hope

Christmas at the Margins

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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

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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

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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

We Serve No King But Christ

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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

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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

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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

Standing Up Together: Faith in Action Against Injustice

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Greetings, beloved community of Saint Francis Parish and Outreach in Augusta, Georgia! As we gather this week, our lectionary readings call us to deeply reflect on what it means to stand up—not just in faith, but in action against injustice, racism, and hatred in our world.

Keeping Faith When the Battle Is Hard

In Exodus 17:8–13, we encounter Moses on the mountaintop, arms raised high as the Israelites fight for their lives. When his hands grow weary, Aaron and Hur literally hold him up. Victory comes not just through Moses’ leadership, but through the community standing by his side. This story reminds us that confronting injustice isn’t a solo act; we need each other. When the fight grows long and our spirits tire, who are your Aarons and Hurs? Who do you lift up in their battles? Our faith calls us to support one another, especially when standing up against the evils of racism, exclusion, and hatred.

Rooted in Scripture, Ready for Action

2 Timothy 3:14–4:2 urges us to “continue in what you have learned and firmly believed.” Paul tells Timothy to be persistent: whether the time is favorable or not, proclaim the message, correct, rebuke, and encourage. Our spiritual roots fuel our courage to speak out when we see harm being done. Today, that might mean calling out racist jokes, advocating for fair treatment in our workplaces, or supporting those whose voices are overlooked. The gospel isn’t just words—it’s a call to action.

The Power of Persistent Prayer and Justice

Luke 18:1–8 gives us the parable of the persistent widow, who refuses to give up in her quest for justice. Jesus tells us this story “so that we might not lose heart.” The widow’s determination is a model for how we can confront injustice in our own time—not with violence or hate, but with unwavering resolve. Let’s be honest: sometimes it feels like nothing will change, like our efforts are too small. But Jesus assures us that God hears the cries for justice, and we are called to echo those cries until all God’s children are treated with dignity and love.

Standing Up to Injustice—Here and Now

In Augusta and beyond, racism and hatred still rear their ugly heads. As followers of Christ, we are called to do more than shake our heads. Whether we’re attending rallies, having tough conversations, volunteering at outreach programs, or just choosing to love our neighbors a little deeper, we become the hands and feet of Christ. It’s not always easy, and sometimes we’ll get tired. But just like Moses had Aaron and Hur, we have each other, and we have God’s promise that justice will be done.

Let’s Walk This Path Together

Let’s be honest, standing up to injustice can feel overwhelming. But take heart! We are a community grounded in hope, faith, and love. Let’s encourage one another to persist, to pray, and to act. May Saint Francis Parish continue to be a beacon of hope and a force for justice here in Augusta. Let’s hold each other up and keep marching forward, one step, one prayer, one act of love at a time.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Welcoming the Stranger and Pursuing Justice

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Hello, Saint Francis family! As we gather this week for fellowship and worship, I’m grateful for the warmth and spirit that our parish brings to Augusta. Whether you’re a longtime member or someone new to our doors, you’re part of a community that strives to live the Gospel in practical, compassionate ways. The scripture readings for this Sunday (Luke 17:11–19, 2 Timothy 2:8–13, and 2 Kings 5:14–17) speak powerfully to our call to support immigrants and stand up for justice. Let’s reflect together on what God is teaching us in this moment.

Lessons from Luke, Timothy, and Kings

Luke 17:11–19 tells the story of Jesus healing ten lepers, yet only one—a Samaritan, an outsider—returns to thank Him. Jesus notices and affirms the faith of the one who was considered a foreigner. This speaks to the radical welcome and recognition Jesus offers to those who are often overlooked or marginalized. Our faith calls us to see each person’s dignity, especially those on the edges of society.

In 2 Timothy 2:8–13, Paul encourages endurance and faithfulness, reminding us that if we die with Christ, we will also live with Him. He writes, “If we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself.” This is a beautiful reminder that God’s faithfulness finds us even when we feel weak, and that we are called to a courageous, persistent love, especially in the face of injustice.

