Bishop Rob Delivers Final Address at St. Paul's School - April 13, 2026
Good morning. It is a deep and awesome privilege to be with you again. Thank you for your welcome. This passage that we just heard from John's gospel is the first of what are referred to as the resurrection appearances of Jesus. He comes and he meets the disciples the evening after he rises from the dead and he comes with wounds. He comes showing them the evidence of their having abandoned him at the cross. They're locked in a room. They've locked themselves into a room for fear and probably shame. Each of them in that room left Jesus to hang and die.
It's of note that when Jesus comes, he could have just said, "Where were you? You promised to be with me even to the end of time, to the end of this whole journey, and you all took off—each one of you.” Instead, the word Jesus speaks is, “Peace.” Peace. It's a message of forgiveness, a message of healing, a message of restoration, of community in the midst of division, hatred, and fear. Yesterday, most Christian churches that follow what's called the Revised Common Lectionary read that passage of Jesus extending peace, but the same day, we also heard in the news that prospects of peace in the Middle East were becoming more remote.
And it occurred to me, as it often does, that there will be no world peace if there's not first peace among us, peace within our own communities, our own neighborhoods, among us in our own schools and churches and synagogues and mosques, peace within ourselves. And peace is not something that urges us to just forget what we've done with each other, against each other or to each other. Real peace does erase our memory of past hurt, but it holds us accountable without rancor, without hatred, always respecting the dignity of every human being. I can never read this passage of being in a locked room--the disciples in a locked room for fear and shame, and Jesus entering that room --without remembering of a moment in my life when I was very young, 13 years old, that bears some similarity, although in a much less significant way. But for me, it was a pivotal moment.
I grew up in suburban Connecticut, outside of New Haven, and I was a freshman in high school at the time. And I remember one day, it was late fall, and the bus took us home, and I got off the bus and we started to walk. It was about a quarter mile walk from the bus stop to my house, and there were a number of other students. One was Mary, my next door neighbor, with whom we shared homework with our algebra or geometry, whatever that was, which I was never good at. And there were three brothers, Billy, Gary, and David. And we got off the bus and started walking home, and one of the brothers noticed a crab apple tree on another house in that development. Something came over him, and he decided that he would pick up one of the crab apples that had fallen to the ground. There was a whole nest of them. And he picked it up, and he threw it at Mary, hitting her in the back.
He did it again, this time hitting her in her cheek. She began to cry and quickened her pace, and then the other brothers followed, gathering fistfuls of crab apples and hurling them at Mary. And then they asked, "Robbie, how about you? " And so I picked up a crab apple and also hit Mary. It landed in the back of her head, hard enough to sting. We all made it home. After that, I went into my house. Both my parents worked, so I opened my math book and started to try to do my homework. About a half an hour went by and the doorbell rang, and I wondered who could that be. So, I went down the hallway and I could see through the panel of windows on each side of the door that it, of course, was Mary.
I pretended not to hear. I hid away, but she kept ringing the doorbell. Finally, I couldn't pretend anymore, and I had to open the door. And there she was, her face tear-stained, and she said, "Rob, the Miller boys, they always treat me that way. I could expect it from them, something like that. But today, today it was you. I thought we were friends.”
God help me, I just melted at that moment. I don't think I could even say, "I'm sorry." But she knew that even at 13 years old, even though we didn't know the language of forgiveness and grace and all of that, we knew that there was a deep hurt.
We were not at peace. Now, God bless my mother. She always had a cookie jar of those wonderful Toll House cookies. I said, "Mary, come in, please." And I put out some of those cookies out and poured some milk. Maybe that was the beginning of my decision to become a priest. It was like teenage communion, and we just sat there in silence and had cookies. Somehow we got through the next hour or so. We talked about math. We made small talk. Small talk is not to be underestimated in our healing with one another, small talk, lowers temperatures. Small talk begins the tender bonds that build and restores relationships.
The next morning, we went to the bus stop and I knew that I had to stand with Mary and walk alongside her as she faced the cruelty, the senseless, gratuitous, pathetic cruelty of my other neighbors. Sure enough, they picked up crab apples even the next morning and started hurling them this time at both of us. That afternoon when we came back from the bus, I think they realized that it was puny and pathetic what they were doing. They had stopped.
