From the Rector: The vitality of Prayers of the People

When I first arrived in the Episcopal Church, one of the things that took me by surprise was the Prayers of the People in the Book of Common Prayer. In the Church of England, it is common practice to write one’s own intercessions. And so, following the sermon and the creed, instead of observing a set pattern from a prayer book, an intercessor offers either prayers they have written themselves or improvises on the spot. The reasons for this are many, among which is not only general liturgical reform in more recent years, but also a need in many communities to ensure that the prayers offered are true to the hearts of those worshipping among the congregation.

Of course, some Episcopalians may find this odd and for different reasons. Indeed, there is something calming, grounding, and comforting in knowing more exactly what is going to happen when you walk into church on a Sunday morning. Nevertheless, independently or communally written, or even extempore prayer is not an unusual tradition within the church, despite the fact that one might not usually find it in a principal weekly service. And I will say that there is something quite beautiful about being able to write your own prayers, share them with others, or, risky though it may be, to improvise and pray extempore in a regular worship setting.

In one parish I know “back home,” the priest often not only improvises the prayers of the people, but replaces the sermon with them. Thus, following the Gospel reading, the congregation is seated, and then the priest or another preacher offers a meditation on the readings given the issues of the day. And the meditation is shared in an intercessory manner, with the responsory, “Lord, in your mercy; Hear our prayer.” When I asked my colleague how they came to such a practice, they told me how, one Sunday, there seemed to be so much going on in the world, and so much in the readings that was challenging, that the only way they could get through the sermon and say anything meaningful, was simply to pray with the congregation. At that moment, the congregation didn’t need to be spoken to or preached at but prayed with. Of course, such mutual, shared ministry and intercession is something clergy and congregations practice together generally. And a priest should never preach at their congregation. Still, by offering intercession in this specific way in corporate worship served as a reminder of the community’s core purpose, especially in times when opinion, belief, and need are diverse.

This week, as we approach another busy transitional season, perhaps we can grant ourselves the opportunity to consider how we pray. As we contemplate the next two weeks; from my institution on Tuesday, to the Holiday Boutique on Thursday and Friday, to Thanksgiving, and indeed Advent and the beginning of a new liturgical year; we see that there is a lot going on. It’s busy, it’s challenging, and, amongst other things happening in our world, it is a time of change for all of us. But if we can grant ourselves the grace and the time to consider how we not only navigate but pray through such experiences, we might just discover something new. As the theologian Karen Kilby says, “a theologian is one who prays, but stumbles in their prayer, but then reflects on their stumbling.” It’s okay to stumble. It’s good to reflect. And it’s vital to pray.

The Rev. Edward Thornley

Rector, The Episcopal Parish of St. John the Evangelist

From the Rector: A living hope in a time of anxiety

Dear friends,

During our All Souls Sunday Eucharist, which we will celebrate this weekend, our second reading will come from The First Letter of Peter: 1 Peter 1:3-9. In this reading, we find an often used saying in the Church: “a living hope.” The phrase “a living hope” is a curious one. It holds together two perhaps contradictory ideas. On the one hand, we have the word “living.” Living means to be alive right now, to be present in this world, engaged in the here and now. “Hope” inspires a different thought. Hope is a word more concerned with that which is not here yet, things yet to come; perhaps something we yearn for or desire, but which is not immediately within our grasp. So, what does it mean, then, to experience a “living hope?”

The writer, who we believe is Peter the Apostle, is speaking about what it means to live somehow simultaneously both in the present and in the future. This is a central aspect of the Christian faith: to live now in light of not only the past we have come from, but the future, the Kingdom of Heaven, which we anticipate and which we might even experience in this moment. Why speak of this? And how, exactly, does this work? Peter writes these words so that one might contemplate what it means to live in faith, especially in moments when even the present, let alone the future, is not entirely certain. And the way we might accomplish this is to do those things which God in Christ calls us as Christians to practice: to love one another.