2 Kings 5:14–17 brings us the story of Naaman, a foreign general suffering from leprosy, who finds healing by trusting in God’s word. Naaman’s journey shows that God’s mercy reaches beyond boundaries, and that transformation is possible for anyone who seeks it with a humble heart.

Supporting Immigrants: A Biblical Call to Welcome and Care

Each reading this week draws us toward a deep compassion for immigrants and strangers. Jesus chose to uplift the Samaritan, and Naaman was a foreigner receiving God’s grace. These stories remind us that being Christian means welcoming newcomers, seeing Christ in each person, and standing beside those who seek safety, hope, and belonging. Our outreach ministry at Saint Francis Parish is a living testament to this call, providing food, companionship, and advocacy for families starting anew in our city.

Fighting for Justice: Christian Responsibility and Action

Paul’s words to Timothy invite us to persist in doing what is right, even when it’s hard. Justice isn’t just a lofty ideal, it’s a daily practice. Whether we’re speaking up for fair housing, supporting refugees, or confronting prejudice, we are called to be people of action. Justice is part of the fabric of our faith, woven into every prayer and every meal we share. Let’s keep asking, “Who is missing from our table?” and “Who needs our voice?”

Wisdom from Pope Leo XIV: “Dilexi te”

Pope Leo XIV’s Apostolic Exhortation Dilexi te offers wisdom for our mission. He writes, “To love is to cross every border, to build every bridge, to make the stranger a friend.” These words challenge us to move beyond comfort and become agents of welcome. Pope Leo XIV also reminds us, “Justice is not fulfilled until every person’s dignity is honored, and every voice is heard.” In our parish, let’s keep striving to make these words a reality, both in our outreach and in our hearts.

Encouragement, Call to Action, Parish Unity

Saint Francis Parish is a place where we can put our faith into action, supporting immigrants, fighting for justice, and loving one another deeply. Let’s hold onto the lessons of this week’s scriptures and the wisdom of Pope Leo XIV. Look for opportunities to listen, to help, and to welcome. Together, we can be a sign of hope for our city. Thank you for all you do to make Saint Francis a community where no one stands alone.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Faithfulness, Perseverance, and the Gentle Love of Saint Francis

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October marks the Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi, beloved for his compassion toward all creatures and his embodiment of humble faith. This week’s lectionary readings, Habakkuk 1:2–3; 2:2–4, 2 Timothy 1:6–8, 13–14, and Luke 17:5–10, shine a light on the perseverance, faith, and service that Saint Francis modeled, inviting us to find inspiration in his gentle love, especially for our pets and all living beings.

The Cry for Justice: Habakkuk’s Lament

Habakkuk begins with a heartfelt plea: “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen?” (Habakkuk 1:2). The prophet questions God about enduring injustice, echoing the cries of all who suffer and long for a world put right. Yet, God’s answer is not immediate; instead, Habakkuk is told to “write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so that a runner may read it” (Habakkuk 2:2). God’s timing often feels slow, but faith means trusting that justice will come, and “the righteous will live by their faith” (Habakkuk 2:4).

Saint Francis faced his own struggles and doubts, especially as he gave up wealth and comfort to live among the poor and marginalized. Like Habakkuk, he persisted in faith, believing God’s vision for a world marked by peace and compassion.

Kindling the Gift Within: Paul’s Encouragement to Timothy

Paul’s letter to Timothy urges us to “rekindle the gift of God that is within you” (2 Timothy 1:6). Timothy is reminded that God gives “a spirit not of fear, but of power and love and self-discipline” (2 Timothy 1:7). Paul encourages his young protégé to hold fast “to the sound teaching…in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus” (2 Timothy 1:13).

Saint Francis burned with the gift of love, a love that extended not only to people but to birds, wolves, and all creatures. His spirit of courage and humility teaches us that caring for the vulnerable, including our pets, is part of living out God’s calling.

