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Most of you will know Mary as the faithful and hardworking wife of Canon John Hesketh. She was John’s wife and helpmate for more than 60 years at a time in churchland when wives were frequently the unpaid curate and/or secretary or even, in Mary’s case, the altar guild for a few years. It is difficult to believe in this day of women clergy and spouses with paid occupations outside the church that so many faithful women have spent so many years of their lives working and living in the way that Mary did.

Mary was not raised to do this kind of work. In fact, as she told me, her family were “Christmas and Easter” attendees at Grace Church on the Hill in Toronto during her formative years. Mary attended University in Toronto where she trained to be an Occupational Therapist, a job which she loved, and it was during this time that she met John on a blind date. John was currently preparing for ordination at Wycliffe College.

John, on the other hand, had grown up in a rectory and knew what to expect. Their courtship was long because the ruling then was that no prospective clergy could be married until they had been ordained and that, in order to marry at all, the Bishop had to approve the marriage. Mary must have been in love and believed in the importance of his work, because she gladly submitted to that ruling and so the young couple waited until John was ordained Deacon at the age of 24 before being married.

John was appointed Curate at the Church of the Redeemer in Toronto on Bloor St. Mary was working at Sunnybrook Hospital in her chosen field but, ever practical, she soon realized that their two schedules were not compatible if their marriage was going to last. So she forsook her work so that she could see her husband sometimes!

Only a year later, the newlyweds were off to the Yukon for a big adventure. John had been hired by the Bishop based in Whitehorse to take on the parish church in town but when they arrived the rectory was occupied by renters so they had to live elsewhere. Their temporary home had no running water, no shower or bathtub, only a copper boiler and an oil stove. For Mary, who had grown up in Toronto, this meant a huge adjustment.

Whitehorse in the early ‘50s was a far cry from the Whitehorse of today: no paved roads, very few indoor toilets and a population of only 2500 souls. The rectory was built of logs, as was the church next door, and did have a well but the water was brackish. Nonetheless, Mary soon learned how to cook on the oil stove and baked frequently for the many drop-ins who came to town. John had a bike to get around, lacking a car, but somehow they managed on a very tiny salary. They even became the temporary parents of a little indigenous baby girl whose mother came to town in desperate straits and Mary learned much about caring for a baby from the more experienced Bishop’s wife who lived nearby. When they left Whitehorse three years later they had made many lasting friends, had learned much about frontier living and had cemented their marriage through it all.

They came then to Niagara Diocese and to Ridley College where John had been hired as Chaplain. Mary was pregnant and their first two children, Barb and David, were born while he held that position. It was a very busy life since John’s role required him to work long hours but Mary coped, as always, even though this was where she became the one and only member of the altar guild. Every Saturday evening during term time, Mary found herself in the empty college kitchen cutting the crusts off of white sliced bread and then neatly scoring each piece of bread into little squares for Communion the next day!

In 1961, the Rector of St Thomas’ Church died suddenly and John was asked to take services there. The congregation decided that they should like to keep him and Bishop Bagnall appointed him Rector. This meant moving into the magnificent rectory next door to the church where they had more than enough space for their growing family which soon included baby Rich. John’s salary was elevated too and they enjoyed the extra money as well as the extra space although there were clear expectations that the rectory family at St Thomas’ should entertain. Montebello Park was just across the road and there were frequently vagrants at the door of the rectory. Mary tried to remember to keep the doors locked to keep the children safe but on one scary occasion she had

forgotten to do so and was frightened by an unwelcome visitor. The rectory was well appointed but its location next to the church meant they were constantly visited by lost souls asking for money. John kept certain jobs for such occasions and would offer the visitor a job for pay rather than a handout. Some of the time that worked!

Their next assignment was in Niagara Falls where Christ Church rectory became the family home. This was also right next door to the church. In fact, the rectory there has no privacy at all. Mary became very alarmed when she realized that the window wells of the church were being used for drug drops and she had school aged children who walked from there every morning to school.

