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Our Bonhoeffer Moment: A Christian Reflection on Resistance to Fascism

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Facing the Challenge of Our Time

Recent national headlines have raised troubling questions for Christians and communities of faith. The President’s designation of anti-fascists as terrorists brings to the fore deep concerns about justice, resistance, and our moral calling as followers of Jesus. For us at Saint Francis Parish and Outreach in Augusta, Georgia, this issue is not simply political, it is profoundly spiritual. How do we respond faithfully when resistance to oppressive power is labeled dangerous? What can we learn from our tradition, from Scripture, and from the legacy of Rev. Dietrich Bonhoeffer?

Historical Perspective: Churches and the Shadow of Fascism

History offers sobering lessons. In the 20th century, many Christian churches, especially in Germany, failed to resist the rise of fascism. Some even lent their support, whether out of fear, complicity, or a mistaken sense of loyalty to the state. Rev. Dietrich Bonhoeffer stands out as a prophetic voice who chose costly resistance over comfortable silence. He recognized that following Christ meant opposing systems that dehumanize, oppress, and foster violence.

Bonhoeffer’s actions were not just political; they were deeply theological. He believed that the church must stand with the vulnerable, even when doing so puts us at odds with prevailing powers. His resistance cost him his life, but his witness continues to challenge us: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil.”

Biblical Reflections: Amos, Timothy, and Luke

Our lectionary readings this week illuminate the spiritual urgency of this moment.

  • Amos 6:1a, 4–7 warns against complacency and self-indulgence. “Woe to those who are at ease in Zion… who lie on beds of ivory… but are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph!” The prophet condemns a society that ignores suffering and injustice, calling us to awaken from comfort and act with compassion.
  • 1 Timothy 6:11–16 exhorts believers to “pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness.” The Christian life is marked by a struggle for what is good and true, even when it involves “fighting the good fight of faith.” We are called to bear witness to Christ’s kingdom, a kingdom that stands against all forms of oppression.
  • Luke 16:19–31 tells the story of the rich man and Lazarus. The rich man’s indifference to Lazarus’s suffering leads to judgment. Jesus challenges us: will we see the pain of those at our gates, or will we turn away? The parable is a stark reminder that faith without compassion is hollow.

Christian Response: Ethics, Theology, and the Call to Resist

These scriptures, alongside Bonhoeffer’s legacy, invite us to reflect on our own position. When anti-fascists are labeled as terrorists, we must ask: What is our Christian responsibility? The gospel calls us to resist systems that harm the vulnerable, to speak truth even when it is costly, and to love our neighbors, especially those who are marginalized.

Our response must be rooted in love, justice, and humility. It is not about partisanship or political slogans, but about embodying Christ’s compassion in a world that often prefers comfort over courage. We must resist the temptation to be silent or complicit. Instead, let us pursue the difficult path of solidarity, advocacy, and faithful witness.

Our Bonhoeffer Moment: What It Means for Today’s Church

Many theologians speak of “our Bonhoeffer moment”, a time when the church must decide whether to stand with the powerless or align with power. For Saint Francis Parish and Outreach, this means asking hard questions: Are we willing to risk misunderstanding, discomfort, or even opposition in order to defend those who face injustice? Will we be a community that comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable?

We are called to be “repairers of the breach,” voices for justice, and hands of mercy. This is not easy work, and it may come with misunderstanding or resistance. Yet, as Bonhoeffer reminds us, “Christianity stands or falls with its revolutionary protest against violence, arbitrariness, and pride of power.”

Encouragement for Faithful Resistance

As we reflect on these challenging times, let us remember that faithful resistance is part of our Christian heritage. Our hope is not in worldly power but in the transformative love of Christ. May we, as a parish and as individuals, be courageous, compassionate, and vigilant. May we listen to the prophets, learn from history, and follow the example of Bonhoeffer, standing alongside those who are oppressed, even when it is unpopular or risky.

Let us pray for wisdom, strength, and love, trusting that God is with us as we “fight the good fight” for justice, peace, and the dignity of all people.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

The Exaltation of the Holy Cross: A Call to Healing, Justice, and Love

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Sunday, as we celebrate the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, we will gather at the intersection of suffering and salvation, of brokenness and redemption. The Cross, a symbol once synonymous with shame and brutality, has become, through Christ, the supreme sign of healing, hope, and reconciliation. In the context of our current world, marked by political violence, social divisions, and the tragic deaths that punctuate our headlines, the Cross speaks with renewed urgency.

The Serpent Lifted Up: Healing in the Wilderness

Numbers 21:4b-9 recounts the Israelites’ anguish in the desert, beset by poisonous serpents as a result of their impatience and complaints against God. When Moses, at God’s instruction, lifts up a bronze serpent upon a pole, those who gaze upon it are healed. The symbol of death is transformed into a source of life, prefiguring the Cross, where suffering is not the end but the door to healing.

Today, our world is wounded: by hatred, by violence, by the venom of prejudice and the sting of division. We see it in acts of political violence, in the pain that follows the death of public figures. Each life lost is a reminder of our shared fragility. As we pray for all who have died, including Charlie Kirk, whatever our differences, we recognize that each person is precious in the sight of God. The Cross invites us to look up, not in despair, but in hope for healing.

