The Acting Primate, Archbishop Anne Germond, preached at the New Year’s Day Eucharist at Christ Church Cathedral in Ottawa.
“His Name shall stand forever, the changeless Name of Love.” (Hail to the Lord’s Anointed)
It is a joy to be here in Ottawa with you at Christ Church Cathedral and with those of you who are joining us online on the very first day of 2025. Happy New Year!
Thank you, Bishop Shane, for your warm welcome and for the generous hospitality of this city, which holds a special place in our family’s hearts, having welcomed two fearful strangers from South Africa in 1986. Back then, from my vantage point, this moment would have been nothing more than an idle dream.
But as I stand here today, I can’t help but reflect on my last visit to Christ Church Cathedral. Some moments remain indelibly etched in one’s memory, and that was one of them. I was here on the Feast of Pentecost, May 31, 2020—during the first COVID-19 lockdown and the day of Bishop Shane’s consecration as the 10th Bishop of Ottawa.
With the restrictions that were in place and only 10 people allowed in the cathedral at the time, the service was choreographed down to the smallest detail. Yet, I can tell you, this space felt full. The Holy Spirit seemed to hover above us, flaming with life, as the words of the Gospel echoed through the cathedral. The gospel that day was the moment from John’s gospel where the resurrected Jesus stood in the upper room, his wounded hands fully extended to his fearful disciples, offering them his peace, not once but twice—a double peace. It was as if, in that sacred moment, Jesus was speaking directly to us, saying, “Whatever the fear that surrounds you, there is a peace that is greater than it all—my peace.” This is the same peace and blessing offered to us today, as we gather again in a very different time and space, looking ahead to 2025 with all that awaits us in unexpected blessings and surprises, new adventures, new resolutions, new hopes and dreams.
It has not escaped me, nor I hope has it escaped you, that on the day the secular world is picking up and recovering from the party of the night before, the church’s first act of the New Year is rather counter-cultural. Not huddled in fear or darkness but gathered at the brightest time of the day for a communal feast as Christians have done from time immemorial. Here we are, the body of Christ, ready to offer this year to the Lord, to pray for the church and the world, and to take Jesus into ourselves. And then strengthened by one another and His body, fully prepared to face the world and live and proclaim the gospel.
I think 2025 is going to be a great year. As I catch glimpses of our church in every corner, I see such generosity of spiritual leadership and of time, talent and worldly goods. My great hope is that our parishes, dioceses, provinces and national church will continue to be vital places of worship and service where everyone knows they are a “someone” and that they belong. And a place where through good teaching and formation all are invited to deepen their life in Christ.
This is a General Synod year and the theme, “They will soar on wings like eagles” (Isaiah 40:31) has a strong focus on hope, strength and renewal. At this synod we will be electing our 15th Primate, who will lead us prayerfully with strength and courage and a healthy dose of realism into a new and exciting, but unknown future.
Now, I must confess, I don’t always like using the word but in a sentence, because it can seem like I’m undoing everything I’ve said before it. But, these days, despite our best efforts, there’s always something, isn’t there? When we thought COVID was over and we could return to normal, it wasn’t. Right on its heels came the Russian invasion of Ukraine, an intensified war in the Middle East, the devastating climate crisis, and widespread poverty and hunger, both at home and abroad. The political, social and economic crises only seem to be deepening around us. The church is not immune to these challenges. We all know the tough decisions that lie ahead, and in some ways, it feels as though the very foundations of our world are being shaken.
Where shall we go, or to whom shall we turn?
Look up, I say. Do not be afraid. Your Redeemer has come, and today, eight days after the Feast of the Incarnation, we mark the day He was named Jesus—Emmanuel, God with us.
The One who stood with us in our COVID fear, to whom we have prayed in every moment of darkness and despair, stands with us still, offering everything the world cannot give. The One whose “name is above every name” has come as one of us in great humility into the very depths of our bondage and despair to bring us hope. This Jesus, named today, is the One who is totally and utterly trustworthy.
What’s in a name? A great deal, according to many cultures. When a child is named, that name often carries enormous symbolic power. In some cultures, names are not just identifiers, but messages or prayers for the individual being named. They express hopes, wishes or connections to nature, ancestry, virtues or history.