In the Christian faith, when people love one another, remember one another, engage with one another, we live in a way which unites those three dimensions of past, present, and future. A way of life which honors others, which acknowledges all three dimensions; and where one seeks to inspire confidence by focusing on what makes someone or something so important, thus helping you understand why you love them so much, and where this love is ultimately going. In the original Greek language of the New Testament, the word for “hope” is ἐλπίς (elpis), which means expectation, hope; and, in particular, a hope, trust, or confidence which is focused intently on the author or the source of one’s hope. In other words, by focusing on, meditating on, and contemplating who is important to us, we are reminded of what it means to truly live in the light of the resurrection: the eternity beyond death itself. For All Souls Day, “a living hope” is very much at the center of our prayers and our living of them, as we honor those who we love, and indeed how their lived example brings us closer to God, the source of all hope itself. But this reading, I find, is also helpful elsewhere right now.

This past week has been a challenging one, to say the least. Not only do we find ourselves in a season in the Church where both death and our perceived life beyond it are front and center, but where we share other facets of life which inspire different anxieties and concerns. To put it bluntly perhaps, the election of the next President of the United States of America has brought this about. This week’s events have occupied every newspaper, every online publication, every air wave, and every news bulletin, as much as every prayer list. And the prayers, the concerns, and the anxiety continue. Indeed, no matter which side one finds themselves on, and even if one finds does not align themselves with any particular ideology or group, there is very much a common, shared experience. That is, to feel caught in the midst of something which does not seem to be fully reconciled, in fact far from it. Two things manifest themselves, then: an anxiety at the lack of harmonious resolution, and a desire for it. Two things which, interestingly and importantly, we all share, even if we do not see eye to eye on where this anxiety resides and how the resolution might be sought.

One thing that is worth remembering amid such a time, is precisely that wherever we locate ourselves, we all actually share those twin experiences of anxiety and desire for reconciliation. In an odd way, at a time where we often find ourselves divided, this two-fold experience unites us. We are united, perhaps, in our shared anxiety and need to resolve it. That’s not a good thing in itself, but it is something; something that maybe, just maybe, might become a starting point for conversation, collaboration, or even, risky as it may feel, to engage what it means to embody a living hope. In other words, we remember the past, we hold the present, and we look to the future; and we ask one another what this means and what this might look like. And yes, again, that is a risk, depending on who you talk to. It’s not easy. Furthermore, it hurts. And it hurts even when we begin to contemplate how to engage again with those who we fear, or who we fear may hurt us. But if the Christian faith teaches one thing that we can all begin with, no matter what, it is that desire for and the opportunity to engage in a living hope. How we navigate that exactly is the task, but the fact that it is a possible task means there is a possible way. And I am confident that our own parish community, like any and every other community, can do it. And when we struggle, may we listen to those words of scripture, and allow the one who accomplishes them accomplish that same reconciliatory spirit in us. That is something worth living in hope.

The Rev. Edward Thornley

Rector

Prayers for Election Day

Dear friends,

As we reach the week when the election takes place for the next President of the United States, we all find ourselves at a time of profound discernment. For some, there is wondering and contemplation. For some, there is anxiety or concern. There may be expectation, or there may be fear. For some, there could be any combination of the above, and for different reasons. Wherever you are in your journey at this time, The Episcopal Parish of St. John the Evangelist is here to support, love, pray with, and journey with you, as we walk together through this important week.

In this note, you will find a selection of prayers from different resources in the Episcopal Church, which you might use in the coming days. Furthermore, the Parish Church will be open for private prayer on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, from 6 p.m. until 9 p.m. I will also be available during these times for anyone who wishes to meet, talk, or pray at the Parish Church.

Again, wherever you may be on your journey this week, know that St. John’s is your spiritual home, and a place where you are welcome and loved for who you are as a beloved child of God.

With every prayer and blessing for the week ahead,

Ed

The Rev. Edward Thornley

Rector of The Episcopal Parish of St. John the Evangelist

---

A Collect for an Election

O God, you made us in your own image
and redeemed us for the sake of your love:
Look with compassion on the whole human family;
take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts;
break down the walls that separate us;
unite us in bonds of love;
and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth;
that, in your good time, we may all serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne.
Through Jesus Christ, Our Lord.

Amen.

