St. Michael & All Angels Episcopal Church
  • Home
    • Noticias (Newsletter)
  • ABOUT US
    • WHO WE ARE
    • NEWCOMERS
    • FAQs
    • LGBTQ
  • Worship
    • Sunday Morning >
      • Sermons
    • Weekday Services
  • outreach
    • Pastoral Care
    • Outreach & Social Ministries >
      • Immigration Sanctuary
      • Navajoland Partnership
      • Senior Ministry >
        • Elder Care
    • Arts & Music >
      • Art >
        • Stained Glass
      • Music
    • Literature >
      • Library News & Book Reviews
  • FORMATION
    • Family & Youth
    • Adult Formation
    • All Angels Episcopal Day School
  • leadership
    • Job Postings
    • Meet Our Clergy
    • Meet Our Staff
    • VESTRY PAGE >
      • ByLaws
  • giving
    • Annual Giving
    • Stewardship
  • Contact

Sermon, The Rev. Susan Allison-Hatch, November 25

11/25/2012

0 Comments

 
Who Are You—Anyway?
A Sermon Preached by the Rev. Susan Allison-Hatch


Barbara Lundblad, a Lutheran pastor, preacher and teacher of preachers, tells the story of a black church in which, Sunday after Sunday, the minister would shout out, “Who is Jesus?”  From the choir a loud response, “King of Kings and Lord Almighty.”  But the choir didn’t have the last word on Jesus.  That belonged to a little old lady who, every Sunday, would whisper as loud as she could in response to the choir, “Poor little Mary’s boy.” 1  Today, the church sings with that choir, “King of Kings and Lord Almighty.” Today, the church celebrates the Feast of Christ the King, and so do we.  Yet there’s a part of me that chafes at this Feast of Christ the King.

I worry that this Feast of Christ the King plays into old (and not so old) versions of the Church triumphant, the imperial Church, the church not of Christ but of the Emperor Constantine—an  insider’s Church.  So often over the years, the Church has fallen into the arms of the Constantines of this world.  So often over the centuries, the Church has adopted the trappings of power and privilege that poor little Mary’s boy inveighed against when he chastised the scribes and the Pharisees for burdening the poor and for focusing on the externals of power while ignoring the core of their faith—justice and mercy and walking humbly with God.  

There’s a part of me that worries that if we focus too much on Christ the King—the King of Kings and Lord  Almighty-- we might just miss “Poor little Mary’s boy” and in the process overlook Jesus of Nazareth standing bound before Pilate.  For there he is—Jesus of Nazareth, “Poor little Mary’s boy”, an outsider, challenging one of the most powerful people of his day and place.  There he is—“Poor little Mary’s boy”—calling into question all sorts of notions of what it means to be a king

There’s a part of me that worries that if we turn our gaze to Christ the King we’ll look past the questions Pilate poses—to Jesus and to you and me as well.  To Jesus Pilate  says, “Are you the King of the Jews?”  When he doesn’t get a straight answer, he asks again.  “So you are a king?”  I hear Pilate asking Jesus, “Who are you?”  and  “What am I to do with you?”

Those are important questions.  Questions we need to be asking too.  Questions this Feast of Christ the King asks the Church.  

“Who are you?” Pilate asks Jesus.  

No wonder Jesus sidesteps his question.  The answer to Pilate’s question comes not in words spoken under pressure but in a life lived—a life of loving God in things little and big—tenderly lifting a young girl from her death bed with the words, “Talitha cum”, healing a frail man pushed aside from the healing waters of the pool of Siloam, giving sight to a man blind from birth, challenging the religious leaders of his day to live up to their faith.

Today, the Feast of Christ the King asks us “Who do you say Jesus is?”  and “How do you say it?”  Sometimes the Church answers in a loud voice, “King and Kings and Lord Almighty” and then acts as if it is the King of Kings. Sometimes the Church falls in line with voices of privilege and power. Sometimes the Church brushes past the widows, the children, the outsiders, and the poor in its path. Sometimes the Church gets it wrong.

