We are definitely deep into the green, growing season now. It's the longest season of our liturgical (church) year, and—surprise!—it isn't referencing our northern hemisphere's summer of lush trees and plentiful crops. The liturgical green, growing season is also known as "ordinary time," meaning the seasons between periods of preparation (Advent, Lent) and the great holy moments of Christmas, Epiphany, Easter, and Pentecost. 

But "ordinary time" does have a lot in common with summer. Because there's not a lot of formal stuff going on, the green, growing season offers us a time to "choose your own adventure." The mixture of summer and our liturgical calendar offers each of us time for our own personal itinerary of purposeful rest and bountiful nourishment. It's like an independent study for the soul. 

So, how would you like to grow during this green season?

My summer will involve rest in the form of time off (from the church office, but also from So Much sports driving). I'll also work on my ability to let my kids grow and explore independently, as my youngest goes to sleep-away camp for two whole weeks, and my oldest travels an ocean away. (Welcoming prayers!)

And, of course, there is summer reading. Summer is my second favorite official reading season of the year. (My first favorite reading season is January—the other green, growing time of the church year, proving it really isn't about plants). This summer I'm reading Mathish: Finding Creativity, Diversity, and Meaning in Mathematics; and The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness; and a whole bunch of fluff. How about you?

Whatever you read, wherever you go, and however you grow, I hope you find rest for your body, mind, and soul in this green season. I'll see you for some summer punch in the Cloister and I'd love to hear all about it. 

~Bryn

Names are a big deal. With a name we feel known, heard, and seen. Names are so important that we see it throughout scripture—the first human is given charge to name things in creation, the disciples are often given new names (think of Peter, the Rock), and we also observe Holy Name Day, commemorating when Jesus is named by his parents. Names make all of the difference and, at the same time, I can't tell you the number of times that I have blanked on someone's name, even as I know that I know them. You know the feeling. It does not feel great for anyone involved. And, of course, we're human. So, we need help, and it's good to admit it! "I'm Nick, can you remind me of your name!" One of the ways we do this at church is to wear our nametags—it is an important act of welcome and hospitality. We do it for one another; to call each other by name. I remind us of this as we undertake a new effort with our name tags. You'll see it unfolding in the coming weeks. Our name tags holder at the back of the church will be replaced by a wall-mounted system to hold our nametags. The Property Committee has worked on this for the past several months, and I'm looking forward to this new set-up to make our names available to one another and free up room to make our space more welcoming, inviting, and open. These small things make a big difference—and they are reminders that it is the small ways of being welcoming that grow together to help make our church a community open to all—a community where we work together, to know and be known, to work to call each other by name. 

See you on Sunday,
Nick

Last Wednesday was our final Midweek of the program year. In closing our time together, we did a liturgy of gratitude and created an altar of photo collages of our community throughout the whole year together. As a sentimental and nostalgic person, I loved looking through all the photos from the year that Kathryn, our communications person, put together and printed out for us. There were images from Midweek, Parish Weekend Away, Sunday mornings, the Blessing of the Animals service, Choristers, youth events, young adult gatherings, parent gatherings, and so much more. We had a very full year together! As we were preparing these collages, I couldn’t help but notice that many of the kids picked photos that had themselves in them. Of course, this makes sense! Yet, it was meaningful that each of our kids were able to find at least one photo with them in it. A testament to their presence within this community. And this tells a simple yet profound truth about who we are becoming — we are becoming a community that you can literally see yourself in. I hope we continue to lean into this in the years to come to continue to become more and more of a welcoming place for all.

With gratitude,
Rev. Janelle

One of the hallmarks of Epiphany is that we create spaces to enjoy being together. This week, we end our program year as we began it... with a meal and celebration together. In September, it was Rally Day, complete with empanadas from Bella Isla, bouncy houses, and a dunk tank. This week, it was our potluck on Sunday and our Midweek End-of-Year Party on Wednesday (no bouncy houses, although the dunk tank would have been more welcome in Sunday’s weather than it was in the coming-and-going rain last September!).

One of the things we discovered during the pandemic is that being together is really important to us. It’s not just that we enjoy it, it’s that it sustains us and reminds us that we are a community and that we matter to each other. 