In 1973, the family moved to Guelph. Bishop Bagnall had the novel idea of moving three clergy all at the same time in a kind of three way switch. (And you did as the Bishop told you in this regard in those days!) This time, their rectory was a few blocks from the church but it was tiny and while they were in Guelph John became very sick from cancer. Mary was desperately worried that she would become a widow and a single Mom with no home and no income if John died, since their home was tied to his work. John was sick for 2 of the 4 years that they served in Guelph but Mary remembers kind friends helping to keep her sane. Once John was on the mend, Mary decided to return to College and retrain in OT so that she would be employable should his cancer return. Their kids were 14, 12 and 9 when their Dad was so sick but they all seemed to survive the trauma and this was surely a tribute to Mary’s ability to manage the stress with her usual faith and serenity.

Given all of the turmoil and challenges of rectory living and the political challenges that occur even in the best of parishes, it is a credit to Mary and John and their faithfulness to their calling, (because it was certainly a joint call,) that their ministry blossomed, their family survived the constant upheavals and the marriage lasted lovingly and successfully for so many years. Indeed, Mary attributes her ability to survive the stresses to her faith which has sustained her during tough times.

The next move took them to Grimsby and St Andrew’s. Another large rectory next to the church awaited them. Their children went off to college one by one, and Barb was married from here. In fact, their time in Grimsby stretched to 15 years. Mary discovered quilting in Grimsby, became involved with the Niagara Heritage Quilt Guild and continues to meet with a small group of quilters to this day. In fact, sewing and quilting, music and volunteer work, especially with the Aphasia Society, have all been channels though which Mary has found healing and personal joy.

After retirement from fulltime ministry, Mary and John finally moved into their very own home in West St Catharines. It was a delightful old house with interestingly shaped windows and rooms and a lovely back garden in which John could exercise his green thumb. But the most important thing about that house was that it was theirs and didn’t belong to a parish so they could decorate it and change it in any way that they wished. John took on the role of Priest-in-Charge at Queenston where there were few challenges or stresses. This was a graced period of their lives when they actually had time to enjoy travelling and visiting with their growing family of grandchildren.

Eventually, John retired from Queenston too and they came to St George’s where they made many friends and were soon loved by the congregation. Mary happily joined the Tuesday group in the Lounge for their weekly craft time and natter. Her sewing and quilting work is beautiful and plentiful although she has limited space to show it off now that she has moved into her new apartment.

Her family is not nearby. David is in South Africa with his family. Barb and Rich both live in Calgary with theirs. Mary was thrilled to become a great grandma in 2016 when Barb’s son and daughter-in-law had a son. After so many years of shared ministry, John ‘s passing was a tremendous loss but Mary keeps in touch with her lovely family via her new iPad and emails. She Skypes and sends and receives pictures electronically and is altogether the amazingly “connected” great grandma! She delights in her visits out west to see the growing family and looks forward to their visits here.

And so we thank you, Mary, for all that you are and have been in the life of not only St George’s but in the many other places where you and John served together. We love having you in our midst.

Part II: The Stole 

The stole is the colourfully-decorated ‘scarf’ that the clergy wear on Sundays when we are leading worship. It is the vestment that signifies a person’s ordination to a specific ministry in God’s church. A deacon wears her stole crossed and tied at the side. Priests wear our stoles hanging around our neck.

The word ‘stole’ comes from the Latin word ‘stola’ or Greek word ‘stole’ and means ‘garment’ or ‘array’ or ‘equipment.’ It wasn’t until the 7th century that its use was universal through the church as the symbolic vestment of the clergy, and there are a variety of theories as to how the tradition developed – some say it is a derivative of the Jewish prayer shawl, although the prevailing theory is that it was adopted from the scarf of office among Imperial officers of the Roman empire. Regardless of its origin, it is seen as a symbol of service, of the towel Jesus wore and used to wash his disciples’ feet, of the yoke of Christ that we take on as Christians, a yoke that is gentle and generous. This prayer is printed and hangs on the inside of my office closet, a prayer that I use when vesting for worship:

O Lord, your yoke is easy and burden light. 

