Beloved Community,

Travelling to Italy with Lisa during Holy Week and Easter was a delight. It was part pilgrimage, part vacation. Every moment of it, including our travel through Heathrow Airport, afforded us opportunities to glimpse God’s people, the wonder of nature, and the glory of our faith that is shared across language and culture, class and centuries.

Our time away allowed us to be unplugged from our devices, keeping us focused on each moment, whether it was an encounter with a stranger offering directions, a friendly guide on a trolley, or the front desk attendants at our hotel, eagerly offering directions or restaurant suggestions.

Rome has many ancient churches and basilicas, and we found ourselves praying in each one we visited. Mary was featured in all of them, as were many beloved Italian saints. Each day of Holy Week, I found myself thinking about all of you and wondering what your path of Holy Week was like. We attended Mass on Palm Sunday at the Basilica of St. Mary of the Angels and Martyrs, designed by Michelangelo and built in the 16th century. Even though we knew very little Italian, the liturgy was familiar to us. The priest blessed and handed out olive branches instead of palms, as is the custom in Italy. Those in attendance were older and were very devout in their prayers. As we left, an older woman sat on the stone floor at the doorway holding a rosary in her arthritic hand, begging for coins and blessing us as we passed by.

Everywhere we walked, God showed up in the people – from tattooed twenty-somethings with their fashionable clothes, young women pushing baby strollers, international tourists with their digital cameras, young African men peddling hand-carved bowls, selfie-sticks, or phone chargers; waiters in local restaurants graciously explaining the Italian on menus; families enjoying the hot springs in Saturnia; two young women having a moment at the Trevi Fountain as one proposed to the other.

Each day I found myself brought to tears at least once – overcome by the beauty of the people, the architecture, and the sweeping vistas in the mountains. And of course, there was music. On Palm Sunday evening we walked to St. Paul’s Within the Walls, the convocation of Episcopal Churches in Europe, and the oldest Protestant Church in Rome. We listened to Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, beautifully performed by St. Paul’s Choir, Camerata, Chamber Singers and various soloists. Again, I was brought to tears by the sheer beauty of the music, the time and place, and feeling connected to God’s people throughout the centuries who had worshipped at St. Paul’s and all who had glimpsed the divine in the exquisite music of Bach.

Our week in Tuscany showed us God’s grandeur in the sweeping vistas, the ancient villages on the sides of mountains, acre upon acre of olive trees and grape vines, and local flowers beginning to bloom. Our explorations led us to some “off the tourist path” treasures that were less-travelled. Leaving the gilded basilicas behind, I found refuge in two simple abbeys. Centuries old and simply designed, these places of worship revealed beautiful frescoes depicting the life of Christ, the saints, and of course, the beauty of nature. Gregorian chant filtered through these simple houses of prayer as we stopped to pray and felt so connected to our faith and to those who have gone before us.

Returning home and to Epiphany, I am filled with gratitude for our time away. My first week back reminded me how Epiphany reflects the love of God I felt so deeply while we were travelling. In the midst of such grief over the death of our dear friend Rick Marks, this Parish came together in so many ways to surround Rick’s family and friends with so much love and care. The compassion of the risen Christ was made manifest by the Choir, the Altar Guild, the Flower Guild, our Staff, and so many of you who attended to Eileen, Henry, Philip, and Rick’s family. What happened on that Saturday was such an outpouring of love – our coming together as a Parish family to commend to God one of our dearly beloved members.

God’s love cannot be contained. Not in this life or in death. I have seen it and felt it here and in our travels. God’s love is real – I’ve seen it in the faces of strangers and I see it every time I greet one of you.

Faithfully,

Truman Capote, an avowed secularist, once wrote that he heard voices coming from other rooms, meaning that he was beginning to perceive realities greater than the one in which he lived. St. Paul, quite a lot different from Mr. Capote, once said that if we only hope for this life, we are to be pitied (1 Corinthians 15:19). In other words, there is more!

