augusta and beyond.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Standing Firm in the Fire: Faith, Justice, and Courage at Saint Francis Parish

by

Hello, friends and family of Saint Francis Parish and Outreach in Augusta, Georgia! I hope this week finds you well and hopeful, even as the world seems stormy and uncertain. Our scripture readings for this Sunday are timely reminders of what it means to live as people of faith in a world that is often unjust, unpredictable, and in need of healing. We’re diving into passages from Malachi, Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, and the Gospel of Luke. All three challenge us to think deeply about justice, courage, and our role in standing up for those who have been pushed to the margins.

As we reflect together, let’s open our hearts to the ways God is calling us, not only to comfort, but also to action. These texts urge us to stand firm against the forces of greed, oppression, and tyranny, to walk alongside the vulnerable, and to never shrink back in the face of injustice.

Malachi’s Vision: Hope and Righteousness for the Oppressed

Malachi 4:1-2a (ESV) paints a vivid scene: “For behold, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble. The day that is coming shall set them ablaze, says the Lord of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings.”

Think about that image for a moment. The prophet Malachi is not just talking about punishment for the wicked. He’s promising healing and hope for those who honor God, those who hold fast to justice even when it’s unpopular or risky. The “sun of righteousness” brings warmth, restoration, and new beginnings to people who’ve been battered by the harsh winds of oppression.

We live in a time when it’s easy for the powerful to trample the weak, when those with wealth and influence often seem untouched by the suffering around them. But Malachi’s words remind us that God sees every act of arrogance, every injustice. In the end, it’s not the oligarchs or the oppressors who have the last word, but God, who lifts up those who fear His name and brings healing to those who need it most.

For us at Saint Francis Parish, this is a call to stand with the marginalized, to be agents of healing in Augusta and beyond. We’re not here to chase after comfort or side with the status quo. We’re called to let the sun of righteousness rise in our own lives, bringing hope to everyone we meet.

Paul’s Call: Integrity, Diligence, and Community

Moving to 2 Thessalonians 3:7-12 (ESV), Paul writes, “For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us, because we were not idle when we were with you, nor did we eat anyone’s bread without paying for it, but with toil and labor we worked night and day, that we might not be a burden to any of you. It was not because we do not have that right, but to give you in ourselves an example to imitate. For even when we were with you, we would give you this command: If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat. For we hear that some among you walk in idleness, not busy at work, but busybodies. Now such persons we command and encourage in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living.”

Paul is getting real with his readers: faith isn’t just a set of beliefs or private prayers. It’s lived out in community, through hard work, generosity, and solidarity. Too often, society tries to divide us, making us competitors instead of companions, focusing on individual success while the vulnerable suffer in silence. But Paul’s words insist that we are responsible for one another. We labor, not only for ourselves, but so that the whole community can flourish.

There’s a deeper lesson here about standing against systems that favor the rich, the powerful, and the privileged. When oligarchs and corporations monopolize resources and exploit the labor of others, Paul’s teaching becomes all the more relevant. We’re not called to be idle, nor are we supposed to let injustice slide. We must work, yes, but we must also work for justice.

At Saint Francis, we’re building a community where everyone’s gifts are valued, where all have a place at the table, and where no one is left behind. If we see injustice, we speak out. If we encounter need, we respond. That’s the kind of faith Paul modeled, and it’s the faith we must embody today.

Jesus: Courage in the Face of Opposition

Luke 21:15-19 (ESV) offers some of the most challenging words from Jesus: “For I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which none of your adversaries will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be delivered up even by parents and brothers and relatives and friends, and some of you they will put to death. You will be hated by all for my name’s sake. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your lives.”

There’s no sugarcoating it. Jesus tells us that following him and standing up for what’s right will cost us, sometimes dearly. We might face opposition from friends, family, and even our broader community. We may be hated or misunderstood for refusing to bow to fascism, for challenging the rule of oligarchs, or for advocating for those at the edges of society.

