In this week’s newsletter, Mother Liz reflects on the Israelites’ wilderness journey, questioning where God is amid fear and scarcity. She explores how we recognize God’s presence—in beauty and answered prayers, but also in our loneliest seasons of loss and injustice. Drawing on the miracle of water from stone, she invites us to notice the hidden, unexpected grace that sustains us through all our journeys and seasons.
For Welcome Back Sunday, Mother Liz explores the parable of workers hired throughout the day but paid the same wage, provoking questions about abundance and what we fear in sharing generously. She welcomes back summer travelers and the returning choir, inviting us to trust in God’s abundance and practice generosity as we gather to do the urgent work we’re called to together.
On the 25th anniversary of September 11, Mother Liz invites us to remember those lost, the first responders’ sacrifice, and the courage and compassion that arose amid devastation. Ascension will be open for prayer and reflection from 8 am to 5 pm, with bells tolling at 8:46. She shares a prayer from Bishop Allen Shin, calling us to confront hatred, resist violence, and make peace.
This week, Mother Liz reflects on a season of profound loss—iconic global, national, and parish figures, as well as global crises—and offers Wendell Berry’s poem “The Wild Geese” as solace. The poem speaks to summer’s end, remembrance of those gone before, and the quiet faith that what we need is already here. “And we pray,” wrote Berry, “not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye clear.”
Father Ed explores René Girard’s mimetic theory—how we unconsciously learn what to desire through imitation. Drawing on gospel examples like John the Baptist’s death and Pilate, he suggests Jesus repeatedly helps listeners recognize their unwitting participation in violence. This Sunday’s gospel shows Peter spectacularly illustrating this mimetic contagion. Father Ed invites us to examine how we’re unknowingly directed toward violence, subtle or overt.
This week our associate rector, Father Ed, reflects on late summer’s quieter rhythm in the city and the subtle shifts in energy he observes while making pastoral calls. He contrasts the effects of anxiety-inducing news cycles with the neurological benefits of worship and faith community—the oxytocin and endorphins that come from fellowship. He encourages us to keep returning to church, trusting that our shared spiritual practice sustains hope.
Father Ed explores the viral trend of people (especially men) frequently thinking about the Roman Empire, then reveals his own: God. The Roman Empire references in Luke’s gospel first connected him to God’s presence in human history. With Sunday’s scriptures focusing on reconciliation (Joseph, the Canaanite woman), he invites us to consider how reconciliation happens at ground level, guided by the Spirit, and asks: What’s your Roman Empire?
Father Ed shares his deepened meditation practice from July, describing how simply abiding—being present without judgment—becomes a place of refuge and peace. While this personal solace is valuable, he emphasizes the greater intention of cultivating universal compassion and equalizing self with others. He invites us to reflect on our own refuge and how faith deepens our practice of loving-kindness.
Mother Liz shares Joseph Fasano’s poem on soul nourishment as she heads on vacation. The poem teaches that our souls need exposure to nature, beauty, holiness, and connection—that they require tending through rest, reading, and attention to what has been forgotten. It reminds us to, from time to time, let our soul kneel “in a place that is holy like the simple cathedral of the willows.”
This week, the rector reflects on Paul’s affirmation that nothing—death, hardship, corruption, violence, or our own failings—can separate us from God’s love in Christ. She explores how the Spirit sustains us in our weakness, interceding with sighs too deep for words. She invites us to consider how we might live differently if we truly believed this conviction shapes not only our ultimate fate but our daily struggles.