Adapted from “Holding onto Hope—A National Service for Healing and Wholeness,” Washington National Cathedral, Washington DC, Nov. 1, 2020.

---

A Prayer for an Election

Most merciful God, whose son Jesus Christ taught us to love and to serve, may we be guided by your Holy Spirit in this time of decision for our nation.

Help us to remember that there are so many around the world who do not have this freedom, and remember, too, the lives lost to fight for our right to vote here in this democratic republic we call home.

Grant us wisdom in our discernment as we choose our leaders, and the grace to accept the results with humility—win or lose.

And once the election is decided, give us all the strength and compassion to work to heal this divided nation, that we may be empowered in common purpose to work toward the noble ideals that are the foundation of our republic, and that we may together love and serve the least of these.

All this we ask in Your name. Amen.

From Christ Episcopal Church, Glen Ridge, N.J.

---

Prayers of the People for an Election

Loving God, creator of this world who is the source of our wisdom and understanding, watch over this nation during this time of election. Help us to see how our faith informs our principles and actions.

Intercessor: God, our creator,

People: Guide us in truth and love.

We give thanks for the right to vote. Help us to hold this privilege and responsibility with the care and awareness it merits, realizing that our vote matters and that it is an act of faith.

Intercessor: God, our creator,

People: Guide us in truth and love.

Guide us through this election as a nation, state, and community as we vote for people to do work on our behalf and on the behalf of our communities. Help us to vote for people and ballot initiatives that will better our community and our world so it may reflect the values Christ taught us.

Intercessor: God, our creator,

People: Guide us in truth and love.

Help us create communities that will build your kingdom here on earth—communities that will protect the poor, stand up for the vulnerable, advocate for those who are not seen and heard, and listen to everyone’s voice.

Intercessor: God, our creator,

People: Guide us in truth and love.

We pray for this nation that is deeply divided. May we come together for the common good and do as you have called us to do—to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with you through creation.

Intercessor: God, our creator,

People: Guide us in truth and love.

Help us act out of love, mercy and justice rather than out of arrogance or fear.

Intercessor: God, our creator,

People: Guide us in truth and love.

Lord, continue to guide us as we work for the welfare of this world. We pray for places that are torn by violence, that they may know peace.

Intercessor: God, our creator,

People: Guide us in truth and love.

We pray for communities who are struggling with inequality, unrest, and fear. May we all work toward reconciliation with one another and with God.

Intercessor: God, our creator,

People: Guide us in truth and love.

Help us to listen in love, work together in peace, and collaborate with one another as we seek the betterment of our community and world.

Intercessor: God, our creator,

People: Guide us in truth and love.

By Rev. Shannon Kelly, Director Department of Faith Formation, The Episcopal Church

From “Vote Faithfully—An Election Engagement Toolkit,” The Episcopal Church Office of Government Relations

From the Rector: Remembrance Tide

Dear friends,

On Thursday evening of this week, we officially marked Halloween, originally known as All Hallows Eve. This is the night where, traditionally within the Church, vigils were kept prior to the following All Hallows Day or All Saints Day. “All Hallows” is the basis for “Halloween.”

According to Germanic traditions from the fifteenth century, people would visit houses throughout their communities, bringing “soul cakes” and other treats as a sign of their preparation for the day when the Church celebrates all the saints in heaven. Thus, on the next day the Church gives thanks for those Christians who have gone before us, who led lives of particular holiness, in making known the Kingdom of God. The vigils kept the night before, as is common with all vigils kept before a major feast, were a sign of excitement, celebration, and prayer to enable Christians to contemplate the significance of the feast prior to its central celebration. Today, although Halloween looks a little different, give or take a few details the sentiment is essentially the same … well, almost.

Following All Saints Day then comes All Souls Day or The Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed. On this third feast, we celebrate those who are special to us more personally, who have gone before us in the way of faith. Thus, we move liturgically, spiritually, and theologically from vigil to celebratory feast, then to more solemn remembrance, and especially for those closest to us.

