October 14, 2026

 

Wednesday Word . . . The Gift of Creation

“Instead of taking the Earth for granted, I began to see it as a gift . . .” – Jason A. Fout

I'm reading a book called, Wisdom, Knowledge, and Faith: New Essays on the Future of Theology and the Episcopal Church (I know . . . thrilling stuff). It's a series of short essays by various theologians in the church that discuss how they got into the field of theology and its importance for the people of the Episcopal church – both lay and ordained. To be honest, I'm not sure it lives up to all the accolades given on the back cover, but that's another story.

In Fout's essay, he talks about coming into the church and theology through, of all things, Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. He says that “through the absurd writing of Douglas Adams, I was able to come to imagine the world as creation,” which then led him to see all of creation as a gift of God. There is no quid pro quo in creation, there are no demands, there is only creation given as a gift.

What would happen if we, both individually and universally, actually viewed creation as a gift? Instead of seeing resources to be used solely for profit, could we begin to see resources as something to be treasured and cared for so that future generations could enjoy them? Instead of driving animals to extinction in our pursuit of land, trophies, or our insatiable appetites, could we begin to see all living things as vital to the health of the planet and work to preserve for tomorrow the gift we enjoy today?

These are but a few questions that popped into my head while reading this essay.

This coming Sunday we celebrate the Feast of Saint Luke, our patron saint. Tradition holds that he was a physician and healer. Using Luke as our anchor, can we begin to see the world as a gift from God that needs us to participate in its healing?

Blessings,

Todd+

October 7, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Discernment

At the September Vestry meeting I brought up the topic of discernment. I reminded the Vestry that part of their job was to be looking for how the people of the parish could better use their gifts and talents. Within that context, all of us have been made “a kingdom and priests unto God,” and the parish, led by the Vestry, should be a place where everyone is supported, encouraged, and challenged to grow in the life and ministry of Christ.

As it just so happened, discernment was also a topic of conversation at Diocesan Convention. Our keynote speakers were the Rev. Nandra Perry and the Rev. John Lewis, both leaders in the Iona Collaborative (a program which should be familiar to the people of Saint Luke's), and everyone in attendance received a copy of Fr. Lewis' book Discernment in the Early Church and Today.

In that book Fr. Lewis defines discernment as, “determining the best course of action, given the situation.” Discernment can be used when determining a new career path, how we might rework our personal budget, whether or not we offer to serve on a vestry or larger church committee, how we might use our talents and skills for the benefit of the parish, or what actions a vestry might pursue. While “discernment” is most often thought of as leading to ordained ministry, it really has to do with anything in which we try to gain insight into the will and work of God in our lives and in the world.

As we come to the end of 2026 and begin to look forward to 2027, spend some time in personal discernment prayerfully considering how you can offer your gifts for the benefit of Saint Luke's and Christ. And knowing that discernment is best done in community, invite others to be part of your discernment process, either with a group of friends, fellow parishioners, or in meeting with me.

I believe the people of Saint Luke's, individually and corporately, have many gifts to share with the parish and with the people of Buffalo. May we all work to discern where God is calling us.

Blessings,

Todd+

September 30, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Brown and Gold

Have you ever wondered about the official colors of Wyoming? Why are the WYDOT signs brown and gold? Why are the colors of the University of Wyoming brown and gold? As a newcomer to the state, I've wondered that multiple times. It seems to me that a better color scheme could have been chosen, as brown and gold just seem kind of . . . blah.

Joelene and I went to Cody last weekend for the funeral of Bishop Bob Jones. Bishop Jones served Wyoming from 1977 – 1996, after which he became dean of St. George’s College in the Diocese of Jerusalem and, later, became assisting bishop of Cyprus and the Gulf.

We all know this part of the country has been experiencing drought-like conditions, and this year in particular has been difficult with hardly any rain and no snow pack to speak of. But we are now moving into fall. We've had some rain, and temperatures are starting to drop, especially at night where, at least a my house, we are seeing overnight temperatures in the mid-40's. And if you haven't noticed, leaves are beginning to change.

