Everybody Counts, Everyone Matters

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills

September 14, 2025

Year C, Proper 19: The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28

Psalm 14

1 Timothy 1:12-17

Luke 15:1-10

Everybody Counts, Everyone Matters

Last week, Sister June Favata died.

June was a Sister of Charity who devoted nearly her entire adult life, nearly her entire vocation, to St. Vincent Academy, an all-girls high school located in the center of Newark, New Jersey.

She arrived as a young nun in 1969 and played a key role in leading, sustaining, and developing the school until her health failed, just a year or two ago.

Thirty-three years ago, I applied for a position at St. Vincent’s as a history teacher. Fortunately, they called me in for an interview and so, on a memorable day, I rode the PATH train from Jersey City to Newark and then boarded a bus to take me from Penn Station to the school.

Back then, I didn’t really know Newark, so I was startled, even a little frightened, when the bus left the business district and moved deeper into the city where there were blocks and blocks of rubble, with the occasional lone building standing – I saw a city still scarred by the uprising that had occurred back in 1967 and the following years of disinvestment and abandonment.

Seeing all that devastation, I confess that I wondered just what I was getting myself into?

But I really needed a job, so I kept going.

Finally, the bus rounded a low hill and there was St. Vincent’s, a red brick 19th century building standing tall amid the empty lots and various efforts at urban renewal.

I spent most of that day with Sister June in her office.

She told me the story of St. Vincent’s, how, back in the late 60’s and early 70’s when lots of Newark institutions were closing or moving out to the suburbs, the Sisters of Charity and their co-workers made the decision to stay, and to keep on educating the girls of Newark and the surrounding towns.

Now, all these years later, that day is a bit of a blur, but I do remember two things that June told me.

One was that she saw the mission of the school in profoundly Christian terms. Yes, we were teaching these girls our subject content and life skills but really, we were playing our part in what she called “the ongoing redemption of the world” – that by teaching and nurturing these girls, we were continuing the saving work of Jesus right there in Newark.

And second, she was frank that this might sometimes be a hard job and, like at any school, occasionally my students might disappoint, frustrate, or even anger me, but I must always remember that each one of them was absolutely loved and cherished by someone – a parent, a grandparent, an older sibling – someone who loved them so much that they made the sacrifice to send them to St. Vincent’s.

And then she added, that even if that were not the case, each one of these girls was unconditionally loved by God.

And so, I should do likewise.

Back then, I didn’t know anything about the Baptismal Covenant and, as a Roman Catholic nun, I’m sure June didn’t either, but she certainly understood and lived the call to seek and serve Christ in all people, loving our neighbor as our self, to respect the dignity of every human being. 

        I wish I could say that I loved unconditionally during my five years teaching at St. Vincent’s (yes, I got the job!), or at any other time of my life, but I haven’t forgotten Sister June’s words, her teaching and example, which really was the teaching and example of Jesus.

In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus offers two parables, two parables that share a simple and obvious structure: lost, found, rejoicing.

And Jesus teaches us that the rejoicing of the shepherd and the woman is kind of like the rejoicing in heaven when a sinner repents.

Amen. 

But, as I’ve sat with these parables during this tragic and disturbing week, a week when our need for repentance is more obvious than ever, a week when it feels like Jeremiah’s grim prophecy in today’s first lesson is being fulfilled, as I’ve sat with these parables, I keep thinking how both stories are… a little over the top.

Jesus begins by asking, “which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost…?

Well, I’m pretty sure the correct answer is nobody – no shepherd would do that!

And the woman, sure, I get looking for the missing coin but then, after you find it, inviting your friends over for a party to celebrate?

I’m not the most social guy, but that seems like overdoing it.

But, with our summer reading fresh in my mind, and during this terrible week, this is the message I kept hearing in my heart:

Everybody counts.

Everyone matters.

And so, yes, that one sheep is so important that the shepherd risks a whole lot to find it and save it – and that coin matters so much that, yeah, when you find it, you throw a party.

Everybody counts.

Everyone matters.

This is not the way of the world, but it is God’s way.

For our over-the-top God, everybody counts.

And so, as Sister June and so many holy Christians down through the ages have understood and embodied, everyone, every precious human being, should matter to us.

So, Charlie Kirk and his grieving family, they count.

And the two students injured in the shooting at Evergreen High School in Colorado, they matter.