In The Church of England, this time of year is often also referred to as “Remembrance Tide.” This is because as we move through this passage of the year, we find ourselves spending a significant portion of time remembering the saints, those who we love, and indeed those aspects of our lives which require healing. Following All Souls Day, we soon reach Veterans Day (in the U.S.) or Remembrance Day (in the U.K. and Canada), where we remember those who have given their lives in service to their country. Furthermore, we find ourselves moving into a time where the seasons are truly changing once more, as autumn leaves finish falling, the dark and the cold begin in earnest, yet we then prepare for Thanksgiving, and then a new liturgical year with Advent. Change, remembrance, and hope are all significant themes which permeate this final part of the calendar year.

Over the next two Sundays, we will be marking these moments: with All Saints Sunday on November 3, and our All Souls Sunday on November 10. We will be celebrating the baptism of one of our youngest parishioners on November 3, and on November 10 we will be reading the names of those who have passed on from this life during the last year. As we frame the next few weeks around both the celebration of new life and of the lives of those who have now gone before us, I hope you will join us in the Parish Church for this special time of worship and contemplation. And if there is a loved one whom wish to remember on November 10, please be sure to send in their names on the form from the bulletin to the Parish Office.

I look forward to worshiping and praying with you as we journey through this time together: remembering, giving thanks, and then contemplatively looking to the future with hope.

The Rev. Edward Thornley

Rector

From the Rector: Finding the prayerful threads in community

“Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.”

1 Corinthians 12:4-7

Over the last few weeks, I have been struck once more at how engaged our community is. We have witnessed the marvel that is The Not-So-Spooky Haunted House, thanks to the gargantuan efforts of Dan and Kaja Fickes, their daughters Elise and Kristi, John Lanza, and our incredible parishioners, and children and youth volunteers. I have also seen our Holiday Boutique appear more noticeably on the horizon, as plans are coming together around another major holiday event. We gathered for coffee hour at the Rectory last Sunday, as well as many of our parishioners engaging in our wider community through the Hingham Historical Society’s Tavern Night. Turns out St. John’s has quite the presence there!

Just when things seemed to calm down, I then found myself in meetings with Sunday School leaders, planning this Sunday’s All-Ages Worship and Stewardship Sermon; as well as our Outreach Committee’s meeting, a planning meeting for the South Africa trip, and of course our Wednesday morning Eucharist. And that’s before you get to our Transition Committee’s Wine and Cheese Evenings, the Men’s Group’s monthly meeting, our monthly Finance Committee meeting, and our community’s participation at the consecration of our new Bishop! A few of these events, I confess, I ultimately couldn’t attend because of clashes and, frankly, exhaustion! Oh, and I’m being instituted here on November 19 …!

When I was discerning, interviewing, and then finally preparing for arriving at St. John’s, I knew there would be a great deal of activity. Everyone in this community leads a busy life, to say the least! This was one of the things that inspired Devon and I the most about coming here. One of the great gifts of parish life is precisely what St. John’s does best, and that is, put simply, gathering. Through this we share our gifts and grow in our relationship with God through each of the particular aspects of parish life that draws us in and speaks to us most immediately. And at the heart of all these gatherings is prayer. Whether it is at a social event, a fundraiser, a committee or ministry meeting, or indeed an act of worship in and of itself; prayer is an essential part of each these. And prayer is part of even those gatherings which one might not immediately anticipate being explicitly spiritual or theological.

The last two weeks have felt like journeying a St. John’s “road map.” It began with the Eucharist on Sunday, from which point we left the parish church, going out into the world to engage in all the usual things that occupy our lives. And, in the midst of this, whether you are a priest, an administrator, a doctor, an accountant, or … fill in the blank … you find yourself back in our parish, sharing the gifts that you bring, and which make who you are with the community around you. There’s an interconnectivity between all these elements: a prayerful thread which ties everything together. Each act of gathering connects to another, from worship to social, from Haunted House to fundraising, from Hingham to South Africa and back, from one generation to another. As we move into a busy time of year, and approach a new liturgical year, how we navigate those specific prayerful threads that underlie our shared life will be an important theme, for “to each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” And I am excited to walk that journey with you.

