Resurrection

Dear friends,

At the Episcopal Parish Network conference I recently attended, one of the presenters was the senior warden of the Church of the Resurrection in Alexandria, Virginia.  She explained that after much prayer and discernment, she and her fellow parishioners decided to tear down the large, aging church facility they had outgrown and replace it with a much smaller worship space—located in the middle of a brand new complex of affordable housing units they would build on the church’s property. 
 
Today the Church of the Resurrection and the apartment complex share outdoor space.  Residents of the complex worship at the church, and parishioners are involved in a wide array of outreach ministries serving their new neighbors.  A tagline on the parish website says:  We are a community, a functional family, a home. 
 
The senior warden explained that the first worship service in the new space was held a few years ago on Easter Sunday.  Remembering that day, she got choked up.  She said simply, “We experienced resurrection.” 
 
In just a few days, we will gather together to celebrate resurrection: God raising Jesus Christ from death to life.  This is the central truth of our faith, the miraculous event that gives meaning to our lives—and to our deaths.  Despite—and in the midst of—all of the suffering in our world and in our lives, we celebrate resurrection.  We gather with joy to proclaim Alleluia, to hear the wondrous story once again, to praise God through word and song, to share the divine and simple meal that unites us to Jesus. 
 
As you prepare for our Easter celebration on April 9, I invite you to ponder the resurrections, large or small, that you have experienced in your own life.  And I look forward to celebrating with you the ultimate resurrection:  Jesus’ new life that gives us new life.
 
Blessings.  - Anne
 
PS.  As is customary here at St. Andrew’s, Easter offering envelopes will be available at both entrances to the church. You can also make your Easter offering online here. Please also bring your Mite Box offering for Episcopal Relief & Development and your flowers to help decorate our outdoor cross. 

Unveil the Shroud

On one of the shelves in my office I have one of those things that gives you different pictures depending on which angle it is viewed from.  In this case, lean a little to one side and it is a picture of the Shroud of Turin.  Lean a little to the other side and the face of Jesus emerges from the image imprinted on the Shroud.  The implication, of course, is that the Shroud of Turin is the shroud that covered Jesus in the tomb.  A neat special effect regardless of what one might think about the historical validity of Turin’s shroud.

The word “shroud” has been used specifically to refer to burial clothing since 1570, but more generally meaning “to hide from view, to conceal” since 1300.  The shroud is important for what it invites us to prayerfully contemplate during Lent, but the more important thing than the shroud itself is what is revealed when the shroud is lifted.  Lean a little to one side and you have one image.  Lean a little to the other and another image emerges.  In one direction is the shroud, in the other…the face of Jesus. 
 
As we come to Lent’s conclusion with Holy Week’s remembrances of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the foot washing of Maundy Thursday, and the agony of the crucifixion on Good Friday - all valuable, nay, essential, for our spiritual formation - the face of Jesus is revealed, not just in some artist’s rendering…but in us - real, alive, and deeply personal.  Now as our own Lenten shroud is about to be lifted to reveal the risen Christ beneath, we have only to decide which direction we want to lean: to keep the ecstatic joy of our Easter alleluias shrouded or in our care for those who so desperately need to receive God’s good news of the risen Christ, to lift the shroud and reveal the face of Jesus.
 
-Marc

Homeward Bound

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed
When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red
When the summer’s ceased its gleaming, when the corn is past its prime
When adventure’s lost its meaning I’ll be homeward bound in time
Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow

If you find it's me you're missing, if you’re hoping I'll return
To your thoughts, I'’ll soon be listening and in the road, I'll stop and turn
Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end
And the path I’ll be retracing when I’m homeward bound again
In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed
When the sparrows stop their singing I’ll be homeward bound again

Homeward Bound was written by Marta Keen Thompson around 1991, and it has become one of most performed contemporary choral works.  Finding one’s true calling in life often involves embarking upon a new phase of life’s journey, wanting to grow and change – but knowing you will return to those you love

This song is a illustration of the emotional pull towards home after leaving to seek one’s calling somewhere else in the world.  I would say that most us have “gone” somewhere during our life time, even if it was just college or possibly military service.  Quite frequently the song is performed when a group of soldiers return home.

Could it be a reflection of one’s life?  Could it be a reminder of the second coming of Christ?  Could it be God walking with us regardless of what is happening in our lives?  Could it be we have strayed and want to return home?  Could it mean that there might be another home for us to look forward to?   May we always be homeward bound somewhere.

Bill Wilds

Seed sowing

“What is the kingdom of God like? It is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden; it grew and became a tree, and the birds made nests in its branches.” - Luke 13: 18-19.

A few years ago I was feeling industrious and started a garden from scratch. That’s right, I didn’t go to Anderson’s in May and spend too much money on the pre-grown, lush tomato plants. I actually planted seeds in February, in dozens of tiny containers, and put them under lamps in our spare bedroom. I imagine if any of you are gardeners, you’ve already started a similar process.
 
Although I didn’t plant a garden from seed this year, I’m still basking in the springtime marvel of tiny seeds coming to life, of seemingly dormant, winter trees bursting into bloom. It’s a living, visual reminder of God’s promise in our own lives. The metaphorical “seeds” that you’re planting may seem to be coming to nothing when, one day, you walk by that spare bedroom and see a plethora of tiny buds popping up from the dirt.
 
If you’re a little impatient, like me, you may be tempted to think the friendly gestures you’re making to your new neighbor are having no effect, or that the lessons you plan for children’s chapel are quickly forgotten. It’s easy to fall prey to such cynicism, or to look to fill your life with things that promise quick results. God reminds us, through the wonder of His creation coming alive in Spring, that God keeps His promises to those who are faithful. Suddenly you realize that your formerly aloof neighbor is now your friend, and that the children you thought weren’t paying attention articulate their faith in ways more profound than you ever envisioned.
 
May your life in this Lenten season be filled with springtime awe, and even more hope-full, faith-filled seed-sowing.
 
Ginny Chilton