In this week’s newsletter, Mother Liz celebrates the parish’s feast day with Malcolm Guite’s sonnet on the Ascension, exploring its paradoxes: ending and beginning, absence and presence, humanity and divinity. Jesus leaves the disciples to fill all things with even more profound intimacy, and it is his broken, still-wounded body—”the heart that broke for all the broken hearted”—that ascends to God’s heart. The rector invites us to sit with these mysteries during the “dazzling darkness” between Ascension and Pentecost, pondering how we are held and hidden with Christ while called to be his presence in a world of crisis, wonder, and grief.

In this week’s newsletter, the rector reflects on “Glorians”—a term from Terry Tempest Williams describing encounters with grace and wonder in the natural world, like an ant carrying a pink blossom across the desert or the discovery that ancient horseshoe crabs have blue blood used to test vaccine purity. These ordinary, extraordinary moments reveal our vulnerability and connection with creation, calling us to lament, praise, and care. Mother Liz links this to Sunday’s gospel promise that we dwell in Christ and Christ in us—a mysterious communion revealed to those who love, inviting us to be present to the holy in the everyday.

In this week’s newsletter, Mother Liz responds to the Supreme Court’s Louisiana vs. Callais decision gutting the Voting Rights Act by sharing words from Congressman John Lewis, who understood the struggle for justice as “not the struggle of one day, one week, or one year” but of a lifetime or many lifetimes. She connects his charge to “let freedom ring” with Sunday’s gospel, where Jesus tells anxious disciples “don’t let your hearts be troubled”—reminding us that God dwells with us as both journey’s companion and resting place, offering strength and courage for the work that is ours to do.

In this week’s newsletter, Mother Liz celebrates Earth Month alongside Eastertide, noting how resurrection speaks not only to humanity but to “the groaning of the whole creation” and God’s determination to make all things new. She observes that when Mary Magdalene mistakes the risen Christ for a gardener, we glimpse the deep interconnection of all beings—and when we touch creation’s wounds with reverence and compassion, we meet God. Quoting Robin Wall Kimmerer, the rector reminds us that “when we work to heal the earth, the earth heals us,” and invites us to deepen our love and commitment to our fragile, beautiful planet.

This week, the rector reflects on the road to Emmaus, where two grief-stricken disciples walk with a stranger who listens to their trauma, reframes their despair, and reminds them that God works even in brokenness. Only when he breaks bread with them do their eyes open and they recognize the risen Christ. Mother Liz asks when we have encountered the Risen One—in deep listening, unexpected hope amid trauma, familiar liturgy, or the faces gathered around the table—inviting us to notice where Easter life continues spreading among and through us.