Then there are the times the Church, in a quiet but determined voice, answers, “We say you are ‘Poor little Mary’s boy’” and goes about the work of feeding the hungry, healing the sick, freeing the oppressed, and bringing good news to the poor.   “Poor little Mary’s boy”—that’s the answer we at St. Michael’s give through Casa San Miguel, our food pantry.  “Poor little Mary’s boy”—that’s the answer  we give when we feed the homeless at St. Martin’s and serve ex-con’s at Dismas House.  “Poor little Mary’s boy”—it’s the refrain we sing when we work with the people of Navajo Land.  

This Feast of Christ the King poses the question—“Who do you say that I am”—not only to the church but to you and me as well.  That’s the kind of question folks answer at the kitchen table, in line, at work, on the road in the hustle and bustle of their days.   That’s the kind of question you and I answer time and again throughout the day.  That’s the kind of question we answer in the living of our lives.  

It’s not an either-or kind of answer.  It’s a both-and kind of thing.  “Who do you say that I am?”  When we answer “The one we follow—the one around whom we order our lives,” we answer “King of Kings and Lord Almighty.”  When we reach out to those others overlook, when we struggle to forgive, when we stand up to the bullies of this world, when we resist the relentless pressure to consume, we answer “Poor little Mary’s boy.”  

Jesus of Nazareth—Christ the King.  One we follow.  The other commands our loyalty.  

In the name of Jesus of Nazareth.  In the name of Christ the King.  Amen.

----------------------------------------
1Barbara Lundblad, A Different Kind of King: John 18: 33-37, http://odysseynetworks.org/news/onscripture-the-bible-john-18-33-37.
0 Comments

Sermon, The Rev. Susan Allison-Hatch, November 11

11/11/2012

0 Comments

 
Bound Together:
A Sermon Preached by the Rev. Susan Allison-Hatch


There they are.  Two people moving slowly towards one another.  One emerges from the wilderness in search of food.  There’s a purposefulness to his gait.  God has sent him on this journey assuring him a widow will provide.  The other walks slowly to the edge of town.  She, too, has a purposefulness to her movement.  Yet hers is more tentative.  No assurances from God to her.

He sees her first.  There she is—hunched down under the weight of her burden.  There she is slowly placing one foot in front of the other.  The weight of each step almost too much to bear.  What thoughts cross her mind as she makes her way to the edge of town?

    --The look on the face of her boy as his belly swells and his cheeks turn hollow?
    --Memories of better days.  
        *Times when the flour jar was full and the oil jug over-flowing
        *The smell of his baby skin when she bathed him
                        *The sound of his laughter

Perhaps.  But I suspect she has no time or energy for that.  She’s caught up in the pressures of the moment.  Maybe she’s casting about figuring out what to say when her son asks for more to eat.  “That’s all there is.”   How hollow those words are.  No solace there.

Lost in thought, lost in pain, suddenly she hears the stranger’s feet crunching the stubble in the fields.  Focused on her grim task, she feels him coming toward her long before she sees him.

He stops.  He calls to her, “Woman.  Bring me water that I may drink.”

She breaks her focus.  Stopping her work of looking for sticks, she turns and goes towards the well.  She can’t refuse a drink of water.  That’s no way to treat a stranger.

Then he calls again.  He’s asking her for more.  Not much.  Just a morsel of bread.   But far more than she can provide.  

Wearily, she stops and turns to face him.  “I can’t do that,” she says to the stranger.  “I have barely enough for one last meal for me and my son before we die of hunger.”  

In that moment, in the silence that follows her words, everything changes.  The ground beneath them shifts.  The prophet Elijah hears not only her words but also her need and her pain.  

It’s her deep need and gnawing pain his words now address.  “Do not be afraid,” he says to her.  “Bring me a little something to eat.  Then fix something for you and for your son.  God will provide.  The jar of flour will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not run dry.”

Scripture tells us, “She went and did as Elijah said....”  Taking the risk.  Trusting that God—a God foreign to her—would provide.  A gamble that saved her life and Elijah’s as well.

Elijah’s words, the nameless widow’s risk; his faith, her scant resources.  The two—Elijah and that nameless widow—bound together in need, bound together in hope.  Think of it—it took both of them, working together, to ease her pain and to save their lives.  Two people bound together in need.  Two people bound together in hope.   How different from the prevailing spirit in our day—a spirit that says, “My way or the highway!” A spirit that says, “Me first.”  A spirit that says, “I’ll do it myself.”