The Humility of Christ: Emptying for Others

Philippians 2:6-11 offers a hymn of Christ’s humility. “He did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself…” Christ chose the path of solidarity, descending into the depths of human suffering so that all might be raised. His humility is not weakness, but the power to transform hearts and systems.

In our fractured society, where homophobia, transphobia, bigotry, racism, and misogyny persist, we are called to the same kenosis, the self-emptying love that moves us beyond ourselves. To “have the mind of Christ” is to reject every ideology of hatred or violence and to make space for the dignity of every person, especially those who are marginalized or oppressed.

The Cross: God’s Embrace of a Wounded Humanity

In John 3:13-17, Jesus proclaims, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” On the Cross, God enters our suffering and redeems it. “For God so loved the world,” not just a nation, a people, or a tribe, but the whole world in all its diversity and complexity.

This radical love compels us to action. If we truly exalt the Holy Cross, we must work and pray for the end of all forms of violence: political violence that tears communities apart, the silent cruelties of homophobia and transphobia, the corrosive effects of racism and misogyny, and every ideology that denies the image of God in another. The Cross is not a banner for division or exclusion, but a bridge to reconciliation and justice.

Carrying the Cross Together: Our Response

To exalt the Cross is not merely to venerate a symbol, but to embrace a way of life, a vocation to healing, justice, and love. We are called to be healers in the wilderness, to lift one another up, to speak and act against hatred in all its forms. We must lament with those who mourn, work for the safety of those who are threatened, and stand in solidarity with those who suffer violence or exclusion.

  • Advocate for peace and nonviolence in our communities
  • Challenge and speak out against homophobia, transphobia, racism, misogyny, and bigotry wherever we encounter them
  • Support those who are marginalized and create spaces where everyone feels safe and respected
  • Listen to people’s stories, fostering empathy and understanding
  • Promote education about justice, equality, and human dignity
  • Engage in civic life, voting and encouraging policies that protect the vulnerable
  • Practice forgiveness and reconciliation in our personal relationships
  • Serve our neighbors through acts of kindness and generosity
  • Pray for healing, transformation, and the strength to persevere in the work of justice
  • Model humility and love, following Christ’s example of self-giving

Let us pray for the grace to be transformed by the Cross, so that our words and actions may bless and heal. May we build communities where no one fears for their life or dignity, where love casts out fear and justice blooms.

Conclusion: Hope Born of the Cross

As we contemplate the mystery of the Holy Cross, let us remember: God’s love is wider than our divisions, deeper than our wounds, and stronger than death. May the power of the Cross inspire us to seek peace, justice, and the beloved community where all are welcome, cherished, and free.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Carrying Our Cross: Bearing Burdens Together

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Every so often, the readings presented in the Lectionary converge in a way that invites us to consider the weight and beauty of discipleship anew. This week, the wisdom of Scripture calls us to reflect on what it truly means to carry our cross and to share in the burdens of those most in need. Drawing upon Wisdom 9:13–18b, Philemon 9–10, 12–17, and Luke 14:25–33, we are invited to see that the call to follow Christ is inseparable from the call to compassion and solidarity.

The Mystery and Gift of Divine Wisdom

The passage from Wisdom sets the stage: “For who can learn the counsel of God? Or who can discern what the Lord wills?” (Wisdom 9:13). We are reminded that, on our own, our understanding is limited. The weight of life, the perplexity of suffering, and the complexity of human relationships can seem overwhelming. Yet, the reading continues, “But when the soul is given light, when the knowledge of God comes, our paths become straight.” Human wisdom is fragile, but God’s Spirit grants clarity.

This is a profound spiritual starting point. To carry our cross is not merely to endure hardships stoically, nor is it a solitary journey of grit; it is an act of receiving divine wisdom, recognizing our dependence on God, and allowing God’s Spirit to illuminate our path, especially when the way forward seems uncertain or steep.

Philemon: A Lesson in Christian Love and Advocacy

Turning to Paul’s brief, heartfelt letter to Philemon, we encounter one of the most personal and challenging moments in the New Testament. Paul writes “out of love,” appealing on behalf of Onesimus, a runaway slave who has become “like a son” to Paul during his imprisonment. Paul now sends Onesimus back, not as a slave but “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother” (Philemon 16).

Paul’s approach embodies what it means to help another carry their burden. Though Paul himself is in chains, his heart is open to the freedom of Onesimus. Rather than command Philemon, Paul appeals to his love, inviting him to see Onesimus with new eyes, not as property or problem but as kin. In this, Paul models what Wisdom urges: a heart attuned to God’s Spirit, willing to act from love even when it defies convention or convenience.

Here we see the cross not as a solitary suffering but as a shared burden. Paul intercedes for Onesimus, risking his own relationship and reputation, so that Onesimus might have a new beginning. The church, Paul insists, is built not on power or hierarchy but on the radical reordering of relationships, the restoration of dignity, the healing of divisions, the creation of true family in Christ.

Luke: The Cost and Freedom of Discipleship

In Luke 14:25–33, Jesus speaks with a clarity that startles: If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, spouse and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, they cannot be my disciple. “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”

These are not words of casual invitation. Jesus asks us to count the cost, to consider whether we are willing to follow Him not only in joy but in sacrifice, not only in comfort but in love that rearranges our priorities. To “carry the cross” is to be willing to let go of anything that hinders us from following Christ wholeheartedly.

