church – The Rev. Eric Mancil

We Belong to Christ

A Sermon for the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 19, Year A)
September 13, 2026

Text: Romans 14:1-12

Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak through them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

From Paul’s letter to the Romans: “If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.”

These words from Paul express something about what it means to be the Church. We don’t exist because we all think alike or have everything figured out. We exist because we belong to Christ—and because we belong to Christ, we belong to one another.

Many of you have heard at least some of the story of how I found my way into the Episcopal Church. But some of you haven’t.

And since today is Come and See Sunday, I wanted to share that story with you again—along with some of the things I love most about the Episcopal Church.

In my junior year of studying music at Auburn, a fellow member of the Auburn University Concert Choir told me that his church was looking for a bass to sing in the student choir, and he asked me if I knew anyone who might be interested.

It was an Episcopal church, and the members of the choir received a small stipend for singing each week during the service.

I had never even heard of the Episcopal Church. But earning a little extra money each week and getting connected with a church sounded appealing. So I told him I was interested.

Chelsea and I went together that first Sunday to St. Dunstan’s in Auburn.

I sang in the choir, and she sat in the congregation. And it turned out to be one of the best decisions we ever made.

The worship was very different. The prayers and hymns were unfamiliar, and there were moments during the service when everyone else seemed to know exactly what to do while I was completely lost.

But even then, there was something about the community that felt familiar. It felt like coming home.

The people of St. Dunstan’s showed a genuine love for one another. People from all backgrounds and walks of life were welcomed into the community.

We didn’t feel as though we had to understand everything or believe the same way as everyone else did.

They simply opened their arms and welcomed us in.

Week after week, we worshiped, broke bread together, and offered our prayers for one another and for the world.

St. Dunstan’s also taught me that Church isn’t just about what happens on Sunday morning. It’s where we are nourished by the sacraments, formed through our common life, and strengthened to follow Jesus in the world.

It’s also where I came to know my good friend and mentor, Father Wells, where I was baptized and later confirmed, and where the first seeds of my calling to ordained ministry were planted.

The people of St. Dunstan’s changed the course of my life, and I’ll always be grateful for the love and hospitality they showed us.

That experience shaped what I love about the Episcopal Church and what I hope people encounter here at St. Mary’s.

If you’re visiting with us today for the first time, welcome. You may not know what to expect. You may not know when to stand, sit, or kneel during worship, or even what you believe about God. And that’s okay.

Because the Church was never meant to be a place for people who know everything. It’s a community of people learning together what it means to follow Jesus.

That’s what our lesson from Romans this morning is all about.

Paul is describing the kind of community where people from very different backgrounds are learning how to cooperate and live together as one Church.

You have to remember that the early Church in Rome included both Jewish and Gentile Christians. Jewish Christians had been raised within the covenant traditions of Israel. Practices involving food and special days of observance were part of their cultural and religious identity and how they honored God.

Gentile Christians, on the other hand, had not grown up with those traditions, and many believed that life in Christ freed them from those practices.

Now these two different groups were trying to come together as one Church. They worshiped the same Lord but disagreed about what following Jesus should look like.

The problem was that those disagreements were starting to tear the Church apart. They were judging one another and beginning to believe that faithfulness required everyone else to see things exactly as they did.

So Paul writes, “Welcome those who are weak in faith, but not for the purpose of quarreling over opinions.”

Paul wasn’t saying that what they believe doesn’t matter. He wasn’t asking them to pretend their differences weren’t real. Instead, he reminds them that something deeper holds them together.

“Whether we live or whether we die,” Paul writes, “we are the Lord’s.”

We don’t have to agree about everything to belong to one another because, first of all, we belong to Christ.

That’s one of the things I’ve come to love most about the Episcopal Church.

There are many others—and since today is Come and See Sunday, I’d like to share some of those with you.

I love that there’s room here for questions.

We’re allowed to wrestle with our doubts without feeling shame or that we’re somehow being unfaithful. We can come to church without having to check our brains at the door. Our minds are gifts from God, and we believe that honest questions can lead us more deeply into faith.

I love that when we say “all are welcome,” we mean that ALL are welcome, with no exceptions. And not only that, but you’re invited to bring all of who you are.

God sees you, and God knows you. You don’t have to hide the complicated parts of your life or the parts that no one else understands. You can bring your faith and your doubts, your joys and your sorrows, your hopes and your fears. God meets us where we are—not where we pretend to be.

I love the beauty and reverence of our worship and the way our prayers connect us with something much greater than ourselves.

These prayers have carried generations of Christians through every season of life. Now they carry us. Our worship is rooted in ancient tradition, but it’s still very relevant to our lives. Each week, we gather to worship, and we bring with us our gratitude, our fears, and our hope for the world. All of it’s gathered into prayer.

I love that we can disagree and still worship together.