And yet we can’t really go it alone can we?  We need one another.   The Christian life—and I would venture to say simply life—is not a solitary journey.  It’s journey we make in community.  It’s a journey we do together.  

Today we are baptizing two people—a newborn baby, Harper, and a grown man, Scott.  In a few minutes I will ask you, “Will you do all in your power to support these persons in their life in Christ?”  I hope you’ll replay with a loud, “We will.”

Authentic Christian life is hard.  We can’t do it on our own.  We need one another.  We need Harper’s voice—her gurgles, her shrieks, her cries of pain and hunger.  We need the sheer joy of life  we feel when we see her face.  We need Scott’s searching questions.  They push us to think more deeply about why we’re here, who we are, and what we’re called to be.  We need his tender earnestness about this new life he’s entering.  Scott and Harper  need us too.  They need our love.  They need our faith when theirs begins to lag.  They need our stories of life along the path of faith.  We need each other to grow more deeply into the body of Christ.

In his book, No Future Without Forgiveness  Desmond Tutu writes, "My humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours." We belong in a bundle of life....A person is a person through other persons."  Harper and Scott, “We belong together in a bundle of life.  Our humanity is bound up in yours.  We are because you are.  Welcome to this bundle of life we call the Christian path.”
0 Comments

Sermon, The Rev. Randy Lutz, November 4

11/4/2012

0 Comments

 
We're sorry, the full text for this sermon is not available at this time.
0 Comments

Sermon, The Rev. Susan Allison-Hatch, October 28

10/28/2012

0 Comments

 
With An Everlasting Love:  
A Sermon Preached by the Rev. Susan Allison-Hatch


Not long ago, a poem caught my ear—a poem about the Day of the Dead.   “Día de los Muertos” it’s called.  I think it  speaks in the voice of those gracing our ofrenda.  I’d like to share it with you.

The beat of my heart has disappeared from earth
But it rings loudly in another world
I can still see you, living and dreaming, loving and smiling
The children, los nietos, I hear them
My love, the one I left behind
I feel them mourning, I sense the pain of loss
Do not worry, I come back to earth to celebrate my life in spirit
So will you
Come Día de los Muertos, fill me with living
Let me walk this earth once again
Touch the stars and kiss the ones I have loved the most
Remember our boda, the veil you wore, sprinkled my soul with passion
And my comaradas, how I miss them
Through thick and thin they stood their ground
My niña, my bella niña
She said goodbye in her own special way
Stop
The rhythm begins
Color your face into skulls
Wear hats in my honor
I see you, dancing across the light
Under the beauty of the night
To the beat of my heart
The altar in my honor, inside like a cita
Breathes the soul back in me
Día de los Muertos, come back to me
So I can feel home again.1

Today, we celebrate Dia de los Muertos. Our loved ones gather around us.  We see their faces.  We hear their voices.  And we remember.  We remember the fullness of their lives.

Their pain, their sorrow, their suffering.  The hurdles they encountered.  The struggles they endured.  

There they stand—“Those who sowed with tears.”

Those we love but see no longer.  The people gathered here with us tonight.  The people gracing our ofrenda.    

We remember “Those who sowed with tears” are also those who “reap with songs of joy.”

And so we remember the joy that was a part them.  Their laughter.  The pleasure they took in other people’s joys.  Their gentle smile.  Their warm encouragement.  The quiet times.  The wild times.  The times spent sharing bread and wine around the table.

We remember the challenges they presented us.  The way they pushed our buttons.  The way they called us out when we were out of line.  The way they pushed the boundaries of our lives.  

Dia de los Muertos.  A day, a season, a time for remembering the fullness of life and the fullness of life in relationship with those we love. Relationships marked by joy and sorrow, comfort and annoyance, trust and doubt.  Relationships that stand the test of time.  

As I look at our ofrenda, as I see the people gathered there, I find myself wondering about the lives of those whom I am meeting for the first time today and I find myself remembering the lives of those I knew.