But Jesus is not advocating for reckless abandonment or the breaking of human bonds for their own sake. Rather, He warns us that true discipleship will sometimes put us at odds with the values and expectations of our world, even with those closest to us. It means putting God, and the call to love, above all else.

Carrying Our Cross: Beyond Ourselves

These readings, taken together, invite us to move beyond an individualistic understanding of “carrying our cross.” In popular imagination, this phrase can become a kind of stoic mantra: “Everyone has their cross to bear.” While there is truth in recognizing the personal struggles we each endure, the Gospel vision is far more communal and dynamic.

To carry our cross means to live in solidarity. When Paul advocates for Onesimus, he carries a cross on behalf of another. When the Spirit grants us wisdom, we see more clearly the burdens our neighbors carry, poverty, loneliness, injustice, grief, and we are moved to act. Our discipleship is tested not simply in how we endure suffering, but in how we help those most in need to bear theirs.

Consider the world around us: who are the Onesimuses in our midst? Who lives under the weight of invisible chains, longing for freedom, dignity, and family? Whose burdens go unseen? In our communities, in our churches, in our neighborhoods, we are surrounded by opportunities to lift burdens, to offer advocacy, to give presence, to risk our own reputations for the sake of another’s new life.

The Spirit’s Invitation

Of course, to live this way is not easy. It requires the wisdom the author of Wisdom prays for, the humility to admit we do not know everything, the openness to be guided, the courage to act in love rather than simply in obligation or fear.

It requires what Jesus asks: the willingness to let go of our own security, our own privilege, even our own comfort, to follow Him into unexpected places and relationships.

It requires what Paul models: the vulnerability to stand beside those most in need, to see them not as objects of charity but as partners in Christ, as brothers and sisters for whom we bear responsibility.

Practicing Cross-Carrying Today

How do we begin? First, by prayer, asking God for wisdom to see what we cannot see, to discern the burdens around us and the courage to respond. Second, by community, opening our eyes and hearts to those who are marginalized, listening to their stories, and standing in solidarity. Third, by action, whether that means advocacy, generosity, friendship, or simply presence.

We can ask ourselves:

  • Who in my life is carrying a heavy burden right now?
  • How might I help lighten their load?
  • Where do I need God’s wisdom to see more clearly and love more deeply?
  • Are there relationships or comforts I must let go of so I can follow Christ more fully?

A Community of Cross-Bearers

Let us remember: the cross is not only a symbol of suffering but of radical love. It is the place where Jesus meets us, bears our burdens, and invites us into a new family defined not by blood or status, but by grace.

May we be people who do not shy away from the cost of discipleship, but embrace it in hope. May we, like Paul, advocate for the Onesimuses in our world. May we, like the author of Wisdom, seek God’s counsel. May we, like Jesus, find our lives not by clinging to them, but by giving them away for the sake of others.

As we carry our crosses, may we help others with theirs so that together, we may all come to know the freedom, dignity, and love that is the heart of the Gospel.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Beyond Vanity: Finding Meaning in a World of Distractions

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If you walk through the doors of Saint Francis Parish on any given Sunday, you’ll find more than stained glass and sacred hymns. You’ll encounter a community anchored in hope, wrestling honestly with the questions life throws our way. This week, as we reflect on scriptures from Ecclesiastes, Colossians, and Luke, we discover an invitation—perhaps even a challenge—to look beyond our culture’s mirage of “more” and toward the richness of a life rooted in God and shared with others.

“Vanity of Vanities, All is Vanity”: The Restless Human Heart

The wisdom writer of Ecclesiastes minces no words: “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity” (Ecclesiastes 1:2). The Preacher—a voice as ancient as human longing itself—names what so many of us sense but rarely say. Despite our striving, our labor, our pursuit of possessions and prestige, we find ourselves restless. Ecclesiastes 2:21–23 continues this lament: what do we gain from all our toil, if our days are filled with pain and our nights with worry? Even the fruit of our work may pass to another who did not labor for it.

It’s a sobering reminder—the futility of chasing after wind, of investing our souls in things that inevitably slip through our fingers. Yet, it’s not a call to despair. Instead, it’s a loving invitation to ask: Where does true meaning reside? What does it profit us to accumulate if our hearts remain empty?

At Saint Francis Parish, we see this yearning played out in the lives of those we serve through our outreach ministries. Whether it’s the neighbor struggling to pay rent, the parent seeking a better future for their child, or the volunteer searching for purpose, the question remains: Is there more to life than this endless cycle of working and wanting?

Setting Our Minds on Christ: A New Vision for Living

Colossians 3:1–5, 9–11 offers a brilliant, hopeful response to Ecclesiastes’ honest lament. Paul urges us, “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” Our truest identity, he insists, is found not in what we possess, but in Christ—in compassion, kindness, humility, and love. The old self, driven by greed and anger, is to be set aside. In Christ, there is “no Greek or Jew… but Christ is all and in all!”

The outreach at Saint Francis is more than a program; it’s an embodiment of this new life. Volunteers and recipients alike are invited to look beyond the world’s definitions of worth. Here, people from every background gather as equals. The Blessing Bag Outreach and the community meals—they’re not just handouts, but opportunities to witness God’s radical inclusion. In giving and receiving, we taste the richness of the kingdom that Colossians describes—a kingdom where generosity replaces anxiety, and relationships are valued over riches.