The Rev. Edward Thornley

Rector of The Episcopal Parish of St. John the Evangelist

From the Rector: Going down a rabbit hole

Dear friends,

A frequent activity of Devon’s and mine is to walk around our town, or even our church campus, notice something, and then “go down a rabbit hole” learning about it. A few weeks ago, Devon and I were beginning to plan what to do with rectory garden, and we were standing in the dip at the bottom of the garden when our feet hit some rocks. We looked further and noticed some old gravel, a wood border buried under the grass, then the granite steps leading down into the space. After speaking with a few other friends, we discovered that there used to be an old English style formal garden in that area. And so, Devon and I started “digging” (online and in books, not in the earth, just yet …) to find out more. After further reading, studying plot plans in the church archive, online searches, and a conversation with one of “those in the know,” it turns out that this was once the formal garden of The Rev. John Gallop, Rector of St. John’s from 1951 to 1979.

Above the little hill in the garden also once stood a Greek style portico, pediment and columns (or pergola), which Fr. John rescued from demolition in the 1960s. The portico was once the entrance to the home of Major Samuel Thaxter (1723-1771), which stood in the center of Hingham until it was demolished and the site became St. Paul’s Roman Catholic Church. The portico was rescued by Hingham artist Martin Gay, who kept it in his garden until Fr. John later acquired it and placed it in the rectory garden. Upon his retirement, Fr. John gave it to The Hingham Historical Society, and it now sits in a formal garden not dissimilar to the old rectory garden at the Old Ordinary. Finally, it turns out that Dr. Thomas Thaxter, who built the house in 1788 which became our parish’s rectory, was the son of Major Thaxter, whose home the portico originally adorned. And … upon digging in the archives further, it turns out that the landscaping of the original rectory and church site was designed by the offices of Frederick Law Olmsted when The Rev. George Weld first acquired the site in 1906.

Now, this is a brief version of a lot of history, details may be slightly off, others will know more than me, and there is more to discover. And, of course, one might wonder if Ed and Devon have already lost the plot; no pun intended! (Sorry …) But, as we all know, if you want to learn about how to address the present and future, then you often need to look to the past. Not in a nostalgic way, of course. Indeed, Jesus spends a great deal of time throughout the Gospels telling people not to “go back” but to keep moving onward towards the kingdom of heaven. Yet learning from the past, making connections, and “joining the dots” in a community is part of what it means to make sense of a place; to make sense of where one is, why we’re here, and what we might do in the future. A short blast through a few books and papers yielded all sorts of ideas for possible future connections with different organizations, some gardening, maybe creation care ministry, perhaps even a research project or two. And it all comes back to some of those essential questions that we ask whenever we pray: Who are we? Where do we come from? Where are we going? And what does God want for us next?

Devon and I hope that you will join us for coffee hour at the rectory this week following our 8 a.m. and 10 a.m. services. And, if you like, do take a little walk in the garden …

With every prayer and blessing,

Fr. Ed.

From the Rector: Loud & quiet healing

Dear friends,

This week, like all of you I have been horrified as I have learned more about the disasters that have been taking place in the southeast regions of our country; in Tennessee, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and indeed in Florida in more recent days. And again, like many of you, I have friends and family being immediately impacted by these events. As is often the case when disaster on such a scale manifests itself in our lives, nothing can prepare you for it, even with all of the best science, knowledge, work, and preparation. Of course, there are feelings of relief as the storms begins to settle. Yet, there is then the inevitable reality of the aftermath and the beginning of making repairs and making sense of everything that has happened.

Amidst all that has passed in recent weeks, however, feelings of relief have often become a substantial warmth as stories of profound generosity and healing have manifested themselves. For me, this became particularly apparent within our own community at our vestry meeting on Tuesday. Kenzie Blackwell, our Outreach Committee Chair, informed our gathering of the great yet behind the scenes work, generosity, and service taking place within our parish to meet the needs of those whose lives have been literally turned around. Friends donating money, reaching out to friends and family, and networking to connect people with resources so desperately needed. Aside from the obvious, these acts of kindness reminded me of the necessary and genuine goodness possible even in the midst of fear and uncertainty. Furthermore, they reminded me of an important aspect of faith.

