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SUMMER A.D. 2017
SUMMER A.D. 2017

VOL. 59 NO. 2

SUMMER A.D. 2017 VOL. 59 NO. 2 St. Peter’s Episcopal Church Pomeroy, Washington Member of the

St. Peter’s Episcopal Church Pomeroy, Washington Member of the Parish Partner Plan



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SUMMER A.D. 2017
SUMMER A.D. 2017

VOL. 59 NO. 2

SUMMER A.D. 2017 VOL. 59 NO. 2 St. Peter’s Episcopal Church Pomeroy, Washington Member of the

St. Peter’s Episcopal Church Pomeroy, Washington Member of the Parish Partner Plan

Published quarterly by the Society for Promoting and Encouraging Arts and Knowledge of the Church
Published quarterly by the Society for Promoting and Encouraging Arts and Knowledge of the Church
Published quarterly by the Society for Promoting and Encouraging Arts and Knowledge of the Church

Published quarterly by the Society for Promoting and Encouraging Arts and Knowledge of the Church (SPEAK, Inc.).











Opinions or views expressed in articles & advertisements do not necessarily represent those of the Board of Trustees.

ISSN 0003-3278 VOL. 59, NO. 2 PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.


6 From the Editors 7 Consolation at the End 11 The Relationship of Consolation 14
6 From the Editors 7 Consolation at the End 11 The Relationship of Consolation 14


From the Editors


Consolation at the End


The Relationship of Consolation


Christianity is not an Idea


“The Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ”


The Grace of a Leaky Roof


Consolation in the Midst of Grief and Loss


What Once Was Lost


The Anglican Bookstore Listings


A TAD Literary


No Cheap Grace


An Invitation


Creeping Grace

The cover photographs for this issue are of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Pomeroy, Washington. In the 25 years St. Peter’s has been a member of our Parish Partner Plan, parishioners have established a strong history of supporting TAD, and we are pleased to recognize it now.

From the Editors

It’s annoying to be told that you would be offered a “free gift” by purchasing something you don’t want or need, particularly when the “free gift” is almost worthless. You are not interested on a “free booklet on feet care” or in owning a plastic magnify- ing glass — and if a gift isn’t free, it’s not a gift.

The word grace means a gift of inestimable worth. We normal- ly associate it with forgiveness. When Jesus prepared to leave his disciples for the last time, he left them the extraordinary power to declare that sins were forgiven (or not forgiven) — a

power no political leader possesses. To lift the burden of guilt

is to restore a person to wholeness.

We don’t often consider grace when we consider repentance. After all, we do the repenting. We summon up courage to tell

a priest our intimate secrets, ones that fill us with shame and

keep us awake at night. We dare to admit to a loved one we have betrayed them. It’s our doing, not God’s. There’s a thought that cries for forgiveness. God’s grace convinces us that we need to unburden ourselves, and gives us the courage to seek forgiveness.

It is our hope that this edition of the Anglican Digest will be a

graceful addition to your life. Read it, pray it, share it. Do have

a wonderful summer.


Consolation at the End

The Rev. Anjel Scarborough

Pastoral ministry places us in many situations we cannot imagine in which we must ut- terly rely on God while qui- etly recite “Veni, Sancti Spir- itus” or “Kyrie eleison” and hospice chaplaincy placed me in these situations constantly. Making space for those of dif- fering faiths, or no faith at all, while remaining faithful to Christ can be daunting. “Joe” was one such case.

Joe was 62 and dying of lung cancer after a lifetime of smoking. As the other hospice team members introduced themselves at our initial visit, I observed his surroundings. He was personable, grounded, accepting of his terminal di- agnosis, and very intelligent. His bookshelves were filled with astronomy books, sci- ence fiction, music — a wide


range of interests. My turn for introductions came around.

“I’m Anjel. I’m here for your spiritual care as a chaplain.”

Joe’s response was gentle, but direct, “I won’t need your ser- vices. I’m atheist.”

“Well, I’m a …

pronounce it differently,” I said with a smile.

We all laughed and he said, “That’s good! You’re quick!”

I explained I wasn’t there to “convince, convict, or con- vert” him but rather assist him addressing any issues troubling his spirit so that he could depart in peace.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I said, “How about I come back in 2 weeks and we’ll try this on. If you find it’s helpful, great. If not, you can kick me to the curb — no harm, no foul. What do you say?” He agreed. Our next visit was three hours

theist. I just


of conversation. He had been a forensic economist and loved science, especially as- tronomy. We debated how the world would end: he thought the sun would explode, and my money was on a wander- ing black hole swallowing the earth. He had an amazing col- lection of vinyl LPs and was digitizing them for his grand- sons. I never spoke of God … but after the second visit, he did.

“You know, I’ll bet I can make you lose your religion.”

“Too late. I’m Episcopalian. It already happened,” I said with a wink and a smile. “At least according to some Christians I know.”

God gave me the humor and grace not to be tempted to debate faith. I learned how holy the gift of laughter and presence are. I stayed true to my promise: I wouldn’t try to convince, convict or convert

him. It gave him the safety to tell me more.

One day, he told me about the church he was raised in as a child: a harsh, strict funda- mentalist congregation pro- mulgating a narrow literal Biblical interpretation which shunned anyone who dared challenge the pastor by asking a question. He told me about the judgmental, angry “God” he came to know and how he rejected this in college.

“Wow. I can see why you don’t believe in that god. I don’t ei- ther. Hey! Maybe I’m atheist too!” I said.

We both laughed and he asked, “Well, if you don’t be- lieve in that God, what God do you believe in?”

“I believe in a God who can- not be understood by my in- tellect. Any god small enough to fit into this brain is too small to save me. The God I


know is a Mysterious Trinity, One but Three, a Mystery de- fying words and logic — who is over, through, and beyond rationality. A God who simul- taneously is small enough to infuse the spaces between the subatomic particles of matter that make up everything, and large enough to transcend the eleven dimensions of string theory. I believe in the God who is deeply rooted in love and mercy, and who uses this as the basis for making jus- tice and righteousness flour- ish. This God is the One who breathed every single thing into existence and who re- claims, redeems, and resur- rects it all in love.”

We sat for a moment in si- lence. “I’ve never heard a minister talk like that before.”

“Maybe it’s about time you did,” I replied.

Two weeks later, I made an- other visit. It wasn’t long into


the conversation when Joe said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about that God you believe in. I could believe in that God too.”

“You don’t say,” I replied.

“Yeah. Maybe we need to res- cue God from religion. What do you think?”

“Yes, Joe, we do — every sin- gle day.”

“I tell you what. If this God of yours exists and is really as expansive and gracious as you say, I believe this God would allow me to come back in some demonstrable way and let you know I’m ok after I die. You know, to give you some kind of sign and you will know without question that it’s me. What do you say?”

“Sure, on one condition: don’t show up in my bathroom when I’m stepping out of the shower because I’d have to


name my fatal heart attack after you and my husband would be jealous.”

Joe cracked up and said, “It’s

a deal. But, if I’m right and

there’s nothing after this, you’re going to be waiting a long time for that sign.”

“Well, ministry has taught me

patience. It could be the test


a lifetime.”


was the last time I saw Joe.

As was typical of cancer pa- tients, he declined slowly and then took a very sudden turn and died. He died with grati- tude for his life and his fam- ily. He planned no funeral. I found myself praying for him in the words of our Eucharis- tic Prayer D:

“Remember all who have died in the peace of Christ, and those whose faith is known to you alone; bring them into the place of eternal joy and light.”

A few months later, I left

hospice work to enter par- ish ministry. I never forgot about John or his promise of a “sign.” Nine months later, my

husband Stuart and I took a few days off to rest at a cab- in retreat in the country. One evening, we sat outside and watched the stars. I started thinking about Joe. I told my husband about him and his

promise to give me a sign that

he was OK after he died.

“You know,” he said, “There are no known meteor show-

ers happening right now. If a

shooting star, were to go right over your head right now, I would take that as a sign from God that Joe is OK.”

“I would too, but I also am mindful of scripture warning us not to put God to the test.” No sooner had the words left my lips than a brief streak of light went overhead – so close it appeared I could touch it and then it vanished. We both


screamed in astonishment over seeing this phenomenon,

whatever it was. Neither of us can explain what we saw, but the timing was uncanny in the context of our conversation. In that moment, I was given

a gift: peace and consolation

in the Divine Mystery and the graciousness of a God who holds all in life and death and beyond.


The Relationship of Consolation

The Rev. Jason S. Terhune

Those who repent and be- lieve in Jesus Christ begin to live, in the present, the way that will make sense in God’s promised future.

In Hebrews 5:16 we read that

it is the “throne of grace” that

we approach when we seek God. The author of Hebrews go on to say that the priests

here on earth, whom God puts


in charge of things pertaining to God are able to deal with weakness because they them- selves are subject to weak- ness. There is a relationship of common weakness, although the priest has been set apart

for the holy things of God. That is to say, they can relate because of their own tempta- tions in the world. The author then goes on to say that Je- sus offered himself in “rever- ent submission” to God who had appointed him “a priest forever.” Jesus, who knew no sin, was subject to temptation and therefore can relate to the challenges we face.

In Philippians 2, Paul reminds us of the encouragement of Christ, and the consolation of love. He beckons his readers to have the mind of Christ, who humbled himself “to the

point of death.” Paul says that there is joy to be found by him and them even as he is “being poured out as a libation over the sacrifice and the offering


of your faith.” Paul can claim this because he knows that it is God that is at work in him and them. He knows that it is God who sustains us in our weakness and for this we are to rejoice, because God has not forgotten us, but has pro- vided Jesus Christ as the way for us to find hope and joy.

Though not weak like us, Je- sus put himself in the place of weakness in order that he might save all who would repent and believe. Like the earthly priest, Jesus knew weakness and therefore he is able bear our weakness. That is, he offered himself from a point of great strength “to the one who was able to save him from death.” Jesus’ relation- ship to us formed in sacrifice means that we can approach with boldness the “throne of grace.” The author of He- brews reminds us that in this approach we can take hold of “mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” The throne

of grace is the seat for conso-


As I have thought about how

it is that we approach the

throne, I was reminded that it is about a relationship. Eugene H. Peterson describes pasto- ral relationship this way, “The role of the pastor is to embody the gospel. And of course to get it embodied, which you can only do with individuals, not in the abstract.” Jesus, a priest forever, did this by be-

ing present in a relationship with us, individuals here on earth.

