St. Stephen

 

December 26, 2020

 + I know.

 You’re wondering, why are we commemorating St. Stephen today?

 His feast day was yesterday, after all.

 It’s the First Sunday after Christmas.

 Usually on this Sunday, we hear the Gospel reading from the first chapter of John, which, as you may know, I love!!

 Usually this Sunday is a white Sunday—all the white paraments are usually up for this Sunday.

 But, today, everything’s red.

 Well, sometimes we can transfer feasts like this, especially when it’s a feast that honors a parish’s patron saint.

 So, we are celebrating St. Stephen for the very important reason that he is our patron saint of course.

 So, we transferred his feast from yesterday so we could all enjoy St. Stephen.

 After all, we very proudly bear his name.

 I’ll get into all of that in a moment.

 But, there’s another important reason we’re commemorating him today.

 We have transferred his feast from yesterday because I really do think it’s important to remind ourselves how important St. Stephen is to all of us.

 And…

 I would like to, at this time, officially open our 65^th year.

 I christen it, shall we say?

 Today, we officially begin our 65^th year as a congregation.

 This is something very important to commemorate.

 65 years of amazing ministry in the Diocese of North Dakota.

 Those first founders of church were a smart bunch.

 They were a prophetic bunch.

 Naming our church after St. Stephen was a smart thing.

 Of course, the reason they came to this name was because St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Casselton, ND had just closed in 1953.

 And we inherited many of their furnishings.

 But St. Stephen was a great saint for us to have as our patron.

 In the Orthodox and Roman traditions of the Church and even in our own High Church tradition, the patron saint of a church is viewed as more than just a namesake.

 They are seen as special guardians of that parish. 

 And so, it is especially wonderful to celebrate a saint like St. Stephen, who is our guardian and who is, no doubt, present among us this morning, with that whole communion of saints, who is always present with us at worship.

 St. Stephen, of course, was the proto-martyr of the Church

 “Proto” is the important word here.

 Proto means, essentially, first.

 He was the first martyr of the Church.

 He was the first one to die for his open proclamation of  Christ.

 He also is considered a proto deacon in the church.

 That is important because of course this past year we celebrated our own proto-deacon.

 This past year, we celebrated the ordination of our first deacon in our congregation, Deacon John.

 And today he is wearing the red dalmatic in honor of St. Stephen.

 The dalmatic is a vestment that deacons wear.

 And often when we see paintings or icons of St. Stephen, he too is wearing a dalmatic, though he probably never actually wore one in real life

 St. Stephen is a special patron saint of deacons—and of all people who share a ministry of servitude to others.

 But St. Stephen is meaningful in other ways too.

 One of the things I really appreciate about him is the clear vision he gives us of heaven and what awaits us afterward.

 For most of us, heaven seems like a vague kind of thing—some cloudy other-world that awaits in the far reaches of existence.

 But through St. Stephen’s eyes, we have a very clear vision of what it is like.

 What does he see there?

 He sees the throne of God in majesty.

 And seated in honor and majesty at the right hand of God is Jesus.

 We see this same vision in the writings of the saint who’s actual feast day is today, St. John the Evangelist or St. John the Beloved.

 In his book of Revelation, he too gives us a very clear image of the same throne, with God seated there, and the Jesus as the Lamb at God’s right hand.

 I love that imagery.

 I love it because it all makes sense.

 And I love it because I too can see it.

 So, dear St. Stephen is more than just a proto-martyr and a patron of deacons.

 He is also a visionary and prophet.

 What better saint can we claim as our patron that St. Stephen?

 He was the first to do many things. 

 Just like we, as a congregation, have been the first in doing many things.

 St. Stephen, in his stance on a few issues, was not popular always obviously.

 There is a reason they dragged him out and stoned him.

 Well, neither are our opinions and our stances on some issues.

 The stance we have made for full and equal inclusion of women and LGBTQ+ people has been VITAL for us.

 And making the stance we have in the past and the reaction we have received from others, let me tell you, we can relate to St. Stephen.

 So, again, talk about a perfect saint for us.

 So it’s appropriate that this congregation that has been the first to do many things, is named after St. Stephen.

 When we look back at our 65 year history, just think for a moment about all those people who came through the doors of this church, have sat in these pews.

 Think about how many of those people who have come here after being hurt by the Church.

 Think about how many have come here who were frustrated with the Church.