The Parable of the Rich Fool: A Warning and a Way Forward

Jesus, in Luke 12:13–21, tells the story of a man who seemingly “had it all”—abundant crops, overflowing barns, a future secured. Yet, God calls him a fool, not for his success but for his shortsightedness. “This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” The parable warns us: life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.

How often do we, too, fall into the trap of the rich fool? We make plans, store up treasures, seek security in things—only to discover that what we truly crave is connection, peace, and the assurance that we matter. At Saint Francis Parish, we see the other side of the equation—those who lack, who worry, who wonder where tomorrow’s bread will come from. But we also see the beauty that arises when resources are shared, when burdens are lightened by communal care.

Saint Francis Parish and Outreach: Living the Gospel

It’s easy to read these scriptures and feel chastised, but Jesus and the writers of Ecclesiastes and Colossians aren’t interested in shaming us. Rather, they long to open our eyes and hearts to the abundance that comes from living for God and neighbor. At Saint Francis Parish, outreach is not a side project—it’s the beating heart of the Gospel in action.

Each time a volunteer offers a warm meal, a listening ear, or a word of encouragement, we are reminded that true wealth lies not in accumulation, but in self-giving love. The lessons of Ecclesiastes find their answer in the work of Saint Francis: when we invest in people, when we allow Christ to reshape our priorities, the vanity of earthly pursuits is replaced by the joy of serving something—and someone—far greater than ourselves.

We are called, then, to hold our possessions loosely and our relationships tightly. Whether we have much or little, we are members of one body, woven together by the Spirit. The food we share, the time we give, the hope we kindle—these are treasures that moth and rust cannot destroy.

Practical Steps: Cultivating a Life Oriented Toward True Riches

How can we move from mere words to lived transformation? Here are some invitations inspired by this week’s readings and the witness of Saint Francis Parish:

  • Reexamine Your Priorities: Take time this week to reflect on what fills your thoughts, fuels your ambitions, and shapes your schedule. Where are you investing your heart?
  • Seek Things Above: In moments of stress or uncertainty, turn to prayer, Scripture, or the quiet presence of God. Let your values be shaped by the things that last—faith, hope, and love.
  • Give Generously: Find ways to share your resources, talents, or time with those in need. Whether through parish outreach or a simple act of kindness, discover the joy of giving.
  • Build Christ-Centered Community: Engage with others at Saint Francis Parish, not just on Sundays but through service and companionship. In lifting one another up, we experience the new life promised in Colossians.
  • Live Honestly: Let go of pretense and comparison. In Christ, the divisions of the world fall away. Celebrate the unique story God is writing in you and those around you.

Conclusion: The Gift of Enough

The ancient Preacher was right—much of life’s striving is vanity. But he did not see the whole story. In Christ, we are offered a new way: to seek what is above, to put on compassion, and to be “rich toward God.” At Saint Francis Parish, in the bustle of outreach and the quiet moments of prayer, we catch a glimpse of the kingdom Jesus proclaimed. A kingdom where every gift is received with gratitude, every neighbor is seen as kin, and every moment is an opportunity to love.

As you leave this reflection, may you find courage to release what is fleeting and to embrace what endures. In the end, the riches that matter most are those we share.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Living the Gospel: Intercession, Mercy, and the True Message of Sodom and Gomorrah

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What does it truly mean to live the gospel? When we read the passages of Genesis 18:20–32, Colossians 2:12–14, and Luke 11:1–13, we are invited into a deep reflection on mercy, intercession, and the boundless grace of God. In these scriptures, we encounter the heart of the gospel—a call not only to personal transformation but also to a life marked by compassion, humility, and a readiness to stand in the gap for others.

The Intercessor’s Heart: Abraham’s Plea for Sodom

Genesis 18:20–32 opens with a scene that is both profound and deeply human: Abraham stands before the Lord, learning of the grave sin of Sodom and Gomorrah. God’s justice is clear—there is a great outcry against these cities. Yet Abraham, rather than turning away or celebrating the expected judgment, steps forward as an intercessor.

He asks, with remarkable boldness and humility, whether God would spare the city if fifty righteous people could be found. And then, with each answer, Abraham presses further—forty-five, forty, thirty, twenty, even ten righteous people. At every turn, God’s answer is a gentle affirmation: “For the sake of ten, I will not destroy it.”

This exchange is not just a lesson in persistence; it is a revelation of God’s character and a call to intercessory prayer. Abraham’s dialogue with God reminds us that the first instinct of those who live the gospel is not condemnation, but mercy. The heart shaped by God’s love pleads for others, seeking their redemption, not their destruction.

The True Message of Sodom and Gomorrah: Beyond Judgment

The story of Sodom and Gomorrah is often reduced to a tale of judgment for egregious sin. Yet, beneath the ashes, there is a deeper message that is both cautionary and hopeful. The prophets, especially Ezekiel (see Ezekiel 16:49–50), remind us that the iniquity of Sodom was not only immorality, but a deeper rot: “pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy.”

The sin of Sodom was the failure to love, the refusal to show hospitality, and the neglect of justice for the vulnerable. Their downfall was not simply personal wickedness, but the collective hardening of hearts against compassion and righteousness.

