Showing posts with label Revelation 7:9-17. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Revelation 7:9-17. Show all posts

Sunday, May 11, 2025

Oh, good shepherd


No one can snatch them out of my hand.

“Can anything separate us from the love of Christ? Can trouble, pain or persecution? Can lack of clothes and food, danger to life and limb, the threat of force of arms? Indeed some of us know the truth of the ancient text: ‘For your sake we are killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter’. No, in all these things we win an overwhelming victory through him who has proved his love for us.” Romans 8:35-37


When a group of clergy went to Israel in January 2015, our plane from Newark landed at Ben Gurion airport near Lod (Lydda)  and 12 days later when we left the holy land we stopped at a beach at Jaffa (Joppa). Maps tell me they are 20 km apart, ten to twelve miles, four and a half hours on foot. When Peter traveled from Lod to Joppa, that is the journey he made. Centuries later, we would visit both places, now transformed.


In between those two end stops of our pilgrimage, we went to Bethlehem — to La Crèche de Bethléem— a ministry of some French speaking nuns, but the sister who spoke with us was not French. She was from Lod. Her village used to be where the airport is now. 


Now she takes care of Palestinian teenage mothers and their children. It’s not safe to be a single mother in a Palestinian traditional village. Shame attaches to you and danger. 


So these nuns quietly bring the pregnant girls to their facility in Bethlehem, where they take care of them until they give birth, and then raise the children until they reach an age at which they can go to a residential school. But the kids, when they grow up, do not forget the first mothers they knew— the nuns of Bethlehem. 


In French, interpreted by the dean of Montreal Cathedral, the nun told us a story of one 18 year-old who returned to visit with his first paycheck, which he proudly signed over to them— his entire first paycheck check—  then, being a kid, their kid, he asked for bus fare for a ride home.


Many examples of works of mercy, and acts of charity, can be found among the church today. And Christians are noted, now as in the first century, for their love for one another, and for their undiscriminating care for people regardless of their faith confession.


In the bombed out ruins of what were once hospitals medical workers still care for patients, as at Al Ahli Arab Hospital in Gaza, a ministry of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem – “that provides care to all in need, regardless of religion, political affiliation, or ability to pay.”


In border areas volunteers provide hospitality for total strangers, as at Casa de la Misericordia y de Todas las Naciones and Kino Border Initiative in Nogales.  


Christians from the early years of the Gospel recognized Christ in all comers, recognized the face of God in each human person, and served all. Many serve in ministries outside church walls. Others, like Dorcas in Lydda, have clothed the needy inside them. It is probable that the women who mourned at her deathbed were wearing the very garments Tabitha herself had made for them. 

In his commentary on the gospel of John, the missionary bishop Lesslie Newbigin reminds us we are called for a purpose: as disciples we are called to witness to the light, to new life and love in Christ.

Dorcas and the community at Joppa remind us we are all called to witness to the resurrection. And to what it means. In Jesus is life. And this life is the light of all.

Peter was in Lydda, inland but not far away, and he responded immediately to the need, when two men came to him, telling him that the beloved disciple Dorcas (Tabitha)  had become ill and died. 

Dorcas herself was known for her works of mercy, good works and acts of charity – and for the clothing she had made. The community was so tight knit around her that the widows who were weeping brought with them and showed to the apostle tunics and other clothing that when she was with them Dorcas had made. One of our own was Dorcas, and the loss was hard. 

The story of Dorcas - Tabitha - echoes the words Jesus spoke -  ‘talitha cum’ - little girl, arise - when he raised a girl, fourteen years old, from her deathbed. 

And echoes what Jesus said when he had come to the tomb of his friend: “Lazarus, come out!” 

Here in the endearing and detailed story of Dorcas we hear all the details of the mourning, and of the miracle. He prayed, called her – “Tabitha, arise” – and she sat up. 

Besides these several parallel stories, there is also Peter’s response. This is the man who at the beginning of his ministry – and Jesus’ - saw Jesus heal his mother-in-law. And now another woman of merit is ill: he responds immediately. 

We are called for a purpose: to witness, to the miracle of Jesus, of resurrection, of him and through him. All these stories, new and old, point to the lordship of Christ over all of life.