I remember the vestry meeting during the pandemic when Reverend Nick told us that the staff wanted to try a thing called ‘Midweek’ which would be a chance to share a meal outdoors. Thank you to all of them for recognizing how important it was to create a space where we could be together and for finding a way to make it happen.

And thank you to all the people who make these spaces happen for us. There is no way that I’ll successfully list everyone without waking up tomorrow morning remembering key people who I forgot so I’ll let a few of you represent many: to Marie and everyone who turns Hadley Hall into a community space time and again throughout the year, to Duane and the Midweek team who have turned Midweek into a uniquely Epiphany institution, to Joan and everyone who somehow make cleaning up hundreds of plates and mugs a time of laughter and incredible conversations, and to people like Sarah who take on the less visible tasks like wrapping napkins around countless bundles of silverware. Thank you all, I am so grateful for each of you.

Nelia Newell

We are at the end of May, the close of the month, the winding down of the school year—for some, a bit of feeling another cycle past, a summer fast approaching. About a month ago, I made a decision to do something I have never done in my life. I decided that I would read through, at my best, pray through, the Psalms. The Book of Psalms has been called "the gymnasium of the soul" by St. Ambrose (4th century bishop of Milan). He called it that because he encouraged people to "use the psalms" to stretch their prayer muscles, to strengthen their hearts, and connect with their spiritual core. So, I used the Book of Common Prayer's version of the Psalms (starting on page 585 of the BCP), and you'll notice there that the directions note which psalms you should pray on "first day" or "second day" of the month—going for thirty days. Sometimes people ask me how they should pray or what they should pray. One simple suggestion is to use the psalms as your prayers. They may not be the words of your heart, but sometimes, you'll be surprised, that they are. Other days, you may wonder: What is going on here? Some days, you'll say to yourself, "This can't be in the Bible!?" What I've discovered so far by letting the Psalms be my prayers is that I, too, am in need of support and help and strength when I don't have the words, don't know how to talk with God, and it's a deep gift to trust others (even those who wrote the Psalms so long ago), not only with my words, but with my heart. Coming to the close of this month and praying the Psalms, I've noticed that I've become more open to God, to myself, and to my own limitations. It's been a pretty good month in the gym.

Friends, this Sunday we are throwing a party to celebrate the close of another program year. I hope you'll be there, bring a dish to share, and let yourself be open to one another, to the love we share here, which is where God happens. I'll see you on Sunday, with a full plate and an open heart.

Peace to you,
Nick

According to data, a critical response to loneliness, social isolation, and stress in a young persons life is to have more trusted adults in their sphere. It’s important for young people to have trusted adults that are not their family or their teachers. This is one of the things that churches do, at their best. And, I’m proud to say — something that Epiphany does really well because we have youth leaders like Hannah Cumming, John Jenke, and Ellen Wilson (among others!). This year, Hannah, John, and Ellen helped facilitate a Youth Faith Circle that met on Wednesday evenings over a shared meal. John and Ellen graciously hosted us in their homes starting in September all the way to May. During that time we celebrated birthdays, celebrated holidays, celebrated ordinary life and watched these teens and tweens grow taller — some of whom like to remind me that they are now taller than me! Our teens and tweens come from different towns, different schools, and different personalities all converging at Ellen or John’s house on a Wednesday night eating together and learning to be in community together. Learning to be church between Sundays. And last night, we celebrated the final Youth Faith Circle of the year along Mystic Lake, playing frisbee and croquet and watching the sunset. I am thankful for our leaders and thankful for our youth who show up and show me what it means to be Christ to one another (with a touch of sarcasm and Gen Z/Gen Alpha lingo.)

With gratitude,
Rev. Janelle

For many years, I would run to be in shape—for my bodily health. As I've gotten older, and those extra pounds are harder to "run-off" so quickly, I realize that I keep running, mostly, for my mental health. That's curious to me. Running has always been something I've not excelled at. It was hard to be called "caboose" when your older brother was the star distance runner in high school and ran in college. Through it, I realized I ran, ultimately, for me, and it didn't matter where or when I "finished." There is only so much a watch can tell you; time and distance and metrics that don't ultimately matter. It's the metrics of the heart and soul that help us go the distance. So, I run for me. I run for my health, both bodily and mental, which is a way of saying, my whole self.