This year I brought another picture to place on the ofrenda—one I haven’t brought before.  My maternal grandmother Mary Hazel Wilson.  You can see her laughing.  That’s how I remember her.  Smiling, laughing, filled with warmth.  And yet when I recall the details of her life, I wonder where that laughter came from. She never finished school.  She had to work to support herself and her family.  After her first child, my mother, was born, she lost two babies.  Years later she watched her daughter—her only child—hover on the brink of life and death for almost three years. The grandmother I remember is the one who drove me nuts—saying tater instead of potato, eating gravy bread and liking it, complaining about my mom.  The grandmother I remember is the grandmother in the picture—laughing, smiling, coming to the rescue every time I got sent to my room.  The grandmother I remember mostly kept her weeping to herself.  The grandmother I remember walking with joy while shouldering her sheaves.

Take a moment.  Look at the people gathered at our ofrenda.  Each one loved by one of us.  Each one gone and still very much a part of our lives and our life together.  Each one knowing suffering and sorrow, failure and disappointment for such is a part of life.  Each one knowing the joy and laughter and love that make life worth living.  Each one loved by God with an everlasting love.  

Dia de los Muertos—a day when we celebrate with the cloud of witnesses surrounding us God’s commitment to life. A commitment to life that invites us to dance “across the light, under the beauty of the night, to the beauty of God’s heart....”  A commitment that calls us to love one another as we are loved—to love with an everlasting love—a love that defies the chains of death, a love that transcends the limits of time. A love that embraces the wounded, the lame, the poor and the lowly.  The limitless love of God.

1Olivia Garcia, “Dia de los Muertos”   
0 Comments

Sermon, The Rev. Kristin Schultz, October 21

10/21/2012

0 Comments

 
We're sorry, the full text for this sermon is not available at this time.
0 Comments

Sermon, Larry Gallegos, October 14

10/14/2012

0 Comments

 
Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Help in time of need. We all need help in various times of need in our lives.

The rich young man needed to know what else he had to do to follow Jesus. When Jesus told him to sell all he had and give it to the poor, the young man walked away.  

In this political season, we hear a lot about the 1 percent, the 47 percent and the 99 percent. It seems to be pretty easy to figure out who the rich ones are…or is it? On the surface, the ones with the money are the rich ones. Now, if it was just about having wealth the answer would be easy.

“Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

Scary thought if you’re one of the “rich” ones, but no fear, I’ve heard research is going on right now and they’re trying to breed tiny, little camels and make build really giant needles. Problem solved!

Again I ask if being rich is just about having great wealth. A few years ago, my son and I were able to do some work in the slums in Juarez. I’ve considered myself to be middle class most of my adult life. There in Juarez, we learned about how rich we really were. We had a home with indoor plumbing, heating and air conditioning. We were a family of four with three cars, cell phones, a computer with internet access, cable TV, we were rich!!!!

Our host family had a 2 bedroom house and my son and I stayed in the 2nd bedroom while the 3 boys slept in their parent’s room. The mother worked in a concrete block factory and was allowed to bring home a few blocks a week for free. When they had enough blocks, they would add another interior wall to create a new room. Some of the outside walls were made of 2x4’s with cardboard for insulation and anything they could find for outside sheathing; sheet metal, wood pallets, even a bed spring, until they got enough blocks to build those walls. It was quite a fire trap. The house was heated with a wood burning stove made from an old oil barrel. This was in January of that year, the coldest part of the winter. The father was a plumber so they had indoor plumbing, cold water only. In the morning I took the coldest…and fastest shower I had ever taken in my life.

We ate beans, rice, chicken and tortillas.  And their hospitality? I was treated better than in any hotel I had ever stayed in.

Here’s the funny thing, in their neighborhood, they were the rich ones!!!

Pretty much almost everyone in the United States, including our poor, are rich compared to most of the world. So does that mean in comparison to the rest of the world, we all need to look for those tiny camels and giant needles?

I do think that Jesus was speaking of worldly goods when he spoke of the young man, but also of the way in which we put things in front of God.

What riches in our life interfere with our relationship with Jesus? It can be money, or possessions, even people that can get in the way. When anything comes between us and the Lord, it becomes our riches.
Our own egos can be the worst of the riches we have. Thinking that we don’t need Jesus to take care of a situation, or making excuses for not making time to pray, for scripture time, for quiet time with God, these are all ways when our “personal richness” makes it harder for us to get to heaven.  And if left to our own richness, we can’t make it to heaven.