A friend of mine once said that there are two types of healing in the Bible: loud healing and quiet healing. Loud healing is where we see something obvious, healing comes quickly, and it amazes and inspires us. The miracles of Jesus might be an example of this. Although it is interesting that, often, following a healing miracle in particular, Jesus tells those around him to keep quiet about it, and simply live their lives in the new way that has been granted to them. This brings us to the second type of healing: quiet healing. In this case, healing may come slowly, over time, and not manifest in obvious or explicit ways; yet, it is still there, gradually become more tangible and more truly a reality, until one day it fully makes sense. This may be the case when even a grand gesture is kept quiet and communicated through further acts of giving and healing, or indeed when we pray for something and it doesn’t seem to come, though maybe it’s already there.

In weeks like those of recent, it is important and good, indeed vital, to not only look for those acts of loud and desperately needed healing, but also those which are of a quieter nature. Perhaps it might even be helpful for us to remember that those moments of quiet healing are equally present, and equally impactful. They bring comfort especially when our problems seem to be beyond our capacity for change, and they are working even when we are unaware of them. Perhaps that is yet another way of discerning God’s Spirit working among us.

With every prayer and blessing for the week ahead,

Ed.

From the Rector: The calling of St. Francis

Dear friends,

This Sunday, we will be celebrating The Feast of St. Francis of Assisi. Francis is one of the most well-known and beloved saints in the Church. Living in the twelfth century, he is venerated for his compassion and service to the poor and the natural world, as well as his rich prayer life. His example and teaching formed the basis of a Rule of Life which continues in communities across the world to this day. When churches celebrate Francis, congregations often bring animals to be prayed over in honor of Francis’ love for all of God’s creation. On Sunday, there will be two opportunities to celebrate: at the 10 a.m. Eucharist, where Sunday School children may bring stuffed animals for a blessing during the service; and at 5 p.m., where there will be a special service outside in the Memorial Garden, for you to bring your living animal friends for a blessing.

Indeed, it is appropriate that on the day we celebrate St. Francis we also begin our Stewardship season. On this Stewardship Sunday, I and Chris Accettella, who serves on our finance committee, will be preaching together on the importance of stewardship from our respective points of view. Aside from the obvious connections between love, service, care for creation, and building community, St. Francis and stewardship go well together also because Francis’ own calling centered around a particular church building. Legend has it that his calling from God came while sitting in a derelict church, and hearing the voice of another saint, St. Damian, saying “Go and repair my church, which you see is falling down.” At this point, Francis devoted his life to God’s service.

Now, while St. John’s is not exactly sinking into the earth right now, it is certainly true that our church, like all churches, face their own challenges. As we will learn together over the coming months, while St. John’s is a parish which has made tremendous strides, and always has in its life and ministry, we know the pitfalls. We all know how the financial situation of this parish, like many, in a both post-covid and rector transition period has played out. We’ve all seen the parts of the building that need work. We all know that our current budget cannot sustain the ministries and programs that have been the hallmark of St. John’s for decades. It’s hard. But, as we learn from all the saints of the Church, it is often when we perceive the need to address something which initially seems insurmountable that the calling becomes real. And what begins with uncertainty soon becomes compelling, a duty becomes a joy, and a desire becomes an act of generosity.

There will be more about this on Sunday and in the weeks to come. But for the time being, I give thanks for the gifts that all of you already share with this community, and I will look forward to worshipping you this Sunday!

With every blessing,

Ed.

From the Rector: Buffy Gray to retire

Dear friends,

This week, I write to you to announce that our magnificent and profoundly gifted organist and choirmaster, Elisabeth “Buffy” Gray, has announced her retirement. Buffy will be serving among us until the new year, and her final Sunday in the parish will be The Feast of The Epiphany on January 5th 2025.