A mentor of mine always re-

minded me that as Christians we must always be seeking out relationships. He always reminded me — and it was good advice — that we must always go directly to the per- son that can do something about our concern. His point was that there is no need to go around talking “about” some- one, and instead we would do


well to go and talk “to” that someone.

As he and I were talking one day, he reminded me that we might do the same thing with Jesus — that is, rather than talking “about” Jesus, we can explore what Scripture tells us: “What does the message of the Gospel teach us?” Talk “to” Jesus. Be ready to hear back from him. He who loves us to the point of suffering and death will not be silent.

In this conversation, I gained great clarity about the nature of our personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Jesus had never been stagnant to me, nor did I believe he had he been idle in the lives of oth- ers. But through this con- versation, I saw Jesus more clearly as one we talk “to” and not always “about.” It became more clear that if we want to tell others “about” who Jesus is, we would do well to show them how we talk “to” him. It is in relationship that Jesus


has made himself known. He has made himself the one who is able to sympathize with our weakness and made us able “to approach the throne of grace with boldness.” He was building a relationship with the people he so dearly loved. Being sinless he offers to us a relationship wherein he has procured great consolation even in our sin and suffering. Our consolation is found in his nearness to us, the Church.

Because of his life and death, he brings the Kingdom of Heaven near. “That every- thing which the grace of God does in the way of rescuing us from the inveterate evils in which we are sunk, pertains to the future world, in which all things are made new.” (St. Augustine of Hippo) He of- fers the great gift of eternal life in the presence of God the Father.

Moreover, he offers the con- solation of an eternal life and joy that begins when we first


believe. Repent and believe, draw near to the Lord because the joy of the Kingdom of Heaven is near. By the grace of God in relationship to the one who gave all, a fitting way has been fashioned that we might begin to find in the present the consolation of the life in Christ that is and is to come.


Christianity is Not an Idea

The Rev. Zachary R. Thompson

It was January 6, 2017, in At- lanta, at the Church of Our Saviour, and we were making preparations to celebrate the Mass for the Epiphany. This is always one of my favorite services of the year and I was delighted when a few close friends from around the city joined a solid number of the faithful at the Church for

the 7:30pm liturgy. A winter warning was in effect and we all know what a little snow and ice does in Atlanta. The ser- vice went off very nicely, the mysteries of Christ’s manifes- tation to the Gentiles were en- countered, and then we gave our well wishes at the doors in the back of the Church. My friends and I decided we would go for a quick dinner and then retire for the night. At dinner, we shared stories, we laughed, we listed our fa- vorite books of 2016 and talk- ed about what we would like to read in 2017. The evening was full of grace and joy.

When I returned home to the rectory my wife and two chil- dren were sound asleep, and I joined their rest as soon as possible. At midnight, my wife and I woke to a sound and a sensation unlike anything we had experienced. We jumped out of bed startled and con- fused and instinctively made our way down the hallway


to check on our boys. Every- thing in the hallway looked fine, and the boys’ bedroom doors were closed. I looked up

the spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, which leads to

a finished attic, and I saw the

stars. Sixty feet worth of a wa- ter oak had crashed through the house. Just then, our four- year-old opened his bedroom door and he walked out, cov- ered in dirt and debris. He was startled, and we were unsure if he was unharmed

by the tree. My wife quickly consoled him and brought him to the front of the house as I made my way to check on our three-year-old. I turned the doorknob and pushed the door; it opened one inch, and then stopped with a tremen- dous thud. My heart sank as I saw the massive tree through

the narrow, dark opening, and

I feared the very worst. No

noises were coming from the room. I looked up the hallway to my wife and she could see the terror in my face.


With desperation and hope

I called out, “Ezra?” He re-

sponded, “Yes.” With as- tounding relief I asked if he was on his bed and if he was okay. He said that he was, and

in a way that only a three- year-old can, he asked, “Dad-

dy, is it up time?” By this time my wife had retrieved the digital monitor and we could make out that Ezra looked to be safe. About twenty minutes later, a fireman broke through

a window and retrieved my

son and I walked away from the house with my family physically unharmed.

The next morning, when we saw the damage and the tree in the daylight my wife and I could not help but hold each other and weep. We had had a serious brush with death and, unlike so many others, we

were spared.

Only an hour or so after the scare, I laid awake on my back in the neighbor’s guest


bed, my wife and boys next to me. Images and terror ran all around in my head and I tried to recite the Jesus Prayer and enter into the peace of the triune God, which passes all understanding. I needed the God of unchangeable power and eternal might to be near. I needed the God who took on the frailty and risk of our flesh and blood humanity to be near. I needed Christ to hold us and keep us with his fierce love. He did, and he still does. His grace and mercy have the capacity to mysteriously man- ifest and heal broken hearts and wounded memories.

This grace and consolation is neither an idea nor a neat formula. It is raw and real and unpredictable and intense. It is personal and it is for the life of the world. My wife and I found grace and consolation from the living God in prayer and in supplication. My wife made her way to the Lady Chapel in the Church the

next day. She knelt in the pew and wept. Just as she had done when they found a tumor on her breast (which turned out to be benign). She wept just as she did when my father decid- ed to run away with another woman after thirty-six years of marriage to my mother, who models Christian chari- ty. She looked at the crucifix above the tabernacle and she wept, and her tears were gath- ered in grace and she felt con- solation.

Michael Ramsey was fond of saying that a saint is some- one who takes responsibility for God. When the neigh- borhood, the parish, and the school system, learned of our situation, they rallied and supported us with char- itable gifts, food, and prayer. Their prayers were a kind of consolation we cannot quite articulate, but they were ef- fective and healing; they took responsibility for God.


Incarnation, crucifixion, res- urrection, and the love of a community rooted in gift — these are not ideas; these are about our flesh and blood, they are about hope and joy, about grace and consolation. Christianity is not an idea. It is about a man who took on our flesh out of fierce love and this love has been revealed to be the most durable element in the universe, and that is consoling.


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The Father or Mother General The Order of Saint Andrew 2 Creighton Lane Scarborough, NY 10510 (914) 941-1265; 762-0398



“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ…”

The Right Rev. Pierre Whalon

The word “grace” signifies “a gift.” It also arises in oth- er contexts, such as “grace at meals” — i.e., thanksgiving — and “coup de grâce,” which implies the mercy of a quick death. In translating the Bible, Martin Luther used the same word in the Old Testament for “steadfast love” (hesed) as grace in the New Testament:

Gnade. Grace is gift, thanks, mercy, unchanging love.

Its most important meaning of “grace” is God’s attitude and action toward us. God’s steadfast love is shed upon us without any other reason than God’s free choice. We cannot merit divine favor, other than simply to accept it. “Abraham believed God and it was reck- oned to him as righteousness.” This verse from Genesis (15:6)


is a cornerstone of both Paul and James’ understanding of salvation (Gal. 3:6; Rom. 4:3; James 2:23) — in other words, really basic. Abraham trust- ed God, and that trust, that confidence, is what made him God’s Friend, as James says.

The opposite of accepting grace is demanding certain- ty about it. What does God accuse Job of in chapter 38? Certainty that he is right and God is wrong. Not to men- tion the certitude of the false prophets (see, e.g., I Kings 22). As such, this desire to be certain is inherently sinful, for it insists there is more to salvation than faith, or that we are given more than “a reasonable and holy hope,” to quote the Book of Common Prayer Burial Office (p. 481).

Furthermore, this unholy de- sire, when acceded to, annuls grace while seeming to rely on it, because according to the ideology derived from it, one is saved by doing something

to get this grace. In traditional works-righteousness, one had to do something in order to be saved, like becoming a monk. Modern works-righteousness is about reciting some formu- la and then adhering publicly and slavishly to some confes- sion of certainty by joining the church of the Truly and Certainly Saved. All we really need do, however, is to trust, as Abraham and every other Man and Woman of God has ever done. Mary, the mother of Jesus, said “yes” to God’s offer, just as her ancestor had done (Luke 1: 38). No more (and no less) was asked of her, or anyone else among us.

We are “saved by grace through faith” — we are not saved by faith through grace (Eph. 2:8). And this saving grace, that makes you and me God’s Friends like Abra- ham, is a gift, “so that no one can boast” (vs. 9). Indeed, the prophet Habakkuk says “the righteous shall live by faith”


(Hab. 2:4b), a key verse for Paul (Rom. 1:16). Faith in the grace of Jesus Christ is what the Gospel effects, and through that power, our faith makes us righteous, God’s Friends, and little sisters and brothers of Jesus by adoption. The fact that grace precedes faith is the clear sign that God is sovereign. Before we can choose to accept God’s of- fer, God chooses us (Eph. 1:


But this can awaken doubt, which tempts us. The Certain have to go forth and “save souls”, as if it is another work of righteousness instead of the sovereign and mysteri- ous work of the Holy Spirit. This drive to convert is driven more by a need for self-jus- tification and a fear of dam- nation than by genuine com- passion for others. Jesus had a word for such people who go forth to make converts: “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!


You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when you have succeeded, you make them twice as fit for hell as you are.” (Matthew


One mark of the church of the Certain is that all others are excluded. The Certainly Saved “know” who is Certain- ly Damned. This illustrates perfectly what Bishop Fitzsi- mons Allison means when he writes about “the cruelty of heresy”: an inadequate notion of salvation leads to stunted understanding, want of char- ity, and terrible anxiety. So we the Certain (no one should think they’re immune to this temptation in one form or an- other) worry about losing our Certitude, and therefore our “salvation”; we become very concerned about the lack of salvation we perceive in peo- ple we love and become tor- tured at the idea of their dam- nation; we become moralistic, so that Purity becomes the


public companion to Certain- ty; and we resort to all man- ner of manipulations to main- tain what is in essence false.

We cannot possibly under- stand God. We cannot grasp the love of God — we can only let ourselves be grasped by God. And we can only trust that the Gospel is true and that it applies to you and me — all who have in the past, in the present, or in the future — believed God. In other words, trust grace.

This is not to say that I do not sometimes fall prey to anxiety about the reality of what I say God is offering. Faith without doubt is no faith at all. It is the pang of doubt that tempts us to Certainty, whereas doubt is the Spirit’s way of strength- ening our faith. No fun, but there it is…

However, in the process, the Spirit will console us from time to time, so that despite our own sharp painful knowl-

edge of our sins, we feel we can still trust in the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. We can rely on the love of God no matter what. And we find in our communion with the Holy Spirit the ability to hear a word of acceptance. And even when we lack the strength to reply in kind, Christ in us is praying through his Spirit “in sighs too deep for words” (Romans 8:26-27). So grace empowers us to give thanks.

