Shine a Light
Redefining Repentance, Being Beloved Community
This sermon is meant to be my rector’s report to the Annual Meeting of the parish. And yesterday, after seeing the news from Minneapolis, I had to re-write this sermon. Originally, I had focused on the call of the disciples, and I will say a word about our call. But for me, the line from Isaiah which is repeated in Matthew’s Gospel had to become the center. “The people who sit in darkness have seen a great light.” We need that great light. So I will come around to speaking about our parish, but first, but first there’s a word we need to talk about in today’s Gospel. That word is “repent.” It is the first word Jesus proclaims in his public ministry.
Repent?
The word repent, has come to be associated with asking forgiveness for our sins. It has layered within it this very personal idea of sinfulness, needing to turn away. “Repent” has come to mean in English “show contrition” or “be sorry.”
But that is not what Jesus is saying here at all. We have made religion too much about judgement, about being righteous, about being right. I can understand why some of you see that word “Repent” and think, “right, I’m done.” I wouldn’t blame you for walking out.
But if you’re willing, I’d like to open up what I think Jesus is actually saying here. It’s not about sinfulness. It’s not about worthiness. It’s not.
The Biblical Scholar Matthew Skinner has said a more faithful translation of the Greek Word “metanoia” in this context might be, “be amazed” or even “Change your mindset.” What we proclaim is a different way of looking at the world, a different way of standing with the world, a different way of engaging. Repent is not about telling people they’re unworthy. Quite the opposite. It is about waking up to the possibilities about to be proclaimed.
I will circle back to repentance, but I wanted to unload that word for a moment. Because today’s story is about the moment that Jesus begins his work, and begins calling followers to his movement. And in 2026, I am wondering what it means to be a follower of Jesus.
The Context of Jesus’ Message
I remain a Christian. Despite all the mess of that word, despite the hate, the violence, the ugliness that has happened in the name of Christianity. I remain a Christian because of Jesus’ message.
One of my favorite professors of Biblical Studies once said, “One thing you need to notice about Jesus, is that he didn’t preach Jesus.” That’s especially true in Matthew’s Gospel. Jesus has a message, and it isn’t about him.
Remember, Jesus lived at time when Rome’s empire was asserting itself. Roman soldiers patrolled the streets. People were hungry because Roman officials and their appointed local rulers like the Herods were taxing people to the point of starvation. The government was worried about rebellion, so any sign of protest was met with violence. Secret police disappeared people off the streets.
In the midst of that reign of terror, Jesus proclaimed a different kind of reign. When folks were forced to pledge allegiance to a Caesar who called himself God, Jesus said, “that’s not the reign you should pay attention to.” Attend to the Kingdom of God, to the justice of God breaking into this world, despite all the soldier attempts to quash it. And Jesus didn’t just proclaim the kingdom with words. As Matthew tells us in this fourth chapter, he healed the sick. He fed the hungry. He lavished attention on the people who had been left out. Jesus’ proclamation was practiced as much as it was preached.
I call myself a Christian, and I talk about Jesus more than some folks in these pews might find comfortable, because where I have seen the light shining the brightest is in the words, in the deeds, in the counter-intuitive message of Jesus. In a world of violence, Jesus proclaims healing. In a world of selfish anger, Jesus embodies self-offering love.
The stakes for Jesus’s followers could not be higher.
Yesterday, like many of you, I saw the footage of Alex Jeffrey Pretti, another American killed by Immigrations and Customs Enforcement officers in the streets of Minneapolis. Cabinet level officials have already blamed the victim of the shooting, an ICU nurse at VA Hospital, with no criminal record, who seemed to be trying to help a woman who had been tear-gassed. Now he is dead. He shouldn’t be dead.
What do we do? How do we respond?
We change hearts and minds. We start with our own.
Just two weeks ago, I offered the words of Dr. King to the congregation while struggling with my own emotions after Renee Good’s death. One of my theological heroes recently offered another word from Dr. King. On Monday, standing in the pulpit of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City, a pulpit from which Dr. King preached, The Rev. Canon Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas spoke about despair. She said our times, like Dr. King’s times, like Jesus’ times, are despairing times.
But, she said, we cannot afford to despair. “Despair is the soil in which oppressive and authoritarian regimes take root and thrive. Despair, you see, paralyzes, it convinces us that nothing will ever change. And before you know it, we begin to compromise, to comply, and to concede. We settle for silence.” Do not settle for silence. Do not settle for despair. She spoke about Dr King’s insistence on the fierce urgency of now. Now is the time for justice. Now is the time for America to be the America promised to us. Now.