        And Iryna Zarutska, stabbed to death on the Charlotte light rail, she counts.

And Minnesota legislator Melissa Hortman and her husband Mark who, along with their dog, were shot and killed in their home, they matter.

And Fletcher Merkel and Harper Moyski, the two children killed at Annunciation Church in Minneapolis, they count.

And Republicans, Democrats, Independents, and the many people who want no part of any of it, they matter.

And people whose ancestors arrived on the Mayflower and our Afghan friends, they count.

And people who are poor, rich, or somewhere in-between, they matter.

And people who are white, black, brown or any color, of any culture or creed, they count.

And people who are straight, gay, transgender, they matter.

And people we love and like and agree with and people we dislike or don’t understand or even fear, they count.

And hardest of all, the twisted, broken, violent people, the people poisoned by the internet, the people who say and do so many terrible things, yes, even they matter.

For God, everybody counts.

And so, for us, everyone must matter, too.

This is hard, believe me, I know, but we Christians are an Easter people.

We know – we know – that hate, suffering, and death do not get the last word.

So, let me tell you where I am finding Easter hope.

First, right here with all of you.

Last week was Renewal Sunday, but the truth is that our renewal is ongoing, the work of a lifetime.

We’re not perfect, but, week after week, there is so much faithfulness and devotion here, so much sacrifice, a warm welcome offered to everyone, an increasingly diverse group of people praying and serving together, loving one another.

We are playing our part in the ongoing redemption of the world.

This place matters – and you, all of you, count.

And reflecting on Sister June’s life and legacy has given me Easter hope, too.

Today, if you were to take that same bus ride through Newark, things look a lot different than they did 33 years ago.

Where there were rubble-strewn lots, now there are townhomes with carefully tended little patches of grass, there are new businesses and an expanded community college.

And when you round the low hill, St. Vincent’s still stands tall, but beside the old red brick building, there is a newer structure, one that was just a dream when I taught there, a building with state-of-the-art labs, a beautiful gym, and more.

And thanks to Facebook, I’ve managed to keep up with some of the girls I taught long ago – the girls who June taught me were treasured by their families, loved unconditionally by God.

And those girls are now women in their 40’s, working as doctors, teachers, nurses, lawyers, businesswomen, scientists – many of them are now moms raising their own families, with some sending their daughters to St. Vincent’s.

This is the power of God’s love, shared in and through people like Sister June, people like any of us.

      This is the ongoing redemption of the world.

      So, with the help of our over-the-top God, as we go forward together, may we always remember:

      Everybody counts.

Everyone matters.

Amen.

Agents of Liberation

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

June 19, 2022

Year C, Proper 7: The Second Sunday after Pentecost

1 Kings 19:1-15a

Psalm 42

Galatians 3:23-29

Luke 8:26-39

Agents of Liberation

Most of you know that before I was a priest I was a high school history teacher.

Although I’ve been out of the classroom for quite a while now, I have so many vivid memories, making it feel like not too much time has passed.

But, every once in a while, I have an experience that forces me to realize how long ago that all was, and just how much has changed.

So, I can’t remember. Have I mentioned to you that my wife Sue recently earned her doctorate? Has that come up before?

Well, what most of you don’t know is that one of the other students in Sue’s program was a woman named Aileen - who I taught more than twenty-five years ago, at St. Vincent Academy, an all-girls high school in Newark. 

I’ve known about that remarkable connection for about three years, but it was still a little unnerving to actually see Aileen and some of her high school classmates who came to celebrate with her at the graduation ceremony a couple of weeks ago.

I was glad that these former students all still recognized me and even happier that they wanted to pose for a picture with me, but our little reunion was still a kind of disorienting reminder of just how much time has passed since they were all in my History class.

 

So, as you might guess, that experience put me into a kind of reflective mood.

And, as I’ve thought back to my teaching days, I’ve cringed a bit at my younger self: so sure that I had things mostly figured out, thinking that I really knew what I knew and that I knew what I did not know.

To give just one example, having grown up in the relatively peaceful time after the end of the Vietnam War, I remember saying to my students that I was sure that Americans simply would not tolerate another drawn-out military conflict in a faraway land, only later to be proven quite wrong, of course. 

And, even though the history curriculum at St. Vincent’s emphasized Black history and women’s history, there was so much that I just did not know, so much that I certainly did not teach.