Faith Measured in Service: Jesus and the Mustard Seed

In Luke 17:5–10, the disciples plead, “Increase our faith!” Jesus replies that even faith as small as a mustard seed can uproot trees and move mountains. He then tells a parable about a servant doing his duty without expecting special praise, emphasizing that true faith expresses itself in humble, consistent service.

Saint Francis exemplified this: tending to lepers, rebuilding churches, and feeding animals were all acts of quiet service. For those who care for pets, this passage is a reminder that even small acts, feeding, walking, or comforting a frightened animal, can be holy when done in the spirit of love.

Saint Francis and the Blessing of Pets

Saint Francis’ feast day is often marked by the Blessing of the Animals in churches around the world. This tradition celebrates the sacred bond between humans and their companion animals. Francis saw all creation as family, calling animals his “brothers and sisters.” His example encourages us to treat our pets not just as possessions, but as fellow creatures deserving respect and kindness.

Whether your pet is a loyal dog, a curious cat, a singing bird, or a gentle rabbit, caring for them can be a spiritual practice, a daily opportunity to embody God’s love and stewardship. In honoring our pets, we participate in the vision Habakkuk wrote, the faith Paul encouraged, the humility Jesus taught, and the compassion Francis lived.

Join us Sunday at 3:00 PM for the Blessing of Pets at our parish!

Living the Vision

This week’s scriptures and Saint Francis’s legacy invite us to persevere in faith, practice humble service, and extend love to all creatures. In uncertain times, may we hold fast to the vision of hope, kindle the gifts within us, and let our everyday acts, especially those toward our pets, be small seeds of faith that grow into a more compassionate world.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Banquet of Grace: Welcoming All at the Table

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What does it mean to be truly inclusive as a church? The question is as old as the concept of community itself, and as urgent now as ever in an age defined by migration, diversity, and the ongoing struggle for justice and dignity for all. When we turn to scripture—Sirach 3:17–18, 20, 28–29; Hebrews 12:18–19, 22–24a; and Luke 14:1, 7–14—we find not just ancient wisdom, but a living challenge: to be a community where the homeless, immigrants, and LGBTQIA+ people are not only welcomed, but cherished.

The Wisdom of Humility: Sirach’s Invitation

Sirach is a book steeped in practical wisdom, and in chapter 3, it speaks directly to the heart of the matter: “My child, perform your tasks with humility; then you will be loved more than a giver of gifts.” Humility is not self-abasement but the recognition that we stand before God and neighbor with empty hands. The passage urges us to “humble yourself the more, the greater you are, and you will find favor with God.” In church life, humility means refusing to put ourselves above others, regardless of status, background, or identity.

How often do we, consciously or unconsciously, build invisible fences around our churches? Sometimes these are doctrinal, sometimes social, and sometimes simply habitual. The wisdom of Sirach dismantles such barriers by reminding us that true honor is found not in titles or positions, but in lowering oneself to serve. For the church, humility means the conscious choice to open doors wide, not just in theory, but in tangible practice.

Drawing Near to God’s Presence: Hebrews’ Vision

The Letter to the Hebrews contrasts two mountains: Sinai, shrouded in fire and fear, and Zion, radiant with welcome and joy. “You have not come to something that can be touched, a blazing fire, and darkness… But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God.” The author paints a vision of a community gathered not in terror, but in celebration, a festival of angels and saints, with Jesus as the mediator.

This image is a clarion call to inclusivity. At Zion’s festival, there are no velvet ropes, no lists of who is “in” or “out.” The invitation extends to “the assembly of the firstborn,” and that assembly is marked by grace, not pedigree. For those who have known rejection, homeless neighbors struggling for security, immigrants searching for belonging, and LGBTQIA+ siblings yearning for affirmation, this is more than good news. It is a gentle revolution. The church, in its truest form, is meant to mirror this heavenly feast: a place of radical welcome.

The Banquet Parable: Luke’s Table Turned Upside Down

Luke’s gospel is relentless in its depiction of Jesus as a host who delights in upsetting social expectations. In chapter 14, Jesus watches guests scramble for seats of honor and offers a counter-story: “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor… but go and sit down at the lowest place.” He continues: “When you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. You will be blessed, because they cannot repay you.”