But what a beautiful promise: when we take risks for justice, God gives us the wisdom and words we need. We are never abandoned, even in the darkest moments. Endurance isn’t just surviving; it’s holding on to our deepest convictions when it would be easier to give in or walk away.

Saint Francis Parish, this is our moment to stand with the oppressed, to be a beacon of hope and truth in Augusta. Whether we’re organizing outreach, speaking out against unjust laws, or simply showing compassion to someone the world has forgotten, we are living out the Gospel itself.

Living the Gospel: A Community of Resistance and Love

Let’s be honest: the road ahead isn’t easy. Standing against fascism, against the greed of oligarchs, and for those who have been marginalized can be exhausting. The world would often prefer us to stay quiet, to mind our own business, to not rock the boat. But as followers of Jesus, we cannot remain silent.

Every time we resist hate, every time we welcome the stranger, every time we choose compassion over comfort, we become part of God’s work of justice and healing. It’s not about having all the answers, or never feeling afraid. It’s about showing up, speaking out, and trusting that God goes before us.

So let’s keep building this community of love and resistance. Let’s encourage each other, support each other, and hold each other accountable. Let’s make Saint Francis Parish and Outreach a place where the sun of righteousness rises every day, a place where hope has a home, and where everyone, no matter their story, finds dignity and belonging.

May We Walk This Road Together

As we move through this week, may these scriptures inspire us to action. May we see the faces of the oppressed and marginalized as our siblings in Christ. May we have the courage to challenge injustice, to stand up to the powers that be, and to pour out healing on a weary world.

The sun of righteousness is rising, friends. Let’s walk together in its light. See you this Sunday!

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Faith, Courage, and Compassion: Standing Together Against Oppression and For the Marginalized

by

Hello, beloved friends and family of Saint Francis Parish and Outreach! I hope this finds you well and ready to step into another week together, rooted in prayer, action, and love. I’m grateful to share a few reflections with you as we look at our Sunday readings. The passages this week, 2 Maccabees 7:1-2,9-14, 2 Thessalonians 2:16-3:5, and Luke 20:27-38, are powerful guides for us as followers of Christ, especially in today’s world where standing up for what’s right and caring for those on the margins is so needed. Let’s look at these scriptures and see how they invite us into deeper faith, even as we face injustice and oppression in our communities and beyond.

Scripture Reflection: Courage in Faith (2 Maccabees 7:1-2, 9-14)

The story from 2 Maccabees is one of those passages that grabs you by the heart. It tells of seven brothers and their mother who are arrested and tortured for refusing to break the laws of their faith. The courage they show is nothing short of inspiring. As the text says, “One of them, speaking for the others, said, ‘What do you intend to ask and learn from us? For we are ready to die rather than transgress the laws of our fathers.’” (2 Maccabees 7:2, ESV)

This is a gritty kind of faith, a faith that says, “Even if things get tough, even if the powers in charge try to force us down the wrong path, we’re not giving in.” Their story reminds us that courage isn’t about the absence of fear, but about standing strong for what we believe, especially when it costs us something. In our time, when voices of hate and systems of oppression try to silence or punish those who stand with the marginalized, this passage calls us to “be ready to die rather than transgress the laws of our fathers,” and, for us, the law of love that Jesus gives.

Scripture Reflection: Encouragement and Steadfastness (2 Thessalonians 2:16-3:5)

Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians is, in many ways, a love letter to a community under pressure. He writes, “Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father, who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work and word.” (2 Thessalonians 2:16-17, ESV)

Paul knows that faith isn’t always a walk in the park. It can be exhausting to do the right thing, especially when the world around us feels hostile or indifferent. But God’s grace is real, and it is enough. Paul prays for protection from “wicked and evil men, for not all have faith” (3:2, ESV), and encourages us to stay steadfast, to keep doing “every good work and word.” So, when we feel worn down by the endless need in our city or frustrated that the powers-that-be don’t seem to care about the suffering of the poor, we can take heart. God is with us, encouraging and strengthening us to keep going, together.