We are called for a purpose, not a status: we have no laurels to rest upon, only hands to serve. Become what you are, what you are called to be: it can happen, it has happened, in Christ.

In the Temple they challenged Jesus: If you are the Messiah, show us plainly. 

And he had, by his works of mercy. And he did, even more so and again, in the works of his disciples, like Peter, and like Dorcas. For Dorcas in her works of love made a witness of love, and the community of love that gathered around her continued that witness. 

In showing that love Dorcas - and the disciples who mourned her - revealed the love of Christ that animated them. 

That same loving God who restored her to life is the God shown in the self-giving love of the Son, and the love of the members of his community one for another.

To show us plainly that in Christ the Love of God came to earth, Christians obey his new commandment, to love one another as he has loved us: “Just as I have loved you, so you must love one another. This is how everyone will know that you are my disciples, because you have such love for one another.” John 13:34-35

For this fourth Sunday of Easter season I am particularly glad to sing Hymn 645 ‘The King of love my shepherd is’ – for we like sheep oft have gone astray, and oft return, called back to our true path, by the voice of a loving savior. That voice can also be stern. But the rod and staff that the owner of that voice wield are wielded on our behalf. 

As the Apostle Paul wrote: “ I have become absolutely convinced that neither death nor life, neither messenger of Heaven nor monarch of earth, neither what happens today nor what may happen tomorrow, neither a power from on high nor a power from below, nor anything else in God’s whole world has any power to separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord!” Romans 8:38-39




The 23rd Psalm (Dedicated To My Mother) Bobby McFerrin

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJixdpZ5m1o


Oh, good shepherd, feed my sheep... (https://youtu.be/6JfvuEJSKEU)

 

Fourth Sunday of Easter

Sunday 11 May 2025

https://sermonoats.blogspot.com/search/label/Good%20Shepherd

© 2025 John Leech

Acts 9:36-43

Now there was at Joppa a certain disciple named Tabitha, which by interpretation is called Dorcas: this woman was full of good works and almsdeeds which she did.
And it came to pass in those days, that she was sick, and died: whom when they had washed, they laid her in an upper chamber.
And forasmuch as Lydda was nigh to Joppa, and the disciples had heard that Peter was there, they sent unto him two men, desiring him that he would not delay to come to them.
Then Peter arose and went with them. When he was come, they brought him into the upper chamber: and all the widows stood by him weeping, and shewing the coats and garments which Dorcas made, while she was with them.
But Peter put them all forth, and kneeled down, and prayed; and turning him to the body said, Tabitha, arise. And she opened her eyes: and when she saw Peter, she sat up.
And he gave her his hand, and lifted her up, and when he had called the saints and widows, presented her alive.
And it was known throughout all Joppa; and many believed in the Lord.
And it came to pass, that he tarried many days in Joppa with one Simon a tanner.

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Revelation 7:9-17

After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands;
And cried with a loud voice, saying, Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb.
And all the angels stood round about the throne, and about the elders and the four beasts, and fell before the throne on their faces, and worshipped God,
Saying, Amen: Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour, and power, and might, be unto our God for ever and ever. Amen.
And one of the elders answered, saying unto me, What are these which are arrayed in white robes? and whence came they?
And I said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said to me, These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple: and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them.
They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat.
For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.

John 10:22-30

And it was at Jerusalem the feast of the dedication, and it was winter.
And Jesus walked in the temple in Solomon’s porch.
Then came the Jews round about him, and said unto him, How long dost thou make us to doubt? If thou be the Christ, tell us plainly.
Jesus answered them, I told you, and ye believed not: the works that I do in my Father’s name, they bear witness of me.
But ye believe not, because ye are not of my sheep, as I said unto you.
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me:
And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.
My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand.
I and my Father are one.


Tuesday, October 31, 2023

el Día de los Muertos

Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord: Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen

Around Halloween, in downtown Tucson or west in the barrio neighborhoods across the river, there is a procession and a celebration, the latter of which somewhat reminds me of Burning Man. It does that because part of the ceremony is lighting a large temporary structure but this one is a brazier basket that holds tokens in memory of loved ones deceased. I have not gone that far, therapeutic though it might be. 

What I have done is stood along the parade route, noting people in wild or remarkable costumes, and especially noticing a group marching in memory of people lost in the desert. There were among that group founders of early efforts to reach migrants, including members of Derechos Humanos, Humane Borders, Tucson Samaritans, and No More Deaths, and one of the original Casa Alitas / Casa Mariposa hosts. 