In the country of my birth, Amina means “trustworthy or faithful;” Andisiwe means “they have helped;” Busi means “blessed.” In Indigenous cultures, naming a child is an act of revitalization, resistance and resurgence. Names are sacred, and the individual carries the responsibility to honor and carry the name forward.
In the First Nations Version of the New Testament, Jesus is named Creator Sets Free, revealing perfectly his purpose for humankind. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, through the written, sung and spoken word, we prepared our hearts to receive the Incarnate Word, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ Creator Sets Free. Advent was like a musical crescendo, growing louder and louder each week with each note telling us something about Jesus and what he would do:
“For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders, and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
O Sapienta—O Wisdom, we prayed: Come and teach us how to live.
O Adonai, Come with outstretched arms and save us.
O Clavis David, O Key of David, Come and lead the prisoners and those who dwell in the shadow of death.
When Jesus is actually named in Luke’s Gospel, it comes across almost as a whisper, a side comment: “On the eighth day, he was named Jesus … the name the Angel had given him before he was conceived” (Luke 2:21). But never underestimate all the authority and all the strength and power and wisdom and love that name holds.
And what about that much loved hymn, “Hail to the Lord’s Anointed?” We sing of Jesus:
“From age to age more glorious,
All blessing and all blest.
The tide of time shall never
His covenant remove;
His Name shall stand forever,
His changeless Name of Love.”
This Love is a doing kind of love that is inclusive, embracing all of humankind, and invites us to do the same. It is a love that is a forgiving kind of love, asking us to be the same. It is a love that never gives up and asks us to hold firm, even giving thanks in all circumstances.
As we reflect on that Name of Love, the name we bear as Christians, Paul’s letter to the Philippians today gives us much to ponder as we begin a New Year. It beautifully captures the essence of Paul’s message, focusing on the communal nature of the Christian faith and the call to embody Christ’s love through actions.
Paul’s instruction to “let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” urges the Philippians—and us—to adopt a mindset not rooted in self-interest but in mutual care and humility, looking out for one another’s well-being. This is not just a call for personal piety, but a challenge to cultivate a communal consciousness, where love, encouragement and fellowship are shared as the foundation for enduring trials and spreading the message and mission of Christ.
The emphasis on community is crucial, as Paul recognizes the challenges the Philippians face, from persecution to internal divisions. Yet, he reminds them that they have everything they need in the gifts of Christ—encouragement, love and fellowship. These divine gifts equip the community to weather life’s storms together, knowing that the church, though fragile at times, is always supported by God’s presence and faithfulness.
Look around you in this cathedral church today. Look around you in your home communities of faith. We are the ones who have been called out of our very ordinary lives to let the mind of Christ be our minds and the work of Christ our work. How we do that is vitally important, for everywhere there are enemies of Christ who will do whatever they can to diminish our work, deflate our ideas and be naysayers about the future of the church at every turn. Let’s do it by singing a new song to the Lord, remembering that we are never alone in any struggles we might face and that together we embody the love and humility that Christ exemplified.
Paul’s letter incorporates what is believed to be one of the earliest Christian hymns. I wonder why Paul, who was never ever at a loss for words, let a hymn speak for him? Perhaps it was, as one writer said, “because the very act of singing is itself a way of supplanting fear with audacity.” The act of singing together has always been a powerful act of faith and solidarity. It transcends mere words, offering a communal expression of confidence in God.
The barren Hannah sings a song of triumph during travail and pain. The teenage Mary—theotokos, “God bearer”—sang the Magnificat, her prophetic voice declaring that God is already overturning the world’s structures. Our habit and practice of singing together as the church is one of the oldest ways of reaching down, down, down into the depths of who we are to draw from the wellspring of life and abundance there is in Jesus. As we begin a new year, let us embrace His love as an active, communal force—a love that sustains, transforms and unites. And let us go out into the world singing and rejoicing to make the holy and precious name of Jesus and His love be known.
“Let us speak the unsearchable riches of Christ, through our singing, our praying, our stories,” goes the hymn by Jan and David Buley in Sing a New Creation, “With delight in your will, as we walk in your way, may we love you, may we know you, may we show you.”
Amen
Photo credit: The Ven. Christopher Dunn