You remember that scene in the Lion King? (This is a transition.) When Simba is called back to the pride, (interestingly called, “the pride”), to come back to community after living a life of Hakuna Matada—where you just look after your own desires and wants and concerns. Rafiki, who holds a staff and has vestments, is a priest but he’s also, of course, a baboon. (Clergy are sometimes thought of that way.) Anyway, Rafiki leads Simba to a pool of water and he, Simba look at the pool of water. The movie superimposes this image of his father, Mufasa. And somewhere Mufasa says, "Simba, you have become less than you are.”
You have become less than you are.
When Mary rang that doorbell and she said, "Rob, today it was you” That was my Mufasa moment. “You have become less than you are.” Jesus doesn't bother to ring the doorbell. He goes through locked doors and when he shares peace to those disciples undeserving and needing to be held into account, he reminds them that you have the power to forgive or to retain the memory of hurt. That's the message of our faith. That's the message of Easter. If we can't reckon with the call to become who God has created us to be, holy, flawed, deeply flawed, wholly beautiful and forgiven, there's no chance for this world. It starts here. It starts in our own hearts.
Thank you.
Easter Message from Bishop Rob — April 2026
Every year, a close reading of the same gospel, even if we’ve read it over a life-time, brings something fresh, something green, and new—something surprising. It may be very familiar and obvious, but the Holy Spirit wants us to notice it as though for the first time because we need to hear it for the first time. This year what springs up as though a new sunrise is the verse in John’s gospel, at the end of the Good Friday reading, when we hear these words:
Now there was a garden in the place where he was crucified, and in the garden, there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid.
To this day, in the Holy City of Jerusalem, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is also known as the site of Calvary, Golgotha, the place of the crucifixion, where tradition tells us that a relic of the cross was uncovered AND it is also the place where Jesus was laid in an unused tomb. It’s from the tomb, of course, where God raised him from the dead. Execution and resurrection happen in the same small piece of real estate: the place of unimaginable suffering by human hands and hearts AND the site of the world changing triumph of life over death, love over fear, forgiveness over hatred. It is the place our savior expresses humankind’s deepest abandonment by God and humankind. And it is the site of recognition: of us recognizing Jesus and then the risen Jesus seeing us as a friend. It is the site of the most holy “both/and” which is our life in the Risen Christ.
Our Calvaries are legions. There are so many, too many, and too heartbreaking to list. We all know what they are. The effects of human sin and cruelty, done by us and to us, are all around. We see them. They burden and grieve us. Those crucifixions lead us to times of both despair and hope. They are the reason for our prayers, our seeking help from God and each other. They are the cause of our thirst for righteousness, our struggles to forgive, and our cries to be forgiven. The desolate Place of the Skull and the Garden of Resurrection are layered on top of each other. The suffering and death of bodies, of communities, of hope itself, occur in the same place, and with even more power where we meet Jesus’ Rising. From out of the depth of the Sepulchre, Jesus calls us each by name just as he called to Mary Magdalene on that first Easter morning.
May your Good Fridays, your scenes of deep loss and sorrow be converted into a glorious resurrection, a rising to life, to a love and a life that is stronger than death. What courageous joy that gives us, to know in our bones that nothing, not even death, or the fear of death, will separate us from the love of God in Jesus. May that love and life rise in our hearts this Easter, and may every day be Easter. Jesus Christ is Risen. Alleluia.
Bishop Rob and Bishop Angel, of Cuba, spend time together.
Report from Bishop Rob - House of Bishops Spring Meeting - March 17-25, 2026
It was a privilege for me to attend the spring gathering of the House of Bishops at Camp Allen in the Diocese of Texas. Though I always hate to leave my beloved Diocese of New Hampshire, I find the time enriching to be with my colleague bishops from the whole Episcopal Church, including from the dioceses in Latin America, Europe, and Taiwan.
By now a Word to the Church has been issued. Its intent is to offer a message of hope, unfailing in the Good News of Jesus Christ, even in times of crisis and discouragement. The new war in Iran—extending to the whole Middle East—the ongoing conflicts in Ukraine, Sudan, and other parts of the world weigh heavily on all of our hearts. Such suffering is a call for us all to pray, fervently, for efforts for a just and lasting peace. I am humbled by the work of my fellow bishops and their churches as they strain to hold together community in Christian fellowship even as forces of inhumanity toward immigrants are rampant and political rages foam.
