Dear beloved, wonderful, beautiful people of Redeemer,
In his first letter to the Thessalonians Paul writes, “How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy that we feel before our God because of you?” (1 Thess 3:9)
Paul is writing to a community that, in spite of Roman persecution, is flourishing. He and Silas, his co-worker, had visited Thessalonica and connected with the people there, teaching and preaching about Jesus. Even after Paul and Silas had to flee the city, the Christian community grew. And so Paul writes to them, celebrating and encouraging them.
Millenia later, and thankfully not under Roman persecution, these words resonate with me as I prepare to leave Redeemer in a month. Truly, how can I thank God enough for you in return for all the joy that I feel before our God because of you?
How can I thank God enough for conversations in the narthex before church, or prayers with acolytes before we get in position?
How can I thank God enough for all the hours spent at RYG, falling over laughing as we play games, or cheering performers on during play rehearsal?
How can I thank God enough for evenings of youth Bible study, with their insightful reflections on scripture and indignant reactions to textual injustice?
How can I thank God enough for every student at the Day School, each teacher and staff member, all the wonderings about God and shouted verses of “This Little Light of Mine”?
How can I thank God enough for years of confirmation classes, powerful and wonder-filled pilgrimages; extended conversations with volunteers, standing at our cars after everyone’s gone home; staff meetings with colleagues who are true friends; pancake suppers, bake sales, walks around the neighborhood, cups of coffee, Easter Vigils –
Paul’s words just keep ringing through my head. How can I thank God enough for you in return for all the joy that I feel before our God because of you? I don’t know that I can.
It feels totally an act of God’s grace and the Spirit’s movement (and a parishioner’s well timed email of a job description to my dean) that I found myself at Redeemer four years ago. Baltimore was known to us, but not a place we had thought to move. And then we visited, and made the leap, and here we are, four years later, excited for our new adventure and sad to leave.
I am deeply grateful to have been formed as a priest at Redeemer. As I reflect on this period, and what I hope to carry with me into the future, one part of my formation here stands out: You taught me how to be a priest whether I’m standing at my kitchen counter or at the altar in our sanctuary or out in the world.
Because I was ordained a priest during the winter of 2021, we were not meeting in person for church, still gathering on Zoom each Sunday morning. The first time I celebrated the Eucharist, I was by myself, at my kitchen counter, while Zach sat in our living room. The Body of Christ that existed beyond our household was far away, separated by walls, anxiety, and uncertainty. We gathered online, and we broke bread together, and that was so very important. But it was hard, too, personally and spiritually. I had been ordained a priest, but I didn’t really feel like a priest – I was missing the most important part of what this office means to me. I was missing all of you.
As we slowly came together, we had to figure out how to build and nurture relationships at a distance. Then, emerging from pandemic lockdowns, we had to learn what we wanted church to be like moving forwards in our changed world. And we did. We did it. Together. That experience of early ministry will go on to mark everything else that I do – and I am so glad it will, because in spite of not feeling like a priest in those early months, feeling physically separate and unable to minister in the way I’d been trained to, the way I’d expected to, you taught me how to be one anyway.
You taught me through Zoom calls, recorded prayers on Facebook, a socially distant RYG prom, and your commitment to one another. Later, you taught me through shared grief and heartbreak and joy and laughter – through camps and pilgrimages and so many small, ordinary moments in between. Each of those thanksgivings above, and so many more, were each lessons on how to be a priest – not just in church on a Sunday, but wherever I find myself. Getting to be your priest has been an inexpressibly great privilege and honor. I cannot thank God enough for all of it, and for all of you. You are each such a gift, such a blessing, such an incarnation of divine love.
How can I thank God enough for you in return for all the joy that I feel before our God because of you? I will do my best to try.
Love,
Rebecca+