In my 32 years of ordained ministry, I have conducted a lot of funerals, and this prayer from the Burial Office always gave me comfort and hope as I gazed into an open grave. I dearly hope these words were helpful to others, as well, as they still are to me:

O God, whose days are with-

out end, and whose mercies cannot be numbered: Make us, we pray, deeply aware of

the shortness and uncertain-

ty of human life; and let your

Holy Spirit lead us in holiness


and righteousness all our days; that, when we shall have served you in our generation, we may be gathered to our ancestors, having the testimony of a good conscience, in the communion of the Catholic Church, in the confidence of a certain faith, in the comfort of a religious and holy hope, in favor with you, our God, and in perfect charity with the world. All this we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.


The Grace of a Leaky Roof

The Rev. Jane Schmoetzer

Just before Christmas, our church building experienced a sudden (and sodden!) cata- strophic failure of the large flat roofs over the education wing and kitchen area. We’ve never had a single leak before in my tenure of almost 7 years, but a series of snow and ice storms — wholly uncharacteristic in

before in my tenure of almost 7 years, but a series of snow and ice storms


our area — changed all that. The accumulated snow and ice on the roof – in some places as much as 5” thick – began to melt and leaks be- gan appearing, first in the mechanical room, and then the classrooms. We dropped everything and went to work, trying to minimize the dam- age. The Junior Warden, my husband, and I mopped and emptied buckets inside, while a couple other stalwart pa- rishioners spent many hours on the roof, shoveling ice and pumping off accumulated wa- ter, in order to reduce what could come in from above.

We called our insurance com- pany, a local roofer, and a restoration company to take on interior repairs, and we thought we had it under con- trol. But before they could be- gin we had another ice storm, and the process started over! More than that: it seemed as though we had puddles and water actively dripping and

streaming in everywhere. Not only had all the previous leaks reappeared, but they brought reinforcements: many more started, in every room under a flat roof. There were dozens of leaks in all three classrooms, the kitchen, both bathrooms, the mechanical room, and even the sexton’s closet. Sev- eral other hardworking souls pitched in trying to mitigate the damage. I gave up trying to remember all the names; it was hard to keep track as we scrambled.

By the end of that effort, I think I counted 82 separate containers collecting leaks:

more than 50 buckets (on hand, bought, and borrowed), every garbage can in the building that would hold wa- ter, and even the large “Men’s Group Soup” pots and bowls. What a mess!

In the midst of all this, I found myself giving thanks — so many, many times. Yes, really!


Not in a Pollyanna, “it could have been worse” sort of way, although that is certainly true. And not in thinking that “God won’t give you anything you can’t handle,” because I do not believe our loving Cre- ator goes around dishing out leaky roofs.

But I did find myself acutely and blessedly aware that God was indeed present with us in the midst of it all. As we worked, we were also pray- ing — with our hands and our feet and our aching knees and backs. Willing hearts pitched in when and as they could, and the work got done. Our neighbors at a nearby church kindly agreed to allow us to host a funeral reception in their parish hall when our kitchen was unusable. The roofer sent helpers to take over clearing the roof — at no additional cost to us. Contin- gency plans were developed, and changed, and changed again, all with a sense of abid-


ing peace amid the scramble. We even laughed sometimes as we emptied buckets and tore down disintegrating ceiling tiles. And without blinking twice, our vestry au- thorized the full cost of the repairs to be taken from re- serves — well before the in- surance determined what will be covered — so that the work could begin as soon as possi- ble. Ours is not a huge con- gregation, but they are fully and faithfully committed to our mission of “equipping the saints to seek and serve Christ in all people,” here in our par- ish home.

As of this writing, I am told we are on the roofer’s sched- ule to begin repairs next week. Once the roofers begin, they will have our roofs under large tarps during construc- tion, which means we will be able to move the Godly Play and nursery materials back into their classrooms very soon. And the restoration


company will complete the interior repairs as soon as the new roofs are on. I’m sure it will be a several weeks before we’re back to “normal,” so we will need to practice patience as we finish cleaning up. But you know what? Even in the worst of it, I could see clearly “the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit.” And there’s nowhere I’d rather be than in the midst of that — even when it comes with a leaky roof.


Consolation in the Midst of Grief and Loss

The Rev. Jonathan Mitchican

Back in October, my good friend and colleague in min- istry, Fr. Brewster Hastings, died quite unexpectedly at the age of fifty-five. I had no idea how important he was to me until he was suddenly gone.

He was my spiritual father. He walked me through a good many difficulties. I am a bet- ter man today because I knew him.

Grief is a funny thing. It comes in ways you might never ex- pect. It is like water pouring into your life and filling all the cracks and crevices that are left open to it. I have grieved quite a bit for Brewster in the months since his death, in ways that have been both healthy and unhealthy. What I have longed for in that grief

is the one thing that I cannot

have: the chance to process

it with Brewster, to sit as we

used to in the chapel at Saint Anne’s Church in Abington and hear him say, “Come on, Jonathan, let’s talk about what God is doing in all this.”

I have lost people before —

friends, family members, parishioners — but there is something unique about los- ing your spiritual father. The tradition of having a spiritual


father or mother is an ancient one, going back to the early Church. The first spiritual fa- thers were elder monks who worked with younger monks to guide them along in their religious vocations. “So far as possible,” wrote St. Antony of Egypt in the third century, “for every step that a monk takes, for every drop of water that he drinks in his cell, he should entrust the decision to the Old Men, to avoid mak- ing some mistake in what he does.”

From this beginning, the tra- dition grew to encompass secular clergy and lay people as well. Though often monks and nuns, spiritual fathers and mothers can come from many walks of life. The modern title “spiritual director” does not quite capture their role. As Metropolitan Kallistos Ware puts it, “It is not enough for [a spiritual father] to offer advice. He is also required to take up the soul of his spiritu-


al children into his own soul, their life into his life. It is his task to pray for them, and his constant intercession on their behalf is more important to them than any words of coun- sel.” This is how it was with Brewster. He was my men- tor, my guide, and at times my confessor. He prayed for me ceaselessly. He looked af- ter me. He did more than just give me advice. He walked the path with me.

On one of the first occasions that I met Brewster, after a gathering with some other clergy, I asked him if he would pray for me. I had been suf- fering from severe headaches and struggling with internal spiritual flux. I do not know what made me ask him, but he was more than willing. He laid hands on my head and prayed aloud, unabashedly confident in the Lord, and I could in- stantly feel the presence of the Holy Spirit. My headache disappeared and my heart felt


at ease. We met for lunch a week later and informally es- tablished a spiritual bond that would last for the next five years.

It was not always easy. There

were times when the word he had for me was discipline rather than kindness. I am stubborn and I do not like be- ing told no. But as any kind of father knows, there are times when a child needs correc- tion, when that is the loving

thing to do. I would get irritat- ed with him, but more often than not I came to discover that he had been right. When

I followed the guidance he

gave me, I found a deeper re- lationship with God. When I refused, it was usually because I was not yet ready to give up something that was getting

in the way of receiving God’s grace.

He was not perfect by any stretch. He made mistakes, some of which really hurt me,

and I called him on it. I have never known anyone so quick

to offer an apology or so ea-

ger to make amends. We had many of the same struggles in common, but he always took

responsibility for his actions. He taught me to do the same. He showed me that it is in our brokenness that we draw clos-

er to God.

What happens when someone you have known like that dies? Where does the bond go? The sins I confessed to him have died with him, but what about the graces we shared? Does he still pray for me now, even as

I pray for him? Will he be my spiritual father again when we both meet in the kingdom, or was that a grace only meant for this world and this time?

Back in December, while struggling with how to put

all this together in my mind,

I Googled Brewster’s name

hoping to find a link to one

of the works of fiction that he

wrote. Instead, I found an ar-


ticle he wrote in 2014 on the topic of grief. “To accept the person’s absence takes a form of trust,” he wrote. “Remem- ber the name ‘Jesus’ means ‘God saves’ or even ‘Safe in God.’ The next step is to com- mend the person to Jesus, to the safety of God and trust he or she really is secure, dare we say, most secure with him.” Brewster acknowledges that this is “impossible” for us to do on our own, as we sink over and over into missing the person’s presence, but he says that it is the work of God in us, through our grief, to bring us to a place of such ac- ceptance and faith. “From an earthy point of view, it makes no sense,” he says. “This com- mending of the loved one to the Lord Jesus only makes sense from the view of eterni- ty.”

Here was consolation from God in the midst of my grief. It was not what Brewster wrote exactly that consoled


me though. What he said was all pretty standard, all stuff I already knew, all things that I have said as a priest to oth- ers in the midst of their grief. What consoled me was the mere fact that this piece of writing survived at all and that I found it at that particu- lar moment when I needed it. Reading it felt like I was sitting with Brewster again. It felt like my prayer had been answered, that he was directing me once again, processing my grief with me, and pointing me as always towards the place of Je- sus in the center of it all.

I am still processing. That

may go on for some time. But

God is in the middle of it with me. Slowly, I am learning to trust God with Brewster. The bond we shared was always all for God’s glory anyway. May Brewster rest in peace in the presence of the Lord he loved

so very much.

Goodbye, old friend. I will see you again.


What Once Was Lost

Carrie Willard

I have two older sisters who both grew up to be teachers. They are about ten years older than I am, and we lived in a very rural part of Wisconsin, and there was no cable or in- ternet at our house. In other words, we had a lot of time on our hands, and my sisters used that time to teach me how to read and write and do math. And so, by the time I got to kindergarten, I could read fairly proficiently, while other children were still picking out the letters in their names.

When I complained to my mom that I wasn’t being chal- lenged, she told me that ev- erybody goes to kindergarten for different reasons. Some kids go to learn how to be away from their parents every day, and other kids go to kin- dergarten to learn how to read

and write. “You,” my mother told me gently, “need to go to kindergarten to learn how to keep track of your things.” She was right. This was in the aftermath of my forgetting my lunchbox and thermos full of milk at school, and that ther- mos was never the same after that.