On the drive over to Cody, and again on the drive home, every so often we'd round a corner to be met with a shock of gold in the midst of a grove of trees. Not all of them had turned, just a small copse surrounded by the larger grove. I remember seeing one particular set of trees framed by the brown rocks and dirt of the mountainside that really caught my attention. We drove on, but I thought about that particular view and then it hit me . . . THAT's why the official colors of Wyoming are brown and gold. Instead of being a strange choice of colors, they reflect the beauty of Wyoming in autumn.

People can be the same way. Sometimes we can't see a person's true colors until we happen to catch them in a particular situation. Sometimes it takes us a little while to see why those colors are the way they are. But if we keep our eyes open, we just might find beauty where we missed it before.

Blessings,

Todd+

September 16, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Living Water

Joelene and I spent some time listening to Braiding Sweetgrass, a book by Robin Wall Kimmerer. If you haven't read (or listened to) this book, you probably should. It's not a novel, but a slow moving reflection by the author on creation, ecological consciousness, and a reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world.

One of the problems (for me) of listening to a book is that I can't mark page numbers of things that catch my attention; and, unless I make a note of something right then, it's left to memory. With that in mind, there was a sentence she wrote while talking about water that went something like this: “We are all water, and water flows away from us.”

I got to thinking about that and the implications of that statement.

Living water is water that is moving. It flows from one point to another. It can be the soft gurgle of a slow moving stream or it can be the roar of a thundering waterfall. It can be as small as a local creek or as vast as the ocean current. It is that living water, water that moves away from its source, that touches and nourishes an untold number of lives. Just think about the Mississippi River and how it impacts the lives of plants, animals, and humans, as it flows into the Gulf of Mexico.

At a time when water in our area is in short supply, we are very aware of the need for living water.

On another level, we are also very aware of the world's need for the living water of Christ.

Jesus told the woman at the well, “The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (John 4:14b). The living water of Christ is meant to gush up within us. The living water of Christ is meant to flow out and away from us as it nourishes the world.

A funny thing about water – if it doesn't flow away and out, it simply gathers, stagnates, and becomes undrinkable. This is what happens with the Dead Sea, water flows in but not out. We are the same way. If all we do is collect without passing on, without sharing, we will also stagnate and die.

In the poem “Lester” by Shel Silverstein (found in the book, Where the Sidewalk Ends), Lester was granted a wish. With that wish he slyly wished for more wishes until one day, having grown old, he died. “In a world of apples and kisses and shoes, He wasted his wishes on wishing.”

Let us not live like Lester, but let us live with our wishes and the living water of Christ flowing out from us to nourish the world.

Blessings,

September 9, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Window Stories: East Wall

Our final window in this twelve-week series is the small, round window on the east wall above the narthex doors. This window depicts Christ the King in all his glory. While it is tradition that churches lay on an east/west axis with the entry at the west end and the altar at the east end, our parish reverses that orientation (entry at the east end and altar at the west end). This traditional layout comes from the rising sun, the light of Christ, and the dawning of the new day of Resurrection. I would like to believe that someone thought a Christus Rex window on the east wall would compensate for the reversal by having the morning light come through this window to give a holy and royal light.

Christ the King is seated on a large throne and garbed in a white robe with a flowing, red cope. The white robe symbolizes purity, faithfulness, and sinlessness, all images and traits of Christ. He wears a gold crown on his head and a halo can also be seen. There are two symbols of power in each hand.

In his right hand he holds what looks like the holy hand grenade of Antioch. Knowing that can't be the case, it's actually a globus cruciger (literally, cross-bearing orb). Images of Roman rulers would use an orb to signify their dominion over the world. Then, in the 5^th Century, Christian art began using the orb with a cross on it to signify the victory of Christianity over all the world. In this window, then, it symbolizes Christ's dominion over the world.

The left hand of Christ holds a royal scepter, another symbol of authority. The royal scepter symbolizes a person's right to rule, command, and hold sovereign power.

The background of the window is blue with several smaller designs. My guess is that this represents the sky and stars, adding to the story that Christ is not only King of the earth, but of all the universe as well.

