Leave it to a pastor and preacher to say what everyone knows but still needs to be said. The duty fell on Sunday to the Rev. Jason Shelby, beginning his third year as rector of St. Francis Episcopal Church in Palos Verdes Estates, along with Jennifer, a teacher, and their children, Archie and Rachel. During announcements, he said I was making my last episcopal visit to St. Francis before our new bishop in the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles, by the grace of God, is ordained and consecrated in July 2026.
Well, of course — but I hadn’t thought about it until Jason said it. We had all been too busy with the work of the Holy Spirit, including confirming, receiving, and reaffirming the baptismal vows of a class of eight. Sammy, 9, a Little League cause célèbre, was to have been baptized, but he was on the temporary DL, aka home sick. Plus we’d had a palm procession and the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ according to St. Luke as offered by St. Francis’ lay readers.
So my presence on the mandatory RL was the last thing on my mind until Jason noted it and said that the parish had already ordered a wonderful gift I’ll never see: Sheep and a goat, given through Heifer International to a farming family in Kathy’s and my names.
It was a gift in the spirit of the parish’s animal-loving namesake. According to his example of service, St. Francis also supports clothing ministries at a sibling parish and Camp Pendleton and cares for food- and housing-insecure college students with textbooks, tuition, and other forms of support. You don’t want to miss the annual antique show and rummage sale, separate fundraising events, both state of the art.
The devoted deacon, the Rev. Celeste S. Stump, who also served as my chaplain, is a beloved chaplain for older neighbors at the nearby Canterbury. It was a joy to see Dick Briggs, board secretary of Bloy House, The Episcopal Theological School at Los Angeles, and his spouse, Sarah, who grew up at St. Nicholas’ in Encino, where her father was a legendary rector to the stars.
While retirement wasn’t on my mind, Holy Week repentance was. As I said in my sermon, in the St. Luke’s passion narrative, I heard the cock crow three times for me. The disciples bickering over who would be greatest shows they couldn’t even put Jesus first when they learned he’d just been sold out. How often do I insist on making it about me? Jesus organizing the evening to make sure Isaiah’s prophecy came true (why else would he have needed a sword?) invited me to root everything I do in the living Word. And if I had lived under Rome’s cruel jackboot, it’s hard to be sure I would’ve asked Pilate for the release of the Prince of Peace when the moment seemed to require a god of war. It made me think of the distracting, unsettling emotions of our politics these days. That Barabbas — at least he stood up and fought for his country.