That year, while I was still learning the heavy weight of responsibility that burdens young students, I lost a li- brary book. The title of the book was Snow. I remember searching the house, high and low, and the book could not be found anywhere. The teacher had all of the other students in class search their cubbies, and it was nowhere to be found. I had to stay in- side from recess to write a disciplinary “plan” for my lost book, and I was told that the plan would be kept in my per- manent disciplinary record. I don’t remember what I wrote, but I imagine it said some-


thing like, “I promise never to lose anything ever again.” It took me years before I would check out another library book, even though I loved reading.

Imagine my surprise when,

years later, I developed a dif- ferent kind of plan to grad- uate high school a year early (see above: rural Wisconsin).

I held my breath as my high

school guidance counselor opened my file to review the number of credits I was tak- ing, imagining my scrawled kindergarten “plan” fluttering out and dashing my dreams of graduating early. How could they let someone so irrespon- sible get by with just three years of high school? Surely I’d have to take the full four years to learn my responsibil- ity lesson.

Guess what? The kindergar- ten-library-book-plan was

not in my file! Imagine that!

I think the elementary school


disciplinary folks might have been a little heavy handed in their dealings with little ol’ me; but I was from a poor school district, so maybe they just had to keep a tight leash on their library books. In any event, the relief I felt that my file didn’t contain the dread- ed “plan” was immense, and I couldn’t believe that I’d hung on to the shame of it for so


By that time, I had developed quite a system for not losing anything ever again. I checked pockets for keys, backpack for homework, and never came to class unprepared. The thought of losing anything stressed me out.

By the time I got to law school, at a doctor’s appointment ad- dressing the twin demons of anxiety and depression, my doctor found a third diag- nosis: obsessive compulsive disorder. She began asking

me questions about my clos-


et, and how it was organized. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you know, are all the shirts together, and all the skirts, and all of the dresses, or are they all mixed up to- gether?”

“They’re all organized by type,” I said, wondering what kind of gold star I’d get, or maybe if she wanted me to take a look at the clinic’s filing system.

“What would happen if one of the skirts was in with the shirts in your closet?” she asked.

“Why would anyone do that?”

“Would you be able to leave your apartment if the closet wasn’t in order?”

“Goodnees, no. But who would do that to my closet? What kind of monster…”

I didn’t get a gold star in my chart, but I did get a new di- agnosis, and I never looked at my closet the same way again.

Obsessive compulsive disor- der, or OCD, is great fodder for pop psychology humor and quippy memes, but living with it is not all that funny. It can be agonizing and distract- ing and embarrassing.

The lilies of the field and the birds of the sky don’t hold much water with me, but the widow with the lost coin? She’s my girl. Those photos where things are neatly ar- ranged and organized by col- or? I gaze at them to lower my blood pressure.

With therapy and medication, I’ve been fortunate to keep my mental health trifecta manageable. But introducing children into the mix didn’t help. Pacifiers. Puzzle pieces. Legos. Library books…oh, the library books.


I could kind of keep up with the stuff of one child, but along with a second baby, we introduced a new phrase into our family lexicon: “better than it was.”

Is the toy room clean?

“It’s better than it was before.”

What about the sock situation

in the laundry room?

“Better than it was.” Did you sleep well last night?

“Better than I did last year at this time.”

“Good enough” has become good enough. There is grace in “better than it was,” and in a little bit of slapdashery. Lowered standards have be- come the key to getting any sleep at night.

I tell myself this, but when one

of the kids comes home with

a library-book-past-due no-


tice in his backpack, my heart sinks a bit. The law-and-or- derliness of obsessive com- pulsive disorder pairs up with

a heap of anxiety, and I forget

all about the grace in “better than it was.” I might get an eye

twitch, and there is definitely going to be some digestive hell to pay if the library book isn’t located post-haste. I want my kids to care about keeping track of their things, especial- ly the library books – oh my goodness, the library books.

But I don’t want to give them their own disorder, even if, selfishly, it would make the house tidier. I want to show them the grace that has been shown to me, and I don’t want them to have angst about their permanent record, like

I did. I’d like them to know

that I need to be forgiven for both the untidiness and the lost items, and also for my ob- sessiveness over them. I need forgiveness for the empha-

sis I’ve put on maintaining a

clean permanent record.


The real grace, of course, is that our real Permanent Re- cord doesn’t exist. The library books, the unwritten thank- you notes, and the untidy, un- holy mess within and without do not matter at the foot of the cross. All of the disciplinary plans that we imagine could float out at any moment have already been shredded by the crucifixion. This makes me somewhat uneasy at times, because it really doesn’t feel all that tidy. I’d like to rely on my own (even disordered) thinking and responsibility in order to be found worthy of redemption, even if it means tracking down all of the miss- ing library books. On the oth- er hand, it is a great relief not to have to, and an enormous gift.

It’s been a long time since that kindergarten disciplinary plan, but now I have my very own kindergartner. Earlier this week, we found two of his missing library books and his

missing Tae Kwon Do belt all in the same day. I practically skipped out of school, feel- ing like the shepherd with a whole herd of the formerly lost sheep, the widow with all of the gold coins, and the mother hen in Matthew 23, gathering her chicks close to her. Yes, I realize that all of those stories have to do with lost souls and not the Lost and Found bin. But the relief I felt was just the glimpse of grace that I needed.

This piece first appeared in “Mockingbird” (www.mbird. com).

glimpse of grace that I needed. This piece first appeared in “Mockingbird” ( www.mbird. com ).



ANGLICAN BOOKSTORE We offer many titles for sale through our in-house book supplier, the Anglican Bookstore.
ANGLICAN BOOKSTORE We offer many titles for sale through our in-house book supplier, the Anglican Bookstore.

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connecting WHY BOTHER PRAYING? By Richard Leonard, SJ By the author of Where the Hell Is


By Richard Leonard, SJ

By the author of Where the Hell Is God?, this accessible volume is for everyone who wonders how to pray, what happens when you pray, and if God hears our prayers. P0100 (paperback, $15.00)



By Justo L. González

THE NEW TESTAMENT TO THE NEW CREATION By Justo L. González In this accessible book, the

In this accessible book, the author tells the story of how and why Christians have worshiped on Sunday, from the earli- est days of the church to the present. He

reviews practices in the ancient church, the effect of Constan- tine’s policies, and the long process — beginning in the Middle Ages and culminating with Puritanism — whereby Christians came to think of and strictly observe Sunday as the Sabbath. Finally, he looks at the current state of things, exploring espe- cially how the explosive growth of the church in the Major- ity World has affected the observance of Sunday worldwide.

E1264 (paperback, 176 pages, $16.00)



gathering telling THE RELIGIOUS LIFE OF ROBERT E. LEE By R. David Cox This volume is


By R. David Cox

This volume is the first close examination of how Robert E. Lee’s faith shaped his life. Delving into family letters and other primary sources, Cox traces the lifelong development of Lee’s convictions and how they influenced his decisions to stand with Virginia over against the Union and later to support reconcili- ation and reconstruction in the years after the Civil War. Faith was so central to Lee’s character, Cox argues, that it directed and redirected his life, especially in the aftermath of defeat.

E1263 (paperback, 368 pages, $26.00)

aftermath of defeat. E1263 (paperback, 368 pages, $26.00) FOR YOUNG READERS: SONG OF CREATION By Paul



By Paul Goble

“Birds pray, trees pray, flowers pray, moun- tains pray, the winds and rain pray, rivers and the little insects pray as well. The whole earth is in constant prayer, and we can join with its great prayer,” says award-winning author and illustrator Paul Goble. Every el- ement of creation — from the magpie to the minnow — glorifies God in its own way in this bold and brightly illustrated work, adapted from The Book of Common Prayer. Goble invites readers to join with the land and the animals in singing praise to God. E1250 (hardcover, 32 pages, ages 5-10, $17.00)


connecting PSALMS FOR YOUNG CHILDREN By Marie-Hélène Delval and Arno The Psalms describe a whole range


By Marie-Hélène Delval and Arno

The Psalms describe a whole range of emo- tions, from joy and wonder to sadness and regret. This collection of Psalms, para- phrased for young readers, uses simple yet powerful imagery to help children express their feelings. E1265 (hardcover, 88 pages, ages 4-8, $17.00)


By Anselm Grün and Giuliani Ferri

This graceful retelling of the life of Jesus takes readers back to Nazareth, to a young girl named Mary and a miraculous virgin birth. The story continues through the years as Jesus grows up, learns among the great teachers of his day, calls his disciples, preaches, and performs miracles. The book concludes with Jesus’ last Passover meal, betrayal, crucifixion, and glorious resurrection. Anselm Grün’s accessible descrip- tions, along with warm, inviting paintings from Giuliano Ferri, together create a beautiful picture of the life of Jesus. E1226 (hardcover, 26 pages, ages 4-8, $16.00)

of Jesus. E1226 (hardcover, 26 pages, ages 4-8, $16.00) Please use the order form on page

Please use the order form on page 35


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A TAD Literary

From Law to Logos, Jon R. Jordan; WIPF & STOCK, 2016,

available at

or call 541-344-1528

Anglicans, including mem- bers of the Episcopal Church, probably hear and recite more Scripture than most Chris- tians. At every Eucharist, they hear three lessons — usually one from the Old Testament, part of an Epistle and one of the Gospels — and they say or sing a Psalm; at Morning and Evening Prayer, they hear two lessons and read or sing a larg- er section from the Psalms. One can’t attend a Baptism, a Marriage, or an Ordination without being deluged with Bible. One wonders why there seems so much anecdotal evidence that Anglicans are remarkably ignorant about Scripture.

Jon Jordan is a teacher and

a member of the Episcopal

Church of the Incarnation,

Dallas. His bishop, George Sumner, highly recommends this little book, an introduc- tion to St. Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians. Jon must be an excellent teacher, because he sets about his task with clear prose, and maps out the aids we need to access Paul’s mes- sage. Throughout the book, he bids us to read the whole letter in one go, over and over again, while bearing in mind differ- ent points the Apostle seeks to make to a church he founded, but which has been taken over by “Teachers” who insist that new Christians must be cir- cumcised before they are bap- tized and that they must con- tinue to keep the Jewish Law.

St. Paul asserts his authority as an Apostle. He insists that there is no middle way. The Galatians can either accept the authentic Faith or be cut off from communion with the Church. Jon, very wisely, tells

us to avoid inserting our con- temporary controversies into


the text. St. Paul is teaching that the function of the Old Testament law became obso- lete when Christ died for us all — but this does not make us lawless. Through Baptism, we become Spirit-filled wom- en and men, called to the law of love. All differences of race, culture, and gender are washed away when we become sons and daughters of God; after that, we are called to live lives which demonstrate the practical implications of our being one in Christ.