Buffy has served our community faithfully since 2015. As organist and choirmaster, she has brought not only a wealth of expertise and skill, but a joy, spirituality and pastoral attentiveness which has made her work here a true ministry. Buffy is a consummate musician, who has developed our choral program for adults and young choristers with exceptional care. She has taught, guided, and performed with meticulous attention to detail and with an authentic adoration for liturgical music and for God. This has indeed made St. John’s a place where congregations can truly worship God in the beauty of holiness. Our adult choir leads weekly worship gloriously, and our choristers are blessed with such a beautiful introduction to the world of church music. Buffy has also, in the process, maintained and cherished our instruments with precision and the highest regard, which will enable our parish to continue sharing in such wonderful, worshipful music for years to come.

At this time, we therefore also find ourselves at the beginning of another period of discernment and prayerful reflection. In conversation and collaboration with Buffy, Jody Jones Turner, our Senior Warden, and Perrie O’Tierney-Ginn, our Junior Warden, I have begun to contemplate and research the pathways we might take as we begin to consider who Buffy’s worthy successor might be. It is my intention to form a search committee, so that we may begin to research all the possible eventualities and soon begin the process which will lead to calling our new organist and choirmaster. I will certainly keep you all posted as this journey develops.

In the meantime, on behalf of the Wardens, Vestry, and our entire congregation and community, let us congratulate Buffy on her upcoming retirement, and give thanks for all her many gifts, with which she will continue to bless us in the coming months. Indeed, plans for more formal thanksgivings and celebrations will be shared in due course.

With every prayer, blessing, and incredible gratitude,

Father Ed.

---

A note from Buffy

Dear Friends in Christ,

After much consideration over the past year, I have decided that the time has come for me to retire from my position as Organist-Choirmaster at St. John’s. It will be very hard to leave after nearly ten years of fulfilling ministry and deep connections with so many of you. I have learned, however, that life is short. I am so ready to spend more time with my family and friends. I look forward to devoting more of my days to my non-musical passions of birding, hiking, and wildlife conservation.

I plan to continue working through Christmas and take my leave in early January. During this time, I will enjoy every minute of working with Fr. Ed (who is a gem) and St. John’s wonderful staff and choirs. No need for goodbyes yet, just many thanks for our time together thus far.

Gratefully,

Buffy

From the Rector: Becoming like a child to enter the kingdom of heaven

Dear friends,

This week, I have been thinking a great deal about our ministries to children, youth, and their families. Our Sunday School has begun in full force, and our Open House was well attended last Sunday particularly by some of our newer families. Our Youth Group Open House event takes place this coming Sunday as our program year gets underway. And I find myself beginning to organize my Confirmation Class curriculum for the new year. Our work with younger generations and the intergenerational dimension of our parish’s life has, then, been very much on my mind over the last few days. Indeed, our Gospel reading this Sunday features one of the moments when Jesus draws his disciples’ attention to the children in their community. He says, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” (Mark 9.37)

In relation to this, one person who has also been very much in my prayers is a man named Jerome Berryman. For those who are not familiar, The Rev. Dr. Jerome Berryman was an Episcopal priest who created the pedagogy and indeed church movement that we now call Godly Play. Berryman created Godly Play in the early nineties, following many years of research in theology, education theory, child psychology, and the Montessori teaching method which focuses intently on creative play and experiential learning. As Berryman and his wife Thea developed their own method, it quickly grew into an international foundation and is now one of the most widely used childhood spirituality curricula in the world. It is also used with adults, and, following recent research, with persons experiencing mental health and special educational needs.

In a typical Godly Play lesson, children enter a small, often custom designed chapel, where they sit in a circle, and a teacher uses sensory objects to tell a Biblical story. Instead of simply reading from the Bible or preaching to the children, the teacher “unpacks” the story in front of the group and asks “wondering questions” about the characters and elements of the narrative. “I wonder who these people are?” “I wonder what they thought they were looking for.” “I wonder where you are in this story.” Following the story and reflection, there are then activities, and a feast (as the lesson is reminiscent of the Eucharist), after which the children receive a blessing before departing. The next time you find yourself walking around our Sunday School classrooms, you will notice many such stories placed on the shelves lining each room. Many churches adapt the lessons and the method to cater to the needs of their own community. And Godly Play is one part of our curriculum at St. John’s, too.