Scripture Reflection: Hope in the Resurrection (Luke 20:27-38)

In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is asked one of those “gotcha” questions by the Sadducees, who don’t even believe in the resurrection. They bring up a complicated scenario about marriage in heaven, hoping to trip Jesus up. But Jesus answers, “He is not God of the dead, but of the living, for all live to him.” (Luke 20:38, ESV)

The heart of Jesus’ answer isn’t about legal technicalities; it’s about God’s promise of life. The resurrection changes everything. It means that injustice and oppression do not have the last word. The God who brings life out of death is still at work, and so our hope is not naïve, it is grounded in the reality of Christ’s victory. When we stand up for justice and care for the least of these, we’re living out the hope that God is with the living, and that love, not death, has the final say.

Standing Against Fascism: Resisting Oppression Together

I know “fascism” can seem like a big, dramatic word, but let’s be honest, whenever any system or person tries to crush others, silence the vulnerable, or use fear to keep people in line, we see the same dark spirit at work. Scripture shows us that God stands with the oppressed, not the oppressors. The courage of the Maccabean martyrs, the encouragement Paul gives to his persecuted community, and the hope Jesus proclaims, these are all forms of holy resistance. As a parish, we are called to challenge any form of dehumanization or injustice, whether it shows up in the laws of our land, the ways we treat each other, or the biases we quietly carry in our hearts.

Standing Up for the Marginalized: Our Parish Mission and Practical Steps

It’s not enough to talk about justice; we must do it. Our mission at Saint Francis isn’t just to worship together, but to make sure our love spills over into action. Jesus didn’t say, “Blessed are those who think about the poor.” He said, “Blessed are the poor.” So, how do we make that real? Here are a few simple but powerful ways:

  • Show up for those who are being pushed to the margins. This could mean volunteering with an outreach pantry, calling for fair treatment for immigrants, or standing in solidarity with anyone who is being bullied, ignored, or hurt.
  • Speak up when you see injustice. Sometimes it’s scary, but silence is never neutral, it sides with the oppressor. Whether in conversations with friends or in the voting booth, let your faith guide your voice.
  • Pray for courage. The kind of love Jesus calls us to isn’t always easy, but we don’t do it alone. Ask God to fill you with the same Spirit that inspired the saints and prophets before us.

Personal Stories: How Our Community Lives These Values

I’ve seen you all living out these values in amazing ways. When we collected blankets for the homeless in Augusta, when parishioners stood with those fighting against kings, when we made space for hard conversations about race, gender, sexuality, and inequality, these are acts of courage. They might seem small, but they matter. Each time we choose compassion over comfort, or justice over convenience, we are following the example of the Maccabean family, the perseverance of the early church, and the hope of Jesus himself.

Conclusion: A Call to Action, Hope, and Unity

As we go into this week, let’s remember that standing up for justice and supporting the marginalized aren’t just “extras” in our faith, they are the heart of the Gospel. Our scriptures remind us that God’s love is fierce, and God’s courage is contagious. So, let’s encourage each other to keep showing up, speaking out, and loving boldly. We are not alone. We are part of something greater than ourselves, a community rooted in faith, hope, and love.

May the God of the living fill us with comfort, courage, and conviction as we journey together. Let’s keep being the hands and feet of Christ, right here in Augusta and beyond.

Pax et Bonum!

Bishop Greer

All Saints and All Souls: Living Our Faith Through Justice and Compassion

by

Scripture, Community, and Outreach in Challenging Times

Hello, Saint Francis family! As the leaves turn and the calendar brings us to the beautiful feasts of All Saints and All Souls, I invite you to join me in reflecting on what these special days mean for us, not just as individuals, but as a community bound by faith, hope, and love.

