125 Years: A Love Letter [Easter 4B]

The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Easter 4B

4-26-2015

125 Years: A Love Letter

The year was 1890.  And the Christians of Trinity Episcopal Church, in Toledo, Ohio, recognized a need in their city.  On the outskirts of town, over by the wagon wheel factory and the train tracks, was a neighborhood made up of immigrants and the working poor.  It was a place in need of some Good News. And so plans were set in motion: to establish a mission, to call together a worshiping community, to share the love of Jesus.

On the afternoon of April 27, 1890, the fourth Sunday of the Easter season, the Rector of Trinity, their choirmaster and choir, and members of the congregation, carried their Prayer Books and hymnals all the way to the edge of the city to lead the very first Episcopal liturgy in the area then known as Auburndale.  God called and they responded.  They took a chance.  They planted a seed.  They called that seed St. Andrew's.

And, as you know, that chance paid off; that seed took root.  Not immediately: it was slow growing at first – it needed time to take root.  St. Andrew's was not planted in rich soil; there was never much money.  It took that little mission forty-seven years, almost half a century, to grow into a self-sustaining parish.  It seems St. Andrew's has always been a scrappy bunch.  The parish persevered by the grace of God and the dedication of our members.  Folks have always put a lot of heart into this venture.  That dedication was sustained by a stubborn belief that God has called us together for a purpose.

As the city and the world around us have changed, so have the methods of the mission.  We've changed neighborhoods and neighborhoods have changed around us.  Rectors have come and gone – though not many relative to the number of years we've been around.  Wardens and vestries have guided the parish through times of boom and times of bust.  We've built buildings and we have mourned buildings.  But through all of the many changes and chances of life, the heart of our mission has always been the same: to faithfully love God the best we can.  And we've done that by doing two things very well: worship and love.  That was our purpose 125 years ago; it is our purpose still today.

Beautiful, formal worship has long been a defining feature of our parish.  For many years we were identified as an Anglo-Catholic parish – a rarity in this diocese.  Now that is a slippery term; the exact definition is tough to pin down.  And I found out quickly that we did not take that label too literally when I asked the vestry about acquiring a free confessional booth.  You can perhaps guess their answer.  But it is not hard to still see the Anglo-Catholic influence here.  We light votive candles; we ring Sanctus Bells; we chant; we dip our fingers in holy water fonts; we are not shy about using smoke.  I even occasionally wear a cope (that is, a liturgical cape) or a biretta (that funny black hat I wear in the Palm Sunday procession).  When Bishops come to town we make them wear their mitres.

Rather than chase trends, we have stayed true to our “high-church” style of worship because it is who we are, it is what we do best – it is our best offering.  Our worship is an authentic expression of our community, and of our hearts.  When we offer our prayers, we are offering ourselves – stumbling through our best attempt at heavenly worship, adding our thin voices to the chorus of angels and archangels and all the company of Heaven.  We do our best to present something beautiful, and thoughtful, and dignified; and we hope that our prayers rise like a pleasing incense before our God.  Because when you love someone, you want to give them beautiful gifts; you want to make them happy.

Because we take the liturgy seriously we also take seriously that what God offers us here, we are to share with others – food and drink and pardon and blessing and peace.  We are formed here, we are transformed here, to love others with the love of Jesus.

When I was in the search process, I was interviewing with parishes all over the country.  And one day, Bishop Hollingsworth asked if he could put my name in at St. Andrew's in Toledo.  Now I knew very little about Toledo; I knew even less about St. Andrew's.  But I trust the Bishop and gave my ascent. 

The early stages of the process went very well.  Instantly I was struck by how genuine, honest, and caring the members of the search committee were.  After my phone interview I told my wife, “St. Andrew's might actually be a real possibility.” 

But for a variety of reasons, mostly vocational, she wasn't yet sold on the idea of Toledo.  As we embarked on our first visit, a three-hour drive from Youngstown on our day off, she informed me that she was not interested.  But the members of the search committee were expecting us and so we continued our long drive across the state.  During our visit, we were showed such care and such love and such genuine Christian welcome that on the way home our conversation was about what life might be like for us in Toledo, Ohio. 

The people of St. Andrew's really care; we do caring well.  That is our gift to the neighborhood, to the city, to the world.  People need to know that they are loved – by Jesus and by his followers.  That is why this church was started and it is why people continue to join us on our journey: genuine expressions of the love of Christ are attractive.  The world is looking for that love.  In a world in which Christians are too often seen as judgmental or angry or disinterested, love stands out.  And while we are not perfect, and our love is not perfect, in my experience we have a lot of love to give – a love that embraces our sisters and brothers, our families and friends, strangers and even those who treat us poorly.  I've seen it; and I've experienced it. 

A lot has changed in 125 years: we no longer meet by the burgeoning wagon wheel factory; our liturgical language and forms have changed; members have come and gone; we have seen birth and we have seen death; this parish has watched as the city and the world has changed around us.  But some things never change: for example, we never seem to have enough money.  But more than that. The stubborn belief that God has called us together for a purpose remains; that belief survived a slow start, survived a fire and relocation, survived the unexpected deaths of two rectors, survived the lean years of the 1990's, survived world wars and recessions; it survives still today. 

St. Andrew's was planted as an outpost from which to share the Good News of Jesus' love in the context of a neighborhood.  That original mission is in our DNA.  Like our patron St. Andrew, through our worship and service and fellowship, we are still making Jesus known.  The heart of the mission has always been the same: to faithfully love God the best we can – to love God through our best offering of worship and to love God by loving those who bear God's image.

We have inherited a rich history, a powerful legacy.  God has been transforming hearts and lives through this parish since 1890.  And so today we celebrate 125 years as a Christian community.  Today we remember the generations of men and women who gathered to worship God and share the love of Jesus. But today we celebrate not just the past.  We also celebrate that God is not done with us; God continues to call us; God continues to give us purpose.  St. Andrew's journey has not always been easy.  But in even the most challenging of times our scrappy St. Andrew's forebears never lost faith.  They carried on.  And now it is our turn.