Like, for example, Juneteenth.

Do you know the story?

On June 19th, 1865 – more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation - Union General Gordon Granger proclaimed freedom at last for the enslaved people of Texas, the most remote and the last to be occupied part of the Confederacy.

Of course, Black people did not forget this day of liberation.

Each year in Texas and across the South, they celebrated what came to be known as Juneteenth. 

And then later, during the Great Migration, they brought this tradition to other parts of the country.

And, as you probably know, just last year Juneteenth became a Federal holiday, now meant to be a national celebration of liberation.

When I first turned my attention to today’s Gospel lesson, I was immediately struck by how appropriate it is that today - on the 157th anniversary of the first Juneteenth - we hear a story of liberation.

Jesus and his disciples have traveled away from home, to the “country of the Geresenes.” We don’t know exactly where that was but, thanks to the presence of an unfortunate herd of swine, we know that Jesus and his friends are no longer in Jewish territory.

The moment Jesus steps foot on this foreign soil, he is immediately greeted by a disturbing and pathetic figure: the man with many demons.

We’re told that he’s naked and lives among the tombs.

His neighbors tried to keep him under guard and chaining him, maybe to protect themselves and maybe to protect him from himself. 

But those demons were powerful.

And, it turns out that those demons were knowledgeable, too.

Unlike Jesus’ own disciples, who always have a hard time figuring out his identity, the demons in this foreign land get it exactly right: 

Jesus is the Son of the Most High God.

Well, without waiting to be asked, Jesus liberates this poor man.

And, at the demons’ request, he sends them into the swine that promptly rush down a hill and drown in the lake, leaving the swineherds suddenly without their livelihood and probably feeling not so positive about Jesus and his ministry.

Actually, it’s interesting that, aside from the man who was freed of his demons, nobody seems very happy about this turn of events.

Instead of rejoicing at the liberation of their neighbor, the people are afraid. No doubt this miracle has upset their sense of order.

If this man possessed by a legion of demons can be liberated, just what else might be possible?

Faced with that uncomfortable question, they probably just want Jesus to turn around and go back where he came from.

Not the liberated man, though. He becomes a disciple, telling everyone how much Jesus had done for him.

The story ends there, but like so often with the Bible, I wonder what happened next.

In this case, I wonder about the moment when this man’s family first saw him “clothed in his right mind,” finally free.

What was that day of liberation like?

Joy, yes, of course. 

But maybe also anger and sadness about how much had been lost: time, opportunity, dignity.

And, I wonder, in the years ahead, did this man and his family continue to celebrate the anniversary of his liberation?

At this week’s Bible Study, we had a lively conversation about this amazing story of liberation.

Although we know from the gospels that exorcisms were a significant part of Jesus’ ministry, we don’t talk about them much because, with our modern understanding of illness and healing, they confuse us, or make us uncomfortable and embarrassed.

And horror movies certainly haven’t made things any easier.

Yet, even just a quick look at the news reveals that the old demons are on the loose.

The demons of hate, and violence, and fear, and addiction are on the march, wreaking havoc, destroying people, just as surely as that naked man living in the tombs was nearly ruined.

But, here’s the good news: just like two thousand years ago, Jesus is the Liberator.

And, today, Jesus calls us to be his agents of liberation.

With God’s help, this liberating work begins by us building a community here that is a demon-free zone:

A church where absolutely everyone is welcome.

A church where we are unafraid to confess our faults.

A church that offers itself in loving service to the poor and oppressed.

A church where, like the liberated man, we proclaim how much Jesus has done for us.

A church that is wonderfully diverse but where, as St. Paul wrote to the Galatians, there is no longer Jew or Greek, no longer slave or free, no longer male and female, because we are one in Christ.

Today is Juneteenth – and, regardless of our age, or our history, or how much we still have to learn, Jesus calls us to be his agents of liberation.

Amen.

Satisfy the Hungry Heart

St. Vincent Academy, Newark NJ

Students In Community Sending Forth Ceremony
March 23, 2012

Satisfy the Hungry Heart


When Sister Noreen told me that I was standing between you and early dismissal, I went back and shortened my comments. So, good news, everybody: I think I’ve gotten my talk down to just under an hour…

It’s a joy and a privilege to be back here at St. Vincent’s – and to meet all of you on this big day. SVA is very important to me because the years back in the early and mid ‘90’s I spent here as a teacher really helped to shape me as a person. Like you, I’ve learned so much from Sister June, Sister Margaret, Ms. Nolan, the Freshman Team, Sister Carol, Mr. Hogan, Ms. Palmer, Sister Noreen, Sister Connie, Ms. Francisco and many others.