Grant that I may so carry this responsibility as to be worthy of your eternal grace. Amen. 

Of course, it is not just the clergy, the ordained, who take on this yoke and this service, it is all of us as Christians. But the clergy of the church are given the responsibility within the church to hold this ministry before everyone, to teach and remind and nourish the entire congregation in doing this work. In reality, then, the stole is a vestment in which we all share, a reminder for the entire Body of Christ of who we are and whose we are.

The stole in and of itself is a symbol. But the stole is also a canvas for symbols. Most of the stoles that I have, for example, are hand-made, one of a kind, pieces of art, and they are a means by which meaning can be expressed using colour, fabric, and signs of our Christian faith. In this simple vestment, with its humble message, artists throughout the centuries have spoken with beauty and creativity something of our experience of the living God.

On that note, you can watch during the season of Advent for one of my favourite stoles. It was made for me by my aunt, Linda Finn, an artist living in Elliot Lake, for my ordination. It was her idea to design an Advent stole which took the Advent wreath as the inspiration for its design. The stole is comprised of interwoven pieces of deep blue, the colour of Advent, but with each successive Sunday in Advent, one of the panels is lifted, revealing a message inscribed in gold. Throughout Advent, then, the stole mirrors our worship, becoming brighter as we progress toward Christmas. 2

My Advent stole is one of the more elaborately creative, even playful, examples of this vestment. But even in its simplest manifestation, the stole is one more way in which our worship engages our senses in leading us to more deeply know God’s truth and love.

Part I: Robes 

There is evidence that, in the ancient church, every baptized Christian wore what is called an ‘alb’ in worship. The alb is still worn: it is the plain white robe that you see on priests, deacons, servers, and lay readers, and it represents our unity in the Body of Christ and the new life we receive in our baptism. At a baptism in the ancient church, the individual would be fully immersed in water and then immediately robed in the white alb afterward. Every person then wore this plain white robe as a reminder that we are all participants in our worship of God. As the church grew over the centuries, the practice changed to the one we now know today: only those with a particular responsibility in leading worship are robed.

Except that it’s not even that simple. Readers don’t robe. At St. George’s, our Chalice Bearers (helping with the wine at Communion) and Greeters don’t robe. Gift bearers (those who bring up the wine and bread at the Offertory for preparing God’s table) don’t. Our choir and our organist wear robes, but they are not albs, they are called cassocks with surplice. Depending on the particular culture of an Anglican church, clergy might also favour wearing the cassock and surplice, rather than the alb. The cassock is seen as business dress, worn during the ordinary dealings of parish life. The surplice is worn only in leading worship. As a singer in the cathedral choir in London when I was younger, I remember our choir master being very strict about wearing our cassock whenever we rehearsed, but only wearing the surplice when we were leading worship.

Wearing a robe has long been an intuitive way of entering into a worship leadership role, and it is therefore not only the Christian religion that does so. Robes are a reminder that, although as individuals we each bring our particular gifts and personalities to our ‘jobs’, it is ultimately not about us. It is about God. And it is about God’s community together receiving God and in turn making God known. Robes also provide a very practical way of levelling the playing field in faith communities. In the ancient church, it was important that, for example, a rich man and a poor woman would be able to pray together, neither one feeling different or uncomfortable because of the dress that their economic circumstances afforded them. In the medieval church, it was helpful for the choir to robe so that people could participate in these schools of music, not based on their ability to pay their way, but based on their musical talents. Although now just worn by particular people leading worship, robes remain a symbolic way of acting out our equality before God, our radical understanding that we are one before God and we are valued in equal measure, regardless of race, gender, culture or circumstance.