Who we are in this moment:
Our now is too urgent. We cannot afford despair. Because, St. Michael’s, I believe the world has more need of us now than ever. We stand as a beacon, as a light shining in the darkness. Our work is to be a community that is an antidote to despair.
And in the last year, you have been an antidote to despair. I have walked with you as you have marched for the rights of immigrants, have marched against tyranny. We have rallied. We have danced in the LGBTQ+ Pride parade. We have made public proclamations.
You can see from the chart in the back of your bulletin, excerpted from the parish register report, that message has been finding a hearing. Our Average Sunday attendance is now higher than it was before COVID. We have also found millions of views, and shares, and likes, and comments on social media. People are hungry for the perspective on Christianity we live in this place, and they are sharing our words out wide.
But we do more than proclaim this message with our lips.
This year we again supported immigrants released from Detention at the Landing, one by one, as they found their way back to their families. We continued to look for ways to support our immigrant neighbors directly, and to witness to our common humanity amidst a system is designed to dehumanize. We offered free space for asylum clinics and “know your rights” seminars with the New Mexico Immigrant Law Center.
We grew our children’s ministries with the hire of Angel Nalubega, and are planning the re-launch of Youth Group at St. Michael’s. The Rev. Simone Drinkwater has helped to vastly expand the offerings for formation, with classes, Bible studies, and small groups meeting regularly. We educated and cared for over 40 preschoolers, and have waitlists for our classrooms.
We hosted the Gay Men’s Chorus, Primae Voces, Musica Antigua and other musical groups. Our own music program, under the able leadership of Steve Barton and the accompaniment of Bill Williams, expanded. We made and celebrated art together, with gallery shows and workshops. When you are working to counter despair, do not underestimate the power of art. Do not underestimate the power of singing together.
I have watched you stand against despair in quieter private ways as well. The Rev. Lee Lowery, Simone, and I have all been there when parishioners showed up at the hospital room of someone who is sick. We re-invigorated our Lay Eucharistic Visitors, bringing the sacrament to the homebound. I have watched you bring meals, and hugs, and prayers for people who were going through the toughest moments of life, reminding us that faith isn’t something we do alone.
When bringing supplies to shelters in El Paso ceased to be feasible, the Las Families Solidarity team released $15,000 in donations to support the work of Annunciation House and other immigration shelters. At Christmas, you raised another $15,000 for Diné families supported by our partners at Good Shepherd in the Diocese of Navajoland.
In 2025, Our Casa San Miguel Food Pantry fed over 13,500 people. This is possible because of the incredibly dedicated team of volunteers. I’ll say more about one particular volunteer later at the annual meeting. If you are looking for an antidote to despair, show up early on a Monday or Tuesday morning. Casa San Miguel will put you to work, they’ll make you laugh, and remind you that none of us are in this alone.
To do all this ministry, we spent some money. The Financial Report from last Sunday is up online. We realized a size-able deficit this year, more than we anticipated. Your vestry met last week and on the Finance Committee’s recommendation, set another deficit budget. We are okay in the short term because of our significant reserves. We planned for a deficit, knowing we are in a period of growing our ministry, but also know we don’t want to just burn through those reserves irresponsibly. Last week, your vestry showed up with clarity. We know that it is our job to safeguard the financial health of this institution, to find new sources of revenue, and to ensure we arrive at a sustainable pace of ministry. Because we aren’t in this for the short haul.
In 2025 we marked our 75th anniversary as a church. We want to leave this congregation as a legacy, as a continuing beacon against despair. We come here, because we believe in our shared values, because we share a calling, a calling like that the disciples heard on the lakeshore from Jesus. Together, we stand against despair. Together, we stand for hope. Together we welcome all, we ground ourselves in spiritual practice, we act for justice.
Pushing back against despair
Despair is tempting, so tempting, in response to all of the awful news. Hope can be so hard to sustain, especially when we are alone. That’s why Jesus wants to fish for people, so that in times like these, no one has to go it alone. Because we cannot afford despair. Despair is the soil in which the forces of hate and violence grow. We cannot allow despair to take root.
We must repent. Not feeling guilty for some personal sin, that’s such a boring version of the word repent. At St. Michael’s, we don’t settle for boring religion. We need the word metanoia, we need to help our world wake up, to stand up and walk out of the darkness. We need to change our mindset, and to look for the reign of God. We
We must help our world wake up to the reign of God that is waiting to be born in each moment. We must continue to stand against despair. Against all of the evidence to the contrary, we must continue to proclaim not only with our lips but in our lives, that the powers of violence and death will not have the last word. Love has the last word. Hope has the last word. We are in this together. God’s reign is coming. God’s reign is here. May God continue to bless us, and continue to shine a light.