There are chapters on how to read the book, how to read an Epistle. We are introduced to the author and the audience, and its occasion and purpose. The chapter introducing Ga- latians has extended sections on Paul and on the Galatian church and its problems. An excellent chapter on Paul’s use of the Old Testament is worth reading and printing off for further reference. The rest of the book identifies the


major themes — and yes, we are urged to read the entire Epistle at the end of all eight chapters. My only regret is that Jon didn’t make more of the connection between the gift of the Holy Spirit and bap- tism. I hope that, in this, Jon isn’t permitting contemporary conflicts to impinge on the text.

I’m glad to recommend this slim volume. It is worth more than its weight.

Being Christian, Rowan Williams; Eerdmans 2014 Item E1247 and Being Disciples, Rowan Williams; Eerdmans 2016 Item E1259 are vailable from from The Anglican Bookstore

Mention Rowan Williams and a number of responses emerge. He was Archbishop of Canterbury in a time of turmoil within the Anglican Communion. He is the Master of a Cambridge college with a name which is pronounced


one way (like “maudlin”) and spelt in another (“Magda- lene”). He is a Baron. He has enormous eyebrows. He is a poet; a philosopher; a theolo- gian with more degrees than a thermometer; a kind and saintly man. He sometimes writes paragraphs of great length and content that seems to pass human understand- ing, yet he can also write in “a language understanded of the people”, as his predecessor Thomas Cranmer put it.

The late P. D. James described the first of the two titles re- viewed here as “elegant and lucid”. Of the second, his successor, Archbishop Justin Welby, a man of plain speech, wrote, “Here is quite the most beautiful writing on disciple- ship I know.”

In Being Christian, Dr. Wil- liams has written short chap- ters, concluding with lists of pertinent questions on Bap- tism, the Bible, Eucharist, and Prayer — themes one finds in

perhaps the first list of crucial Christian identity marks to be found in the Acts of the Apos- tles: “They continued in the Apostles’ doctrine and fellow- ship, in the breaking of bread and prayer.”

On Baptism, Bishop Williams remarks that from the earliest days of the Church, the rite of baptism was identified with plunging with Jesus into death and rising to new life, and as- sociated with Jesus’ own bap- tism by John the Baptist, “So the beginning of Christian life is a new beginning of God’s creative work. And just as Je- sus came up out of the water, receiving the Spirit and hear- ing the voice of the Father, so for the newly baptized Chris- tian the voice of God says, ‘You are my son/daughter’, as the individual begins his or her new life in association with Jesus.”

Another quotation worth contemplation: “If you think of the vast expense of copying


out manuscripts in the ancient world, and of the number of manuscripts you have to copy out to get a complete Bible, you will understand why the ancient world was not awash, as we are, with spare Bibles. People learned the Bible. They recited it to one another. They copied out stretches of it, of- ten from memory. That is why there are so many slight- ly faulty quotations from the Bible in early Christian liter- ature, because not even then were peoples’ memories per- fect.”

Speaking of the Apostles eat- ing and drinking with his disciples, as he broke bread, blessed the cup, and the disci- ples knew he was there: “And that is why, throughout the centuries since, Christians have been able to say exactly what the Apostles say: they are the people with whom Je- sus ate and drank after he was raised from the dead. Holy Communion makes no sense


at all if you do not believe in the resurrection.” On prayer, Rowan writes:

“That, in a nutshell, is prayer — letting Jesus pray in you, and beginning that lengthy and often very tough process by which our selfish thoughts and ideals and hopes are grad- ually aligned with his eter- nal action; just as, in his own earthly life, his human fears and hopes and desires and emotions are put into the con- text of his love for the Father, woven into his eternal relation with the Father — even in that moment of supreme pain and mental agony that he endures the night before his death.”

In the second slim book, Be- ing Disciples, Williams writes terse and vivid chapters on discipleship, faith, hope and love, forgiveness, holiness, faith in society, and life in the Spirit. In this pithy couple of sentences, he defines disciple- ship: “The disciple is not there to jot down ideas and then go


away and think about them. The disciple is where he or she is in order to be changed; so that the way in which he or she sees and experiences the whole world changes.”

The contemporary world sets enormous roadblocks in front of our understanding of what truth means to a Christian. “Yet at the same time we have what we have learned to call the post-modern perspective, in which any one view may be as good as any other, and one person’s claim to truth (let alone absolute truth) can be regarded by others as offen- sive or oppressive. We are in a period that St. John of the Cross might have described in his characteristic language, as a ‘dark night’ for the intelli- gence.” So Williams proposes, “Just as it is a great challenge for the Church to be a place that is dependable, a place that is patient, it is also a great challenge for the Church to become a place sufficiently

still for people to open up, suf- ficiently quiet and unanxious for people to learn that they can receive what the ultimate truth of the universe wants to give them.”

On forgiveness: “The Eucha- rist is our symbol of what it would mean for the Lord’s Prayer to be answered ful- ly; God feeding his people through the death and resur- rection of Jesus, which estab- lishes that new community of

the Spirit in which forgiveness

is the common currency.”

On holiness, “There’s the catch: if you want to be holy,

stop thinking about it. If you want to be holy, look at God.

If you want to be holy, enjoy

God’s world, enter into it as much as you can in love and

service. And who knows, maybe one day someone will

say of you, ‘You know, when

I met them, the landscape looked different.’”


Bishop Williams sums up in these compelling words:

“What keeps us going as disci- ples? Self-awareness and still- ness, growth and joy. These are the building blocks of a life of discipleship that can stand up to everything around us, in the Church and the world and in ourselves, that tries to stifle our efforts to stay spir- itually healthy. How much of ourselves are we ready to know? Are we prepared to be quietly and positively willing to move on? Are we ready for the overflow, the excess of joy that can come with that? If


we are able, somehow, to go on asking those questions, we may have no guaranteed rec- ipe for success, but we will at least be giving God the open- ing to enter our lives and be at home in us. We will be offer- ing to God our longing to be with Jesus, wherever he may lead; and in doing that we will have learned something about being disciples.”

So buy these books. Get your priest to teach a course using them. Read and pray these little books. But watch out — they are transformative.


The Franciscan Order of the Divine Compassion

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e-mail or call 716-652-6616



No Cheap Grace

The Rev. Daniel J. S. Stroud

There are few pleasures great- er in life than to find yourself underneath a blanket by a crackling fire with nothing to do but admire the snow accu- mulating outside while you are wrapped in warmth as the world seems to have gone cold all around. The feeling of comfort as you are both liter- ally and figuratively insulated from all that is happening in the broader world brings an ease to the day that you rarely feel in the freneticism of our modern society. Soft fabrics and contentment, however, are a far cry from camel hair, lions’ dens, and cries to re- pent.

We don’t usually associate the idea of comfort with prophets. Quite the opposite, prophets frequently meet with some form of violence as a result of their witness. Both the lives

they live and the message they convey to us are almost universally and intentional- ly uncomfortable. Prophets are intended to drag us from our comfort into discomfort, from complacency to action; they are intended to turn our attention to important mat- ters we have neglected, and to drive us to reorient ourselves back towards God.

We know that, as a rule, things contract as they get colder; water, however, ex- pands when it freezes so that ice floats. Likewise, in Isaiah 40, the pattern breaks, and we see the exceedingly rare occasion where a prophet is ordered to console the people:

“Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.” (Isa 40:1-2 KJV)


Here we don’t see any sack- cloth and ash; Isaiah does not appear to have the matted hair and diet of locusts that gave John his wild appear- ance, he does not risk all by standing in opposition to and condemnation of those who are leading Israel astray. In- stead, God’s messenger Isaiah goes before God’s people Isra- el and speaks to their wearied souls words of peace and so- lace. Even the words “Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem” comes from a Hebrew phrase that translates literally as “speak to the heart” – a phrase sometimes meant to convey encouragement, praise, and reassurance, and sometimes meant to convey affection and the tender concern of a lover for his beloved. Here it means both.

Those who have been in exile, suffering, adrift, and lost, hear spoken words of consolation and peace. These words how- ever, do not come at the first


sign of trouble. Those words of comfort follow a time of tri- al; they come once Israel has had time to repent and return to the Lord. They are ready to hear the words of consolation only after they have opened themselves to God’s grace through repentance.

This is no less true today than it was for the Hebrews then. When we find that we have wandered away from the life God is calling us to live, an immediate restoration is not what we need; in the end, cheap grace feels just that:

cheap. Without our repen- tance, such “grace” would not offer any kind of comfort or solace, but would simply be us getting away with our wrong- doing.

Last winter, there was a story in our local news: a 94-year- old man from Atlantic City, NJ told of how he had acciden- tally broken another child’s glasses on the playground. It


was going to cost two dollars to replace the glasses and he panicked. His family had a cleaning woman named Pearl who came each week and was paid two dollars for her labor; his mother would leave her payment out for her. In his fear, he took Pearl’s payment. When Pearl asked his moth- er for her wages, the mother thought she’d already been paid and accused her of trying to scam them and fired her. Word got around that Pearl was a thief, and she couldn’t find any work to provide for her and her children.

This man went on to become a doctor, specializing in he- matology and oncology. He spent his life helping others, saving the lives of numerous people. No one knew the sto- ry but him. He’d gotten away with it. He’d escaped any sort of consequence, but in his heart this guilt ate away at him. He knew he’d wandered. He knew he’d fallen short, but

even in his guilt he had nev- er until now truly repented of his sin, never until now tried to put it right, and so had nev- er been able to feel the burden lifted, never been able to fully feel God’s grace; he was, for all of his success, unconsoled.

And so it is for all of us. For the words of comfort to actu- ally be comfortable, we must recognize our own sinfulness and shortcoming and strive to re-order our life. Fortunately, we do not have to be physi- cally taken into exile before God’s grace is offered; that offer has been made perfect- ly and perpetually by Christ, but it is predicated upon our repentance.

Though there is discomfort in confession and repentance, it is far outstripped by the in- escapable discomfort caused by our own conviction. That conviction will continue to hound us until we do that for which we were created


and turn back to God. When we do, we will finally be able to hear those words in the mouth of Isaiah, fresh and clear as they were intended to be heard, “Comfort ye, Com- fort ye my people. Speak to the heart… the warfare now is accomplished.”