God is not eager to destroy; God listens as Abraham intercedes. God searches for the righteous, even a mere handful, and would withhold judgment for their sake. The true message, then, is not only that God judges evil, but that God longs to show mercy. God’s hope is always for repentance, restoration, and the flourishing of communities built on justice and love.

Dying and Rising with Christ: Colossians 2:12–14

Fast-forward to the New Testament, where Paul writes to the Colossians about the transforming power of Christ. In Colossians 2:12–14, we read of how, in baptism, we are buried with Christ and raised with Him through faith in the power of God. Paul reminds us that we, too, once lived in “trespasses” and the “uncircumcision of our flesh,” but God forgave us all our sins. The record of debt that stood against us, with its legal demands, has been canceled and nailed to the cross.

Here is grace in its fullness: We are not judged and condemned but offered new life. Jesus, the ultimate Intercessor, stands in the gap for us—pleading, not with words, but with His own life. He absorbs our failings and our debts and, in exchange, offers us forgiveness and freedom.

The gospel is not a story of earned righteousness, nor a tale of the deserving and undeserving. It is about radical grace—the kind that spares cities for the sake of a few, the kind that raises the dead, the kind that welcomes sinners home.

The Rhythm of Prayer: Luke 11:1–13

When the disciples ask Jesus to teach them to pray, He responds with words that have echoed through centuries: “Our Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come…” (Luke 11:2). He teaches them persistence in prayer through the parable of the friend at midnight—a story that assures us that God does not tire of our petitions.

“If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (Luke 11:13).

Prayer is not merely a religious duty; it is the heartbeat of a living relationship with God. It is where our hearts are shaped to reflect God’s love, where our desires are aligned with His mercy, and where we find the courage to intercede for others, as Abraham did.

Living the Gospel: A Call to Compassion and Action

To live the gospel, then, is to echo Abraham’s intercession, to embrace the grace of Christ, and to cultivate a persistent life of prayer. It is to recognize, as the prophets did, that the greatest sins are often the coldness of our hearts to the suffering around us—poverty, injustice, exclusion.

  • Intercede for others. Stand in the gap for your city, your community, your family. Refuse to give up on those who seem far from God. Plead for mercy, not because they deserve it, but because God delights in mercy.
  • Live out resurrection life. Remember that Christ has set you free, not to judge or condemn, but to invite others into the freedom He brings. Extend forgiveness, hospitality, and love—especially to the overlooked and forgotten.
  • Persist in prayer. Let your life be marked by the kind of bold, shameless prayer that Jesus commends. Ask, seek, and knock. Trust that your heavenly Father hears, delights, and responds.
  • Embody justice and mercy. Let your faith be practical. Share your bread with the hungry, care for the poor, and work for justice in your neighborhood. Refuse the ease and pride that marked Sodom; instead, cultivate a community of kindness and generosity.

A Gospel for Our Time

The ancient stories of Abraham, the letters of Paul, and the teachings of Jesus intersect in a powerful invitation: to live the gospel is to be a conduit of grace in the world. We are called beyond self-preservation, beyond tribalism and judgment, into the wide mercy of God.

The true message of Sodom and Gomorrah warns us against a life closed off from love, justice, and compassion. It beckons us to become intercessors—people who pray, who act, and who believe that God is always seeking to redeem, not destroy.

So today, may we live with open hands and open hearts. May our prayers be persistent, our actions generous, and our witness shaped by the One who, through death and resurrection, has canceled our debts and set us free. This is the heartbeat of the gospel—mercy triumphing over judgment, love conquering fear, and hope rising from the ashes.

Let us go and live it.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

Hospitality, Service, and the Heart of Faith: Reflections from Saint Francis Parish

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Let’s start with a simple question: *What does it mean to be a Christian in today’s world?* It’s a question we all wrestle with at some stage—sometimes quietly in prayer, sometimes in the middle of a busy week, and sometimes when we see someone in need. If you’ve spent time at Saint Francis Parish and Outreach in Augusta, Georgia, you know these aren’t just abstract questions. They’re woven into our daily lives, conversations, and, most importantly, our actions.

This week, our lectionary readings—Genesis 18:1–10a, Colossians 1:24–28, and Luke 10:38–42—offer a kind of roadmap for living out our faith with purpose and love. Let’s take a walk together through these scriptures and see how they speak to us as a parish and as followers of Christ.

Welcoming the Stranger: Lessons from Genesis

First, picture this: Abraham is sitting by the oaks of Mamre, in the heat of the day, when three strangers appear. Without hesitation, Abraham rushes to meet them. He bows, offers them rest, water, and a feast. He doesn’t know who they are. He simply sees their need—and responds.

Genesis 18:1–10a is often called the story of Abraham’s hospitality, but it is so much more. It is a scene of radical, generous welcome. In the ancient world, the desert was a dangerous place, and survival often depended on the kindness of strangers. Abraham’s instinct is not to protect what he has, but to share it. His welcome is immediate, heartfelt, and complete.

We often romanticize these biblical moments, but imagine pausing your own busy day to prepare a meal for unexpected guests. Abraham’s example isn’t just about etiquette—it’s about recognizing the divine image in everyone who comes to our door.

And here at Saint Francis Parish and Outreach, we try (however imperfectly) to live out that same spirit. Whether it’s providing meals through our blessing bags, opening our doors during the coldest nights, or simply greeting newcomers with warmth, every act of welcome is an echo of Abraham’s generosity. Our parish strives to be a place where all are received, not just with politeness, but with genuine care.