“Then who can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

For God, all things are possible. When we understand that all things are possible, we learn to lean on the Lord, to let go of those things that get in the way of that relationship.  Only then can we “approach the throne of grace with boldness.”  The boldness comes from knowing that our God makes all things possible, no matter how much we may have let our riches get in the way.  

“So that we may receive mercy,” the mercy that comes from a loving and forgiving God. The mercy that God offers continually, we just have to accept that offer of mercy every day.

“And find grace to help in time of need.” We will always find grace especially in our time of need if we just open our hearts to God’s grace.

God is always showering us with mercy and grace; it’s just that much of the time we don’t let go of our riches long enough to see it happening. Our times of need seem to be those times when we turn our back on our Lord. I’ve seen many people go through tremendous hardships, health issues, family issues, financial problems and more. For some, those burdens seem to cover them and permeate their lives, causing frustration and a feeling that God has abandoned them.

For some, it seems like there’s nothing bothering them. They have a strength and faith that all can see. Why? Because they are allowing God’s grace and mercy to cover them completely. Their faith helps them to overcome any trial that comes to them by letting go of their riches.

A dear old family friend, Mrs. Aurora Chavez passed away at 2:00 this morning after a long battle with cancer. Her grand-daughter told me that her grandma was praying earlier this week that God would give her family the strength to make it through this tough time. Not to ease her own pain, but to ease the pain of those she loved. I have no doubt that Aurora is in heaven at this very moment looking at each of us and her family and friends, because her riches were stored in heaven.

Let us become like her. If our riches are stored in heaven, then we can accept God’s help in time of need and let God’s grace and mercy be abundant in our lives.

So it’s not just about how much money or stuff we have…

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
0 Comments

Sermon, The Rev. Randy Lutz, September 30

9/30/2012

0 Comments

 
We're sorry, the full text for this sermon is not available at this time.
0 Comments

Sermon, The Rev. Deacon Judith Jenkins, September 23

9/23/2012

0 Comments

 
We're sorry, the full text for this sermon is not available at this time.
0 Comments

Sermon, The Rev. Kristin Schultz, September 16

9/16/2012

0 Comments

 
We're sorry, the full text for this sermon is not available at this time.
0 Comments

Sermon, The Rev. Susan Allison-Hatch, September 9

9/9/2012

0 Comments

 
Be Open:
A Sermon Preached by the Rev. Susan Allison-Hatch


Did you hear that?  Did you hear what Jesus said to that Syrophoenician woman?  He dismissed her.  He dissed her.  He called her a dog.  A female dog.

What do you make of this story?  How do you square what we’ve just heard with  the Jesus you know and love?

Some people give him an out.  They say, “He just called her a little dog, a puppy.  It was no big deal.”

Other people say he was just testing her—her and his disciples.  They say he knew all along he was going to heal that little girl.  They say he just wanted to make a point about her faith or their understanding of his mission.

I don’t buy it.  

I think something else was at work here.  Something far more powerful than a test or a misplaced term of endearment.

Look where it all takes place.  In Tyre.  On the borderlands.  In a place where Jews and Gentiles, Israelites and Greeks rub shoulders and not always lovingly.  A land beyond the limits of Jesus’ sphere of ministry.  A  land far outside his comfort zone.  A land fraught with danger and with possibility.  A limnal land.  A limnal space.

Remember what’s gone on before this encounter with that brassy woman.  Jesus’ own family thought he was nuts.  His neighbors chased him out of town.  Pharisees and scribes were plotting to do him in.  His disciples—they grew denser by the minute.  I can imagine how he might have felt.  Disappointed.  Dejected.  Maybe even doubting himself and the work he thought he was called to do. It was a moment fraught with danger. A moment filled with possibility. A limnal moment in his life and in his ministry.

We all have those limnal times and places in our lives.  Times and places fraught with danger.  Times and places we’d rather not be.  Times and places filled with possibility if only we are open to it.  Times when you get scared down to your boots.  Times when you want to call back your words even as you are speaking them. Moments when we wonder if we will ever see our way clear to a new day.  Times when the tectonic plates in our lives rub up against each other and threaten to swallow us up. Moments of fear, pain, shame, vulnerability and sometimes, if we’re lucky, an amazing kind of openness. Times and places infused with the holy. Limnal moments in our lives.  Moments when amazing transformations can occur.  