That doesn’t mean our disagreements don’t matter. It means we don’t have to agree on everything in order to belong. We don’t gather because we all think alike. We gather because we belong to Christ. We carry different experiences, opinions, and beliefs. But, we listen to the same Scriptures, speak the same prayers, and kneel at the same Altar. We find unity—not in thinking exactly alike—but in turning together toward God.

And I love that our faith is incarnational—which means embodied in the way we live and move and have our being.

Faith isn’t just about what we believe or what we express with our words. It’s about how we live. In worship, we stand, kneel, and sing together. We exchange the peace. We hold out our hands and receive the Body of Christ so that we can go into the world and become the Body of Christ.

The grace we receive here becomes food for the hungry, companionship for the lonely, care for those who are suffering, welcome for the stranger, and love for our neighbors. At the end of every service, we are sent out with words like, “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” It’s a reminder that, even though our worship has ended, our service continues.

Before we’re Episcopalians, before we’re members of St. Mary’s, before we agree or disagree about anything, we belong to Christ. And because we belong to Christ, we belong to one another.

The Episcopal Church isn’t perfect, and neither is St. Mary’s. Sometimes we fall short of our call to walk in love. But our failures don’t change who God is calling us to become.

Christian community gives us people who will pray with us when we can’t find the words, rejoice with us when life is good, and sit with us when life falls apart. It also gives us a place where our gifts can be discovered and offered for others.

That kind of belonging has the power to change the direction of a life. I know because it changed mine.

Years ago, I walked through the doors of an Episcopal church because someone invited me to sing in their choir. I had no idea where that small invitation would lead.

But Chelsea and I found people who welcomed us. We found room to wrestle with our doubts and ask questions. We found a way of worshipping God that spoke to our lives and a community that allowed us to belong while we were still finding our way.

Most importantly, through all of those things, we found Jesus.

And that’s what I hope every person finds here at St. Mary’s. If you’re visiting today—or if you’ve been coming for a while but still consider yourself new—you don’t need perfect faith, and you don’t need to have everything figured out. You’re invited to pray, ask questions, and discover alongside us what it means to follow Jesus.

And for those of us who already call St. Mary’s home, today is a reminder that welcome is more than just something we say.

It’s a way of life.

It means making room for people as someone once did for us—including those who are different than we are. It means listening before judging and inviting others to share in our worship, ministries, and common life together.

It means remembering that this community doesn’t belong to us.

It belongs to God, and we belong to Christ.

And anyone Christ brings through these doors is someone we’re called to receive with love.

That’s the Church I discovered all those years ago at St. Dunstan’s.

And that’s the Church I believe God is calling us to become more fully together.

Not a church with all the answers, but a church willing to ask honest questions.

Not a church where everyone agrees, but a church gathered around the same Lord.

Not a church filled with perfect people, but a church where we can experience the transforming love of God in Christ.

Here, we can bring all of who we are.

Here, we are nourished by the grace of God.

And from here, we are sent to embody that grace in the world.

So whoever you are and wherever you are on your journey with Christ, you are welcome.

There’s a place for you here at St. Mary’s.

Amen.

The Work of the Gospel

A Sermon for the Twenty-Sixth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 28, Year B)
November 17, 2024

Text: Mark 13:1-8

I’ve had the good fortune of being able to visit some incredible places in my life. This probably won’t come as a surprise to any of you, but one of my favorite things to do when I get to visit a new place is to go and check out some of the local, historic churches, especially the cathedrals.

In the summer between my junior and senior years of college, the choir from Auburn University went on a tour of Eastern Europe, and while we were there, I spent a lot of my free time visiting some of the beautiful, Gothic cathedrals in places like Prague and Budapest.

When I visited New Orleans for the first time, I made sure to go and visit St. Louis Cathedral in Jackson Square and Christ Church, the Episcopal cathedral for the Diocese of Louisiana.

When I lived in Savannah for a year, one of my first places to visit downtown was the Cathedral Church of St. John the Baptist, not far from Lafayette Square.

I also made sure to check out plenty of the old, Episcopal churches as well, like Christ Episcopal Church, which was established in 1733 and nicknamed “the mother church of Georgia.”

And don’t get me started on the number of churches our family visited during my first year of seminary in northern Virginia.

We were overwhelmed with the number of Episcopal churches that were located just within a ten-mile radius, and we spent almost every Sunday during that first year of seminary visiting different parishes.

One of the reasons we did this was because I had to start thinking about where I wanted to do my parish internship during my last two years of seminary.

But, a slightly more selfish reason is because I’m a huge church nerd.

I love visiting new churches, learning about the history, experiencing different styles of worship, and getting to see all of the beautiful architecture.

One of my favorite places that I got to visit during seminary was the Cathedral Church of St. Peter and St. Paul, also known as the Washington National Cathedral.

It stands at 676 feet tall, making it the highest point in Washington, D.C., even taller than the Washington Monument.

It has a capacity of 4,000 people.

It’s the second largest cathedral in the United States and the sixth largest in the world.

When you see it from the outside for the first time in person, just the shear size and magnitude of the building is enough to stir your soul.