We always come together in prayer. I have been part of a small but growing number of bishops who devote daily time on contemplation. We do this because as our world experiences such chaos, disorientation, and division, and even war, it is essential that Christians, especially Christian leaders, stay rooted in the awareness of God’s enduring, loving, and life-giving presence in the Incarnate, Crucified and Risen Jesus. Any word or action that is not rooted in prayer is, as Paul says, like a noisy gong to a clanging cymbal. I believe that the tenor of our discussions during the more business-oriented sessions of the House has been more open to deep listening and respect because of the critical mass of bishops who practice contemplative prayer, even those who consider themselves more activist on certain issues.
We spent much of our time discussing the state of theological education, particularly for the raising up of priests in our Church. The landscape of traditional seminary training has shifted significantly in the past 15-20 years. Our denomination has gone from relying on eleven 3-year residential and very expensive seminaries to something like seven, and each of those offering paths that are more accessible to postulants for Holy Orders in local settings, such as rural New England. Much of the changes in education have been driven by economic and demographic forces. The bishops’ discussion of these trends was much overdue. It was so confirming to me to see how our establishment of the School for Ministry, for laity, deacons and priests is something that is becoming more and more accepted and even normative in the wider church. As I spoke with bishops from Ecuador, Columbia, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, Cuba, Massachusetts and Pittsburgh, I was heartened to learn how we are all facing similar challenges in the urgent need to raise up new ministers of the gospel. New Hampshire’s hybrid model is something looked to and admired by such different settings in the Episcopal Church.
We also heard of Presiding Bishop Sean Rowe’s diligent efforts to reform and reshape the organizational structure of the Episcopal Church in a way that supports evangelism, church planting, and redevelopment. There are significant and overdue changes being contemplated, about which we will hear in the coming months. This support for church renewal is of keen interest to us in New Hampshire as we initiate new missions in Manchester, Claremont, Portsmouth, and more in the coming years. This is so important to consider and welcome as demographic models predict a movement northward of the U.S. population in the coming decades. We have been praying for young adults and families for years. I pray that the spiritual and organization work we have done in our Diocese in recent years has helped us prepare for the growth that, God willing, is coming our way.
We discussed proposals in the wider Anglican communion that seek to deepen and further relationships with other provinces of the Church where relationships have been strained and in disrepair for a variety of reasons. The Nairobi-Cairo Proposals are fascinating to read because they imagine a church that is seeking ways to be in communion, and defining what communion means, in an era when the long-term trend for churches, religions, indeed almost every institution in society is toward greater splintering. Though the bishops are, in my view, rightly cautious about the proposals, it is encouraging to think of the many who continue to do the hard and sacred work of true reconciliation across serious differences of practice.
I was so grateful to hear a fulsome presentation from Bishop Ann Ritonia, Bishop Suffragan for the Armed Forces and Federal Ministries. Our church’s work to provide pastoral care and accompaniment to chaplains in the military, federal prisons and hospitals is truly essential, especially when so many of these chaplains encounter tremendous moral, spiritual, and physical trauma. I am grateful for Bishop Ann’s witness to both the gospel of Jesus Christ AND the U.S Constitution’s protection against the incursion of governmental establishment of religion of any kind.
Finally, the return home through a Houston airport stressed with dramatically fewer TSA agents and many more ICE agents felt like being in a country that has changed. As I walked through the labyrinth paths to the security check points, along with thousands of others, I thought of the many pilgrims throughout millennia who have walked the Way of the Cross in Jerusalem, recalling the path the Jesus took from his entry into that City, to his actions in the Temple, to his Trial, his Crucifixion, his burial and his Rising.
I hope that wherever your journey and observances this coming Holy Week takes you, you may know how Jesus Christ walks alongside you, sharing your hopes, your joys, and the depths of your sorrows.
He will raise us all in peace and glory.
Yours in the Risen Christ,
+Rob
In support of HB 61
This is to voice my support of HB 61, relative to teaching on discrimination in the public schools and discrimination in public workplaces.
There have been reasons offered in support of the legislation that diminishes a teacher’s ability to discuss elements in the history of the United States that could be deemed divisive. Among them is the notion that to discuss the history of patterns of unequal treatment of people of color by a majority white population--treatment that includes chattel slavery, inequities in education, healthcare, housing, environmental safety, law enforcement and incarceration—would instill shame, guilt, and a sense of unworthiness among white students. The public has been warned that discussion of critical race theory or other concepts are dangerous for young minds (and souls) to be exposed to for fear that they would make us too aware of the inequitable treatment of those who have suffered—and, in fact, continue to suffer from conscious or unconscious biases based on differences of race, gender, class, religion, sexual orientation, or physical or mental capacity.