There will be for us no cheap grace, though that is all for the best, as cheap grace is not worth having. The grace God offers was won through pain, suffering, and the cross. Rather than cheap grace there stands ready a boundless fount, pouring out abundant grace, hope, and comfort on all who return to it. It is there that we can rest not in a com- fort of ease, but the true com- fort of rest and restoration, safe in the tender love of the grace of God.


an invitation

The Very Rev. William Willoughby III

Many in our culture look for consolation in the wrong place. Instead of searching for it in a vision of God that ac- knowledges our dependence on Grace, we often rely on superficial and feel-good solutions. Thirty-five years of parish ministry convinces me that consolation cannot be cultivated quickly or super- ficially, but must be pursued assiduously and faithfully. It must be centered on loyalty to Jesus and the vision which the Church preserves in the Gospels. I have found over the years that the cultivation of a pattern of adoring our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, com- bined with a lively Eucharis- tic devotion, give space and time which not only promote an increase of loyalty to Jesus but provide context by which our Lord provides consolation that can only be experienced as Grace.


The love of money and the love of power are powerfully arrayed in competition with

the love of Jesus. It might be observed that in some circles

it has replaced the love of Je-

sus. We have a great gift in the Blessed Sacrament which, when used judiciously and strategically, can make true consolation known to every longing heart and gracefully introduce our Lord concrete- ly to those in need. When lovingly and caringly taught, devotion to the Blessed Sac- rament of the Altar can win the hearts and minds of all sorts and conditions of men, women and children to the person and purpose of Jesus. The world offers many rem- edies for the lost and broken

of spirit, but all of them have

a price attached which often

costs more than we can pay or have the substance to engage. Money and control, pow- er and sex, all promise more than they can deliver. They not only have their limitations

but they leave us wanting be- cause they can never take the place of a lively relationship with the Lord. On the other hand, when money and con-

trol, power and sex is placed in the context of a dynamic relationship with God in Je- sus Christ they can be creative tools by which we are co-cre- ators with the maker of heav- en and earth. It is in the pres- ence of the One who makes all things new that we can learn how money and power can be used to liberate. It is by hum- bly submitting ourselves to the One who humbled him- self to become one with us that we can learn the real joy of a life under control and lux- uriating in authentic intimacy. Jesus has paid the price of our salvation that we might live

into such joy and He offers Himself freely on hundreds of thousands of altars around the world that we might find the consolation of divine love and use the gifts at our disposal for the grace-filled purpose of


sharing the abundant life our Lord makes available. Jesus is the antidote for the sin-sick soul; He is the tonic for the weary heart and the food that gives us strength when cour- age fails. Jesus in the Bless- ed Sacrament reserved and freshly re-presented on God’s Altar invites us to come apart for a while and partake of the substance of God that has in- fused the creation from the beginning. It is here that we can find true consolation and learn the grammar of grace. A grammar made rich when we share freely from the heart of our relation with the One in whom we have our Being.

In the presence and reception of the Blessed Sacrament of our Lord’s Body and Blood the priceless gift of our restoration is being realized in ways that we can barely understand. This is partly because God wants us to have a glimpse of the glory to come, but mostly it is given to strengthen us against the


conceits and the wiles of the devil. Just as the Book of Rev- elation of St John the Divine was given to the Church in order to give a glimpse of the hope to come in the midst of trials and tribulation, promot- ing loyalty to God when called to bear witness at great peril; so the Blessed Sacrament can steel us and embolden us to stand firm in the days before the return of the Lord. In this way we not only find consola- tion but might live as a sign of consolation.

Adoration and communion of the Blessed Sacrament should inspire us to work for the healing of Christendom. We are too often inclined to forget that the divided state of the Church is a great source of sorrow to our Lord. In the presence of the Blessed Sac- rament it is our vital work to desire the heart of God. Here we can remember that God is grieved to see various parts of the Body at variance with one


another. In this way we will be compelled to ask “what can I do to promote the unity which Jesus longs for us to have” and in so doing find consolation and manifest that consolation in the places we are called to serve. Because the mystical presence manifest in the Sac- rament of Christ’s Body and Blood is not bound by time or space, race or geography there can be no better place to ear- nestly pray for vision which will inform and strengthen our work for the unity of all God’s people. Here we can dream God’s dream and ulti- mately long for the destruc- tion of all barriers which we erect against our Lord’s will that we all be one as He and the Father are one – a conso- lation supremely to be longed for in every corner of the Church and World.

Most Christian pilgrims, for it should be evident that all of us who bear the name of Christ are pilgrims, under-

stand the need for devotions that prepare us to make holy Communions and prayers of thanksgiving for the opportu- nity to receive the most holy Body and Blood of our Lord. The multivalent and inter- connected way the gift of the

Eucharist and the life it calls us into demands more than

a perfunctory, narrow or su- perficial engagement. The

mystery by which the world

is being transfigured in fact is

the crucible of life and conso-

lation. Devotion to, adoration directed towards and worship of our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar invite us into a vision and a place that both transcends the local and the particular and makes the universal evident in the specific, giving all who would pursue the evangelical call of the Eucharistic life a glimpse and a gift of the consolation which God intends for all cre- ation.


Creeping Grace

The Rt. Rev. Jake Owensby

Grace has a way of creeping up on us. Before we realize it, Jesus has been at work shap- ing us into his very own Body. We’re just not able to see our- selves as he does yet.

For instance, I had a major surgery when I was in my early twenties. The surgeon prescribed months of post-op rehab. As soon as possible, I showed up at the therapist’s office.

The woman who greeted me there eyed me warily and, with a chill in her voice, told me I would have to wait while she reviewed my file. What- ever it was I had been ex- pecting from a therapist, this wasn’t it. I realized that she was a speech therapist, not a psychological counselor. But I wasn’t prepared for the Big Nurse routine.


The spare waiting room

lacked any decorations, and

its furnishings included half

a dozen plain wooden chairs.

For a miserably long half hour, my rear end grew increasing-

ly numb, and I struggled with

the impulse to walk out.

Just as I had formulated the perfect parting remark and

decided to leave, the therapist emerged from her office with

a softened expression and

warmly invited me in. We sat across a small table from each other with a cassette player between us. Several big but- tons formed the front of the device. Play. Record. Rewind. Fast Forward. Stop.

She said, “You’ve been speak- ing without a soft palate for over twenty years. You’ve just had a major surgery to correct

a speech impediment. Your

pharyngeal flap will make

it possible for you to make

sounds that were physically impossible for you, like S. But


you’ll have to do exactly what

I tell you to do.”

This was pretty much what I

had expected to hear. Life as

I had always known it was a

struggle to make myself un- derstood. After all, I was born without the soft part of the roof of my mouth.

As a toddler, I had received the first surgery designed to begin the repair of my birth defect. But the second sur- gery had never happened. I couldn’t say S and badly gar- bled the letter J. My speech was distressingly nasal.

My therapist continued, “You haven’t heard yourself since the surgery, have you?”

She reached for the cassette player, and my heart froze. Speaking to others — antic- ipating the rejection and the ridicule and the assumptions about my low intelligence — was hard enough; hearing a

recording of my own nasal,

garbled speech was torture.

“I can’t do that,” I told her. “I can’t bear to hear myself like


She said evenly, “If you want

to get better, you have to do


She said, “Just talk to me for a minute,” and hit the record button.

For a couple of minutes I pro- tested into the machine. She punched the stop button and said, “That’s enough. Now lis- ten carefully to this and we’ll talk about it.”

A voice I had never heard

spoke to me from that little machine. It’s the voice that I’ve come to recognize as my own.

“You don’t need speech thera- py,” she said. “When you first came in, I assumed that you


had a mental problem. We get that here sometimes. People go to the wrong office. So I figured I had to get rid of you. But when I read your file, I realized that you just weren’t able to hear your new voice yet.”

I just wasn’t able to hear my new voice yet.

Even when we get a new life, it takes some time to know and accept who we’ve been made into.

A surgeon’s skill had given me

an entirely new life. A pha- ryngeal flap closed the airway from my voice box through my nose, mimicking what a normal palate does inside the mouth of most people. That’s how we make sounds like S

and J. A scalpel in the hands

of a professional had given me

the mechanism for normal speech.

By what seems like a miracle,


I used that new mechanism

correctly with no instruc- tion. Once the trauma from the surgery had subsided, my speech sounded like that of any normal Southern guy. I just wasn’t able to hear it. In other words, knowing my- self as a person with normal speech was going to take some time.

To put this another way: Even after you’ve been healed, it can take a while to recognize and to accept yourself as a healed person.

In my case, I had over two decades of living as an out- sider. The surgical procedure had done nothing to remove my habits of defensiveness, fear, and loneliness. I still per- ceived myself as deformed and off-putting.

I have to admit, when I read

a story like Jesus’ healing of

the ten lepers, my own expe- rience with healing influences


my understanding of what’s going on. (Luke 17:11-19)

Jesus heals ten lepers. Only one comes back to say thank you. Some teachers and preachers assume that the other nine lepers felt no grat- itude. They went about their merry way without acknowl- edging Jesus’ mercy.

It may be that those nine lep- ers were a bunch of ingrates. But it could also be that they had grown so accustomed to feeling repulsive and to being shunned by their community that they continued viewing themselves as lepers. They just couldn’t see their own smooth, healthy skin.

The risen Jesus gives all of us a new life. In Baptism, he weaves us into his very own Body. The bread and the wine of Holy Eucharist gradually deepens our participation in his divine life. Jesus is chang- ing us, giving us a new life,

but we just aren’t able to see ourselves as he does yet.

We see this same pattern in Jesus’ own life. After emerg- ing from the tomb, the risen Jesus walked the earth for for- ty days. According to Ronald Rolheiser, even Jesus had to get used to being a new cre- ation.

Grace creeps up on us. It does its work on us before we even realize it. Our self-perception — and our perception of oth- er people — lags behind the reality that Jesus is bringing about.

Some of us will keep berat- ing ourselves as jerks long after we’ve been forgiven. Even when our old wounds are nearly healed, we might struggle with kicking the hab- it of resentment. Some of us have been treated as outsiders for so long that we have trou- ble recognizing ourselves as the beloved children of God.


But over time — through the power of the Sacraments, in the love of the community, in service to the poor and the marginalized – we begin to recognize and accept our- selves as the Body of Christ.