The Epiphany Elders group, a community of men and women who meet regularly to discuss aging, the second half of life, and how faith informs life recently invited me to visit them to speak about, wait for it: resurrection! Big topic. We traced some of its scriptural bases in both the Old Testament and the New Testament, but quickly turned to what we each believe. I confessed that any number of preachers, myself included, have committed the heresy of preaching Easter sermons that equate resurrection with heaven. You know the type: “Because Jesus lives we are all going to heaven, and what a day of rejoicing it will be!” 

Well, that was like a quarter in a juke box for me, and before long I was prattling on about the glory of the Prayer Book’s burial rites, and how I prefer the phraseology of its title, “Burial of the Dead” rather than the more culturally popular (and I think somewhat vapid) words, “celebration of life.” Every good funeral is a celebration of life, and there’s no need to avoid the words death or burial. We’re not gnostics who declare the “body bad” and the “soul good.” Body and soul—together—are good because God made us, Christ redeemed us, and the Holy Spirit guides us. 

The Prayer Book’s burial service—a typical Episcopal funeral—expresses so much hope! We believe that the next life is full of hope, and the words in that rite declare that whatever the next life is it will be rooted in God’s goodness. We even proclaim that in the next life there shall be a dynamic in which we might go from strength to strength. C.S. Lewis, when he spoke about the next life, put it this way: “If it’s not true, then something better will be.”

For me, whatever is beyond this life has to be related to the here and now. My faithfulness is dependent upon building a foundation on Jesus Christ. The questions I ask myself include: “Is my life reflecting as much of Christ’s life as possible? How am I asking you and other companions to help me?” Whenever I wonder what eternal life with God will look like I’m reminded of my silliness in indulging such a notion. Eternal life doesn’t start sometime or at some place. It includes all time and all places. To see eternal life is to take a deep breath right now, and to look around. Surely this life is part of eternal life! 

Lesley McCloghrie is a friend and a priest. She grew up in England, and is now retired in Northern California. Years ago, over a festive Eastertide lunch in the Big Four Restaurant on Nob Hill in San Francisco, I was speaking about the previous Easter Sunday, and how glorious it had been. Lesley said, “Thomas it’s not Easter Sunday, it’s Easter Day. Remember that Easter is every Sunday, and that Eastertide is 50 whole days!”

Lesley’s right, and we’re now just two weeks into this wondrous season. Your church, along with every other Christian community, will keep proclaiming, “Alleluia! Christ is Risen” not because we’ve mixed up resurrection with heaven. We’ll keep singing “Alleluia” because of our ongoing responsibility to bring new life to others, going from strength to strength. 

Happy Easter! Although Easter Sunday occurred 8 days ago, the Easter season lasts for 50 days. Thus, the Easter greetings must keep coming. I suppose this is something that I learned from my dad. As long I can remember, he has enthusiastically greeted friends and family with this post-resurrection acknowledgement. He faithfully does it all the way until Pentecost. It doesn’t matter where he is; church, the grocery store, or the post office. If he knows you and knows that you share the Christian faith, you are going to get an Easter greeting.

It is not so much the words, “Happy Easter,” that ring true, but his authentic expression of joy. Easter is fundamentally about the profound joy that we experience believing that Jesus is risen and that hope and new life overcome death and suffering. Jesus’ victory gives us the courage we need to confront the challenges of life, as well as patience to endure through times of alienation and sadness. For this reason, we celebrate Easter with a sense of solace and elation.

It is because of Easter that we, as a people and a church, have a unique understanding of pain and suffering. As I stated above, Jesus, the risen Christ, has triumphed over death. The fear, threat, and event of death no longer overburden and/or paralyze us. What does this mean in our day to day living and for our relationships? Well, it means that the dead are still our friends to borrow from the theologian, Elizabeth Johnson. Our beloved dead continue to form us and inspire us, even though they are no longer physically present. Their departure from earth does not bring an end to their relationship with us. Albeit in a new and different way, we continue to relate to those who have come before us and those whom have marked us.

We believe that our beloved will live forever, as part of the Body of Christ. We, as members of one universal Church, share in this Body. This type of believing in not simply a mental exercise. It is a heartfelt truth anchored in love. The love that we have shared with the dead, which finds its source in the self-giving love of Christ, never ceases. Love continues even when someone is no longer with us. The unconquerable love of God, which has been revealed to us in and through our human relationships, is what establishes the joy of Easter.