Originally, only adults were baptized into the Christian faith. When the church was first getting started, it was abundantly clear that this was an underground, highly-suspect, and eventually illegal, movement: Jesus was executed as an enemy of the Roman state, after all! Because being Christian was so risky, baptism was a courageous, life-and-death decision to which only a mature adult could reasonably sign on. It was later, when Christianity became first the favoured religion of the Roman empire, and then the religion governing the politics and power which would eventually spread across the globe, that the practice of baptism began to open up to include infants or small children.

Whereas the first few centuries of Christianity saw a long process of education and formation for adults prior to taking that dangerous baptismal step (the process is called Catechism), that component was understandably lost when babies were involved. Confirmation began as a rite separate from baptism, an opportunity for those baptized because their parents brought them forward and made those promises on their behalf, to take on the promises of baptism for themselves. This is meant to be a ‘grown-up’ decision, a sacrament which involves the recognition of will and desire for individuals to mature in the faith, to ‘own’ their own faith as a chosen part of their adult life.

Practically, however, in many of our denominations, Confirmation began to settle in to becoming a Rite of Passage for young people in the 12-16 year age range. For long-time Anglicans, there is an established expectation for children to participate in Confirmation classes and to be confirmed at somewhere around Grade 7 to 10. The problem with this system is that Confirmation can become just one more part of Christianity that is merely expected and therefore runs the risk of being meaningless, ie. not a choice at all. The great thing with this system is that it does tend to be a good time for young people to receive post-Sunday-school education in the faith and to begin to see themselves as able and capable of making the choice for the life of faith, to feel empowered in the difference that decision makes for them and for their actions in the world around them.

This year, we have had a number of people in a variety of circumstances participating in our Confirmation program. Linda Telega, Sheila Burgess, Ed Swartz and Lindsey Wilton are adults who have been taking classes with Reverend Scott and learning about our Christian faith and our Anglican expression of that faith. Linda, Sheila and Ed were confirmed by our Bishop at our Easter Vigil several weeks ago. Meanwhile, Mari Shantz has been offering classes since January for our young people also seeking confirmation. Andrea, Allan, Brynn, Cameryn and Mark will be confirmed at our cathedral this afternoon at 4pm.

We are grateful for the witness of all of these people over these past months at St. George’s, reminding us all, at all ages, that our faith is a continual journey of learning. We pray that, as they have blessed us with this faithful choice and learning, so each of them will be blessed in his/her relationship with God and living out that relationship in service to our world.

These incredible and passionate youth represent parishes from across the diocese and have been here at St Georges and in St Catharines all weekend to engage in Youth Synod in Action. YSA is an annual event that happens over two sessions each spring, gathering together 50-60 youth aged 13-21 in

addition to a number of community volunteers.

This weekend delegates have gathered, worshiped, prayed, played and learned about social justice and social action initiatives and programs happening here in St Catharines through immersion experiences. From these immersion experiences the delegates will write motions that will be debated in YSA’s second session in May.

YSA is about: advocating for a world that reflects God’s mission, love, hope, hospitality, inclusion and justice; it is about enabling delegates to integrate their faith and witness in their daily lives, it is the embodiment of Micah 6:8 (NRSV)

He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? 

Now Youth Synod in Action leave YOU with some Questions of the Week!

Who in your life engaged you in actions of Social Justice?

What did that mean to you?

How can you support and affirm the passion and commitment of the YSA delegates, the youth in our congregation and each other to continue to live Micah 6:8? How can we do this together? 

You may have noticed that the Confession – the part of the service where we collectively acknowledge that we make mistakes, that we hurt others, that we carry around guilt and doubt and regret, and then we receive God’s forgiveness and assurance of healing – is absent during the Easter season. For some, this will feel like a major omission. Human beings are adept at weighing down our lives with feelings of powerlessness and inadequacy, anxiety for our shortcomings, gaping wounds of anger and hurt for how our relationships have been broken. This time in our worship to take stock, to lay down those burdens before God and to be reminded of God’s faithfulness to, and love for, us can help many to feel lighter, freer, refreshed.