Shame is a power force, and the concern not to burden our young people with the notion that they are, by reason of their being a human being in whatever category, makes them essentially a bad person. Shame is more debilitating than remorse. Remorse says, “We have made a mistake, and we want to learn how to do better.” Shame says, “Not only have we made mistakes, we are a mistake and no matter what we do, we cannot make or do good.” I trust that nobody of good faith, be they conservative or liberal, black, brown, or white, gay or straight, spiritual, religious, (or neither) republican, independent or democrat, wants our citizenry to be shackled with the burden of shame. Shame does not allow us to live free, neither spiritually nor emotionally.
But discouragement-to the point of legally prohibiting- open, honest, often clumsy and awkward conversations about our shared history as a state and a nation is not the way to dissolve shame. In fact, such prohibitions serve only to say to our students and population, “let us be afraid of facing our past because we can never heal from those sins the effects of which we just have to accept.” That sounds to me like a statement of fear and cowardice.
As a Christian, I see one of the most soul and social liberating scenes is when the crucified Jesus, bearing the wounds of his torture and death, enters a locked fear-filled room to face those who were complicit in his denial and grisly death. The wounds are not erased, forgotten, or avoided—he actually invites one of the disciples to place his hands into the wounds. Were the band of disciples feeling remorse, shame, fear? No doubt. And yet, the Risen Jesus comes not to shame or punish or make them feel anything but that reconciliation is possible. In other words God gives us back our histories, as complicated as they are—in all their bright successes and abject failures--because in facing our histories is how true learning and growth occur.
For this reason, I urge passage of HB 61, repealing and replacing the 'Banned Concepts Act,' which was passed into law via the state budget in 2021.
Sincerely and Faithfully,
The Rt. Rev. A. Robert Hirschfeld
Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire
An Advent Message from Bishop Rob
I’ve been thinking much about time of late. It seems such an elastic notion. On the one hand it seems we were just in the middle of summer, so how is it we’re already seeing the tokens of Christmas up on the streets and in the stores? On the other hand, we also feel like time has either slowed to a cold creep, stopped, or even been thrown into reverse. Wars, violent setbacks in what seemed like a steady march for human rights and dignity, the ugly reappearance of symbols of hatred in our streets — even in a state that claims to allow all persons to be free — all can make us question that “long arc of history” and whether we can be so certain of its curve toward justice. The Psalms speak of how brief our life can be and yet there’s the refrain: How long, O Lord, how long?
It’s in just such a mixed experience of time that Advent invites us to find ourselves. When we read the Gospels, we find that’s precisely how the God of eternity entered the human experience in Jesus Christ. God comes to be present, fully present, in Jesus, who holds in his mind and heart joy, hope, agony, anger, and grief, not so much in sequence (as though first this, then this), but all at once. He doesn’t resolve the tension of time in order to love. And Jesus invites those who wish to know him and live the holy life (a life that seeks to mirror God) to keep in mind eternity. I find that when I am most anxious, in doubt, or fearing about what is happening, when I remember to pray, I am led to know God’s peace that passes all understanding in a sense of Presence, which never fails. God just is, in all of our lives and in the world’s turmoil. Right. Now. Always. Praying for God’s Presence, in the present, simply means allowing our minds and hearts to see what is, no matter what it is, with the eyes of Jesus, who never saw anything apart from God’s eternity.
I am drawn to that word presence. We’ve always been taught that Advent means an arrival, a coming. Usually, we think of Advent as the short season that gets us ready for Christmas. But to dwindle it down to just these 30 days deprives it of its deeper purpose. In Advent, we awaken and look for what the ancients called the “Parousia,” which is the Greek word for Presence.
We have a little sticker on our refrigerator that says:
Yesterday is history.
Tomorrow is a mystery and
Today is a gift.
That’s why they call it the present.
It’s not without its corniness, but is there not some life-giving encouragement in the invitation to awaken and to see the signs of God’s miraculous healing and reconciliation and to feel the sharpness of how God’s kingdom is not yet here? I believe the longing and the striving, the waiting, with both laughter and tears, is just where God wants us to join God. That’s the space where Jesus came to dwell among us and to love us in all our beauty and brokenness. Perhaps that’s why scripture so often speaks of “the fullness of time.”