May your Easter season be joyful! May your continue to offer one another Easter greetings. May we all continue to lean into the love of God. Jesus Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

Paul Shoaf Kozak
Intern

The Triduum, Three Sacred Days

It's one liturgy across three days. We disperse and regather during these three days, but a single liturgy overarches them, encompassing everything that happens in church, at home, at work, at school. 

Maundy Thursday, 29 March, Do this in remembrance of me

6:00pm, a hosted parish supper in Hadley Hall with Eucharist, foot washing in the church, stripping of the altar, and procession to the altar of repose

Tonight is the doorway into the Triduum. The word “maundy” comes from the Latin mandatum which means “commandment.” Maundy Thursday celebrates the meal of Jesus’s self-giving, made manifest in the footwashing and in the gift of Bread and Wine. These signs of Jesus’s love and self-offering are the focal points. We reenact Jesus’ demonstration of what it means to be a servant through the ritual of foot washing. The sign is strongest when all members of the community have the opportunity both to have their feet washed and to wash others’ feet. At the conclusion of this service, the altar is stripped, then the whole congregation moves toward the baptismal font, where an altar of repose, or a local version of the Garden of Gethsemane, has been created. The unseen presence of Christ (in the consecrated bread and wine) is made visible, and we focus ourselves for the Night Watch--staying as we can throughout the night--until 7:30am on Good Friday when we receive Holy Communion with these elements. 

Good Friday, 30 March, Behold the wood of the cross

7:30am Prayer Book liturgy with Communion at the back of the church

4:00pm A liturgy designed for children and families

7:30pm Prayer Book liturgy with music and the veneration of the cross

Because this is a continuation of Maundy Thursday there is not a procession today, merely an entrance in silence. The focal points of this liturgy are the bare Altar and a large rough-hewn cross. The Adult Choir sings the Passion, followed by the sermon, the offertory, (throughout the Episcopal Church today’s monetary offerings are directed to the church in the Holy Land) and the ancient prayers of the solemn collects. The energy and shape of this liturgy are unfamiliar; it is the trough, the desolate valley of this Three Day journey. The service concludes with the veneration of the cross. All are invited to touch the cross, or to stand near it, or to kneel at it, or to use consecrated oil to anoint the cross. 

Holy Saturday, 31 March, In the midst of life, we are in death

9:30am, Prayer Book liturgy 

This is among the Prayer Book’s best treasures! Good Friday’s emptiness yields gradually this morning to quiet expectation and preparation. The altar guild, the flower guild, the choir, and all the generous-hearted who are preparing for tonight’s feast gather in the church for this brief, yet powerful, prayer service.

The Great Vigil of Easter, 31 March Suddenly Jesus met them and said,‘Greetings!’

7:30pm The Great Vigil and the First Eucharist of Easter

Our time of waiting is almost over, our work nearly completed. We pilgrims of the Three Days are nearing our destination. We are about to be gathered into the Paschal Mystery, to be seized by its present power, to be transformed. We who have died with Christ in Baptism will rise with him tonight into Easter life. Drawn from ancient sources, this is the most dramatic liturgy of the year. The progression of themes and moods played out on Palm Sunday are reversed. We hear the timeless prophecies of hope. We move from darkness to light. We celebrate baptisms by candlelight. We sing the first “alleluia” of Easter. The church is flooded with light as the Eucharist is celebrated. Bring your own bells and noisemakers! We play with fire, and with water, and sweet-smelling oil; we light a great candle in the darkness and read from the book of our story by its light; rejoicing, we carry our gifts of bread and wine to the Altar, and then the feast continues with a festive reception hosted by the 2018 confirmation class, in Hadley Hall. Our community’s full-on Easter joy, are the ingredients for this late-night party. 

Easter Day, 1 April, Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed!