Jerome Berryman passed away this summer, on August 6, at the age of 87. He was a wonderful human being. Over the last few years, I got to know him a little when I was serving as a school chaplain and conducting research in the theology and spirituality of childhood. One of the things Berryman would often say was that childhood was not simply an early stage of life, but a way of looking at reality at any stage of our life. Even as an adult, Berryman was someone who had a “child-like” quality about him: he would always talk to you, somewhat disarmingly, on equal terms (even if you were newer to researching the field, like me); he was curious, enthusiastic, and thoughtful; he asked probing questions, and if he discovered something he didn’t understand he wouldn’t let go of it. In many ways, his life, research, teaching, and ministry were all of a piece. He both taught and embodied a way of life where childhood was not understood simply as a specific period of time, but a way of being in the world, a form of perception, a kind of logic or sense of the world that is, in many ways, timeless.

Essentially, then, “becoming like a child to enter the kingdom of heaven,” as Jesus teaches elsewhere (Matthew 18.3-5), is not about going back in time or becoming nostalgic but learning to look at reality as it is right now and engaging with it authentically and openly. This, I think, is something we can all learn from, wherever we may be on our own spiritual journey. And as we move further into this new year together and find ourselves reorienting ourselves to life as a Christian community, how we tell our own stories, engage in wonder, and understand the way we look at the world is essential. It is vital for living into our relationships with one another and with God. I wonder what this looks like for you?

With every prayer and blessing,

Ed.

From the Rector: Rediscovering Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Dear friends,

This week, I found myself rediscovering the work of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. As many of you will know, Bonhoeffer was one of the most influential theologians of the twentieth century. He was a German Lutheran pastor and theologian who came to prominence during the Second World War and was a key member of the Confessing Church: a movement within Protestant Germany to oppose Nazism. A widely known activist and teacher, Bonhoeffer was eventually imprisoned for his involvement in a plot against Hitler. He was sent to Tegal Prison, and then Flossenbürg concentration camp where he was executed on 9th April 1945, days before the camp’s liberation.

Bonhoeffer’s writing came up at our Wednesday Group this past week. During our discussion, Fr. Robert, our Rector Emeritus, cited one of Bonhoeffer’s most famous books, The Cost of Discipleship, and in particular the difference between cheap and costly grace. Cheap grace, for example, makes no demands on us, and so prevents us from fully engaging with complexity and truth. It is a way of thinking about grace as something which comes easily and doesn’t require us to change anything about our lives or habits. Costly grace, on the other hand, makes demands on us; it is a form of grace which requires us to reckon with those things which prevent us living more fully into our relationship with God. This means being okay with making mistakes, making sacrifices, and accepting our calling even when it's tough.

While this may seem an intense way to start a weekly email, I find that there is also something very subtle, familiar, and reassuring to note in these ideas. Indeed, the difference between cheap and costly grace can also be found in Bonhoeffer’s less intense though equally profound book, Life Together. I first read this book as a student in theological college, and it has guided much of my thinking about faith ever since. In this book, Bonhoeffer considers what it means for everyday Christian communities, such as parishes and religious houses, to be places of true spiritual transformation. He argues that it is the Church, globally but also locally, which is the focal point of Christian ethics and the heart of the Body of Christ. Thus, it is in the very fabric of our lives, as we live together, and then interweave our experience with scripture and worship, that we encounter God in our midst. In academic circles, theologians often refer to this kind of thinking as “narrative theology,” where the very threading of stories and scripture in the context of community shapes our Christian life.

This may, in the end, seem like a simple thing to note at the start of a new week, and it is something which, in my mere two months here, I have spoken about quite a lot already. But I find myself repeatedly coming back to this idea in these early days with you. For I think that what makes a parish church community one of the most profound places to be is that, as Bonhoeffer notes, it is a place where we are constantly reminded to avoid that all-too-easy option to “pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the ordinary, small (and yet really not small) gifts.”

When I said last week that I want you to share whatever is important to you, I meant it. It’s the only way we learn and build trust, and the only way we learn what it means to experience grace.

Thank you for reading!

Yours in Christ,

Father Ed.