Richard Rohr once called such moments, “a unique spiritual position where human beings hate to be but where the biblical God is always leading them.”  I wonder if Jesus was in such a place that day the Syrophoenican woman burst through the doors.  There he was holding tight to what had worked for him in the past.  There he was holding tight to an outdated vision of the ministry to which he was called.  No wonder he says to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs”(Mark 7: 27b).   He can’t let go of that old vision even when it’s not working as well as he might wish.

But she won’t settle for a “no”.  She’s got a daughter that needs healing.  Her words echo through the room like a gust of fresh air:  “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs”(Mark 7: 28b)   “Ephphatha.  Be open,” she might just as well have added, for with her words came a shift—a major shift—in how Jesus sees himself and the ministry he is about.  Transformation in the moment.  He says to her, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter”(Mark: 7: 30).  Her words opening the way to new life for her, her daughter and, in a way, Jesus, too.  

It’s almost as if those words of hers send Jesus off in a new direction.  Off to the Decapolis, another hotbed of Gentiles, where he encounters a deaf man with a speech impediment.  A deaf Gentile man.  This time there’s no hesitation at all.  Jesus pulls the man aside, sticks his fingers in the man’s deaf ears, spits on the ground, touches the man’s unruly tongue, and says,” Ephphatha.  Be open.”

That’s what Jesus says to us as well when we find ourselves in one of those places where we’ve lost all our moorings and have not yet found a place to drop anchor.   “Ephphatha.  Be open.”  “Be open to God’s grace at work transforming pain and shame and fear and dread and emptiness into the stuff of new life.”   “Be open to the possibilities inherent in the moment.”

“Ephphatha.  Be open.”
0 Comments
<<Previous

    Archives

    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    November 2015
    October 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    July 2012
    June 2012
    May 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012
    January 2012
    December 2011
    November 2011
    October 2011

    Categories

    All
    Advent Season Year A
    Advent Season Year B
    Advent Season Year C
    Baptism Of Our Lord
    Baptism Of Our Lord
    Blessing Ceremony
    Brian Taylor
    Children Of Live At Five
    Christmas Season Year A
    Christmas Season Year C
    Easter Season Year A
    Easter Season Year B
    Easter Season Year C
    Easter Sunday
    Feast Of All Saints
    Feast Of Christ The King
    Feast Of Epiphany
    Feast Of Epiphany
    Feast Of Pentecost
    Feast Of The Virgin Of Guadalupe
    Jan Bales
    Jp Arrossa
    Jp Arrossa
    Judith Jenkins
    Kristin Schultz
    Larry Gallegos
    Lenten Season Year A
    Lenten Season Year B
    Lenten Season Year C
    Live At Five
    Michaelmas
    Palm Sunday
    Pat Green
    Randy Lutz
    Rob Clarke
    Season After Epiphany Year A
    Season After Epiphany Year B
    Season After Epiphany Year C
    Season After Pentecost Year A
    Season After Pentecost Year B
    Season After Pentecost Year C
    Susan Allison Hatch
    Susan Allison Hatch
    Transfiguration Sunday
    Trinity Sunday

    RSS Feed

Picture
   SEE THE WEEKLY PARISH NEWSLETTER     
Questions about the life and ministry of St. Michael's?
Contact Us!
Click here for information on
​legacy giving.
Picture

505.345.8147                601 Montaño Road NW, Albuquerque, New Mexico 87107                  office@all-angels.com

  • Home
    • Noticias (Newsletter)
  • ABOUT US
    • WHO WE ARE
    • NEWCOMERS
    • FAQs
    • LGBTQ
  • Worship
    • Sunday Morning >
      • Sermons
    • Weekday Services
  • outreach
    • Pastoral Care
    • Outreach & Social Ministries >
      • Immigration Sanctuary
      • Navajoland Partnership
      • Senior Ministry >
        • Elder Care
    • Arts & Music >
      • Art >
        • Stained Glass
      • Music
    • Literature >
      • Library News & Book Reviews
  • FORMATION
    • Family & Youth
    • Adult Formation
    • All Angels Episcopal Day School
  • leadership
    • Job Postings
    • Meet Our Clergy
    • Meet Our Staff
    • VESTRY PAGE >
      • ByLaws
  • giving
    • Annual Giving
    • Stewardship
  • Contact