For all of this imagery of Christ as King of kings and Lord of lords, ruling with an iron scepter and having dominion over all the earth, it's important to remember that Christ came not as a conquering king but as a helpless child. He came as a lamb that was led to the slaughter. Though he is God, he did not regard that equality with God as something to be exploited, but humbled himself in order to be born as a human. He became obedient to death, and it was through his humble obedience that he achieved greatness. And this is why every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

We must remember that the story of our faith is not that Christ will come to rule not through force, but that he will rule and be victorious through the power of love. The story of our faith rests not on a king who rules through domination and force, but of a King who rules through the power of sacrificial love. The image of Christ the King isn't an image in which to terrorize others, but an image that gives him primacy of place in our own lives.

We all have faith stories to share. What's yours?

Blessings,

September 2, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Window Stories: South Sanctuary

The south wall of the sanctuary (to the left of the altar as seen from the nave) depicts an image of two men, with the primary focus on Saint Luke.

Saint Luke, adorned with a red halo, appears to be kneeling at a type of desk. He is wearing a blue robe, and there is a suggestion of a brown academic hood. There are two books on the desk, an open book resting on a closed book. Saint Luke seems to be studying the open book and, in his left hand, is holding a third, larger book (probably a bible) adorned with the IHS** Christogram.

Whether kneeling or sitting at a desk, the visible leg of that desk has the image of a winged lion. This is an interesting choice on the part of the artist, because the winged lion is the symbol of Saint Mark, while the symbol for Saint Luke is a winged ox.

The man standing behind Saint Luke is holding a scroll in his right hand, wears a brown cap, purple robe, and a green-ish outer- or over-coat, but has no halo. Scholars have long thought that Luke relied on Mark's gospel when composing his own, and it might be that this is Mark influencing Luke. While that could be explained by the winged lion and scroll, the fact that he doesn't have a halo makes that improbable. So who this person is will probably always be a mystery.

The left margin of the window contains a caduceus (pronounced kuh-doo-see-us) – technically a winged staff with two entwined snakes. But this staff doesn't have wings and seems to have a flame at the top, maybe due to a lack of space. The caduceus is a symbol of Hermes, the messenger of the gods in Greek mythology; which makes sense because, as author of a gospel, Luke was a messenger of God. This symbol is often misused/mistaken for the rod of Asclepius or the healing staff of Moses, which is a single snake wrapped around a rod or staff. Both have been used as a symbol of healing, so the former is seen here with Saint Luke because he was known as “the beloved physician.” The window was also given in memorium of the Rev. Henry Ustick Onderdonk, our own beloved physician.

The right margin contains an artist's palette and brushes. Why this, you might ask. Because Saint Luke is also the patron saint of artists, and tradition holds that he was the first iconographer in Christianity.

This window tells the story of a man who studied healing, art, and the word of God. It tells the story of a man who used his skills to help spread the good news of the kingdom. And it reminds us that, while faith may be personal, it is meant to be shared.

We all have faith stories to share. What's yours?

Blessings,

Todd+

**The first three letters of Jesus in Greek: I (Iota), H (Eta) S (Sigma)

August 26, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Window Stories: South Nave – Front

The south wall of the nave (on the left as you enter the church) has three windows. Like last week's window, the front window is unusual in that it doesn't depict a biblical image or story. Instead it has a bible verse and dedication.

The bible verse is Proverbs 31:28 – Her Children Arise Up And Call Her Blessed. The window itself is in memory of W. G. Robinson, Born May 31, 1859, Died March 31, 1889.

According to 100 Years of Worship: 1884 – 1984, this window was given by Mr. & Mrs. W. J. Clarke in memory of her brother William “Billy” Robinson who drowned in a boat accident on Lake Desmet.

The window's image is of several ears of corn on stalks and has the autumn coloring of greens, yellows, and browns of the corn harvest. I don't know why this image was chosen because corn isn't really prevalent in Christian art or symbolism, and Billy was both born and died in the spring. Corn can be a symbol of growth, fertility, abundance, and prosperity, but none of those seem to fit the reason for this window.

You may not have noticed or paid attention to this window since it receives no outside light and is therefore dark most of the time. This is because that particular area behind the window became the parish office when Onderdonk Hall was built.

But for all of the unknowns of this window, it still tells a story. It tells a story of a life lived and ended too soon. It tells the story of a mother loved by her children. It tells the story of a sister who wanted to keep the memory of her brother alive. And it reminds us that, even though not as bright or colorful as the other windows, it is still part of the story of our parish.

We all have faith stories to share. What's yours?

Blessings,

Todd+