However, it is the tradition of the ancient church that the Confession is omitted during the season of Easter. It is not that Christians miraculously become perfect people during the seven weeks of Easter and therefore have no need of repentance and absolution. Instead, it is perhaps more appropriate to think of Easter as a rehearsal, a practising of what a right relationship with God and one another actually looks like.

Whereas Lent is a time for honest and probing self reflection, intentionality and care in how we use our time and resources, spareness and restraint, Easter is a time for celebration, celebration of the fullness of God’s kingdom, of a reality in which each of us lives in the light and love of God and reflects that light and love in our relationships with one another. In the fullness of God’s Kingdom, we are free from the past brokenness and pain of our lives and our relationships are whole and life-giving. In the fullness of God’s Kingdom, talk of sin and forgiveness no longer have a place, because we are healed.

We are not there yet. Brokenness and fragility are part of our story. We still look forward to the time when the promises of new life and healing offered on that first Easter morning will be fully realized. And some of us might continue to bring heavy hearts to worship through Easter. Individuals are encouraged to offer before God in prayer any confessions, any needs, any worries, regardless of whether it is Easter or not. However, our collective prayer changes at Easter in order that we might, as a community, tell this part of our story: Christ is risen! And we have glimpsed the Kingdom of God, where every tear is wiped away, where all hearts are mended, where we join with all of creation in receiving and sharing the good gifts God gives us.

Pay attention to how our worship ends today. Or, it would be more accurate to say, pay attention to how it doesn’t end. There are no final prayers. The concluding blessing is not given. We do not exchange the peace. For those of you who are very observant, you will know right away what is missing. For others who are maybe not as familiar with the flow of our regular worship, you might feel that something is different but not be able to identify what that difference is.

This is important. In fact, today’s worship doesn’t end until next weekend. Palm Sunday marks the beginning of Holy Week, the Christian journey with Jesus in the last week of his life – to the cross and to Resurrection. Rather than understanding Holy Week as a series of services or liturgies to mark Jesus’ final days, we actually understand the upcoming worship events as part of ONE service. Logistically it would be impossible for all of us to stay in this building for the week worshipping, but during Holy Week, our regular lives become essentially suspended as the unfolding worship becomes our central and connecting act as we journey to the final meal on Thursday, the cross on Friday, the mysterious transition of Holy Saturday, and to the astounding Easter proclamation made on the first day of the week.

Don’t miss out on the story. Don’t opt for only a select portion of these events that so clearly and concisely reveal the nature of Jesus’ life and the Good News he offers. This year, we are connecting the story through a preaching series which will delve into the actions and perspective of a parent: Mary of Nazareth, Mother of Jesus.

Palm Sunday was the original cliff-hanger. Each of the unfolding services – Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday and Good Friday – leave us in suspense. Not until the darkness is banished by the light of Christ on Easter Saturday, that bridge between death and resurrection, our first Easter proclamation: ‘He is risen!’ , do we then bring the worship we have begun today to its conclusion. Today we are not sent out to be Christ’s light and life in the world. We are asked to stay. To stay in this space. To inhabit the story.

Don’t miss out.

The joy and mystery of Easter cannot be truly appreciated without journeying with Jesus through his last days, his arrest, his trial, his crucifixion. In Matthew, Mark and Luke’s accounts of Jesus’ life, this final week is given careful attention, with much emphasis on the exact sequence of events leading up to Jesus’ execution on the Friday and the stunning revelations that began to emerge on the Sunday. This year, our preaching through Holy Week will help us to enter into the story of one person whose life was thoroughly tied to the life of Jesus. Join us throughout Holy Week as we look at these events through the eyes of a mother:

Mary of Nazareth, the Mother of Jesus. 

Palm Sunday – March 20th – 8:00 and 10:00am – Jesus enters the city of Jerusalem with great fanfare and celebration. The masses recognize Jesus as the long-awaited Saviour, they wave palm branches and call him King. We re-enact this story with our own palm branches, processions, and songs. Mary has long been aware that God has anointed Jesus with a special plan and purpose. Now she watches his fame escalate, even as the powers of darkness conspire against him.

