This week, Mother Liz shares a firsthand account from Linda Brandt, a former seminarian at Ascension now in Minnesota, describing the intense community response to ongoing ICE raids there. Her message, shared with permission, highlights widespread protest, mutual aid, and the emotional toll on neighborhoods where ICE activity has become a constant presence. Despite aggressive tactics and fear, Linda urges continued visible support, compassion, and solidarity. The rector invites the parish to keep Linda and all those affected in prayer, and to “keep showing up” in love and support for all persons.

This week, Mother Liz reflects on the Epiphany story’s blend of wonder and peril: the Magi’s awe-filled journey guided by a star, set against Herod’s fear-driven violence. She connects this ancient “realpolitik” to our own moment, naming contemporary acts of state violence and the ongoing harm to immigrant communities. Epiphany’s revealing light exposes both the world’s cruelty and God’s vulnerable, self-giving love. In that light, we are asked to choose what kind of power claims our allegiance—and to seek courage, compassion, and solidarity with our most vulnerable neighbors as we build beloved community together.

This week, Father Ed reflects on the growing influence of Christian nationalism and contrasts it with the gospel’s vision of God’s reign. Drawing on the story of the Magi and the fear their question provokes, he explores the tension between worldly power and God’s alternative politics—rooted in justice, equity, healing, and mutual service. God’s reign, he reminds us, is not about enforcing a religion, but about offering a better way of being human. As we enter this season together, Fr. Ed invites us to notice where that liberating vision is already emerging among us.

This week, the rector reflects on Advent’s invitation to hope when circumstances feel bleak or overwhelming. Drawing on Isaiah’s story of King Ahaz and Matthew’s account of Joseph, she explores the tension between realism and trust—between protecting ourselves from disappointment and daring to imagine what God might do. These texts challenge us to notice where cynicism or caution keeps us from hope, and to consider the risks of faithful dreaming. Advent asks whether we can trust that God is truly with us, even in the messiness and brokenness of our world.

This week, Mother Liz reflects on Advent hope through lucille clifton’s poem “john,” imagining John the Baptist speaking fierce solidarity from prison. As John waits in confinement and questions whether Jesus is the one to come, we are invited to consider how hope endures when circumstances narrow and enthusiasm fades. The poem and gospel call us to acts of connection and care, even with little to give, and to trust the holy mystery out of which light emerges. Advent becomes a season of waiting, watching, and faithful love — expecting “somebody bigger than me coming.”