". . .for the laborer deserver to be paid." ~Luke 10:7

"All these rely on their hands,
   and all are skilful in their own work. 
Without them no city can be inhabited,
   and wherever they live, they will not go hungry.
Yet they are not sought out for the council of the people," ~ Ecclesiasticus 38:31-32

Monday marks the 135th observation of Labor Day, which began as a city holiday in New York in 1882 and was fully recognized as a national holiday by 1894. Originally a holiday for celebrating laborers and those in trades, it is now most often celebrated as the last break of summer and a great occasion for sales before the school year begins! Where there were parades, now there are back to school sales. Yet, while many relax, we must also remember health care workers, first responders, public safety officers, transportation workers, retail, hospitality, and food works who will all work so that others their days. There's a certain irony that a day to honor the working class now sees many of the working class back at work.

Bishop Stokes has asked all congregations to offer the Prayer for Human Family during worship as a reminder of our identity and mission as God's people in a world that seeks to find ways to push people away from one another.

There is a powerful story of how the Altar Rail is a place where we all are humbly gathered before God, equally sinners and equally redeemed. It takes place at St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Richmond, VA shortly after the Civil War. It was Communion Sunday (when Communion was celebrated monthly or quarterly!) and the invitation to come forward for Communion had been given. T

Dear Friends in Christ,

I am sharing some of my story with you as our nation grapples with the racism, anti-Semitism, and violence of Charlottesville and the continuing turmoil in response. It is where I am struggling, and it is where I believe God is speaking to us as a people of faith. I do not write as offering a “final word” or an attempt to correct anything I see at St. Peter’s. You are amazing people, regardless of any political differences we may have, and I respect each of you deeply. I am writing because I believe silence equals consent, or even, as the AIDS activists of the ‘80s and ‘90s understood, Silence=Death.

I am a child of the South. With that comes a very mixed heritage. In my generation (born 99 years after Lee’s surrender), the Civil War was still spoken of like it was in living memory. Southerners are like that. They tell stories in such a way that fact and fiction blend together and what was a century ago could just as easily have been yesterday.