In this week’s newsletter, the rector explores the gospel story of Nicodemus, a religious leader who comes to Jesus under cover of night, seeking yet fearful. Jesus speaks mysteriously of being “born from above” and compares the Spirit to wind that “blows where it chooses” — confounding Nicodemus but stirring something deeper. Mother Liz invites us to notice where the Spirit-wind is blowing in our own Lenten journey, making space for uncertainty and tentative steps toward transformation.

This week, the rector offers a Lenten prayer by Jan Richardson that embraces the spiritual wilderness as a place of self-discovery rather than escape. The poem acknowledges the inner wildness, hunger, and thirst we encounter in desert seasons, while asking not for removal from the journey but for “tough angels, sweet wine, strong bread: just enough” to sustain us through this time of transformation and unexpected grace.

In this week’s newsletter, Mother Liz reflects on the recent clergy and vestry retreat at Holy Cross Monastery, where leaders found spiritual renewal through monastic rhythms, winter walks along the frozen river, and deep conversation about the parish’s future. She invites parishioners to consider their own Lenten practices—whether through prayer, fasting, almsgiving, or acts of connection and care—as pathways to deepening awareness of God’s love and grace during the season ahead.

This week, Mother Liz reflects on Jesus’ call to be “salt” and “light,” exploring these images as both gift and vocation. Salt brings savor, preservation, and healing; light reveals truth and kindles hope—even when it feels vulnerable to shine. Jesus speaks in the present tense: this is who we already are, together, as the church. Drawing on recent courageous witness from clergy and neighbors responding to injustice, Mother Liz invites us to live our shared calling with courage, creativity, and compassion so that others may taste and see the goodness of God through our life together.

This week, Mother Liz reflects on Paul’s challenging words about the cross as “the power of God,” especially amid violence, injustice, and fear in our own time. She wrestles with what faithful discipleship looks like when state power abuses the vulnerable and speaking truth carries real risk. The message of the cross, she reminds us, calls us to costly solidarity, mercy, and nonviolent love — not comfort or safety. Yet in that “foolishness,” we discover God’s strength: life-giving grace found in community, courage, and small acts of faithful love that sustain us when we are afraid or weary.