 And more often than not, their relationship with God has suffered for it. 

 But have came here searching.

 Searching for true religion.

 Searching for a welcoming, open and inclusive community.

 I can say that I was one of those people.

 I came to St. Stephen’s in 2008 as a new but very Church-weary priest.

 I had already experienced some of the worst the Church can do to people.

 And I can say that if it hadn’t been for St. Stephen’s—if it hadn’t been for all of you—I’m not sure that I still be in the Church.

 I thank you all for that.  

 For me, St. Stephen’s personifies in many ways, what true religion is.

 The Church should be like a dinner to which everyone is invited. 

 And St. Stephen’s has always been the place that knows this one blunt fact: The only thing there is no room for in true religion is for those who cannot love each other.

 St. Stephen’s is a place very much like a family.

 We don’t always choose the people God has brought into our lives, but we always—ALWAYS—have to love them.

 So what is true religion?

 True religion begins and ends with love.

 We must love one another as God loves us.

 True religion begins with the realization that, first and foremost, God loves each and every one of us intimately.

 When we can look at that person who drives us crazy and see in that person, someone God loves wholly and completely, then our relationship with that person changes.

 We too are compelled to love that person as well. 

 Love is the beginning and end of true religion. 

 Certainly, St. Stephen’s has always been a place of love. 

 Love has never been a stranger here.

 Love has been offered to God not only on this altar, but among the pews and in the undercroft and in the entryway and in the parking lot. 

 And most importantly in the lives of our members out in the larger world.

 That love that God has commanded us to share has went out from here into all the world.

 We who are gathered here have been touched in one way or the other by the love that has emanated from this place and these people.

 We are the fortunate ones—the ones who have been transformed and changed by this love.

 We are the lucky ones who have—through our experiences at St. Stephen’s—been able to get a glimpse of true religion.

But our job now is not to cherish it and hold it close to our hearts.

Our job now is to turn around and to share this love with others, even isolated as we are by the pandemic.

Our job is take this love and reflect it for everyone to see.

So, in a very real sense, we, at St. Stephen’s, are doing what that first St. Stephen did. 

We have set the standard. 

We have embodied who and what St. Stephen the Martyr stood for.

Even when it was not popular.

Even when people felt it wasn’t time.

Even when people said, “wait. There’s no rush. Why do this now?”

We have stood up again and again for what we have felt is our mission to accept all people in love.

We have journeyed out at times into uncharted territory.

And most importantly, we have, by our love, by our compassion, by our acceptance of all, been a reflection of what the Church—capital C—is truly capable of.

This is how we begin our 65^th year.

We begin it by doing what we have always done.

We do it as St. Stephen’s did it—with our eyes firmly set on God, on Christ at God’s right hand, with our lips singing and praying, with our head held high, with love in heart, even if stones and rocks are falling around us.

We do so affirmed in our many ministries.

We do so, thankful for the ordained ministries of our new deacon who serves here.

We do so thankful or our continued place in the Episcopal Diocese of North Dakota and in the Episcopal Church.

We do so thankful for our uniquely High Church expression of Anglicanism here in Fargo and North Dakota.

It is an amazing time to be at St. Stephen’s, even if we’re not really AT St. Stephen’s right now.

Those poor founders of our church would only be amazed at what this congregation they envisioned in 1956 would one day be.

As we begin this 65^th year, let us do with gratitude to God and one another in our hearts.

Let us shake off the negativity and those nagging doubts that have plagued us.

And let us, like St. Stephen, be strong and firm in our faith in God and our convictions of serving others in love.

And may our God—that source of all love, that author and giver of all good things—continue to bless us with love and goodness.

May we continue to flourish and grow. 

And may we continue to venture bravely forward in  all that we continue to do here among us and throughout the world. 

Let us pray.

Holy and gracious God, when St. Stephen looked up, he saw you, seated in glory and majesty on your throne, with Jesus you Son seated at your right hand; we are grateful for Stephen and the vision he gives us of what awaits us in your Kingdom. Help us to embody St. Stephen’s spirit of strength and vision as we do the ministry you call us to do in this world, and let us, like him, come to that heavenly Kingdom that you have allowed us to see today. We ask this in Jesus’ holy Name. Amen.

 

Christmas Eve

 December 24, 2020

 + I hope this doesn’t come as a huge surprise to many of you, but I am a HUGE church nerd.

 Now, you may think: of course he is.