Like you, I’ve learned from them a whole lot about living a life of faith, service and integrity.

I remember the day I interviewed with Sister June for the job as a history teacher – a job I really wanted and needed, by the way – and she told me something I’ve never forgotten and have tried to keep at the front of my mind and my heart both as a teacher and now as a priest. She told me that every student here is the most important thing in the world to somebody – to a parent, or a grandparent, or some other family member or friend.

She told me to make sure I remembered that, especially on those inevitable days when a student didn’t seem to be making her best effort, or when a girl acted out in class, or even if – and this was rare – there was a student I didn’t really like or, if you can imagine, didn’t like me!

My experience of St. Vincent’s was that most, if not all, of the girls knew that they were the most important thing in the world – were cherished and loved - by somebody.

I hope that all of you here today can feel that love, at least some of the time.

And, if by some horrible chance, you don’t feel like you’re loved by the people in your life, faith teaches us that God loves us unconditionally – now matter how much we mess up, no matter how many times we fail, no matter how many times we disappoint ourselves and others, God’s love for us is always here, in our hearts.

I really like the theme of this year’s SIC: Satisfy the Hungry Heart.

I like it because the words come right out of a very familiar hymn from my 1970s childhood.

I like it, because on one level it’s a hymn about communion – it’s a hymn we sing to God who satisfies the hungry heart with bread of the finest wheat – the holy bread that we receive when we come together in church.

It’s also a hymn about Jesus, who is the Bread of Life, broken and given to the world – broken and given to show us what God’s unconditional love really looks like.

But, it’s also a hymn about us – and a hymn about what you’re going to be up to during SIC – and, hopefully, what we’re all going to be up to during our whole lives.

The truth is that God wants us – even needs us – to be bread for the world – to be bread of finest wheat to satisfy the many, many hungry hearts out there in the world.

You probably know this already, but most of us carry a lot of heavy burdens around with us.

For some of us the heaviest burden is fear – fear that we’ll lose what we have or we’ll never achieve our greatest hopes. It could be the fear of illness for ourselves or for those we love.

For some of us the heaviest burden is regret – regret about bad decisions that we’ve made, regret that we didn’t try harder when we had the chance, regret that we didn’t tell someone that we loved before it was too late.

For some of us the heaviest burden is the high expectations that we place on ourselves or are placed on us by others.

For some of us the heaviest burden is sadness and grief – sadness that someone we loved is no longer with us, sadness and grief that there are so many suffering people around the world.

You could probably add a few more heavy burdens on to my list.

But, I’ve learned over the years, first as a teacher and now as a priest, that most people carry many heavy burdens.

Sometimes those burdens are obvious and close to the surface.

But, other times the burdens are hidden and kept close to the heart.

Maybe this has happened to you, but I’ve often been surprised when I’ve gotten to know someone who seems to have his or her act together and then I discover some huge burden that they’ve been carrying around for too long.

Many of the people you’re going to meet out at your placements are going to be carrying heavy burdens – some visible, and some not.

And carrying those heavy burdens makes people hungry. Of course, sometimes it’s physical hunger, but more often, in the words of the hymn and your theme, carrying those heavy burdens gives people hungry hearts.

Hungry hearts can be fed only by love.

And that’s where you come in.

When you’re out at your placements you may very well encounter someone who doesn’t seem to be making her or his best effort, or someone who acts out, or someone you don’t really like or, if you can imagine, doesn’t like you.

When that happens, try to remember Sister June’s words to me from back in the day. This person who is driving you bananas might be the most important thing to someone - maybe a parent or grandparent, or maybe a spouse, or a child, or a friend.

Sadly, sometimes that’s not true – there are people who are completely alone and unloved. But, even then, for sure this person who is driving you bananas is the most important thing in the world to God.

Please try to remember that this person who is driving you bananas is probably carrying some pretty heavy burdens and probably has a hungry heart.

So, feed them.

God wants us – even needs us – to be bread for the world – to be bread of finest wheat to satisfy – to feed - the many, many hungry hearts out there in the world.