7:30am, The Holy Eucharist

9:00am, Choral Holy Eucharist

10:00am, parish-wide coffee hour in Hadley Hall

11:15am, Choral Holy Eucharist

These identical celebrations of the Eucharist include the Beacon Brass Quintet, massed choirs, and a church full of people singing to proclaim God’s power to bring life out of death. We will hear the great Easter anthems, sing our favorite hymns, and experience everything else that makes for “an Epiphany Easter.” Come early, bring a friend, share the joy. Child care available from 8:30 until 12:30.

“I do need to go to church. I need specifically religious elements in my life. I find that if I just turn all of my spiritual impulses — if I let them be solitary, as I am comfortable in being — I’m comfortable sitting reading books and trying to pray and meditating. Inevitably, if that energy is not focused outward, it becomes despairing. It turns in on itself, and I will look up in a couple of months, and I find that I’m in despair. And so I think that one of the ways that we know that our spiritual inclinations are valid is that they lead us out of ourselves.”

On Being: Krista Tippett exerpt from interview with Christian Wiman January 4, 2018

 “I give you a new commandment: Love one another as I have loved you. By this shall the world know that you are my disciples: That you have love for one another.” 

Book of Common Prayer Maundy Thursday liturgy p. 275 

Often when I am driving in my car, I listen to podcasts. I enjoy hearing people way smarter than I articulate their thoughts and ideas, mostly about God and faith. Recently I have been listening over and over again to an On Being Krista Tippett podcast in which she interviews a poet by the name of Christian Wiman. His thoughts on spirituality and religion in this interview are beautifully and poetically articulated and have helped me crystalize why I need “religion” and “Church” in my own life. I understand more deeply what “incarnate” means and recognize that being a follower of Christ is anchored in my body and my senses and experiences with the world and each other. 

This week we enter into the holiest of week in our Church year. As we walk through the final days of Jesus’ life, three ancient services encapsulate the essence of who we are as Christians. These services, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter Vigil, let us experience and participate in and with our community in a deeply incarnate way. These services are not spectator events but require us to wade in and participate, to become part of the story of Jesus.

Of the three, Maundy Thursday is my favorite. I love the theology of it, I love that it is on this night we participate in the story of the Last Supper, that it is the night the Jesus instituted the Eucharist, that it is that night that we hear again the command from Jesus to love one another and to serve one another, and that it is the night that Jesus demonstrated this love when he washed the disciples’ feet and we participate in this love by washing each other’s feet. The physical act of washing each other’s feet is a powerful way to open us to the vulnerability that is necessary to receive and give love. 

So now I must confess. Up until last year, I have attended this service and never actually participated in the foot washing, I have only watched. I was afraid to. I was afraid that if I put myself in such a vulnerable place in front of everyone that I might not be in control of my emotions, it would be too embarrassing. So I continued to attend, to love the theology, to watch, and then read a lot about it.

Last year was different. A week beforehand, I talked about Maundy Thursday to a group of children in chapel. When I admitted to the children that I had never had my feet washed, my dear eight year old friend Sydney immediately yelled out, “I am going to go to the service and get my feet washed and you are coming up with me.” 

I answered, “If you really do go up, I will too, Sydney,” not wanting to squelch her enthusiasm and figuring the odds of having to really fulfill my promise was slim. Well, she and her mom did show up that Thursday, and luckily Sydney was wearing stockings. I said, “Oh well, you won’t be able to do the foot washing with tights on!” I thought I was in the clear for another year, but as we were all processing down the hallway towards the church for the foot washing, the door to the restroom behind me burst open and out swaggered Sydney, waving her stockings, smiling and yelling to me, “OK, now we are getting our feet washed.” I was cornered with no way out. 

So I went up when it was time and what followed was not what I had expected. For me, it was definitely a feeling of vulnerability and discomfort, but also intertwined were feelings of love and kindness received from others. We were all laughing together amongst the awkwardness. I felt the love that I had been reading about, I saw it in Sydney’s giggles, in the kind welcome of our host Marian and in Alicia’s, Sydney’s mom, smile. After feeling that love and connection, I felt like sharing it. I believe we all felt this love that night, it was God’s love, God’s incarnate love. I would never have gotten this from reading or watching. Thank you Sydney.

I plan on participating again this year! Please join me and we can look forward to what God is awakening in us together.

