Let’s celebrate what God has already done

Dear friends,

Our senior warden John Whitley is an optimist who always sees the glass half-full.  I have to confess that I tend to take a dimmer view of things.  In a wardens’ meeting the other day, John pointed out that in a recent sermon I called our world “broken.”  He went on to explain that when he looks around, he doesn’t experience the world as broken.  He sees all kinds of beauty and goodness, glimpses of God in nature and in other people.

I’ve been pondering John’s words as we head into Holy Week and Easter.  Through Jesus’ sacrifice of himself and God’s raising him to life, the pain and brokenness that I see in the world have already been swept up into God’s loving plan.  In Romans, Paul tells us that the sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us and that nothing, not even death, can separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord.  We may not be able to see the whole picture right now, but God can.

We live in the post-Easter world.  Jesus has died and has risen.  We proclaim that Sunday by Sunday, but I’m not sure how often we actually pause to let those truths sink in.  During these holiest days of the Church year, we remember and celebrate what God has already done.  Jesus’ death and resurrection bring us freedom and life, in this world and in the world to come.  Good Friday and Easter are past events that change and shape every present and every future, including yours and mine.

In these coming days, as we walk together through the crushing agony of Good Friday and into the radiant joy of Easter, may your eyes (and mine!) be opened anew to the staggering beauty and goodness in Jesus’ cross and resurrection. Let us give thanks together for what God has already done; and let us live our lives in the coming days in ways that reflect our gratitude for all that we have been given.

I look forward to celebrating these holy days with you.

Faithfully,

Anne

PS.  As is customary here at St. Andrew’s, an Easter offering envelope is enclosed for your use. Please bring it with you on Easter Day along with your Mite Box offering for Episcopal Relief & Development.

Pastoral Care Liaison Report

“Bear one another’s burdens and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ… So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.”  -- Galatians 6:2, 10.

I am grateful to be the liaison from the Vestry for the Pastoral Care Team. Let me tell you a little about this group of amazing women. The Pastoral Care team is multi-faceted. We are dedicated to visiting the home bound, taking communion to those who are unable to attend church, either temporarily or permanently. We are here to serve those who need to be consoled.  We try and share the burdens of those going through difficult life transitions. We are a group who care deeply for those we serve.

Each team member has several parishioners they are responsible for contacting regularly, checking in to see how they are, and asking if anything has changed in their situation. We update these names at our quarterly meeting. Some members of the team attend the first Friday monthly Eucharist held at the Chesapeake.

When called upon by the clergy, team members may visit a parishioner who is in the hospital. We also schedule healers for the healing service, which is held the first Sunday of each month. One member sends cards as needed, which we know are welcomed by those who are unable to get to church. The Prayer Chain at St. Andrews is also under the umbrella of Pastoral Care. It is a very busy ministry.  Requests are made almost daily, by email or phone, for people needing prayers. Updates are given at least monthly. Prayer is an important part of Pastoral Care.

We have a Prayer Shawl Ministry. Prayer Shawls are knitted or crocheted by members of the congregation. Once completed, they are blessed by the clergy and are set-aside in a special box. When a need arises, we can take one to a person who might benefit from one. They are marked with special tags saying that prayers were said as the shawls were being made.

We all have different gifts. I believe that we must look closely at ourselves to see where our gifts might be.

Ministering to those who are sick, bereaved or confined to facilities is very gratifying for me. I feel called to this ministry, as it is way for me to return the gift to those who have walked with me through tough times. I believe I can make a small difference in the lives of our parishioners who may be in need. Would you like to be involved in this ministry? Could this be a place to use your gifts? Feel free to call me at 846-6993 or email me at freyc@verizon.net. And thank you for electing me to serve on your Vestry. It is a good time to be at St. Andrews!

Peace to you this day,

Catherine Frey

Christian Formation Liaison Report

“…and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” John 8:32

I am very excited about the opportunities we have at St. Andrew’s to learn about our beliefs. One of the things I love most about the Episcopal Church is that it encourages us to use reason to explore and comprehend God’s works. On Sundays at 9:15 Adult Forum meets in the parish hall where we have open and lively discussions about various topics of our faith. Children’s church meets during the sermon at the 10:30 service where they begin their exploration of God’s works. Episcopal Youth Community (EYC) have fun exploring God’s works on Sundays from 12:00 to 2:00.

Fritz Horne

Maundy Thursday - what does it all mean?

Dear Friends,

As we prepare to walk through Holy Week together, I thought it might be helpful to share with you some of the rich symbolism embedded in our Maundy Thursday worship.  Because we do this liturgy only once per year, it’s easy to lose sight of the many layers of meaning it contains.