Christ in Us: Paul’s Vision in Colossians

Let’s move to Colossians 1:24–28. Paul writes, “It is Christ whom we proclaim, warning everyone and teaching everyone…so that we may present everyone mature in Christ.” But before that, he says something surprising: “I am now rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church.”

Paul’s words can be a little mysterious, but at the heart, he’s talking about a willingness to give of ourselves for others. Paul’s ministry is not simply teaching or preaching—it’s service, even when it costs him. He sees his life as being poured out for the sake of the community. He’s not boasting; he’s inviting us into a deeper understanding of what it means to follow Christ: that real discipleship often means sacrifice, patience, and carrying each other’s burdens.

At Saint Francis, we don’t have to look far to see this in action. Walk into any outreach event, and you’ll find volunteers moving tables, filling food bags, praying with those who need encouragement. You’ll see people giving their time, their resources, and sometimes their comfort. All of it is done not for recognition, but because Christ’s love compels us to serve. Paul’s vision of “Christ in you, the hope of glory” becomes real when we make space for Christ to work through us.

Choosing the Better Part: Martha and Mary

Now, let’s turn to Luke 10:38–42—the story of Martha and Mary. Jesus visits their home. Martha rushes about, concerned with preparations, and Mary sits at Jesus’ feet, listening. Martha gets frustrated (and honestly, who hasn’t felt that way?), asking Jesus to tell Mary to help her. But Jesus gently replies, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

This passage can be a tricky one. Is Jesus saying service doesn’t matter? Hardly. In fact, the gospels are full of commands to love and serve others. But Jesus is inviting us to remember the heart of our service: listening, learning, and being present to God. Martha’s work is crucial, but it needs to be rooted in relationship.

For all of us at Saint Francis—especially those of us who love to keep busy, who find meaning in action—this is a gentle reminder: don’t let your service become so hurried that you lose sight of the One you’re serving. Our outreach, our ministries, our programs—all of it flows from our life of prayer, our time listening to Christ, and our willingness to be changed by Him.

Bringing Scripture Home: Saint Francis Parish and Outreach

So, what does all this mean for us here in Augusta, Georgia? It means remembering that faith is never just about Sunday mornings or private devotion. It’s about embodying the hospitality of Abraham, the servant-heartedness of Paul, and the attentive love of Mary—right here, right now.

At Saint Francis, we see these lessons lived out every week. When volunteers greet guests by name, when someone quietly sits with a person having a tough day, when we pray together before serving meals—these are not small gestures. They are our daily “yes” to God’s call.

And yet, we’re all still learning. There are days when we feel more like Martha—overwhelmed, distracted, maybe a little resentful. There are days when the needs feel endless and our resources feel thin. But even on those days, we are not alone. Christ is with us, guiding, sustaining, and reminding us that every act of love, no matter how small, matters in His kingdom.

Our Duty as Christians: Living the Call

So here’s the heart of it: Our duty as Christians is to make room for Christ—in our hearts, our homes, and our communities. It’s to offer hospitality not just to those who look like us or think like us, but to every stranger at the door. It’s to serve, even when it’s inconvenient, and to do so with a spirit rooted in prayer.

We are called to be a parish that embodies hope, welcomes without reservation, and listens intently for God’s voice. That’s not always easy, and we’ll stumble along the way. But together, with the help of God’s Spirit, we can make Saint Francis Parish and Outreach a place where the love of Christ is not only preached but practiced—where every neighbor feels seen, valued, and loved.

So as we step into another week, let’s keep our eyes open for the stranger we can welcome, the burden we can help carry, and the moments when we can simply sit at Jesus’ feet and listen. That is our calling—and our joy.

May peace and grace go with you, always.

Bishop Greer

Joy, Boasting, and Mission: Reflections on Faith in Everyday Life

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What a cool set of readings this week! Sometimes, the Bible smacks us in the face with big, lofty ideas, and sometimes it feels like it’s speaking right to our day-to-day, messy, ordinary lives. Isaiah, Galatians, and Luke—these three readings are like different voices in a chorus. Let’s see how they all come together.

Isaiah 66:10–14: Comfort Like a Mother

Okay, let’s start with Isaiah. Here’s this beautiful image of Jerusalem as a nurturing mother. Isaiah says, “Rejoice with Jerusalem, and be glad for her.” The city becomes a symbol for all God’s people—it’s about comfort, abundance, and restoration. “As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you,” God says. If you’ve ever been homesick, or just needed a hug at the end of a tough week, this hits home. God isn’t some distant force—there’s this tenderness, a real promise that we’re not alone when things go sideways.

Galatians 6:14–18: Where Do You Boast?

Then we get Paul in Galatians, and it’s classic Paul: “May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Not in achievements, not in fancy degrees, not in how many Instagram followers you have—Paul says the only thing worth bragging about is what Jesus did for us. He’s basically reminding us to let go of comparisons and competition. It’s not about what you can show the world, but about the new creation you are inside. There’s freedom in that—freedom from pressure, from pretending, from the need to keep up with everyone else.