We have a lot to mourn in the desert, on behalf of lost loved ones, even anonymous as many of them remain. This festival, and this presence of witnesses, reminds us that these people who have been lost have had lives to be remembered. We can celebrate them even as we deplore their fate. The desert is harsh and unforgiving. We need not be.

https://www.visittucson.org/events/festivals-and-annual-events/all-souls-procession/

Revelation 7:9-17

1 John 3:1-3
Matthew 5:1-12

https://hymnary.org/text/for_all_the_saints_who_from_their_labors

1. For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
who thee by faith before the world confessed,
thy Name, O Jesus, be for ever blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

2. Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might:
thou, Lord, their Captain in the well-fought fight;
thou, in the darkness drear, the one true Light.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

3. O may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold,
fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
and win, with them, the victor's crown of gold.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

4. O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

5. And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
and hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

6. The golden evening brightens in the west;
soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest;
sweet is the calm of paradise the blest.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

7. But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
the saints triumphant rise in bright array;
the King of glory passes on his way.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

8. From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,
through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost:
Alleluia, Alleluia!


The Hymnal 1982: according to the use of the Episcopal Church #287

Sunday, November 6, 2011

All Saints Sunday 2011

When I think nowadays of what I am thankful for it turns into a list of saints – living ones included. Saints include people around us who draw us deeper into holiness ourselves, even as they themselves appear as a kind of sign or symbol of God’s presence in the world. Saints – believers – are sanctified people – people set apart for a holy purpose.

Some of them would gladly tell you that they do not deserve the label of “holy person.”

They might say, “Oh, yes! Make me a saint – but not yet.”

Or they might say, “I just don’t deserve this” – meaning they don’t deserve to be put through the training program they figure sainthood would imply. It is too hard, they would say, for human beings to bear.

Nevertheless I find myself making a list of unknowing saints. These are people in whom God is at work for visible or invisible holiness to take place.

As Jesus began to teach on the mountain, he enumerated for his disciples some of the kinds of people whom God makes saints – whom God blesses. They are people like the Psalmist knew – the humble and meek, who are called to rejoice; the afflicted – who will be heard and are vindicated; the hungry or thirsty or poor – who will receive fullness.

The Lord is their Shepherd; they shall lack nothing.

Those who trust in him – those who believe in him with their whole hearts – will not be punished, but saved.

To whom does salvation belong? From whom does it come?

Salvation, the multitude cries, belongs to our God who is seated on the throne and to the Lamb, to the One who judge, the One who redeems.

Those who have suffered hunger or thirst, sunstroke or heatstroke, they will be guided by the good shepherd to a place of wellbeing and comfort.

So saints are those whom God redeems. Sanctity is not a reward for meritorious service. God saves: the saints are justified by faith not by works. There is no boasting save in the Cross of Christ, the paradoxical victory that looks so like defeat – that pulls us beyond the end of the world, beyond death itself, onto new and holy ground. Holy ground – where we already stand, if we only knew…

We are God’s children, now – already – and we have hope in him, the One who will be revealed to all as God’s son and our Lord.

This is the vision of Revelation.

Sometimes seekers of holiness have their own great cloud of witnesses about them – assembled as friends of the heart or companions on the way.

When I would go visit a professor of mine in college, Donald Nicholl, I could see that in his office he had assembled around his desk photographs and portraits of “friends” – as he called them – people whom he wanted around him as witnesses or encouragers. And decades later his widow Dorothy showed me the room where he spent his last days, still surrounded by a cloud of witnesses as he laid on his daybed and composed himself for eternity. Dorothy kept her own cloud of witnesses about her into her final years.

The “saints” on their walls might be different from yours or mine. Some were familiar faces, some were notable people they introduced me to, and some were unknown. All bore witness to the reality of God and of our presence in God, and God’s presence in us.

They became as windows or lights, letting some of the eternal brightness shine into our lives, and our worlds. They do not have to be famous or extraordinary to give us a vision of effulgence – the brilliant radiance of the people of God. In fact it may help some time if they are not, if they are just regular people.