Feed them with your interest, your care, your patience and maybe even your love.

And when you feed them even just by being there for them, God will use you to feed them with the love and grace that only God can give.

One last thing.

Most of us don’t like to admit it, but I know that it’s not just people out there who have hungry hearts – but all of us here, too.

I have my heavy burdens and I know that you carry heavy burdens, as do your teachers and administrators here at SVA. Some of the burdens are visible and some are hidden and kept close to the heart.

But, the great and amazing truth is that as you give of yourself, feeding and satisfying the hungry hearts out there, God will be at work sharing your burdens and satisfying your hungry heart.

If you’ve really been open to this experience, and have really given of yourself, at the end you’ll look back and discover that you’ve been fed at least as much as the people you’ve been serving.

I hope SIC is a wonderful experience for all of you. I will remember you in my prayers.

Paying Our Rent

St. Vincent Academy, Newark NJ
Students in Community Sending Forth Ceremony
March 19, 2010

Paying Our Rent

It is a great gift to be back here at St. Vincent’s. You and I have something in common – just like you I did a lot of my growing up here at SVA. I didn’t know what I was in for when I interviewed with Sister June in January, 1992. I had one thing on my mind – I need this job. I hadn’t worked since September and I was just about out of money to pay for rent and life’s other necessities. I was looking at having to give up my little studio apartment and move back with my parents. I love my parents very much, but rightly or wrongly it felt like failure to move back home.

So I arrived here that day with that one thought: I need this job. During the interview Sister June shared with me the mission of SVA – which has really been the mission of the Sisters of Charity for these past 150 years – and is really the mission of the whole Church: the mission to proclaim the Good News of Jesus by living lives of service to our sisters and brothers. To quote from the SVA mission statement:

Saint Vincent Academy inspires students to develop lifelong commitments to Christian service and a capacity for hope, compassionate leadership and the desire to transform the world into a more just and peaceful society.

During my interview as Sister June was telling me all this I was asking myself two questions. You already know the first one: would I get this job? Second, all this stuff about living lives of service sounds very nice, but is SVA really different from other good schools?

And then she began to tell me about Students in Community. I remember being amazed as she described this carefully thought-out program that began in freshman year and then culminated in what you are about to do next week – going out into the world and give yourself in service to others. It was then that I realized that if I got this job – which have I mentioned I really needed? – I was in for a lot more than just teaching history.

In the same way, I’m sure it didn’t take you long to realize that being an SVA student means learning a lot more than math or English or science.

So, this is why I say that like you I grew up at SVA. It was here that I finally really learned that life is about discovering our gifts and giving away our lives in service to others. Our two readings today from St. Paul could not be more appropriate. Paul understood that God has given us all different gifts. Big deal - everyone knows that, right? But Paul also understood that while we have different gifts, we are all united by the job of using our gifts, of giving away our lives, for the “common good.”

It was here at SVA that I finally really learned that this is what life is all about. It’s here that I grew up. Now, don’t get me wrong, I also went to a great high school and I have wonderful parents who tried to get this message across to me. But, it was here, working with Sisters June and Margaret, Ms. Nolan, the Freshman Team and all the rest, that I really learned that the Christian life is discovering the gifts we have been given by God and then giving them all away in lives of service to others. Life is about service. It was here that I first heard the quote from Marian Wright Edelman, “Service is the rent we pay to be living. It is the very purpose of life and not something you do in your spare time.”

I love that. I learned all of these lessons about service working with these remarkable people and I also learned about service from the amazing girls I taught here in the 1990s. I learned from my students in the classroom and I especially learned from them when I visited them in their SIC placements.

I have vivid memories of getting lost riding around the unfamiliar streets of Newark, trying to find the schools and hospitals where the girls were working. This was long before GPS or even mapquest. But my most vivid memories are finding and seeing these young women in a whole different light. It was during SIC that I found out who they really were – talented and generous young people, eager to serve others.

They may not have been too happy about doing social studies homework (I know, hard to believe, right?) but I found them working so hard in a hospital or in a classroom. I found them gently rocking a baby to sleep or sitting patiently listening to a sick and frightened patient tell his or her sad story. I found them comforting an upset little boy or girl in the classroom and I found them competently assisting a teacher.