Daily Worship, Monday March 21st – Wednesday March 23rd, 12:10pm + 

Advent Café on March 23rd at 7pm: We follow Jesus through the drama of his final days, the controversial teachings he gives in the public sphere, the behind-the-scenes decisions that those closest to him are making, a chain reaction of events set in motion as the power of God is challenged by the power of the status quo.

Maundy Thursday – March 24th – 12:10pm & 7:00pm This is Jesus’ last night with his disciples before his arrest and death. In the face of the violence and hatred closing in on him, Jesus chooses to share a meal with his disciples, to wash their feet in an act of friendship, care, and service for them, and to speak to his followers about God’s great calling to us that we learn how to love one another.

Our service ends with the arrest of Jesus. We strip our church of all adornment, we extinguish the lights, we are invited to remain in the dark for time of prayer and meditation. We are asked to leave in silence.

Good Friday –March 25th –Good Friday Walk @ 9:45am (gathering at Royal House, 95 Church Street) & Worship @ St. George’s, noon. Through music and word, story-telling, prayer and silence, we gather at the cross, we tell the story of Jesus’ death, of his execution at the hands of the religious and political leaders, and the faithfulness of those in his inner circle, including Mary, accompanying Jesus even as he hangs on the cross. We connect his story of suffering and darkness to the places in our lives where we are most broken, most in need of God’s compassion and healing.

Easter Vigil –March 26th –7:00pm –With special guest Bishop Michael we gather on this evening and do what people of faith have been doing for thousands of years: we light lights in the darkness. We begin with the lighting the new fire. We worship by candlelight, entering the dark church where we last left one another following the story of Jesus’ death. We tell some of our stories –the stories of God’s ongoing faithfulness to, and love for, us. We sing the hymn of new light, and tell the best story of all, the story of the empty tomb, of the risen Christ. We celebrate the news with song, with a three confirmations, and a sharing of God’s meal of bread and wine. In Mary’s story, we bring our most profound experiences of heartbreak to bear on the promise of God’s love and life.

This service is offers that most life-giving transition between the darkness of Good Friday and the hope of Easter morning. *We celebrate afterward with a Resurrection Party!

Easter Morning –March 27th –8:00am and 10:00am –

All the bells and whistles, decorations, fanfare, special and joyous music you would expect on Easter morning… Plus some fun surprises!

Mary of Nazareth is a powerful, and at times controversial, figure in our Christian tradition. Her image is a source of prayer and strength, a connection with God, and yet that image shifts and changes to take on the cultural characteristics of those who look to her. Across the globe, men and women pray for her intercession, asking that they pray with them as they seek God’s healing and guidance, and countless have reported mystical experiences as result – both of that prayer working, as well as actual visions of Mary speaking to people, sometimes groups of people (particularly children). She is named Theotokos, Bearer of God – most exalted among women. She draws millions of people to shrines like Fatima and Lourdes each year, sustaining religious tourism worth billions of dollars. She has inspired the creation of many great works of art and architecture (Michelangelo’s “pieta,” Notre Dame cathedral). Yet, the Protestant arm of Christianity has pushed back against some of these titles and prayers, feeling that they border on idolatry, raising Mary above her human status to suggest more god-like qualities. Interestingly, while she has been a point of division between Catholic and Protestant belief, she is a unifying force between the Christian and Muslim religions. Muslims, too, consider her to be holy above all women, and her name “Maryam” appears more often in the Koran than “Mary” does in the Bible!