One day in 1959 a monk was waiting for a ride home to the monastery. He had been to the dentist. He was standing on a downtown corner in Louisville, Kentucky.

And this is what he wrote, in his book, "Conjectures of A Guilty Bystander":

In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream ...

This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud. And I suppose my happiness could have taken form in the words: “Thank God, thank God that I am like other men, that I am only a man among others.”

It is a glorious destiny to be a member of the human race, though it is a race dedicated to many absurdities and one which makes many terrible mistakes: yet, with all that, God Himself gloried in becoming a member of the human race. A member of the human race! To think that such a commonplace realization should suddenly seem like news that one holds the winning ticket in a cosmic sweepstake.

I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now that I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.

Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed… I suppose the big problem would be that we would fall down and worship each other. But this cannot be seen, only believed and “understood” by a peculiar gift.



The monk, Thomas Merton, was seeing his fellow human beings “in aspiration” as Donald Nicholl would put it – he was seeing them “in the Spirit” as they were made to be, as they were called to become – as people who could blossom into the fullness of life as God intended them to experience it.

Robert Ellsberg makes this point in his essay on the feast of All Saints, in his book of the same name:


Since the early centuries of the church the liturgical calendar has reserved one day to honor, collectively, all the saints, both those officially recognized and those known only to God. Thus we are reminded that the true company of saints is far more numerous than the list of those who have been formally canonized. There are many anonymous saints who nevertheless form part of the great “cloud of witnesses,” surrounding us with their faith and courage and so participating in the communion between the living and the dead.

This collective feast, All Saints, is also an occasion to acknowledge the varieties of holiness. Though they share a certain family resemblance, the saints are not formed in any particular mold. Some are renowned for contemplation and others for action; some played a public role while others spent their lives in quiet obscurity. Some demonstrated the vitality of ancient traditions while others were pioneers, charting new possibilities in the spiritual life. Some received recognition and honor within their lifetimes, while others were scorned or even persecuted.

The feast of All Saints does not honor a company of “immortals,” far removed from the realm of ordinary human existence. The saints were not “super” human beings but those who realized the vocation for which all human beings were created and to which we are ultimately called. No one is called to be another St. Francis or St. Teresa. But there is a path to holiness that lies within our individual circumstances, that engages our own talents and temperaments, that contends with our own strengths and weaknesses, that responds to the needs of our own neighbors and our particular moment in history. The feast of All Saints strengthens and encourages us to create that path by walking it.



We are called – all of us – into the fullness of the joy of being God’s children, of being set apart for a holy purpose: to become what we are called to be, to become saints. And so,

“There is only one sorrow – not to be a saint.”—Léon Bloy

And in the end there is one joy, to be shared by all: to greet one another, in the Spirit, as the people God has created and called us to be, as his own beloved children, as Saints.


Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord: Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.


-- -- -- --

Ellsberg, Robert, "All Saints: Daily Reflections on Saints, Prophets, and Witnesses for Our Time," New York: Crossroad, 1997, 475-476.

Merton, Thomas, "Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander" (1966).

From the Shorter OED:

fullness: 1. The condition of containing something in abundance. b. In biblical language, all that is contained in the world. [J Wesley: The Earth and all her Fullness owns Jehovah for her sovereign Lord!] c. Abundance, plenty. 2. Completeness, perfection. [G. Priestland: Christianity … hasn’t yet been tried … What right have we to expect its fullness in our time?]

in the fullness of time – at the destined time; eventually.

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Saturday, November 1, 2008

"I'm just tryin' to be a good Christian."--Johnny Cash

God of holiness,
your glory is proclaimed in every age:
as we rejoice in the faith of your saints,
inspire us to follow their example
with boldness and joy;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

We will sing a song of the saints of God. We remember them, we anticipate them, and we join with them in the praise of God. And with God’s help, we will join with them in obedience to his will and blessedness in his abundant love.

Through the Revelation of St John we receive a picture of a multitude gathered before the throne of God, worshipping him and living under the wings of his mercy. These are the ones who came through the great persecutions of the early church as if they were being made more perfect in a refiner’s fire. Through their ordeal there was always a presence with them, an Other – they were not alone. These are the martyrs of the church – and they are among the saints.

There are others too: saints are believers, made holy through their faith in God who alone is holy of himself; and the saints are people you see every day.

