From the Rector

Siblings in Christ,

The yellow fever epidemic of 1878 began in New Orleans, spread up the Mississippi River and moved inland. An estimated 120,000 people contracted the hemorrhagic fever, and 13,000 to 20,000 died.

An order of Episcopal nuns, now remembered in our calendar of Saints as Constance and her companions, traveled to Memphis to care for those who were sick and dying. Constance and her five companions, who died within a month of each other while ministering to residents of Memphis, are a moving example of the Church, out of love, taking on the risk of caring for a sick and hurting world.

The Rev’d Charles Carroll Parsons, the rector of Grace Episcopal Church in Memphis, who wrote to Quintard five days before dying, called the sisters the “brave, unshrinking daughters of a Divine Love.”

The high Altar at St. Mary’s in Memphis, consecrated on Pentecost 1879, memorializes the sisters. The steps are inscribed with “Alleluia Osanna,” Constance’s last words.

What does it mean, these days, to be brave and unshrinking in the service of Divine Love? Most of all, it means presence. The sisters could not cure the sick. What they could do is be with them—to be unshrinking bearers of Divine Love. Being present in such a way is not without risk, as the story of those sisters clearly shows.

It is now possible for us to be present in so many ways—to make calls, arrange Zoom chats, write letters, send emails, check in on social media, and more. With the vaccine, we all are adjusting our tolerance for risk, for how we can be present. Each of us is faced with the difficult reality of needing to care for ourselves and our families in this time. I think we are also faced with another reality—showing what it means to be present and to care for those who are afraid, alone, or in sorrow.

We can be present in so many ways. The opportunity for the Church is to both be responsible but also to be willing to take risks for the sake of Divine Love. This does not mean being sloppy or negligent with our lives or the lives of others—it means being willing to help others find hope even as we’re doubting, helping others seek healing even as we fear for our health, helping others know love even when we wrestle with all the sorrows of this past year and more. That’s a ministry of presence and we can do that in so many ways.

When Christ gave us Communion at that Last Supper, he did so with the promise that he would be with us always. That his Divine Presence would aid and comfort us—that we would never need fear being alone. That model of holy presence is why the sisters took the risk to be for the sick and the dying. It is a model for us, too, encouraging us to seek, day by day, to be present in ways that show forth the loving grace of Christ.

We will each have to assess our willingness to take risks, whether it is in going to church, going to the grocery store, or grabbing a cup of coffee. We will never, no matter the protocols or masks or hand sanitizer, eliminate risk. We can, however, ensure that we take risks for the sake of those we love—not simply try and avoid them for the sake of fear. We must never be negligent with our lives, but being present to a world we love will always be an act of loving risk. That was the message of Constance’s last words—after all the risks, and the illness, at her last she prayed, “Alleluia Osanna” for it had all been for love’s sake. 

Yours in Christ,
Fr Robert