Luke 10:1–12, 17–20: Sent Out, Sent Back

And then in Luke, Jesus sends out seventy-two people—ordinary folks like you and me. He tells them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.” There’s urgency, but also trust: Jesus doesn’t overcomplicate things. He just tells them to go, travel light, and share peace wherever they land. Some places will welcome them, some won’t. But, when they come back, they’re pumped because even the demons listen to them! Jesus gently brings them back down to earth, saying, “Don’t rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

Bringing It All Together

So, what’s the thread tying these together? For me, it’s this: God is deeply invested in our joy, our healing, and our purpose. We’re comforted, yes—but we’re also sent out. We don’t go around boasting about ourselves, but about the love that changed us. And when we get caught up in our achievements (or our failures), Jesus reminds us that the real reason for joy is belonging—being known and loved by God.

Everyday Takeaways

  • Let yourself be comforted. It’s not weak to need reassurance or rest. Even God says so!
  • Boast in love, not in likes. The most important things in life aren’t always the most visible.
  • Say yes to the adventure. Sometimes mission means just showing up, being vulnerable, and seeing what God will do.
  • Remember where your joy comes from. Not from results or recognition, but from being known and loved.

Here’s to finding comfort, sharing peace, and walking our paths with a little more freedom and a lot more joy this week!

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

The Body and Blood of Christ: A Sacred Gift

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The celebration of the Body and Blood of Christ is one of the most meaningful aspects of faith for Christians. It ties together stories from the Old and New Testaments, showing us just how much God’s love and care for humanity have always been a part of the plan.

Melchizedek’s Offering: A Hint of What’s to Come

Let’s start with Genesis 14:18–20. Here, we meet Melchizedek, who kind of pops out of nowhere as the king of Salem and a priest of God Most High. He brings bread and wine to Abram, who’s fresh off a big win in battle. Bread and wine may seem basic, but they’re loaded with meaning—they’re a sneak peek at the Eucharist that Jesus would bring into the picture years later.

What’s cool about Melchizedek’s offering is how simple yet powerful it is. Bread and wine are everyday things, but in this story, they become symbols of God’s blessing and promise. Melchizedek’s role as priest and king shows us a bit of what Jesus would later do—be both the ultimate priest and the sacrifice for the world.

This passage is a reminder that the Eucharist isn’t some random idea but part of God’s plan all along. Melchizedek’s bread and wine link the Old Covenant with the New Covenant, setting the stage for Jesus to fulfill God’s promise in an even bigger way.

Paul’s Take: A New Tradition is Born

Fast forward to 1 Corinthians 11:23–26, where Paul writes about the night Jesus was betrayed. This is where Jesus takes bread and says, “This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” Then He takes the cup and says, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Whenever you drink it, do it in remembrance of me.” Pretty powerful stuff, right?

Paul gives us a look at the Eucharist as both a memorial and a covenant. It’s a memorial because it takes us back to Jesus’ ultimate sacrifice on the cross, something we remember every time we celebrate the Eucharist. But it’s also a covenant—a promise of salvation sealed with Jesus’ blood.

The Eucharist isn’t just something we do—it’s an encounter with Jesus Himself. When we take the Body and Blood, we’re connected to Him and to each other as one big family in Christ. Paul’s account reminds us to approach this tradition with respect and gratitude because it’s not just bread and wine—it’s Jesus giving Himself to us.

The Feeding of the Five Thousand: A Miracle That Points to Something Bigger

In Luke 9:11b–17, we get the incredible story of Jesus feeding thousands of people with just five loaves and two fish. Imagine the scene: A huge crowd, no food, and the disciples freaking out. But Jesus calmly says, “You feed them,” and takes what little they have, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it out. Next thing you know, everyone’s full, and there are leftovers—twelve baskets, to be exact.

This story has some serious Eucharistic vibes. The way Jesus blesses, breaks, and gives the bread mirrors what happens during the Mass. The crazy abundance of food shows us how God’s grace is overflowing, way more than we could ever imagine. Just like the crowd got physical sustenance, we get spiritual nourishment through the Eucharist.

And let’s not forget the disciples—they’re the ones handing out the food, showing us that we’re meant to share God’s gifts with others. This miracle reminds us to trust God’s plan and to see how even the smallest offerings can make a huge impact when placed in His hands.

What the Eucharist Means for Us

The Body and Blood of Christ are a mystery we’ll never fully figure out, but that’s okay—it’s all about experiencing it through faith. The Eucharist is the heart of the Christian life, connecting heaven and earth and drawing us into Jesus’ victory over sin and death.

Looking at Genesis 14:18–20, 1 Corinthians 11:23–26, and Luke 9:11b–17, we see different sides of this amazing gift. Melchizedek’s offering shows us that God’s plan has been unfolding for ages, Paul’s words remind us of the seriousness and beauty of the Eucharist, and the feeding of the five thousand reveals the abundance of God’s love and grace.

As we think about these scriptures, let’s take a moment to appreciate the Eucharist. It’s not just bread and wine—it’s God giving Himself to us. Let’s come to the altar with open hearts and gratitude, ready to receive the nourishment we need for life’s journey.

Wrapping It Up

The celebration of the Body and Blood of Christ is more than a tradition—it’s an invitation to grow closer to God and to each other. Through something as simple as bread and wine, God shows us His love and gives us a piece of Himself. When we take the Eucharist, we’re reminded to live as Christ’s Body in the world, spreading His grace, mercy, and compassion wherever we go.