To prepare you for a song, and for singing it along with the little saints who will sing it with us, let’s remember that everything from great to small is in God’s hands. However tiny and improbable a moment of time may seem, a moment of a turning point, a kindness, a perseverance in faith, it is out of the simple moments of life that a faith and a soul-habit of godly love are forged.

This is the weekend when we remember all saints, every saint, and all souls, all the faithful departed. And we may be thrown back on remembering our own mortality – and our inability to see it all through on our own.

There is a promise for us – if we are weak, he is strong; if we have been cursed, we will be blessed in him; if we are poor, or lacking in any need or faculty, we will be made whole and well and happy. And if we mourn, we will receive the comfort of the Lord. He weeps with those who weep, and laughs with those who laugh. He will always be by your side.

There are as many kinds of saints as there are of people. Through the ages the church has recognized many kinds of people as living exemplary Christian lives.

In the early years of the church, there were the martyrs; soon there were the monks of the desert and the faraway isles, denying themselves and taking up their crosses and following Christ in their own day; there were the organizers of monasteries and convents, like Benedict of Nursia and Hildegard of Bingen and Teresa of Avila.

There were the apostles and first converts who carried the witness across the continents, in Persia, India, the Sudan and Ethiopia. There were the preachers of the gospel to new peoples: Francis of Assisi, Dominic; the missionaries to Africa and Asia and the Americas, Francis Xavier, Father Kino.

There are the modern martyrs, like Janani Luwum and Jonathan Daniels, who stood with the oppressed at the cost of their own lives.

There are you and me, brothers and sisters.

For we carry the gospel and the witness and the mission of the saints with us. And we are all part of Christ’s body, his hands and his voice and his love in the world. Each of us has a gift, and we rejoice in our diversity and our unity.

In his letter to the Romans (12:4-8) the apostle Paul explains:
For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another. We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us: prophecy, in proportion to faith; ministry, in ministering; the teacher, in teaching; the exhorter, in exhortation; the giver, in generosity; the leader, in diligence; the compassionate, in cheerfulness.

It is through the diversity of gifts that we balance each other, giving to the whole body our own unique and vital contributions. For each of us, for each of the saints, there is a question to be asked: What gives you joy? What is it that in the doing of it, the giving of it, you experience the fullness of grace?

(I do not mean giddy happiness or a temporary feeling of satisfaction at a good deed done, but a deeper calm in your life at the knowledge you are God’s child and that you are on the right road. It is not a feeling that comes and goes: remember that Mother Theresa of Calcutta, in her private meditations, acknowledged the burden of her work and the desert of sadness she endured.)

When I was a kid I had heroes: I’ll tell you about two of them.

There was Willie Mays – when our Cub Scout Pack went to a Giants’ game, I expected him to hit a home run… and he did, on his third at-bat.

And there was Johnny Cash, whom I think my brothers and I mostly enjoyed imitating – at the beginning of his television show he’d introduce himself, turning to the camera and saying, “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash,” in his deep voice, then playing a chord on his guitar. Picture little boys lined up in front of the TV following his every move. Voices a little higher pitched. Later on he became a more real hero to me, as I learned about his life and his faith. One phrase really stuck with me for years after I read it, and it is relevant today, this week, because it was his response to a request for a political statement:

“I’m just tryin’ to be a good Christian.” (Penthouse interview, 1975)

In a way that is what any saint is trying to do – to be a good Christian, a faithful soul, sanctified not by his, or her, own efforts or deeds or lifestyle, but by trust in God. And to live by that faith – and follow God’s calling.

We move, as we become the people who trust God, from being outsiders, seekers, lost in the world and the world’s devices, to becoming members of the body of Christ, and living stones in the building that is the living Church.

In the letter to the Ephesians (2:19-22) Paul explained:

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling-place for God.
And it is in the people of God, as they follow God, in obedience to Christ, that the Spirit is working, and working through us to bring the joy of salvation, of God’s good news, to the world. Each of us has a gift to receive and to give: each of us, following joy where it leads, has a joy to give to the world, the joy (uniquely filtered through the prism of our souls) of the love of God in Christ.

God of holiness, your glory is proclaimed in every age:
as we rejoice in the faith of your saints,
inspire us to follow their example with boldness and joy; through Jesus Christ our Lord.


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