It’s notable that a feast so centered on the church’s life
began with the consecration of one particular church building, Saint Mary and
the Martyrs in Rome, consecrated for Christian worship in 609. You probably know this particular church much
better by its pagan name, the Pantheon. If you have been to Rome, you may have been
inside it to catch a glimpse of its glorious dome, which has served as a model
for many more buildings of its kind, including the Jefferson Memorial in our
own backyard.
When the Pantheon was completed by the Roman emperor Hadrian
in the second century, its dome was twice as big as any that had ever been
built before, still the largest masonry dome ever constructed. It was a monument to the Roman genius for
engineering, intended to rival the great pyramids. The wide expanse echoed the vault of the
heavens, appropriate for its dedication to all
the gods of Rome.
There were quite a few of them that needed to be remembered,
as Saint Augustine recalled in one of the more lighthearted passages in The City of God. As part of a lengthy catalog starting at the
very beginning of life, he noted that the pagans of his time “commend the
children to the goddess Ops when they were being born; to the god Vaticanus in
their birth-cry; to the goddess Cunina when lying cradled; to the goddess
Rimina when nursing; to the god Statilinus when standing; to the goddess Adeona
when coming; to Abeona when going away; to the goddess Mens that they might
have a good mind,” and so on (IV.21).
Lots of gods to invoke meant lots of gods to anger if they
were forgotten. For all its splendor, the
Pantheon also witnesses to the dark fear of retribution at the heart of
paganisms old and new. The sacrifices
offered there were intended to appease the gods whomever they might be, to ward
off their vengeful power. The wide dome served as a kind of umbrella policy for
the ancient city, which could never run afoul of any divinity no matter how
obscure. Like the “altar to an unknown
god” that Saint Paul discovered in Athens (Acts 17:23), the Pantheon evokes a
world in which gods are greedy for offerings, jealous of privileges, ready to
turn on humans at the slightest provocation.
When Pope Boniface IV consecrated the temple as Christian
church, he was dedicating it to the worship of the one true God, who rules over
the expanse of time and space. The pope
ordered the pagan statues removed. He
put in their place 28 cartfuls of the remains of Christians from the catacombs,
victims of imperial persecution . The
building’s dome would still evoke the many on earth; not many gods, but Mary
and the many martyrs, whose lives of holiness display the power of God’s grace.
The true God is not greedy or vengeful, but abundant in mercy,
filling people of every race and condition with strength to bear witness to His
glory. In place of fear, there is bountiful joy of the resurrection, victorious
over death.
The feast, originally celebrated once a year in this one
church, gradually spread out from Rome. It was shifted from May to November,
and came to celebrate not just Mary and the martyrs, but saints of all kinds,
whose diversity of gifts and vocations continue to inspire and strengthen
us. The feast celebrates kings and
monks, theologians and servants of the poor, artists and teachers, missionaries
and scientists, as well as millions unknown to history, whose lives of simple
holiness bear witness to the Holy Spirit’s power to make all things new.
We do not ward off the saints by our sacrifices. Instead, we welcome their guidance and
rejoice in their prayers, in “one communion and fellowship” established by our
Lord’s resurrection. They were like us,
and yet God used them to do marvelous things, so that we might follow after
them. “For the saints of God are just
folk like me, and I aim to be one, too.”
In the days and months to come, I look forward to getting to
know you, the people of Saint Francis Church, those “called to be saints.” (Rom
1:7). I want to hear your stories, to
learn how God has called you into this congregation, to share your lives with
one another, and to serve Him together. I
will also begin to share my story with you.
Together, I hope we will talk about opportunities present around us now
and dreams for the future.
You’ll be able to meet me and my family at both services on
Sunday, and during the reception after the 9:15 service that bids farewell to
Father Jess and welcomes me into my new role, I will speak very briefly about
my life and vocation. The next Sunday,
November 13, during the Adult Education time, Pastor Allison and I will both talk
about some of the spiritual influences and experiences that have formed us, and
there will be an open time for you ask us questions.
I’ve met many of you already: those on the search committee
and vestry who discerned this call from God; those who have helped to renovate
the rectory into such a beautiful new home for me and my family; those who have
brought us meals and sent notes of welcome.
But there are hundreds more of you to meet, many more stories to
learn. It’s an exciting prospect for me
and I hope for you as well.
I hope to meet with each of you in the coming months. My goal is to talk face-to-face with each
parish member over the next year, preferably in your home or workplace, a place
that is significant to you. The
transition committee is also coordinating several get-acquainted social
gatherings each month for the next few months.
I will also set aside several slots each week for home or workplace
visits. Our family also plans to host a
number of events at the rectory, both as a way of getting to know you, and as a
way of continuing to deepen relationships in coming months and years.
We live together in just one small part of that great expanse
symbolized by the Pantheon’s dome. But
even here, I’m sure there is a diversity of gifts, holiness revealed in many
ways. May our Lord, the “King of saints”
(Rev. 15:3), bind us together in His grace as we begin this new life together
in this wonderful parish.
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