 He’s a priest.

 He should be a church a nerd.

 Ah…you’d be surprise how many priests and pastors I know who are not church nerds.

 For some priests, this is just another job.

 But not for me.

 I love being a priest.

 I love being in church.

 I spend most of my day doing church things, literally.

 Literally, from the moment I get up in the morning to the moment I got bed at night, I am usually doing one sort of church thing or another.

 Because I actually love doing it.

 Even when I don’t love doing it.

 If that makes sense.

 And, while some clergy may complain about the fact that they have to work on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I definitely do not complain about such things.

 I LOVE celebrating this Christmas Eve Mass, even now, in this pandemic, when these pews, which are normally packed full on Christmas Eve are now empty.

 Actually, I don’t like that aspect of it at all.

 Even now, I love this Mass.

 (I also really love celebrating the Christmas Day Mass tomorrow)

 Because, let’s face it:  here it is.

 This is what it’s all about.

 This is why we celebrate.

 This is why we do what we do at Christmas.

 This is what we hope for.

 And we are celebrating, even though we’re not “really” together.

 It might be dark right now—it might not really feel like Christmas—but here, tonight, we celebrate Light. 

And that is what I really love about this night!

 We celebrate Jesus, who is God’s Light that has come to us wherever we might be in our lives.

 We celebrate Jesus who breaks through into our darkness, in the darkness we might have in our own lives.  

 We celebrate the Light of Christ that has come to us when we’ve been sad or frustrated or fearful.

 And as it does, no doubt most of us are feeling two emotions tonight—the two emotions Christmas is all about: hope and joy.

 Hope—in our belief that God has sent Jesus to us as a glorious and wonderful gift.

 Hope that what divides us from each other right now is only a temporary things.

 Hope that next year, we will all be together, here, in these pews, celebrating this Light in person with each other again.

 And Joy—at the realization of that reality.

 And we celebrate the mystery of it too.

 We will never fully understand how or why God in Jesus has come to us as this little child in a dark stable in the Middle East, but it has happened and, because it happened, we are…different.

 We are better as a result of it.

 God has reached out to us.

 God—this God who truly does love us, who truly does know us, who truly does care for us---has reached out to us.

 Just think about that for a moment.

 God loves us enough to actually reach out to us.

 And by doing so, we know tonight—without a doubt—that we are loved, we are accepted, we are truly known by our God.

 Knowing that, what do we feel?

 Hope!

 And joy!

 Because of Jesus, we know that God truly does know us, love us, accept us, and because of Christ’s presence with us, our lives are different because of what happened that evening when Jesus came to us as a sign of that love and acceptance.

 Yes, I know.

 This past year we may have known fear, we have known dread, we have feared for our lives and the lives of our loved ones.

 It has been scary.

 But tonight, as we gaze upon the face of the Child Jesus we are reminded that the same God who sent Jesus is the same God that is so close and so near, and because of that, everything we feared and dreaded is not so terrible.  

 This Child calms out fears.

 This Child drives away our anxieties.

 This Child gives us purpose again to go on.

 This Child reminds us that God is in control and everything is going to be all right.

 When we look at it from that perspective, suddenly we find our emotions heightened.

 We find that our joy is a joy like few other joys we’ve had.

 We find that our hope is more tangible—more real—than anything we have ever hoped in before.

 And that is what we are celebrating this evening.

 Our true hope and true joy is not in brightly colored lights and a pile of presents until a decorated tree.

 Our true hope and joy is not found in the malls or the stores.

 Our true hope and joy does not come to us with things that will, a week from now, be a fading memory.

 Our hope and joy is in a God who has sent us our Savior, our Messiah in the person of this seemingly vulnerable Baby whose very presence causes us to leap up with joy at his very presence.

 Our hope and joy is in that almighty and incredible God who would come to us, not on some celestial cloud with a sword in his hand and armies of angels flying about him.

 Our hope and joy is in a God who reaches out to us right now, where we are, who sends us our Redeemer, our Messiah in this innocent child, born to a humble teenager.

 Our hope and joy is in a God who gives us love in very concrete terms—love that has a face like our face and flesh like our flesh—a God who allows love to be  born, like we are born.

 Our hope and joy is in a God who comes to us  and accepts us and loves us for who we are and what we are—a God who does not leave us alone in our hurts and our pains.

 God loves us.

 God knows each of us by name.

 Each and every single one of us.  