This Easter season (yes, it's still Easter!), it's good to remember that Jesus always showed up to the disciples with his scars—his hands and feet. They wanted to see them; it helped them know it was all real. The scars were part of the wholeness of Jesus, and they spoke to a wholeness the disciples, and we, seek. Our culture wants us to downplay, cover, disregard, or even be defined solely by the scars. But what Easter reminds us is that our health, our wholeness, our fullness of life, depends upon our scars being there and becoming sacred, revelatory to us. If we can't figure out a way to embrace this, we will surely push them away, onto others. This is what happens so often with unhealthy relationships, self-love, and even religion. Unresolved hurt and scars are often passed on to others. Let this season of Easter remind us that our scars speak something to us, invite us into the mystery of God, the mystery of one another, the beautiful mystery of ourselves—ultimately, so that we can love and be loved into new life. A life, where God happens, and has always been happening. Happy Easter, friends.

Nick

This Saturday, we have six parishioners getting confirmed or received into The Episcopal Church. The exciting thing about this weekend is that all these parishioners are adults. We tend to think Baptism is for babies and Confirmation is for teenagers, but these rites can be offered to anyone who would like to take a next step in their faith journey. In fact, there is a special rite for those who have been baptized and confirmed in a different tradition — it’s called being received into The Episcopal Church. The Episcopal Church honors your Baptism and your Confirmation from a different tradition, and being received is a way to not forsake your background, but to honor that The Episcopal Church is now your spiritual home. I was received into The Episcopal Church and in addition to the special prayer for those getting received, the Bishop also said, “Welcome home.” For those of us that did not grow up in The Episcopal Church, this tradition can truly feel like coming home.

The heartbeat of a confirmation/reception service is reaffirming our Baptismal Covenant. That is, affirming what God has has already made true during our Baptism. The Baptismal Covenant (found on page 304 of your BCP) is one of the deepest gifts our tradition has to offer. We recite the creed and then we make promises to “seek and serve Christ in all persons” and to “respect the dignity of every human being” — all with God’s help. Perhaps today think about the next step you’d like to take in your faith journey. Perhaps it is getting confirmed or received. Perhaps it is asking the hard questions. Perhaps it is looking at the world around you anew. Think about the people you’d like to journey with and the God who companions with you each moment of the way. As Matsui Basho says, “The journey itself is home.” Please join me in praying for our parishioners who are taking this sacred next step this Saturday!

With gratitude,
Rev. Janelle

Earlier this spring, the group that has been working to redesign our website held listening sessions and did a survey to gather input about our experience of our Epiphany community. Janelle and Jim shared what they heard at our last vestry meeting, and I was struck by how often ‘welcoming’ was one of the responses that emerged both from a range of people and to a range of questions:  

What makes Epiphany unique?What do people think of Epiphany?What do we want?What do those we are trying to reach want?How do we want others to talk of us 10 years from now?What do you treasure most about Epiphany?How would you explain Epiphany to a friend who is interested in a community of faith?

Something that intertwined into our DNA is undoubtedly a gift that is beyond our making. What does that mean and where do we go with it? How do we knit it more deeply into all that we do, not just the way that it feels to walk through the door?

To this Godly Play teacher, it sounds like an invitation to wonder about this ‘welcome’ response …

I wonder what welcome means to you?
I wonder what welcome means to me?
I wonder how you would like to be welcomed?
I wonder how you like to welcome others?
I wonder how we continue to welcome one another?
I wonder how welcome might differ for an individual and for a community?
I wonder how a community lives ‘welcome’ if it means different things to different people?

Nelia Newell

In the liturgical calendar, Easter isn’t just one day, it’s an entire season! 50 days. Longer than Lent, longer than Advent. A season of life, celebration, and hope. Now, I know that not all of you feel like you are in an Easter season. As Christians, we are called to live into seasons whether or not we truly feel or maybe even fully believe it. We are called to hold this tension. To carry both grief and hope. Joy and sorrow. Doubt and wonder. So whatever season you may feel yourself to be in, allow this Easter season to draw you towards the places that carry life and hope. Look for the risen Christ in our midst. Look for that new life that sometimes requires change to find it. Like the new buds of flowers and the warmth of the sun after the long winter, new life is always possible. Thanks be to God!

With gratitude,
Rev. Janelle