May you feel the presence of God’s love in these holy days. Love,

Click here to learn more about the significance and history of tabernacles and sanctuary lamps. This Easterside Epiphany will be adding these elements to the Chancel area of the Church.

I don’t know about you, but as we enter the final days of Lent, I am ready for a celebration. Many of us have spent nearly 40 days now consciously reflecting on how we live our lives.

Whether we have given something up, or taken on a new discipline, striving to be faithful people can be hard work.

When we get to Palm Sunday, I am always ready to shout “Hosanna!” I can just imagine the elation that the first disciples must have felt. Jesus, this person whom they had given up everything to follow and support, was triumphantly riding into Jerusalem. I can imagine them feeling that all their hard work and sacrifice had paid off. Surely this was the goal they had been striving for. All would be well. I’m sure they never imagined what would unfold only a few days later.

For some reason this year as I have been preparing for Holy Week, the disciples actions and feelings have come to the forefront of this amazing story. It is certainly easy to identify with them. We, too, make sacrifices and work for things that we believe in throughout our lives. We, too, make many mistakes along the way. What a joy it is when we get to moments in our lives when we can really celebrate. How difficult it is when things quickly change and we realize that our work is not yet done, but just beginning.

As the events of Holy Week unfolded, I can imagine the disciples' utter devastation. I’m sure they felt that all they had valued and believed was now lost. Of course, they didn’t yet know the end of the story.

Oddly enough, I think I am drawn to the disciples' plight this year because of all that I have been hearing about in the news locally, in our country and beyond. I certainly don’t mean to imply that I think all is lost, but I do realize that many things I have valued and taken for granted may not be as secure as I have thought. Past achievements have been worthy of celebration, but the goal of all of God’s people being loved, valued, and accepted still seems a long way off. There is certainly much more work to be done.

I am so grateful that I know how the story of Holy Week ends. There is more hope and joy than I’m sure any of the disciples could have imagined. For me, Edith Williams' text from last Sunday’s choir anthem sums up Holy Week perfectly, and it is indeed something to celebrate!

Jesus, so lowly, Child of the earth; Christen me wholly, Bring me new birth.
Jesus, so lonely, weary and sad; Teach me that only Love maketh glad.
Jesus, so broken, Silent and pale; Be this the token Love will not fail.
Jesus, victorious, mighty and free; Teach me how glorious death is to be.

Craig Benner
Director of Music and Organist 

...from the Rector about the 4th Sunday in Lent: Refreshment Sunday, Rose Sunday, Mothering Sunday 

Today, the 4th Sunday in Lent, marks a break in an otherwise penitential season. In English churches, and indeed in many Episcopal Churches in the United States, whatever austerity may have marked the earlier part of Lent gives way to “refreshment.” For Anglicans the tradition of “Laetare Sunday” extends as far back as the 15th century when the opening introit “O be joyful Jerusalem” was always sung on this Sunday. The Latin word laetare is the singular imperative of to rejoice. 

The vestments for this day are often rose-colored, and in many churches, including ours, flowers adorn the Altar. In the Diocese of Southwark (in London) the Bishop, as recently as a few years ago, encouraged parishes to serve chocolate wafers and sherry for the coffee hour. Even if we had a coffee hour I think we’d stop short of that indulgence, but the point is to remind us again that every Sunday is an anniversary of the resurrection. 

Another historical thread for this Sunday was the old (as in medieval) practice of visiting the cathedral, or the “mother church,” and eventually that practice morphed into the contemporary custom known throughout England of honoring mothers with spring flowers and a special tea cake known as Simnel Cake. Within the Anglican tradition we see this emphasized in two different Prayer Books, Canada’s and Ireland’s, both of which describe today as “Mothering Sunday.” 

All of these customs and traditions are ways for the church to remind us that Lent isn’t a season for penitence alone, but also a time “to prepare with joy for the paschal feast.” And so our liturgy--our music, the prayers, and the environment itself--expresses a foretaste of the joy that’s coming, the joy of Christ’s resurrection, and ours.  