But then, when you walk in, and you see the intricate details carved in wood and stone and the walls of the Nave bathed in colorful light from the magnificent, stained glass windows, it’s nothing short of breathtaking.

And, you really do get the sense that this is a place that was built to the honor and glory of God.

If you’ve ever had the chance to visit yourself, you know exactly what I’m talking about, and if you’ve never been before, I hope you have the chance to go one day.

It really is spectacular.

Whenever I visit places like the National Cathedral and other grand, historic churches from around the world, I think about all the people who must have had a hand in creating such beautiful places of worship.

I think about all the time and effort and resources that must have gone in to creating such monumental structures and the amount of artistry and creativity used to create those sacred spaces where Christians have been worshiping for centuries.

It’s hard not to marvel at places like that.

On a much smaller scale, I think the same is true about our church.

In my opinion, we have one of the most beautiful churches in Andalusia.

Every time I walk into this building, I think about how truly blessed we all are to be able to worship here and offer our praise to God.

I’m inspired by the simple beauty of this space and reminded of those who’ve come before and worked so hard to make the dream of this church a reality.

As Episcopalians, we tend to find great meaning and value in sacred art and architecture.

We experience the divine through beautiful things that were made by human hands and offered to the glory of God—like churches and cathedrals, but also things like visual art and music.

We have a deep love and appreciation for all these things.

But, truth be told, sometimes we can take our love and appreciation for things like art and architecture a little too far.

Sometimes, it’s easy for us to forget that our Christian faith doesn’t call us to build fancy churches or admire beautiful pieces of art.

Our Christian faith—at its core—calls us to work for the building up of God’s kingdom on earth—to care for the widow and the orphan, to feed those who are hungry and clothe those who are naked, to welcome the stranger, and to visit those who are sick and in prison.

Out of all the things I just listed, not a single one requires a fancy building or a beautiful Nave or an organ or anything else we love about our worship.

All we really need is a willingness to show up and to be faithful to the work that God has called us to do as followers of Jesus.

Now, that’s not to say that our buildings and the things we love about worship aren’t important. They absolutely are. They draw our attention to God and remind us of who we are and what we’re called to do.

And, they provide us a place to worship God and be formed as disciples and to carry out our ministries.

But, they should never be the “be-all and end-all” of our faith.

Our focus should always be on the mission of God and the kingdom-building work of the Gospel.

Jesus warned his disciples about this at the beginning of our Gospel lesson for today, which takes place right after a long series of teachings in the temple in Jerusalem.

As Jesus is leaving the temple, one of his disciples looks up in great admiration and says to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!”

He’s in awe of the beauty and magnificence of the temple, which, for Jews at the time, was the center of their life and faith.

But, Jesus isn’t impressed.

The temple, although it looked beautiful and magnificent from the outside, had become corrupt due to the greed and selfishness of the religious leaders.

They had turned God’s house into a den of robbers, using it for their own personal gain.

So, Jesus responds to the man, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

Jesus knows that, one day, not only will the temple in Jerusalem be destroyed, but everything as we know it will pass away.

He knows that, one day, he will come again, and God will finally bring to fulfillment his kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.

Then, four of Jesus’ disciples, Peter, James, John, and Andrew, ask him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?”

Jesus doesn’t give them the answers they’re looking for.

Instead, he warns them that, once he’s gone, they’ll face many challenges and temptations as the Kingdom of God grows closer and closer to fulfillment.

There’ll be natural disasters, wars, and famines, Jesus says, and he warns them that they’ll be tempted in ways that may lead them away from God or distract them from the work they’ve been called to do as his disciples.

His warning to them is this: “Beware that no one leads you astray.”

In other words, “Keep your eyes open, and stay focused. There are temptations around every corner.”

Temptations come in all sorts of shapes and sizes, and they have the power to distract us and pull us away from doing the work that God has called us to do.

Sometimes, I think those of us in the church are especially vulnerable to temptations.

Because it’s easy for us to get distracted by things that go on here at church and to lose sight of the actual Gospel work that God is leading us to do outside the church walls.

It’s easy for us to pay special attention to the things that benefit us as a community of faith and forget that the place where we’re actually called to go is out in the world.

It’s easy for us to get caught up in the beauty of our worship and the magnificence of our church buildings and forget that all these things that we hold so dear—as beautiful as they are—are really just signposts, pointing us in the direction of God’s kingdom.

They offer us glimpses of heaven.

But, they only exist for a brief moment in time.

One day, all of this will be gone. It will whither and pass away like everything else around us.

One day, Jesus will return. Heaven and earth will become a new creation, and God’s kingdom will be brought to fulfillment.

No one knows when that day will come.

But, until it does, we’re called to keep our eyes open and to stay focused on our mission, which is to help bring healing to God’s creation and to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.

That’s the real work of the Gospel.

And, above all else, it’s the work that God has given us to do as a people of faith, rooted in the love and ministry of Jesus Christ.

Amen.