I would like to think that, in their own time, each of those nine lepers caught up with Je- sus somewhere or other and began to see themselves as he does — and that is when the real miracle happened for them. It’s the real miracle that happens for us: We no longer see others though the lens of our old wounds and prejudic- es and fears. We begin to see others — especially strang- ers and foreigners — as Jesus does.



The Rev. James Krammer Alcorn, 75, in Sugar Land, TX. A graduate of Trinity University and the School of Theology at in Sugar Land, TX. A graduate of Trinity University and the School of Theology at The University of the South, he was ordained to the priesthood in 1971. He served parishes in San Anto- nio, Kingsville, and Houston, TX, as well as directing pasto- ral care at St. Luke’s Episcopal Hospital and, in retirement, serving as chaplain to retired clergy.

The Rev. Stephen Anku- dowich, 68, in Tampa, FL. A graduate of Trinity College and the Episcopal Theological School, he was in Tampa, FL. A graduate of Trinity College and the Episcopal Theological School, he was ordained to the priesthood in 1974. He served parishes in Salem, Worces- ter, and Wareham, MA; New Canaan, CT; and Tampa and Seminole, FL.


connecting The Rev. John M. Balcom, 98, in Amherst, MA. A grad- uate of the Episcopal

The Rev. John M. Balcom, 98, in Amherst, MA. A grad- uate of the Episcopal Theo- logical Seminary and Har- vard Divinity School, he was ordained to the priesthood in 1942. He served parishes in Walpole, Norwood, Hol- brook, Chelmsford, and New- ton Highlands, MA; Ft. Yu- kon, Nenana, Tanacross, and Fairbanks, AK; and Hook, Surrey, England.

The Rev. Susan Endicott Wright Bell, 84, in Shreve- port, LA. A graduate of the University of Texas, El Paso, Louisiana State in Shreve- port, LA. A graduate of the University of Texas, El Paso, Louisiana State University, Shreveport, and the Episcopal Theological Seminary of the Southwest, she was ordained to the priesthood in 2002 fol- lowing a thirty-year career as a teacher.

in 2002 fol- lowing a thirty-year career as a teacher. The Rev. Karen Zahniser Bettacchi, 73,

The Rev. Karen Zahniser Bettacchi, 73, in Lexington, MA. A graduate of Greenville College, Loyola University

(Baltimore), and the Episco- pal Divinity School, she was ordained to the priesthood in 1991. She served parishes in Dorchester, Lexington, and Allston-Brighton, MA.

The Rev. Floyd Williamparishes in Dorchester, Lexington, and Allston-Brighton, MA. Brewer, 85, in Franklin, TN. A graduate of the

Brewer, 85, in Franklin, TN.


graduate of the University


Florida and the School of

Theology at The University of the South, he was ordained to the diaconate in 1996 and the priesthood in 1997. He served parishes in Tampa and Palm Harbor, FL and, in retirement, served as a chaplain for retire- ment homes in Tennessee.

The Rev. Ervin Adams Brown, III, 79, in Balti- more, MD. A graduate of the University of Alabama, Indiana University, and Vir- in Balti- more, MD. A graduate of the University of Alabama, Indiana University, and Vir- ginia Theological Seminary, he served parishes in Rux- ton, Glyndon, St. Michaels, and Baltimore, MD; Lynch- burg, VA; and Detroit, MI.


The Rev. Robert James Crawford Brown, II, 84, in Ri- pon, WI. A graduate of Ripon College and Nashotah House Theological Seminary, he in Ri- pon, WI. A graduate of Ripon College and Nashotah House Theological Seminary, he was ordained to the diaconate in 1956, and the priesthood in 1957. In addition to teaching New Testament and Greek at Nashotah House, and Greek and Latin at Ripon College, he served as Chaplain of the Episcopal Campus Rectory at the University of Wiscon- sin, Milwaukee, and served parishes in Ripon, Wautoma, Milwaukee, Shullsburg, and Platteville, WI, and Galena, IL.

The Rev. John William Burbery, 84, in Visalia, CA. A graduate of UCLA, he served as an artillery officer for 25 in Visalia, CA. A graduate of UCLA, he served as an artillery officer for 25 years before enrolling at the Church Divinity School of the Pacific. Following his or- dination to the priesthood, he served parishes in the San Joaquin Valley for 15 years. He also taught history at the


College of the Sequoias for 20 years.

history at the telling College of the Sequoias for 20 years. The Rev. Edward Noyes Burdick,

The Rev. Edward Noyes Burdick, II, 92, in Granville, OH. A U.S. Army Air Corps veteran of WWII and a grad- uate of Yale University and Union Theological Seminary. He served as rector of St. Luke’s Church, Granville, OH, for 29 years.

The Rev. Douglas Gray Burgoyne, 86, in Newport News, VA. A graduate of Wil- liams College and the Episco- pal Theological in Newport News, VA. A graduate of Wil- liams College and the Episco- pal Theological School, he was ordained in 1958. He served parishes in Ontario, OR; Wil- liamstown, MA; and Newport News and Richmond, VA. In retirement, he served as in- terim rector for parishes in Richmond and Ashland, VA, as well as serving part-time in other parishes and doing sup- ply work.

serving part-time in other parishes and doing sup- ply work. Harry Butler, 83, in Berlin, MD.


Butler, 83, in Berlin, MD. A





graduate of Franklin Marshall College and Philadelphia Di- vinity School, he served par- ishes in Harrisburg, Erie, and Meadville, PA; Salisbury, MD; and Grand Prairie and Jack- sonville, TX. He also served as Stewardship Officer of the Dioceses of Rupert’s Land, Keewatin and Brandon, Can- ada.

The Rev. Anna Marie Butterbaugh, 59, in Pensaco- la, FL. A graduate of the Uni- versity of West Florida, Spring Hill in Pensaco- la, FL. A graduate of the Uni- versity of West Florida, Spring Hill College, and the Episco- pal Seminary of the South- west, she was in her sixth year serving as Priest-in-Charge of St. John’s Episcopal Church, Pensacola, at the time of her death.

The Rev. Edmond La Beaume Cherbonnier, 99, in Hartford, CT. A graduate of Harvard College, he inter- rupted his studies at Union in Hartford, CT. A graduate of Harvard College, he inter- rupted his studies at Union Theological Seminary to serve as a naval aviator and

instructor during WWII, then returned to finish his de- gree. He was ordained to the diaconate before continuing his studies at Trinity College, Cambridge, the University of Strasbourg, the University of Zurich, and Colombia Uni- versity. He taught briefly at Vassar College and Barnard College, and as deacon at the Cathedral of St. John the Di- vine, New York City, before founding the Department of Religion at Trinity College, Hartford, CT.

the Department of Religion at Trinity College, Hartford, CT. The Rev. Bruce Henry Cooke, 93, in

The Rev. Bruce Henry Cooke, 93, in West Lafayette, IN. A graduate of the Uni- versity of Michigan, the Uni- versity of Maryland, and the Episcopal Theological School, he served parishes in Mich- igan, Wyoming, Missouri, Iowa, and Virginia. He also remained active in the Air Force Reserve and the Air Na- tional Guard, eventually at- taining the rank of Brigadier General. He was instrumental


in the founding of Trinity Ec- umenical Parish – Episcopal, Lutheran, and Presbyterian – in Moneta, VA.

The Rev. William Thomas Dalton, 83, in Bonham, TX. Following his Army service in the Korean Conflict, he graduated from the in Bonham, TX. Following his Army service in the Korean Conflict, he graduated from the Episcopal Theological Seminary. He was ordained to the diaconate in 1964, and served a parish in Dallas before leaving active ministry in 1967. Following a 35-year career in business, he was restored to the diaconate in 2002, and ordained to the priesthood in 2004, going on to serve parishes in Bonham and Denison, TX.

The Rev. Dr. John La Verne Dreibelbis, 82, in Evanston, IL. A graduate of the University of Chicago and Seabury Western Theological Seminary, in Evanston, IL. A graduate of the University of Chicago and Seabury Western Theological Seminary, he served parishes in Evanston, Oak Park, and Chicago, IL, as well as Huron, SD. For 10 years, he was the


Professor in Christian Min- istries at Seabury-Western Theological Seminary.

The Rev. Robert Joseph Duval, 78, in Whitehall, PA. A graduate of Trinity College, he served seven years in the U.S. in Whitehall, PA. A graduate of Trinity College, he served seven years in the U.S. Air Force, then spent 17 years working in insurance, before graduating from the School of Theology at The University of the South. Following ordi- nation to the priesthood, he served parishes in Trumbull and Hebron, CT.

The Rev. Dwight Wood- bury Edwards, 86, in Pacif- ic Grove, CA. A graduate of the University of California, Berkeley, and the in Pacif- ic Grove, CA. A graduate of the University of California, Berkeley, and the Church Di- vinity School of the Pacific, he was ordained to the priest- hood in 1955. He served St. Timothy’s, Mountain View, as record for 17 years, then St. Mary’s by the Sea, Pacific Grove, for 25 years.

The Rev. John Phillip Gorsuch, 85, in Milwaukee,

St. Mary’s by the Sea, Pacific Grove, for 25 years. The Rev. John Phillip Gorsuch, 85,


WI. A graduate of Wesleyan University and Yale Divinity School, he was ordained to the priesthood in 1956, and served parishes in Washing- ton, D.C.; Great Bend, KS; and Yakima and Seattle, WA. He also founded the Center for Spiritual Development, in Seattle. In retirement, he con- tinued to offer workshops and lead retreats.

he con- tinued to offer workshops and lead retreats. The Rev. Gordon “Bud- dy” Boone Gudger,

The Rev. Gordon “Bud- dy” Boone Gudger, Jr., 84, in Baytown, TX. A graduate of Texas A&M University, he served three years in the U.S. Army before beginning his studies at the Seminary of the Southwest. He was ordained to the priesthood in 1961, then spent nine years serv- ing several Texas parishes. He spent five years working as a chemical engineer, then re- turned to full-time ministry for 18 years before retiring, having served ten congrega- tions in Texas.

The Rev. Dr. Margaret Adah Beltz Guenther, 87, in Washington, D.C. A graduate of the University of Kansas, Radcliffe College (Harvard), and General in Washington, D.C. A graduate of the University of Kansas, Radcliffe College (Harvard), and General Theological Seminary, she led many re- treats, was the author of many books, served St. Columba’s Episcopal Church in North- west D.C., and was Professor Emerita of Ascetical Theology at General Theological Semi- nary, where she also served for many years as Director of the Center for Christian Spir- ituality.