Remembering the Saints and All Souls: Why These Feasts Matter

Each year, All Saints’ Day (November 1) and All Souls’ Day (November 2) come as gentle reminders that we are part of something much greater, a vast communion of believers, past and present, seen and unseen. On All Saints, we honor the holy men and women who have gone before us, showing us what it means to live with courage and compassion. On All Souls, we pray for all those who have died, especially those who may not have anyone to remember them by name.

Scripture Reflections: Hope, Holiness, and the Promise of Mercy

The readings for these feasts are so rich, and I’d like to share a few thoughts on how they speak to us today:

  • 2 Maccabees 12:43-46: This passage reminds us of the importance of praying for the dead—that love doesn’t end at the grave. Our prayers help bind us together across time and space, showing that mercy is at the very heart of God’s plan for us.
  • 1 John 3:1-3: Here, we’re called to remember our true identity: “See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called children of God.” We are beloved, seen, and cherished, even when the world overlooks us. This reading encourages us to see each other with the eyes of God.
  • Matthew 5:1-12a (The Beatitudes): Jesus names the poor, the meek, the persecuted, and the peacemakers as “blessed.” These are not just nice words for the past—they are a call to action for us in the here and now. We are asked to stand with those who are hurting and lift up those who are cast aside.

Saints, Souls, and Community: Our Parish Mission

At Saint Francis, our outreach ministry is more than a program, it’s a way of living out these Gospel values. When we serve a hot meal, welcome a newcomer, or pray for those in need, we are building God’s kingdom right here in Augusta. The saints and all the faithful departed cheer us on as we strive to be “blessed” in our daily acts of love and justice.

Immigrant Rights, Marginalized Groups, and Why Advocacy Matters

Many of the saints we celebrate were immigrants or lived on the margins of society. Our faith teaches us that every person is created in God’s image, deserving of respect and dignity. Supporting immigrant rights and standing up for those who are marginalized is not just “extra credit”, it’s at the heart of what it means to be Catholic. In these challenging times, we are called to be a voice for the voiceless and a shoulder for the weary.

Food Assistance During a Government Shutdown: Parish Response

Recent events, like the government shutdown, hit vulnerable families the hardest. At Saint Francis, we see the faces behind the headlines. That’s why our food assistance efforts continue to be a lifeline, especially when uncertainty threatens to overshadow hope. If you or anyone you know is struggling to put food on the table, please reach out. Our Human First Outreach is here for you, as are the open arms of your parish family.

Get Involved: Ways You Can Make a Difference

  • Volunteer: Help with our Human First outreach. You can find more information on how you can help at https://oursaintfrancis.org/outreach/human-first-outreach/.
  • Advocate: Learn more about immigrant rights and how you can support fair policies. Contact your local representatives and share your voice for justice.
  • Pray: Remember the saints, souls, and all those in need in your daily prayers. Prayer is powerful, never underestimate what God can do through you!
  • Donate: Whether it’s canned goods, fresh produce, or your generous financial gifts, every contribution sustains our ministry and those we serve.

Together in Hope: Our Ongoing Mission

To all the saints, known and unknown, in our pews, and to all the souls we carry in our hearts, thank you for being part of this vibrant community. Let’s keep reaching out, lifting up, and standing together for justice and mercy. As we honor those who have gone before us, let’s remember we are called to be saints for our time, bringing light to a world in need.

Memorials

Don’t forget that we have luminaries for sale right now. You can honor your loved ones and friends who have died by having their names remembered at Mass on November 2nd. We will include two names per luminary, and those luminaries will surround the altar for Sunday Mass. You can purchase the luminaries at https://oursaintfrancis.org/support-us/all-saints-all-souls-luminaries-2025/.

May the love of Christ inspire us, the prayers of the saints strengthen us, and the Spirit of God lead us forward!

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Website © 2025 by Saint Francis Parish and Outreach is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0