Source material The Commentary on the American Prayer Book by Marion Hatchett (1979); 2004 Book of Common Prayer for the Church of Ireland (2005). 

A few years ago the engine in my car went kaput with only 10,000 miles on it. It took two weeks to get it repaired, but eventually it was good as new. Nobody at the Ford garages, either here in Winchester, where it had its first oil change, or the one in upstate New York, where it was fixed, could explain why the engine failed. “It was just one of those things.”

When the car was finally put back together, a friend drove me to Watertown, New York, to get it. He is really persnickety about clean windows in his car and he introduced me to a product called RainX. He sprays it on the outside of his car windows; that creates an invisible layer of wax which makes the water, and the salt spray, make big beads. Then, when the wipers do their thing, one’s view is clear and pristine. It’s a pretty great product, and now I’m converted to RainX.

This Sunday we’ll recognize and celebrate children and parents who finished a six week course, which we call “communion enrichment.” Most Sundays the parents were with me, and the children were with Carolyn Hughes. It’s been a ton of fun, and I’ve learned a lot from these moms and dads. In an email, one parent wrote to me and said, “except for Sunday mornings I’ve never known anything about the Bible. But whenever we look at a passage in the communion program I feel like it helps me to see, somehow pulls me forward. It’s amazing, sorta like RainX on the windshield.” I laughed, recalling the bottle of RainX in the garage, and hearing the great truth of his insight.

It’s true; the direction of the Bible, the Word, is forward, inevitably and always. Its concern is the future. We look forward when we’re driving—whether the windshield has RainX or not—and the same posture is necessary when we read scripture, to lean into the future. When Jesus disappeared from the tomb, we’re told that he “went on ahead” of everybody, especially blindsiding those fixed on their rearview mirror.

Plenty of religion is loaded with nostalgia; it gets defined by the past. That’s true for our brand of Christianity, too, and it’s even true for some of us. We pine away for the past, unable to glimpse what lies ahead. In just a couple of weeks, we’ll enter the pathway of Holy Week, and encounter parts of scripture that tell us about our lives, as well as parts of scripture that don’t fit, or actually grate. In all of this the tasks of interpreting and reflecting on scripture, as those parents did every Sunday these past six weeks, clears the way so that we see forward. If you think about fundamentalism, which at its worst is a compulsion to retrieve and preserve the past, we see how foolish and impossible it is.

What I heard in that young dad’s analogy of God’s Word with RainX was a reminder that scripture is living and active, waiting for us to do something with it. Maybe today, and in the weeks to come, we can see faith as a deep confidence in God’s future, not living in the past, but leaning forward, able to see exactly where we are going.

Faithfully in Christ,

During a recent Genesis middle school meeting, I asked the kids about what they look for in an ideal pastor. On the off chance Thomas needed to go on a quick impromptu theological mission to Barcelona and we needed a short-term replacement, what would you look for in a candidate?

There was a moment’s hesitation and then the qualifications came flying in. “They need to be nice.” “They should be a dog person.” “They should show us how to be Christian.” “I wanna be happy to see them.” “They should wear bow-ties.” “They should remember people’s names.”

Later, I mentioned to Carolyn that one of the girls pointed out that everyone had just ended up describing Thomas.

After a little dip in the conversation, one of them said “I guess, they just need to be a good Christian.”

“What’s a good Christian?”

“If you come to church, if you pray, and if you’re nice to everyone. You also have to do nice things.”

“Do you feel like you’re a good Christian?”

*Laughs* “I don’t know. Sometimes, I guess.”

I find middle schoolers are an easier puzzle to solve than high schoolers. Middle schoolers look for role models in their lives and are quick to point out hypocrisy and inconsistencies.

In an atmosphere like that, it is of the utmost importance than we as a community raise our own standards of stewardship, acceptance, and love to the heights our young ones expect in us.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen short (well, I can but Sarah says this has to come in under 20,000 words) but I do my utmost to scramble back because there’s a small group of children who think I’m better than I am. And they feel that way about us.

So I’m going to try to be the most Christ-like versions of myself. Even if I don’t feel it all the time, I’m going to put my best foot forward. I hope you’ll join me. Because young eyes are watching.