The Rev. Dr. Richard Charles “Dick” Hall, 81, in Pasadena, CA. A graduate of Hamilton College, General Theological Seminary, and Claremont Graduate Univer- in Pasadena, CA. A graduate of Hamilton College, General Theological Seminary, and Claremont Graduate Univer- sity, he served as a mission- ary in the Philippines and as rector of a parish in Corona, CA. He was also very involved in community development which, among other things, led him to found the Corona


Free Clinic and direct the St. Barnabas Senior Center in Los Angeles.

The Rev. Canon Michael Kent Hansen, 71, in Sausalito, CA. A graduate of the Univer- sity of St. Thomas, he taught at in Sausalito, CA. A graduate of the Univer- sity of St. Thomas, he taught at St. Peter Claver Catholic School in St. Paul, and served as a priest in Minnesota, be- fore spending more than 20 years as the Executive Officer and Deployment Officer of the Episcopal Diocese of Cal- ifornia.

The Rev. Clifford Eugene Kent, 96, in Santa Rosa, CA. A graduate of Purdue Univer- sity, he spent more than 40 in Santa Rosa, CA. A graduate of Purdue Univer- sity, he spent more than 40 years as a chemical engineer before graduating from the Church Divinity School of the Pacific. After his ordination to the priesthood, he served multiple parishes in northern California, including in Sara- toga, Kenwood, and Santa Rosa.


The Rev. Hope Gwendlyn Phillips Koski, 77, in Gaines- ville, FL. A graduate of the University of Connecticut, Union Theological Seminary, and in Gaines- ville, FL. A graduate of the University of Connecticut, Union Theological Seminary, and Nashotah House Sem- inary, she was ordained to the priesthood in 1983 – one of the first 100 women to be ordained in the Episcopal Church. She later became the first woman in the Diocese of Long Island to be appointed rector of a parish, and later became Dean of the region, overseeing 10 parishes. She served as rector of St. Law- rence of Canterbury Church, in Dix Hills, NY for 17 years. In retirement, she served as an interim in Chiefland, and assisted in other area parish- es.

The Rev. Barrett Kelland Lindsey, 75, in Spokane, WA. He served parishes in Oklaho- ma; Honolulu, HI; Portland, OR; and Seattle in Spokane, WA. He served parishes in Oklaho- ma; Honolulu, HI; Portland, OR; and Seattle and Spokane, WA.


The Rev. Robert James Mayer, 84, in Cupertino, CA. A graduate of Brandeis Uni- versity and a veteran of the Korean in Cupertino, CA. A graduate of Brandeis Uni- versity and a veteran of the Korean Conflict, he pursued a career in software develop- ment. He was ordained to the priesthood in 1971, and as a non-stipendiary priest in the dioceses of California and El Camino Real. He served as an interim pastor for congrega- tions all over the South Bay Area.

The Rev. John Holbrook Parke, 100, in Springfield, MA. A graduate of Prince- ton University and General Theological Seminary, he was in Springfield, MA. A graduate of Prince- ton University and General Theological Seminary, he was ordained to the priesthood in 1942. He served as an Army Chaplain in WWII and, af- ter the war, served parishes in Massachusetts; Newport Beach, CA; Scottsdale, AZ; and Falls Church, VA. He also served several years as director of the International Order of St. Luke the Physi- cian, leading healing missions


and Australia.



healing missions throughout and Australia. North America The Rev. Edward Moray Peoples, Jr., 78, Louisville, KY.

The Rev. Edward Moray Peoples, Jr., 78, Louisville, KY. A graduate of Marshall University and the School of Theology at The University of the South, he served as a chaplain in the U.S. Air Force, as well as serving parishes in Virginia, West Virginia, and Kentucky.

The Rev. Roderick Ken- neth Potter, 83, in Augusta, ME. A graduate of Bates Col- lege and General Theological Seminary, he was in Augusta, ME. A graduate of Bates Col- lege and General Theological Seminary, he was ordained to the priesthood in 1963. He served as vicar of St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Farm- ington for 17 years before training as a pastoral care and chemical dependency coun- sellor. He also served parish- es in Gardiner and Hallowell, ME.

He also served parish- es in Gardiner and Hallowell, ME. The Rev. Mary Elizabeth Pratt-Horsley, 70,

The Rev. Mary Elizabeth Pratt-Horsley, 70, in Los


Osos, CA. A graduate of Rut- gers University and San Jose State University, she spent several years teaching French at Ohlone Community Col- lege before returning to study at the Church Divinity School of the Pacific. Following her ordination to the priesthood, she served as the director of the Santa Maria Urban Ministry of San Jose, then as the rector of St. Benedict’s Church, Los Osos.

The Rev. David Lee Price, 69, in Snohomish, WA. Fol- lowing several years of ser- vice in the U.S. Air Force, in Snohomish, WA. Fol- lowing several years of ser- vice in the U.S. Air Force, he graduated from Alaska Pacif- ic University, the University of Alaska, Anchorage, and Seabury-Western Theological Seminary. He was ordained to the priesthood, then served parishes in Mill Creek and Darrington, WA.

The Rev. John Carlton Southern, Jr., 70, in Ashe- ville, NC. A graduate of the in Ashe- ville, NC. A graduate of the


University of North Caroli- na – Chapel Hill, and Gener- al Theological Seminary, he was ordained to the diaconate in 1974, and the priesthood in 1975. He served parishes in Asheville, King’s Moun- tain, and Bessemer City, NC, and Baton Rouge, LA; he also served as an interim for parishes in Asheville, Salis- bury, Cashiers, Boone, Rocky Mount, and Lincolnton, NC.

bury, Cashiers, Boone, Rocky Mount, and Lincolnton, NC. The Rev. Charles William Tait, 93, in Seattle,

The Rev. Charles William

Tait, 93, in Seattle, WA. His studies at Harvard College were interrupted by WWII, during which he served as

a translator of Japanese and German, and a post-war pe-

riod with a special counterin- telligence company assigned

to track down Nazi war crim-

inals; he eventually complet- ed his studies at Harvard. He then spent several years working for the State Depart- ment, before he began study- ing at Virginia Theological Seminary. He was ordained to


the priesthood in 1962, taught at Bishop Tucker College (an Anglican seminary in Ugan- da), and served as a parish priest in Wellesley, MA, be- fore returning to teaching for 19 years.

The Rev. Dr. John Harvey Thomas, 88, in Sandwich, in Sandwich,

MA. A graduate of University

of Maine, Orono, and Epis-

copal Theological School, he

was ordained to the diaconate

in June 1958, and the priest-

hood in December 1958. He served as diocesan vicar to the former Otis Air Force Base, and quickly became the de facto priest of St. John’s, Sandwich; he was installed as the first rector of St. John’s in 1969, and retired from that position in 1993.

The Rev. Ralph FellowsJohn’s in 1969, and retired from that position in 1993. Wagner, 88, in Palmer, AK. A

Wagner, 88, in Palmer, AK.

A graduate of Pennsylvania

State University and Nasho- tah House Theological Sem- inary, he served parishes in

Jeannette, Pittsburgh, Oak- mont, and Charleroi, PA; Berea, OH; and Anchorage,tah House Theological Sem- inary, he served parishes in Palmer, Wasilla, Juneau, AK. A decorated Vietnam-era

Palmer, Wasilla, Juneau, AK.

A decorated Vietnam-era vet-

eran, he served 23 years of ac- tive and reserve duty, earning numerous awards for merito- rious service before retiring as a full colonel.

The Rev. Glen Mileyfor merito- rious service before retiring as a full colonel. Wilcox, 88, in Fairbanks, AK. A

Wilcox, 88, in Fairbanks, AK.

A graduate of Hamline Uni-

versity and Berkeley Episco- pal Seminary at Yale Univer- sity, he was ordained to both the diaconate and the priest- hood in 1953. He began as an overseas missionary to terri- torial Alaska, where he served parishioners in Anvik, Shage- luk, Holikachuk (the present day Grayling people), and the mission at Bethel, while also serving in multiple non-re- ligious roles (e.g., postmas-

ter, marriage commissioner, airline contract agent, village radio operator, welfare agent, school generator operator,

and tooth extractor). He lat- er served parishes in Cordo- va and Valdez. He went on to set up the first alcoholism programs throughout Alaska, as the coordinator of the Of- fice of Alcoholism, and later served as coordinator of the Office of Aging, and the Fair- banks chief of Health and So- cial Services, before opening a real estate firm. He became certified to teach comput- ing, and taught many people at home before becoming an adjunct professor at the Uni- versity of Alaska Fairbanks. He also continued to officiate services at St. Matthew’s and Fort Wainwright, and helped in the formation of St. Jude’s Church in North Pole.

in the formation of St. Jude’s Church in North Pole. The Rev. Francis Lee “Pete” Winder,

The Rev. Francis Lee “Pete” Winder, 84, in Salt Lake City, UT. A graduate of the University of Utah and the Church Divinity School of the Pacific, he was ordained to the priesthood in 1957. He spent 17 years as the rector of

the Church of the Good Shep- herd in Ogden, UT, before becoming the Archdeacon of the Diocese of Utah.

The Rev. Walter William Witte, Jr., 89, in Vinyard Hav- en, MA. A graduate of Hobart College, the Berkley Divinity School at in Vinyard Hav- en, MA. A graduate of Hobart College, the Berkley Divinity School at Yale University, and Union Theological Seminary, he was ordained to the priest- hood in 1954. As a bi-voca- tional priest, he served par- ishes in New York, Missouri, Newark, and Massachusetts.

The Rev. Douglas Earl Woodridge, 86, in Tualatin, OR. A graduate of Loyola University in Los Angeles and, after a decade in Tualatin, OR. A graduate of Loyola University in Los Angeles and, after a decade in busi- ness, Seabury-Western Theo- logical Seminary, he served parishes in San Diego, and Carlsbad, CA, as well as Lake Oswego and Portland, OR.

and Carlsbad, CA, as well as Lake Oswego and Portland, OR. May they rest in peace,

May they rest in peace, and rise in glory.

and Carlsbad, CA, as well as Lake Oswego and Portland, OR. May they rest in peace,
St. Peter’s Episcopal Church Pomeroy, Washington
St. Peter’s Episcopal Church
Pomeroy, Washington


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