This Advent, let us be open to the all of it.
Bishop Rob's Op-Ed in the Concord Monitor
I have to confess that in moments of distress at the news, my own convictions are at risk of eroding into a kind of despairing resignation, leaving more airtime for the worse impulses of those of passionate intensity on both far left and the far right to dominate all conversation. It is at those moments that I turn to the tradition of my faith as an Episcopalian.
Access the full article here.
State of New Hampshire Board of Education - Testimony by Bishop Rob
September 8, 2022
Good morning and thank you for this opportunity to share why I, a person of the Christian faith, believe that public education is so necessary for our communities, our state, in fact the world. One might assume that I would rather seek more opportunities for education in religious schools, specifically Christian schools. Though as the Episcopal bishop of New Hampshire, I serve as the president of the board of two boarding schools affiliated with the Church, I am deeply concerned that the state of our public schools warrant attention to the sacred trust, to borrow the language of Commission Edelblut, to tend to every child and youth, not matter what faith or religious affiliation, class, race, orientation, or gender.
A brief story of my own upbringing in a public school: I am in the fourth grade, standing in line at the cafeteria. A boy in line ahead of me, a classmate, has come to school with the symbol of the National Socialist Party, the Nazis, drawn on the back of his hand with a magic marker. Our teacher, Ms Zoss, who was Jewish, calmly asked him why he had that swastika on his wrist, and asked if he knew what it meant, what was its history. He was speechless. She calmly informed him that it was a symbol that represented a hatred that cost the lives of many people and that the symbol causes deep hurt for many people. There was no shaming. My friend had no answer about why he drew the symbol, it was something he just heard about and saw at home. Did he feel uncomfortable? Probably. Was I as a bystander uncomfortable? Yep. And yet the interaction was a gentle, loving, caring, balanced, true and life changing as any I had in Sunday School. And I’ve had a lot of Sunday School.
I share the grave concern, that the stability of public schools as a place where such interactions, respectful, caring and truthful is in peril. As more children are invited to abandon public school, healthful and I would say, holy and sacred collisions with others are being less available. What assurance do we have that they can happen in schools, extended learning opportunities, on-line that are outside systems of training and accountability of the Department of Education?
Parents, indeed all of us, want what is best for children, our own and others’ and we want children to grow up to be well-equipped for the world. As New Hampshire residents, we hope we want this for all of the schoolchildren in the state. I urge you to encourage, and not to discourage from those difficult conversations like the one I described, but to show us how to have them constructively and healthfully. I urge you to ensure our public schools are well funded by the state to support our teachers, administrators, and staff to do just that.
Thank you for your time and attention.
Please know of my deep gratitude and my prayers for your presence and service on this essential and vital Commission.
Photo Credits: Arnie Alpert
A Message from Bishop Rob on the Death of Queen Elizabeth II
Today we heard the news of the death of Queen Elizabeth II at the age of 96 after over 70 years as Sovereign. It brings great sadness to so many of us. She was a human being of tremendous faithfulness to our Savior. She relied on the strength of God’s grace to give her courage, wisdom, and resilience over so many years of profound change, not only in Great Britain but throughout the globe. I am of a generation who never knew of any other monarch on the throne in England.
Though we may not be avid followers of the activities of the royal family or particularly stalwart anglophiles—though I acknowledge with tenderness those who are and the Brits who serve among us here— the world has shifted today in a particularly sad and even disorienting way.
Upon seeing the bulletin of Queen Elizabeth’s death, I found this prayer in an English prayerbook on my desk. It was prayed on the occasion of her accession to the throne in June 1953 in Westminster Abbey. The language and tenses may be slightly off, but I am still praying it tonight:
Almighty God, who rulest over all the kingdoms of the world, and dost order them according to thy good pleasure: We give thee hearty thanks for that thou hast set they servant our sovereign lady, Queen Elizabeth, upon the throne of this realm. Let thy wisdom be her guide and thine arm strengthen her; let truth and justice, holiness and righteousness, peace and charity, abound in her days; and direct all her counsels and endeavors to thy glory, and the welfare of her people; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
May Elizabeth rise in glory with all the saints in light. And may God’s comfort and counsel be with Charles, the entire royal family, and all the British people in the days ahead.
Bishop Rob's Sermon for Pentecost, June 5 2022
A message for Pentecost from Bishop Rob. Click on the video below to listen to the sermon.