 We are each precious and loved by our God.

 That is what this night and this season of Christmas is all about.

 This is the real reason why we are joyful and hopeful on this beautiful night.

 This is why we are feeling within us a strange sense of longing.

 God is here.

 God is in our midst.

 God is so near, our very bodies and souls are rejoicing.

 So, let greet our God tonight with all that we have within us.

 Let reach out to the God who is reaching out to us.

 Let us welcome the Christ Child with true hope and true joy.

 And let us welcome this holy Child into the shelter of our hearts, so that we can share God with others.

 And let us rejoice in the fact that although it might seem dark and lonely right now, our God—the God of hope and love—will always restore us and fill us again with true hope and true love.

 Let us pray.

 Holy God, this glorious night is full of your glory, full of your joy. We truly rejoice tonight in the birth of Jesus. Fill us all with the Light you have brought us into the world on this holy night. Let it burn brightly within us. And may we reflect this joy in all we do and say. We ask this in Jesus’ holy name. Amen.

 

 

 

 

Christmas Letter

 

Advent-Christmas, 2020

 

My Friends at St. Stephen’s,

I think we all agree that this Christmas is not like any Christmas we have ever experienced. Most of us are physically separated from each other and from many of our loved ones. Of course, we gather virtually through Livestream and Zoom, but as we all know, these are sad replacements for real communion with one another.

As we near the birth of Jesus and prepare to celebrate all that that birth means to us,  we do so looking with hope to our future. The vaccine is now out, and will hopefully finally bring an end to this long and arduous journey we have been on for these last nine months.

I may be optimistic (I try to be anyway), but my hope is that we will be returning to “normal” worship possibly by the spring. By the latest, I hope we will be able to gather to worship, to have coffee hour, to actually greet each other in person by Pentecost. Don’t hold me to this. But it is a goal in which I am hoping

For now, however, we must simply do what is expected of us to make sure we keep one another safe. Sadly, St. Stephen’s remains closed to public worship for now. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day Masses will be offered, as they have been, through Livestream. All our Masses will be uploaded to our website and to our YouTube pages. Please do join us for these masses. We now averaging about 77 people joining us for our virtual Masses. I am grateful for all those  who are joining us.

          For me, serving as St. Stephen’s continues to be one of the most fulfilling experiences of my priestly life even during these difficult times. I will admit: I despite preaching to an empty church. I miss your presence in the church. I miss our time of fellowship at coffee hour. I miss all of you, plain and simple.

As we move forward together into this future full of hope and potential reunion, I ask for your continued prayers for St. Stephen’s and your continued presence at our virtual liturgies.

Please know that I pray, as always, for each of you individually by name over the course of each week in my daily recitation of the Daily Office (Morning and Evening Prayer). Also know that I also remember all of you at the altar during celebration of the Mass. Above all, know that I give God thanks every day for the opportunity to serve such a wonderful, caring and loving congregation of people who are truly committed to loving God and others, to growth and to radical hospitality.

My sincerest Christmas blessings to all of you and to all those you love during this season of joy, love and HOPE.

 

      PEACE always,

 

                                                          

 

Advent- Christmas, 2020  

at St. Stephen’s

 

Thursday December 24  - Christmas Eve

7:00 pm – Holy Eucharist

 

friday December 25 –   Nativity of Our Lord

10:00 am Holy Eucharist

 

Sunday December 27 –Transferred Feast of St. Stephen

11:00 am – Holy Eucharist

 

Sunday December 27 –1 Christmas

11:00 am – Holy Eucharist

 

Wednesday December 30 –

6:00 pm - Mass of the New Year

 

All of our Masses are Livestreamed at our Facebook Group:

 

Facebook group: facebook.com/groups/52039214842

They are posted later to our Website: Ststephensfargo.org

And to our YouTube Channel; Youtube.com (“St. Stephen’s Fargo”)

4 Advent

Dec. 20, 2020

 

Luke 1.26-38

 

+ As you all know, I am a pretty solid and very proud progressive Christian.

 

It’s just a part of who I am.

 

And I love being a progressive Christian.

 

I am very unapologetic about it.

 

But in addition to that, I am also an Anglo-Catholic.

 

And I can tell you this: the specifically Anglo-Catholic expression of my progressive Christian faith has been a very sustaining force in my life.

 

It has help me through some particularly hard times.