For all of this closeness and controversy, however, Mary speaks only four times in the Bible, and there are few certainties we know of her life. Scholars guess that she would have been between the ages of 12 and 14 when betrothed to Joseph, the carpenter and became pregnant with Jesus. Joseph, like Mary, was thankfully in tune with angels, and because of an angelic message, stayed with Mary and raised the baby who was born as his own. There are legends which suggest that Joseph and Mary and Jesus travelled through Jesus’ childhood, even as far as England. By the time the adult Jesus comes on the scene, however, Joseph seems to have long since died. Mary at times is shown struggling with understanding the controversial ministry of Jesus, even attempting to quiet him down and bring him back home. However, like the other disciples who had their times of misunderstanding and mistrusting Jesus, her faithfulness wins out. John’s Gospel tells us that Mary stayed by her son up until his death on the cross. From the cross, Jesus entrusts his mother into the care of his “beloved disciple” (who we assume is John), and legend again tells us that, in fact, they lived together on the island of Patmos furthering the Gospel up until their deaths. The Catholic church, in fact, believes that Mary, because of her faithfulness, was spared human death, and at the end of her life was carried directly to God in heaven. Other Scriptural sources affirm that Mary was an integral part of the early Jesus movement, and therefore one of the apostles of the early church.

Questions, traditions and legends aside, there are some core characteristics which have made Mary so beloved and which have provided consistent strength to the faithful. It is to these core characteristics that we will look as we journey through Holy Week this year at St. George’s – Palm Sunday (March 20th) to Easter Sunday (March 27th), and that most holy journey with Jesus through the final week of his life, to the cross, and to Resurrection. We know that Mary was strong and faithful. She made mistakes. She suffered deeply. She loved greatly. Her story

allows us many points of entry, her vulnerability and humanity allow us to relate to her, to feel a sense of resonance with her experience and with her faithful choices out of the challenges she faces and the mistakes she sometimes makes. We believe, in fact we experience, that in allowing Jesus’ story to come close to our human story, we become more able to participate in his ministry, his courage in the face of the cross, his rising to new life.

Valentine’s Day has become popular and lucrative because it is a celebration of romantic love, a time in which men and women can prove how much they value their significant other, often by investing in roses and dinners and greeting cards, all of which have been jacked up in price in order to capitalize on the pressure of the holiday. For this reason, Valentine’s has also been somewhat maligned, not only by those who don’t have a ‘sweetheart’ when the 14th rolls around, but also by those in committed relationships who are revolting against an event seen as far too commercialized and robbed of meaning for the sake of sentimentality.

Interestingly, Valentine’s has its roots in the early witness of Christianity, with absolutely no reference to romantic love. Named not just for one saint, but possibly as many as three, each St. Valentine was a martyr – choosing death rather than renouncing their proclamation that Jesus is Lord. It was not until the high Middle Ages, and the obsession with courtly love, that somehow Valentine’s and romance became linked. The stories of Valentine, (we actually know very little about any of the St. Valentines) were embellished and glossed with St. Valentine becoming re-cast as a romance-ally – a priest who secretly performed marriages of Roman soldiers who had been forced to be celibate by the emperor’s belief that sexually-frustrated men were better in battle.

Jesus tells his friends on the night before his death, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love on another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13:35). Because Valentine’s Day actually falls on a Sunday this year, we have an opportunity as a community to celebrate this special date in a way that is closer to its original Christian premise – a marking of how we, as followers of Jesus, can bear witness to, and participate in, the compassionate, other-centred love at the heart of this Gospel command.

Today, we have the opportunity to gather together in worship and prayer and thanksgiving.

Today, we celebrate the blessing of baby Ryu, welcomed into the family of Reverend Scott and therefore into our St. George’s family as well. We have planned a special “baby party” for Ryu after the 10am service.

And today, we support our Refugee Sponsorship Project through a Skating Party fundraiser at Ridley College at 1:30pm.

These are a few of the opportunities on order in our St. George’s celebration of Valentine’s Day 2016. I pray that each of you will make a point today of finding creative and generous ways of sharing God’s love – not just with the friends and family closest to your heart, but with the people we don’t yet know, to whom we do yet feel connected, and yet who in the mystery of God’s love are our brothers and sisters!