Holy Eucharist

We celebrate Holy Eucharist in almost every worship service, but this is where it started:  on the night before he died, Jesus gathered his disciples together for a meal and “instituted” Communion, identifying the bread as his body and the wine as his blood of the new covenant, and asking the disciples to continue the practice in remembrance of him.

Footwashing

In John’s gospel, there is no mention of bread and wine at the Last Supper.  Instead, Jesus washes his disciples’ feet and tells them to serve one another in the same manner.  Maundy Thursday draws its name from John’s account—“Maundy” comes from the Latin Mandatum, which means “commandment.”  Jesus gives his disciples a new commandment:  to love one another. 

The Stripping of the Altar

This ritual does not appear in the Book of Common Prayer but is practiced in many churches, including St. Andrew’s.  It symbolizes what happened to Jesus:  being stripped bare and left naked and vulnerable.  During the stripping of the altar we remove all of the usual adornments, and we also empty the aumbry, the storage space behind the altar which normally contains consecrated bread and wine.  In essence, we remove Jesus from our midst, just as the crucifixion removed him.  I wash the stripped altar in remembrance of those who washed Jesus’ body once it was taken down from the cross. The stripping of the altar can be done in silence or can be accompanied by Psalm 22, which this year Sarah Charlock will chant for us.

I pray that our worship together on Maundy Thursday will be a blessing to you and to us all.

Faithfully,

Anne

Lenten Retreat Reflections from Anne

Trail of Tears

You came on Ash Wednesday and left before I could speak to you. 

I don’t know your story;

I don’t even know your name. 

But I know that when you weep,

dark trails of mascara trace down your cheeks. 

At the rail with my ashes,

I added yet another dark smudge

       to your young and sorrow-filled face. 

             

You who entered Lent in such penitence and pain: 

Easter is coming. 

May you be as attuned to its glory

as you were to Lent’s sorrow. 

May you know the abundant life and love and blessing

of the One who comes

to wipe away every tear. 

Bread

Communion at the monastery consists of sweet brown bread in round loaves, broken into thick pieces for distribution; and golden wine.

From out of nowhere, I start to wonder about the math of it all.  I’ve been receiving communion since the age of 4, roughly once per week for the last 49 years, the bread mostly as wafers.  If each sip of wine is a teaspoon and each wafer is a quarter of a gram (I looked it up!), then thus far in my lifetime I’ve drunk about three gallons of communion wine and eaten 1 and 1/3 pounds of communion bread.  Three gallons of Jesus’ blood and 1 1/3 pounds of Jesus’ body. 

You are what you eat, they say.

Does it show?

Fellow Passenger

Your hands are full, old woman—

boarding passes, carry-ons,

your husband with his cloudy mind

who departs for the men’s room alone

but then must be retrieved. 

You watch my bag; I guard yours.

Our crosswords keep us busy.

When the announcement comes to check our bags for free,

I leap up

and dash to be first at the counter. 

It does not occur to me to offer you any help.

It is only when I turn back,

suddenly remembering the backpack I so carelessly deserted in my haste,

that I see you behind me,

and you see my alarm. 

You point to your husband, our seats, my undisturbed bag. 

“You’re okay,” you say.

Your hands are full, old woman—

but not too full to offer kindness,

reassurance and compassion beyond what I deserve. 

“You’re okay,” you say,

and I see a glimpse of God.

The Clock

Before it was mine, the clock was Mom’s.  Before that it belonged to Auntie Nell; and even before that it was the property of Uncle Frank, who probably bought it new.  A ship’s bell clock, handcrafted in gleaming brass, marking the watches of day and night:  a satisfying purchase for a sailor who served in the War to End All Wars.

The clock is old now, able to keep time but with its ringing diminished from melodious, well-ordered chiming to random clanging each half-hour.  Local craftsmen have not been able to set it right.  But then I discover that the Chelsea Clock Company, the original manufacturer, still exists!  My clock can be repaired and restored.

I fill out the form and photograph the clock, noticing for the first time the marring on the clock face, the tarnish on the brass.  I document the imperfections:  loose glass, misaligned cover, malfunctioning latch.  Curious, I research the purchase price of a new ship’s bell clock:  about $4,000.00 

I had no idea they were so valuable. 

I fly to Boston, the clock swaddled in my thickest sweater, resting on the bottom of my backpack.  I take a Lyft from the monastery to the clock company.  Running my finger one more time along the side of Uncle Frank’s clock, I hand it over for cleaning and repair and restoration.

That night, in my cell, it occurs to me that I too have come to Boston for cleaning and repair and restoration.  Like my clock, I am returning to the One who made me: the only One who has the skill and patience to restore me, the One who sees in me—and in all of us—more worth than we can possibly imagine.