 

Now, I know for some people here at St. Stephen’s, these beliefs and practices have been…well…at times a bit frustrating.

 

For many others, it has been a relief knowing that Christianity like this can still be lived out.

 

But for the most part, everyone has been supportive.

 

And, as we know, as St. Stephen’s has leaned more and more High Church over these last 12 years, we have been in the unique position of attracting many former Roman Catholics to our parish.

 

And we get to claim the unique claim that we are the only really High Church parish in several hundred miles.

 

We proudly hold that distinction closely.

 

Of course, we were not always that kind of a parish.

 

Former Senior Warden Steve Bolduc once told me a story about how many years ago, long before I came here, there was a regional meeting at St. Stephen’s.

 

One of the priests of the diocese was overheard to say: “aww, St. Stephen’s. A parish so low it should be called MR. Stephen’s.”

 

Well, we ain’t that parish anymore!

 

All you have to do to realize that is either just take a look around here now, or step in the door and take a deep whiff of the lingering incense.

 

You know that I went to a somewhat conservative seminary, Nashotah House.

 

It was kind of a good thing for me.

 

I learned a lot there.

 

I also learned some interesting liturgical practices at that seminary.

 

At Nashotah House something happened three times every single day.

 

Three times every single day the big bell in the bell tower—named Michael—would chime, once in the morning before Morning Prayer, once at noon and once in the evening before Morning Prayer.

 

Whatever one was doing at that moment, they were expected to pause and quietly pray as the bell chimed.

 

The traditionally thing to do was to pray the Angelus as the bell rung.

 

The Angelus consists of three Hail Mary’s—the prayer based, yet again, on our Gospel reading from today—interspersed with vesicles also from our Gospel reading today. It begins with:

 

V. + The angel of the Lord announced unto Mary.

R. And she conceived by the Holy Spirit.

 

Say the Hail Mary

 

V. Behold the handmaid of the Lord.

R. Be it unto me according to  thy Word.

 

Another Hail Mary

 

V. And the Word was made flesh .

R. And dwelt among us.

 

Another Hail Mary

Then we would say:

 

Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

 

Then it ends with a wonderful collect that summarizes the Incarnation of Jesus for us:

 

Pour thy grace into our hearts, O Lord, that as we who have known the incarnation of thy Son Jesus Christ announced an angel to the Virgin Mary, may, by his cross + and passion, be brought to the glory of his resurrection; through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.

 

The Angelus has a long tradition in the church.

 

No doubt you’ve seen the very famous painting called “The Angelus” by Jean-Francois Millet of the farmers pausing in the midst of their field work to bow their heads in prayer as they hear the Angelus bell from the church in the nearby village.

 

Now this practice of praying that Angelus has stuck with me.

 

I don’t pray it three times a day anymore, sadly.

 

But I do pray it every morning when I wake up, and, if I’m not too exhausted, I pray it each night before I go to bed.

 

I deeply love the Angelus, because in a very real, it is a theological microcosm of what we will be celebrating this coming week. 

 

And it is an important week on which we are about to embark.

 

Today, of course, is the last Sunday of Advent.

 

We will put away the Sarum blue for another year after our Wednesday night Mass this week.

 

 The big Day—Christmas—is now almost agonizingly close.

 

On the surface level, we, hopefully, are as prepared as we can be.

 

Presents are hopefully bought.

 

Cards have been sent.

 

Menus have been prepared.

 

I hope you’re planning on being safe and not planning huge gatherings.

 

It’s going to be a very different Christmas that any we have ever celebrated before, with so many of us still separated by the pandemic.

 

But spiritually, where are we prepared?

 

This time of Advent was a time for us to prepare ourselves spiritually for this glorious event.

 

Has it been worthwhile?

 

Are we prepared spiritually for this big day that is about to dawn?

 

The truly honest answer to that question can only be another question: are we ever truly prepared?

 

Or maybe even more honest would be the question: what exactly are we preparing ourselves for?

 

The answer to the first question finds its answer in the second question.

 

What are we preparing ourselves for?

 

What do we believe about this day that is about to dawn upon us?

 

Do we believe it is just another holiday full of trinkets and caroling?

 

Or do we believe that this Day is an awesome Day—a Day in which, truly God draws near to us.

 

And not just that! That God comes to us, is here with us!

 

And there, I think, is the gist of it all.

 

This day we celebrate this coming week is not some sweet, gentle little holiday, just involving a smiling, bright-faced baby in a barn.