Thinking about what those girls did in SIC back then, I’m reminded of something we do in the Episcopal Church. Whenever someone is baptized – whenever they decide to formally become a follower of Jesus, they publicly sign on for what we call the Baptismal Covenant. The idea is that baptism is really the beginning of our life of Christian service.

Listen to some of the questions we ask of the newly baptized (or, if it’s a baby being baptized, questions we ask of their parents and godparents): Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God and Christ? Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
Big questions! For each of those very challenging questions we are asked to respond, “I will, with God’s help.”

Well, back when I was teaching here those SVA juniors and seniors, probably without knowing it, said “I will, with God’s help” and were sent out on SIC and proclaimed the Good News by their example, tried their best to love their neighbor as themselves and tried their best to respect the dignity of every human being.
It’s hard to believe that was nearly twenty years ago – nearly a generation. But, although much time has passed, the impact of SIC and SVA continues to be felt in the lives of those young women and in my own life.

In my own case, I know that my years at SVA helped to set me on a direction that led to ordination in the Episcopal Church. And I continue to apply those lessons in my life as a priest. Just last summer, the youth at my church made a mission trip to Camden, one of the poorest cities in the country, where we spent a very SIC-like week volunteering at food pantries, homeless shelters, adult day care centers and more. At the end of each day we would reflect on our experience, looking for how we had seen God at work in the people and places we had met and learning about how and why our rich country allows some people to live in such desperate poverty.

And I know for a fact that SIC continues to affect the girls I taught back in the 1990s. For years every once in a while I’d run to one of my former SVA students. It was always great to be remembered and to catch up. But, now thanks to the miracle of facebook I’ve managed to reconnect with dozens of those girls and get a sense of the kinds of lives they are leading. Making me feel old, many are now married and many have children. And making me feel very happy, many of them are involved in serving other people. Some serve others by being in a helping profession, working as teachers, or doctors or nurses and more. Others serve by volunteering.

So many of that generation have remembered that “Service is the rent we pay to be living. It is the very purpose of life and not something you do in your spare time.”

Now it’s your turn. Now it’s time for this generation to build on the 150 year long service of the Sisters of Charity and it’s time for this generation to build on the service of your SVA sisters who have gone before you during the 35 years or so of Students in Community.

Now it’s your turn. But actually, I’m told, it’s been your turn for a while now. Sister Noreen told me that back when you were freshmen, the seniors worked at the Community Food Bank in Hillside and that two years ago both the current juniors and seniors hosted second graders at an Easter party. And I’m sure the juniors remember the cold day last year they spent cleaning the beach at Sandy Hook. And this year your younger sisters are taking their turn, hosting a luncheon for all of the Sisters of Charity during this anniversary year.

So, now it’s your turn and I’m really happy and excited for you. I’m also a little jealous of your teachers who will get to go out and see you and support you as you do such important service in our communities.

Before I finish I want to mention one other aspect of this service business. Let’s hear again that excerpt from the SVA mission statement:

Saint Vincent Academy inspires students to develop lifelong commitments to Christian service and a capacity for hope, compassionate leadership and the desire to transform the world into a more just and peaceful society.

Another thing I learned during my time at SVA is that leadership is the flip side of service. In fact all of us are called to be servant leaders. Someone once wrote, “Servant leadership defines success as giving, and measures achievement by devotion to serving.” I don’t need to tell you this is not how the world defines leadership. The world defines leadership as getting people to do what the leader wants them to do.

You might think that servant leadership is impossible. But, stop and think about the leaders you know right here at SVA – leaders who are not interested in gaining power or wealth or making people do things that aren’t good for them. Instead, here at SVA you see servant leadership in action – leaders who have given away their lives in service to you and to the generations who have gone before you.

And stop and think of the greatest of all servant leaders, Jesus of Nazareth. In church on Holy Thursday we’ll tell the story of the Last Supper when Jesus got on his knees and like a servant washed the feet of his friends. And he told them that this is how they – how we – are supposed to treat one another. We are supposed to be servant leaders.

And if you go into SIC with an open heart, then not only will you be serving. You will also be a servant leader.

So, that’s it. Now it’s your turn to pay your rent. Now it’s your turn to say “I will, with God’s help.” Now it’s your turn to be sent forth from this remarkable school to serve your sisters and brothers out in a world that desperately needs your service. But more than that, now it’s your turn to begin – or to continue - your lives of servant leadership. I’ll be praying for you. May God continue to bless this generation and to bless St. Vincent Academy.