When the design group for the new windows got word that they would be put in at the end of September, we were cautious about not giving an exact date to the congregation, given that these dates sometimes slide. It wasn’t until they called us on a Thursday and said, we’ll be there Monday that we told the congregation, this is it. So, someone told me they had asked Randy Haselton if he was excited about the new windows, and Randy’s response was, I’ll believe it when I see it. I teased Randy about this the next Sunday when the windows were in. I said to him, I hear you didn’t actually think we were going to get the windows. And he said to me, Oh I thought we’d get them – I just didn’t think that I’d be alive to see it. Randy – everyone – I’m really glad that we are all here to see this!

If you have a look at the round window up there, you’ll see what the inspiration was for tonight’s gospel reading. In the lesson we just heard, Jesus says to the people, 3 “The bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” 34And they said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” 35Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry.”

The bread of God which gives life to the world. Give us this bread always. These are the words for us to hold on to, and which the round window puts us in the mind of. Right now though, I want us to take a few minutes to reflect a bit on our history as a congregation.

Not to worry, I’m not taking us all the way back to 1873. It’s our more recent history I want to remind us of, starting in 1990 when the Rev. Michael Hopkins came to St. George’s Chapel – a mission church - as the vicar. Some of you were here during this part of our story; you lived it. It’s this narrative of our history that want us to ponder briefly, our story, the story we tell about ourselves. As I understand it, there was a thought, maybe overtly spoken, maybe more subtle than that, that Michael’s ministry at St. George’s might just include closing this church. It was a small place back then, not really growing, didn’t seem to have that much of a future. But a funny thing happened on the way to the funeral. With Michael’s arrival and leadership, and the influx of new members who started coming, and their leadership, St. George’s found new life. It found a new vision, a renewed mission, a future. This future included the desire, opportunity, and encouragement to become a parish, as St. George’s outgrew the chapel, our original building next door.

Through the generous support of the diocese and the hard work of the members of this community, this building was built, and St. George’s became recognized as a parish in January of 2002. Michael Hopkins then was the last vicar of St. George’s Chapel, and the first rector of St. George’s Church, Glenn Dale Parish.

We can tell this part of the story in a few sentences, but those of you who were here remember that those were not always easy or uncomplicated times. The decision to build a new building was a risk. Would people come? Was it the small family feel of the chapel that drew people to St. George’s? Would that be lost in a bigger worship space as the community grew in numbers? Would it grow? These were real concerns, and the chapel committee and the congregation and the diocese had to do a lot of discernment to make sure this was the right decision for this community.

What has been clear to me in my almost six years here is in that the last 20 or so years, discernment – discernment of the present and the future has been a common thread. Calling Michael. Building the new building. Michael’s leaving in 2004. The interim time with Thelma. My being called as rector in early 2006. The merger exploration we had with St. James a few years ago. All have required of the community that we work long and hard discern the way forward and to grow in vision and leadership, in our identity and mission. It’s been a lot of effort. And of course, it’s not like it’s over. We are always going to be discerning, and working on, who God has called us to be as a parish. And yet, we also get occasions like these, where we can take a look back from where we stand now, appreciate where we were, and appreciate where we are now.

We take this time to appreciate that we are a church connected through our love of God and the nurturing of our souls and bodies in the Eucharist. The sacrament of Holy Communion, the bread of life, that’s what connects us with each other and with our forbears – those who were part of this community before us, from 1873 on and through all of our years in the Chapel to the past ten years in this building, to right now, this night of celebration.

When this building was ‘finished’ – and I use that word loosely – there was the intention for stained glass windows, but it wasn’t able to be done at that time. It’s taken us a while, but here we are.

I want to draw our attention back to the round window, and I want to focus that attention on a couple of elements in that window, as a way reminding ourselves about who we are as a community. First, the wheat and the grapes in the circle. There was broad agreement from the congregation when we first started talking about the window design a few years ago that we wanted a Eucharistic element. “The bread of God that gives life to the world” – this is a very important part of the identity of our community. The wheat and the grapes that become the bread and the wine, and connect us to that part of creation – this mattered to our members. It’s also that case that a number of you have expressed delight that there are grapes and wheat outside the line of the circle. First, because it has a ‘coloring outside the lines’ feel, which many of us appreciate – there is the sense that a lot of us aren’t so good at coloring inside the lines. Then, there’s the sense that what we see is an open circle.

“Shape a circle ever wider and a people ever free” has been the motto of this church for a long time. So that the window is not closed is symbolically very important to us. There are ways in. The circle can grow wider. There is room for everyone. The grapes and wheat, which become the bread and wine, are a way in. “This is Christ’s table, and all are welcome,” words that I usually say during the liturgy – that’s what the circle not being closed, it being an open circle, represents to many of us.

The other aspect of the window I want to point our attention to is the bread. Some of you have heard this, but I really love the bread element because it symbolizes the process of getting the windows. Alix Volel-Stech interfaced with Lynchburg Stained Glass through this year that we worked on this project, and Jeffrey Williams and Lee Rowe and I made suggestions, along with Alix, on design and color. When the artist first put forth the bread design, none of us liked it. Because it was, honestly, a wafer – not anything that we use during Communion except when we run out of real bread. It didn’t look like us. So the group made suggestions, and Alix communicated our thoughts to the artist. A couple of drafts later, and this is what we got: bread that looks like real bread, the real bread that members of St. George’s make for Communion. It’s the right color, it has the right cracks – it looks like us.

A few weeks ago we ran out of bread because there were a lot of people at church. Caleb Matson, who’s two, came up at the end, and I had to give him a wafer. He gave me the big grin he always does when he gets the bread, and he started to put it in his mouth – until he realized that it wasn’t his regular bread, it was a wafer. He got this ‘forget this’ look on his face and gave it one of his moms. I gave him like a crumb of our regular bread – which was all I had left - and he was happy. Let’s face it – Caleb is a young man of discerning taste. 3 “The bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”

Because of course, the bread is not just bread. It’s so much more to us. We are a sacramental people, we know that this bread and this wine we share is Jesus, present with us. It’s the bread of life; it’s Jesus promising that all of us will be welcome and none of us will be hungry when we are gathered at his table with him. And it is, absolutely, the gathering at this table, tonight with our new bishop, with faces familiar and new, under these windows, that connects us.

I want say something in regards what we are doing here tonight to the young people of our parish. Rebekah, Joey, Leslie, Lee, Marilyn, Norman – I’m talking to you all. This is a special day because this is the first time our new bishop is here celebrating the Eucharist with us. She will bless the bread and wine at our altar in just a few minutes. This is a big deal, for us and for her. And here’s what I have to say to you all: remember this service. Remember it. And in a few years, when you are being confirmed by Bishop Mariann at the National Cathedral, and we are standing up by the altar taking pictures with her, and she is signing your prayer books, I want you to remind her of this service. I want you to remind her that when she was a brand new bishop, she came to St. George’s to celebrate our windows with us, and to celebrate Eucharist with us, and you were there. I bet you she’ll remember.

In the end, this is a chance for us to celebrate, to share the Eucharist, to appreciate who we are as a community of faith, centered in Jesus Christ and the sacraments of baptism and yes, Holy Communion. It’s a chance to recognize the many ways that God has blessed us, and to give thanks. It’s an opportunity even more than usual to savor being together around this table, knowing that we share the bread of life – which connects us with our past, and leads us into our future.