This passage is not simply a lesson in etiquette; it is a blueprint for inclusion. The kingdom of God is not reserved for the elite or those who arrive with credentials. It is wide open to anyone whose life has left them on the margins. For churches wrestling with how to love those whom society often overlooks or excludes—the homeless, immigrants, LGBTQIA+ persons—Luke’s parable is both comfort and discomfort. Comfort, because it assures us that God’s priority is always those who are pushed to the margins; discomfort, because it calls us to upend our habits and assumptions.

Building an Inclusive Church: Practical Steps and Spiritual Foundations

How can these scriptural calls to humility, radical welcome, and reversal of social order translate into practical action within our faith communities? It begins with listening, a posture of humility that seeks to understand before being understood.

  • Hospitality Without Conditions: True hospitality means every person is welcomed as Christ Himself. This is not theoretical, but deeply practical: offering food and shelter to the homeless, legal and emotional support to immigrants, and a safe, affirming space to LGBTQIA+ individuals. It also means revising policies and practices that inadvertently exclude.
  • Representation and Leadership: Inclusion must be reflected in who leads, teaches, and serves. Churches are challenged to seek out and empower leaders from marginalized communities to share the pulpit and the table in ways that honor diverse experiences.
  • Stories and Testimonies: Sharing stories of struggle, hope, and transformation is a way to build empathy. Testimonies from those who have experienced exclusion and now find belonging in the church can reshape how communities understand their call.
  • Advocacy and Justice: The inclusive church is not content with charity alone. It advocates for systemic change, housing justice, immigration reform, and protection of LGBTQIA+ rights. This advocacy grows out of spiritual conviction, not mere politics.
  • Worship that Reflects Diversity: Songs, prayers, and liturgies should reflect the languages, cultures, and identities of the whole congregation. Diversity in worship is not a token gesture; it is a deep acknowledgment of God’s image in everyone.

Obstacles to Inclusion: Naming and Facing the Barriers

The path to an inclusive church is not without its challenges. Historic prejudices, fear of change, theological disagreements, and simple inertia can all conspire to keep the church from living out its call. Sometimes, resistance arises from a desire to “protect tradition,” but Scripture itself testifies to a God who makes all things new.

When barriers arise, it is crucial to return to the spiritual center: humility, as Sirach teaches; a vision of celebration, as Hebrews proclaims; a banquet for the outcast, as Luke insists. Inclusion does not mean abandoning faith but embodying it more fully.

Personal Reflections: Stories from the Margins

Consider the story of an immigrant family finding sanctuary in a welcoming church, their journey marked not by suspicion, but by celebration. Or the LGBTQIA+ youth who, after years of silence and shame, finds affirmation in a congregation that sees their gifts and beauty. Or the homeless elder who, for the first time, is called by name and invited to share a meal not as a guest, but as kin.

Each story testifies to the transformative power of radical hospitality. The inclusive church is not a utopia; it is a community that knows its own need for grace and extends that grace freely. Every time someone on the margins discovers a place at the table, the church itself becomes more whole.

The Table Is Set: Continuing the Banquet

In the end, the church is called to be a banquet, open, abundant, and unfinished. The wisdom of Sirach, the vision of Hebrews, and the parable of Luke converge to challenge us: Who is missing from our table? How might we rearrange our seating so that honor is given where it is least expected? How do we build a church where all are not just tolerated but celebrated?

This is the work of every age. It is the work of humility, hospitality, and hope. The table is set. Let us fling open the doors, rearrange the seats, and serve the feast that God has prepared for all.

Conclusion: A Prayer for the Inclusive Church

God of the margins and the center, of every language and color, gather us as one people, humble in heart, joyful in spirit, bold in welcome. Teach us to honor those whom the world has ignored. Remind us daily that your banquet is for all, and your love knows no boundaries. May our churches become homes for the homeless, sanctuaries for immigrants, havens for LGBTQIA+ siblings, and tables where humility is the seat of honor. Amen.

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