Laboring Together

This sermon was given on the Feast of the Nativity of John the Baptist on June 24th 2026 at the induction of the Rev. Allie McDougall as rector of St Mary’s parish in Walkerville, Windsor ON. It was a great honor and privilege to be asked to preach this special occasion, and I am so excited for Mother Allie and the people of St Mary’s!

Luke 1:57-80

Earlier today, Mother Allie mentioned that the experience of the induction service is pretty similar to the experience of a wedding, only instead of two people marrying it is a joining of two families, her own family and the family of St Mary’s. She didn’t know that I had already written very similar words in my sermon, but clearly the Holy Spirit had us both on the same track. When my own induction took place at the two small parishes I serve in rural Virginia five years ago, I remember a very similar feeling. There are hymns to choose and special clothes to wear and a lot of thought goes into the various ceremonial roles in the liturgy. There is usually a reception which means cake and drinks and decorations – which have been splendidly and lovingly assembled for us in the hall so that we can continue the celebration. All in all, it very much feels like planning a wedding, and not just because of the typical elements of any party. Much like marriage is an exchange of vows, a moment of mutual commitment to face an unknown future together, the prayers and petitions exchanged today represent a commitment to laboring together as priest and parish, siblings in Christ brought together by a common mission and a shared hope.

Our officiant reminded us that as the family of God and the body of Christ, we all share common ministry, whether clergy or laity, through our baptism. A priesthood of all believers, in the moment of baptism we are inducted into the ministry of the Gospel, co-laborers called into a plentiful harvest by the one who gives the growth. Our roles may look different, our particular vocations may call us to specific types of work or study or service. But as you, the people of God in St Mary’s Parish, commit to share in this new ministry with Mother Allie with the help of God, you are doing more than affirming her calling. You also affirm your own.

There is a temptation, when a new priest joins a parish community, to hang all the hopes and fears of the entire history of that parish on the doorknob of the rector’s office and then run far in the opposite direction. Especially in the case of young clergy, who often serve as walking projector screens for all the Church’s anxieties about the future, this temptation can be strong. But the liturgy we celebrate today, the words we say and sing and hear, remind us that we do not hold to a version of the Church that sends the priest out into the field alone and heavy laden. The vision of the Church that we espouse, that has been handed down to us by generations past, is one that sees us all out in the field alongside one another, sharing the work and lightening the load. We equip our priests as pastors and teachers, as servant leaders and faithful stewards, so that we can in turn do the work God has given us to do, laboring together to build up the family of God.

John the Baptizer, whose birth the Church remembers today, is an unexpected and utterly perfect example for us as we recommit together to the work of the Gospel. John, beloved only son of Elizabeth and Zechariah, is almost always depicted as a solitary figure. It seems likely that he lost his parents at a young age, having been born to them in their later years. His appearances in scripture take place in the wilderness, on the fringes, and on the banks of the Jordan river. He did not marry, or raise children, and did not have many opportunities to spend time with his distant cousin, Jesus. We often picture him alone, but I don’t know that I’ve ever heard him described as lonely. And I believe that is because he was not alone, at least not as alone as we imagine him. Because despite his rustic choice of clothing and his minimalistic foraged diet and his preference for the margins, just out of reach of polite society, John drew people to him like a magnetic force.

The Gospels tell us that the whole Judean countryside and the people of Jerusalem went out to the wilderness to hear John preach and to be baptized by him in the Jordan. He was surrounded daily by hundreds and even thousands of people who needed to hear that the kingdom of heaven was about to come near. We know that John had disciples, friends and students who followed him on his journey to prepare the way of the Lord. They listened to him, and when he pointed out their Savior to them, some followed after Jesus because of John’s encouragement. We know that even in the horrific final days of his life, when John was imprisoned for calling Herod to account, his friends and disciples were with him, visiting him and bringing him news of Jesus’s ministry. We know that when he doubted, when he had questions about who Jesus really was, he was not alone even then. His friends, his students and co-laborers for the kingdom, interceded on his behalf. They took his questions and his fears to Jesus, a hand-delivered prayer for comfort on behalf of a prophet. Before he died at the hands of the state, John’s friends came back to him with stories whispered through prison bars of the eyes of the blind being opened and the prisoners being made truly free. We remember John as we remember many prophets, standing alone. But John was never truly alone.

A prophet cannot bring the Word of the Lord to the people of God if the people of God don’t show up. A teacher is not a teacher without willing and open-minded students. A priest is just a person with a very niche set of skills wearing strange clothes if they are not deeply engaged in a community. There is a reason that Jesus promised to be present wherever two or three gather in his name. The smallest quorum of the Church is two or three, not one. No one of us, not you or me or Mother Allie or even John the Baptist, can do the work of the Gospel alone. Mother Allie may be empowered by her ordination to preach and teach and baptize and celebrate the Eucharist, but she cannot do those things without your presence. In truth, she cannot fulfill most, maybe even all of her ordination vows without your participation. She can only truly live into her vocation, only truly be her whole self as a priest, because she has you, her siblings in Christ, fellow laborers in the vineyard and proclaimers of the kingdom of heaven. As you formally welcome her and her family, as you make mutual commitments to one another for an unknown future, may the good work the Lord has already begun in you be multiplied and magnified by the life you share. Together, serve the God who is love without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all your days. May they be plentiful, and full of joy. Amen.

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