So, let’s go out there, filled with the Bread of Life, and share His love with a world that’s searching for hope and meaning.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

The Ascension and Inclusive Catholicism

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A Powerful Start

Acts 1:1–11 opens the exciting story of the early Church, and honestly, it’s epic. Picture this: Jesus spends His last moments with His apostles, gives them a life-changing mission, and ascends to heaven in a cloud. It’s dramatic and full of inspiration for anyone who’s ever wondered about their place in the Church.

But here’s the thing: this passage isn’t just about Jesus leaving earth. It’s about what He leaves behind—a promise, a challenge, and hope that His message is for everyone. And that’s where inclusive Catholicism comes in, taking this vision and running with it.

What Happens in Acts 1:1–11?

Let’s break down the highlights:

  • The Promise: Jesus tells His apostles to stay in Jerusalem until they receive the Holy Spirit. Think of it as the spiritual fuel they’ll need for their mission.
  • The Mission: Jesus gives them a clear roadmap: “You’ll be my witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Translation? They’re called to share His love with everyone, everywhere.
  • The Ascension: Jesus rises into heaven, leaving His apostles staring at the sky. Two angels show up to remind them to focus on their mission instead of waiting around for His return.

What Does This Mean for Inclusive Catholicism?

Inclusive Catholicism is all about making sure the Church reflects the universal love of Christ—welcoming everyone, breaking down barriers, and celebrating diversity. Our readings give us a solid foundation for this mission.

The Holy Spirit Unites Us All

When Jesus promises the Holy Spirit, He’s talking about something bigger than just the apostles. The Spirit is for everyone, breaking through cultural and linguistic divides at Pentecost. This reminds us that the Church should always strive to be a place where all people feel at home, no matter their background.

The Mission Goes Beyond Boundaries

Jesus didn’t set limits on who could hear His message. “To the ends of the earth” means exactly that—everywhere and everyone. Inclusive Catholicism takes this to heart, working to connect with people from all walks of life and build bridges of understanding and love.

The Ascension Inspires Hope

When Jesus ascends, it’s not the end of the story—it’s the beginning of something greater. The apostles are called to focus on the bigger picture: a world united in faith and love. This hope pushes us to dream of a Church that actively works for justice, equity, and inclusion.

Living Out the Message

This story in Acts isn’t just an ancient story—it’s a call to action. How can we live out these values today? Here are some ideas:

  • Be Welcoming: Make our parish and community a space where everyone feels accepted, especially those who’ve been marginalized.
  • Start Conversations: Engage in dialogue with people of different faiths, cultures, and perspectives. Building relationships is key.
  • Stand for Justice: Advocate for fairness and equity in our community and beyond. The Church can be a powerful force for good!

Final Thoughts

Acts 1:1–11 is a reminder of what the Church is meant to be—a community fueled by the Spirit, focused on a universal mission, and inspired by the hope of Christ’s return. Inclusive Catholicism takes this vision seriously, striving to make the Church a home for everyone. As we reflect on this passage, let’s think about how we can step up and live out its message in our own lives.

So, what do you think? How can we make the Church more inclusive and welcoming for everyone? Share your thoughts—we’d love to hear your perspective!

Pax et Bonum!

Bishop Greer

Reflections on Unity and Love

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Our reading from the Gospel of Saint John this Sunday is a part of Jesus’ prayer for all believers, where He emphasizes the importance of unity and love among His followers. There’s something truly inspiring about these verses, and I think they resonate deeply with us today.

In John 17:20-21, Jesus prays, “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” This plea for unity among believers highlights the profound connection we share, not just with each other, but with Jesus and the Father.

One of my favorite spiritual writers, Thomas Merton, once said, “The Christian is not merely ‘alone with the Alone’ in the Neoplatonic sense, but he is One with all his ‘brothers [and sisters] in Christ.’ His inner self is, in fact, inseparable from Christ and hence it is in a mysterious and unique way inseparable from all the other ‘I’s’ who live in Christ, so that they all form one ‘Mystical Person,’ which is ‘Christ.’”

Merton’s words remind us that our journey towards understanding and purpose, is intertwined with the relationships we build and nurture. Just as Jesus prayed for unity, we too are called to seek connections that uplift and strengthen our faith. We Franciscans call this “the univocity of all being” (speaking of all beings with one consistent voice), “that all may be one” (John 17:21)

Continuing in John 17:22-23, Jesus says, “I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one – I in them and you in me – so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.” Here, Jesus speaks of the glory given to us, a glory that binds us together in perfect unity. This sense of divine love and connection is something we should cherish and strive to embody in our daily lives.

Merton also wrote, “Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone – we find it with another.” I love this quote because it underscores the idea that love is central to our existence. When we embrace love and unity, we reflect the divine relationship between Jesus and the Father, and in doing so, we become a testament to the world of God’s love and grace.

Lastly, in John 17:24-26, Jesus prays, “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world. Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.” This final part of the prayer is a beautiful reminder of Jesus’ desire for us to experience His glory and love.

Thomas Merton’s insights complement this passage beautifully. He once said, “Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and, in fact, it is nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is to love, and this love itself will render both ourselves and our neighbors worthy.” This powerful message challenges us to love unconditionally, just as Jesus loves us. It’s a call to action that, if embraced, can transform our lives and the world around us.

Pax et Bonum,

Bishop Greer

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