The Ministry of All the Angels

Dear Friends,

I am excited to celebrate the Feast of St. Michael & ALL Angels with you this coming Sunday!

While the Archangel Michael gets top billing in our parish name and celebrations (and, with Gabriel, in church art and literature, too), I have been thinking lately about ALL those other angels without names and faces in our stories. We are celebrating them and their ministry, too!

During this month we have been joining in the ecumenical celebration of the Season of Creation, to renew our own relationship with God and the created world through prayer, advocacy, and action. Angels are integral to that relationship, active in bringing God’s good to us and the whole earth.

In Christian theology, angels are described as part and participant of creation. The origin myth of Genesis tells that God created both the heavens and earth. “Christian tradition understands these heavenly beings as attending to creation — messengers and intermediaries between God and the world we see and know. Early theologians explored the role of angels in creation as a way of understanding more about the nature of God’s own self. “For the angels were created by God who is above all creation, and they are not eternal, but came into being by the will of the Word” (St. Athanasius, 4th c).

The Psalms and Prophets attempt to describe the ministry of angels to God (103:20, Isaiah 6:2-3) and to the world/us (Psalm 34:7; 91:11-12).
Now, I will admit that for my own mind, conditioned by education in the modern western world, the notion of angelic beings and heavenly battles is a bit beyond my willing imagination. But it does inspire a measure of wonder and hope.

Perhaps our own occasion of extolling the ministry of Michael and all the angels is a way of drawing us toward hope that God’s good is at work even we cannot readily perceive it. We might be challenged by the notion that angels are ministering to God and to us, even now, engaging in action on our behalf. I even wonder if the idea of angels and their ministry could call us beyond passive ponderings into faithful participation, with trust that we are not alone in contending for God’s good in all of creation.

With you,

Scott+
The Rev. R. Scott Painter, Rector

The Call of the Red Doors | las puertas rojas nos llaman

Dear Friends,

You may have noticed on Sunday that St. Michael’s iconic red doors are now redder, cleaner, and brighter. Last week, the doors were repainted after 6 years of direct weather and sunlight had worn down the prior finish. They really look great!

In a conversation on Sunday, someone asked if red doors are an “Episcopal Church thing.” While many Episcopal churches have red doors, it is not a tradition that is exclusively Episcopalian.

Red church doors have long been associated with ideas of haven and sanctuary. In the Middle Ages, churches themselves could serve as places of refuge from danger or violence. Once safely within the sanctuary of a church, a person could, under certain circumstances, claim protection from forcible removal.
The color red also has biblical connections to safety and salvation. Remembering the story of ancient Israel in captivity in Egypt, the people marked their doorposts and lintels with the blood of a lamb, signaling that the angel of death should pass over those homes and protecting the children of God’s people—hence the name Passover for that holiest of festivals, celebrated to this day by Jewish people.

This past Monday was the feast day of the Holy Cross. The blood of Jesus, poured out in solidarity with the suffering and death known in this world, made the way for God’s salvation in Christ, leading to new and everlasting life.

The red doors at St. Michael’s are so resonant with our identity as God’s people and our calling to be church in this place. Ever striving, with God’s help, we seek to make safe space to be and brave space to grow. We embrace one another to be present just as we are, to step out in faithful service, to try new things (and sometimes fail) in community. St. Michael’s is a place where those who are vulnerable or in danger in the world can find safety and support. We are a people who welcome others who come with ever expanding expressions of identity and self.

I know so many of you love our red doors, and will delight to find them bolder and brighter. Let us also delight in who they call us to become, a community ever moving into God’s future with welcome, embrace, and love shared with all.The C
With you,
Scott+
The Rev. R. Scott Painter, Rector

Las puertas rojas

Queridos amigos:

Es posible que el domingo notaran que las emblemáticas puertas rojas de St. Michael’s lucen ahora más rojas, limpias y brillantes. La semana pasada fueron repintadas, ya que seis años de exposición directa a la intemperie y a la luz solar habían desgastado el acabado anterior. ¡Realmente se ven magníficas!

En una conversación el domingo, alguien preguntó si las puertas rojas son algo propio de la Iglesia Episcopal. Si bien muchas iglesias episcopales tienen puertas rojas, no es una tradición exclusivamente episcopal.

Las puertas rojas de las iglesias se han asociado durante mucho tiempo con la idea de refugio y santuario. En la Edad Media, los propios edificios de las iglesias podían servir como lugares de refugio frente al peligro o la violencia. Una vez a salvo dentro del santuario de una iglesia, una persona podía, bajo ciertas circunstancias, reclamar protección contra una expulsión forzosa.

El color rojo también tiene vínculos bíblicos con la seguridad y la salvación. Al recordar la historia del antiguo Israel cautivo en Egipto, vemos cómo el pueblo marcaba los postes y dinteles de sus puertas con la sangre de un cordero, señalando que el ángel de la muerte debía pasar de largo por esas casas y protegiendo así a los hijos del pueblo de Dios; de ahí proviene el nombre de Pascua (o Pésaj) para esa festividad sagrada que el pueblo judío celebra hasta el día de hoy.

El lunes pasado celebramos la fiesta de la Santa Cruz. La sangre de Jesús, derramada en solidaridad con el sufrimiento y la muerte que existen en este mundo, abrió el camino para la salvación de Dios en Cristo, conduciéndonos a una vida nueva y eterna.

Las puertas rojas del templo de San Miguel reflejan profundamente nuestra identidad como pueblo de Dios y nuestra vocación de ser iglesia en este lugar. Con la ayuda de Dios, nos esforzamos continuamente por crear un espacio seguro donde ser nosotros mismos y un espacio valiente donde crecer. Nos acogemos mutuamente para estar presentes tal como somos, para salir a servir con fidelidad y para probar cosas nuevas (y a veces fracasar) en comunidad. San Miguel es un lugar donde quienes se sienten vulnerables o en peligro en el mundo pueden encontrar seguridad y apoyo. Somos un pueblo que da la bienvenida a quienes llegan con expresiones de identidad y de sí mismos cada vez más diversas.

Sé que a muchos de ustedes les encantan nuestras puertas rojas y que disfrutarán verlas ahora más intensas y luminosas. Alegrémonos también de aquello a lo que nos llaman a llegar a ser: una comunidad que avanza siempre hacia el futuro de Dios, ofreciendo acogida, abrazo y amor a todos.

Atentamente,
Scott+
El Rvdo. R. Scott Painter, Rector