 

Not for us, anyway, who called ourselves Christians.

 

This day is about God coming to us.

 

God, in the form of this baby.

 

That is what we are hearing about in today’s Gospel reading with the Angel Gabriel coming to Mary and that is what we are celebrating this coming week in the birth of Jesus.

 

In the Gospel reading, we are looking back roughly nine months from now.

 

We are looking back to that moment when God came to us, when God moved—and it all happened because Mary said “yes” to the Angel.

 

Incarnation—God with us and among us—is at the heart of what we as Christians believe.

 

For us, Jesus isn’t just some nice teacher like the Buddha.

 

(and to be clear, I greatly respect the Buddha)

 

But Jesus isn’t like the Buddha or any other great teacher.

 

For us, in Jesus we know God has come to us.

 

It is the defining belief among us.

 

 It is what makes us different than our Jewish brothers and sisters.

 

Yes, we believe in the same God.

 

But we believe that the Son and Chosen One of this same God has taken on human flesh and come among us.

 

It is also what makes us different than our Muslim brothers and sisters.

 

Again, we believe in the same God.

 

Yes, they revere Jesus as a great prophet and Mary as a truly holy servant of God, but they cannot quite accept the fact that God would come and dwell in the flesh in a human being, that God would have a child.

 

We, as Christians, do believe this.

 

We profess it every week in our Creed.

 

We celebrate it in our scripture readings.

 

And we partake of this belief in a very tangible way at the altar when we share Holy Eucharist with each other—either in person or spiritually.

 

And certainly it also a major part of our outreach and ministry.

 

Because God has come to us in Jesus, we now see God present in those we serve.

Every person—no matter who or what they are—is holy and special because of this event, this Incarnation.

 

And we can even see God present in own selves.

 

Everything we do as Christians proclaims the fact we believe that, in Jesus, God has come among us.

 

The fact is, most of us probably haven’t given this whole idea of God-with-us a whole lot of thought.

 

Even the early Christians struggled with this belief and defined it in various ways.

 

For us, though, as Episcopalians, we do believe in this remarkable fact.

 

And we celebrate it at every opportunity we can.

 

Certainly every Sunday we celebrate it—here at the altar.

 

Our Eucharist is a remembrance of the fact that, yes, God continues to come to us, in this bread and this wine.  

 

In Jesus, we know that God is present with us.  

 

In Jesus, God has encompassed everything we longed for and hoped in.

 

In Jesus, we know that our God is not just some vague and distant being “out there” somewhere.

 

In Jesus, we know that God is right here, with us.

 

In Jesus, we find God breaking through to us.

 

In Jesus, God has come among us and dwells among us as one of us.

 

And although many of us are still resisting it, those of us who recognize it and see it, realize that God has truly broken through to us.

 

It’s all, of course, a mystery.

 

It is beyond our understanding and our rational thought that God could do this.

 

But at the same time, for those of us who have faith in God, we can just easily ask the question: why not?

 

Why couldn’t God do just this?

 

Why couldn’t God come among us and dwell with us?

 

Why couldn’t God send us this Child, this one in which God’s Light dwells?    

 

Certainly this is the reality we face this coming Thursday night and Friday.

 

For those of us who have been preparing ourselves spiritually for this day, this is what we are forced to examine and face.

 

Our faith might not be quite at that point that we believe all of it.

 

But what our faith does tell us is that, whatever happens on that day, it is God breaking through to us in some wonderful and mysterious way.

 

And all we have to do is not be stubborn or close-minded and cold-hearted.

 

Rather, all we have to do is be open to that breaking through to us.

 

The Word was made flesh.

 

And dwelt among us.

 

Our response to that Word should be the words of Mary when this incredible mystery descended upon her.

 

Let it be with me according to your word.

 

God has broken through to us.

 

Let us meet God at that point of breakthrough rejoicing.

 

And let us come away from that breaking through to us with God’s Word being proclaimed in our own voice.

 

Let us pray.

 

+ The Angel of the Lord did announce to Mary. And she did conceive by the power the Holy Spirit. Let us behold the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be to us, O Lord, according to you Word. For the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.

Pour your grace in our hearts, O Lord, that we who have known the incarnation of your Son Jesus, which was announced by the Angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary, whom you have blessed for all generations, may by his Cross +  and Passion, be brought to the glory of his resurrection, through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.