Category: News

In her message this week, the rector connects Palm Sunday’s ancient story to present-day witness, planning to join Saturday’s No Kings March calling for democracy, justice, and peace. She explores how Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem was itself a public protest: a humble prophet on a borrowed donkey contrasting sharply with Pilate’s simultaneous imperial procession through another part of town. The tension between these two visions of power and authority plays out throughout Holy Week and history, asking where we will put our bodies, feet, and hearts as we follow Jesus’ way of vulnerable, self-giving love.

In this week’s newsletter, Mother Liz draws inspiration from Archbishop Sarah Mullally walking the 87-mile Becket Camino pilgrimage from London to Canterbury, traveling at “slow, human speed” as she prepares for her new role. The rector connects this ancient practice to Holy Week, when we follow Jesus step by step through his final days—using our bodies and imaginations to walk the Passion story together. She invites us to enter Holy Week’s liturgies fully, starting with next week’s Palm Sunday observance, finding in this deliberate, embodied pilgrimage “strong medicine, nourishment, strength and healing for our profoundly challenging times.”

This week, the rector explores the gospel story of the man born blind—a dramatic, often hilarious narrative in which Jesus heals with mud and spit while religious authorities grow increasingly certain the healing is impossible or illegitimate. At the story’s pivot, the healed man offers simple testimony: “I don’t know if he is a sinner. One thing I know. I was blind and now I see.” Mother Liz asks what we know from our own experience that challenges assumptions or contradicts what authorities insist is true, inviting us to follow the blind man’s path: pay attention, be astonished, tell about it.

In this week’s newsletter, Mother Liz reflects on the devastating escalation of war in the Middle East and shares a powerful pastoral letter from Archbishop Hosam Naoum, whose Anglican Province spans every nation now engaged in combat—from Iran enduring bombardment to Cyprus, the Gulf states, Israel, Palestine, Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria. The archbishop’s words help us imagine what it means to shepherd congregations on all sides of the conflict, refusing to see neighbors as enemies “whether they be in Tehran, Tel Aviv, or the military bases of the Gulf.” Mother Liz calls us to join his urgent threefold appeal: unceasing prayer, Christian love across divisions, and keeping the doors of reconciliation open as we work courageously for peace.

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.

This week, Mother Liz shares a prayer she offered at an interfaith healing service marking the first anniversary of last year’s presidential inauguration. Naming the grief, fear, and exhaustion many feel, the prayer holds before God those most harmed in these perilous times—immigrants and asylum seekers, people losing access to basic necessities, trans siblings, children and elders, and our wounded earth. With honesty and hope, Mother Liz calls us to renew our commitment to justice, to honor God’s image in every person, and to let even our flickering lights shine with courage, compassion, and love.