July 8, 2026

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

The north wall of the nave (on the right as you enter the church) has three windows. The front window (closest to the lectern) bears an image of Jesus carrying a lamb with a ram on his right and a ewe on his left. He carries a staff or shepherd's crook in his left hand, and wears a red robe draped with a gold (?) mantle (again signifying his human/divine nature). In the margins of the window is a depiction of a lamb carrying a flag (a traditional rendering of Christ, the Lamb of God) and the IHC* Christogram. The window is titled, “Christ the Good Shepherd.”

The story of the Good Shepherd comes from John 10:11-18 (11-16 is often read at funerals), and is part of a longer section where Jesus is speaking to the Pharisees about who he is. It is in this passage where we hear that Jesus cares for all of God's people and that he is willing to die for their safety. It's also in this passage where we learn that Jesus is shepherd to sheep (people) not belonging to the flock of Israel – good news for us Gentiles!

This story and this window have deep meanings. The story of the good shepherd reaffirms who Jesus is and what he does throughout this particular gospel. It was John the Baptist who first identified Jesus as the Lamb of God. The image hearkens back to the Passover lamb that is sacrificed, tying Jesus to this sacrificial act of God's people. And Jesus' statement that he has “other sheep that do not belong to this fold” further strengthens John's comments that he has come to take away the sin of the world and Jesus' statement that God so loved the world that everyone who believes in him may not perish.

The image of Jesus carrying the lamb in the window reinforces the fact that Jesus cares for the most vulnerable among us. And the ram could be – could be – seen as the ram provided for Abraham to sacrifice instead of his son Isaac.

The story behind this window is that Jesus came to save the entire world from sin, that Jesus has other sheep we don't know about, and that Jesus was willing to die to protect and save us.

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

Blessings,

Todd+

* We've all seen the IHC and IHS symbols in churches but we may not know what they mean. IHS is the more common of the two, but they both reference Jesus Christ with no discernible difference. It comes from the first three letters of Jesus in Greek: iota (rendered as an I that morphed into the English J), eta (H in ancient Greek that has evolved into an “ee” sound), and sigma (originally rendered as the Latin S at the end of words, but can look like a C in the middle of words). So the JES in Jesus was rendered as IHS or IHC. Over time other meanings were (incorrectly) attributed to the letters, the most common one being the Latin Iesus Hominum Salvator (Jesus, Savior of Men).

July 1, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Window Stories: Choir

On the wall of the choir is a window of St. Cecilia, the patron saint of music. She is dressed in an ankle-length purple skirt, blue blouse with gold collar, and a teal shawl, and she is depicted playing an organ. There are three Easter lilies in a vase next to the organ. On the left margin of the window is a harp that signifies her patronage of music, while the right margin shows a kettle sitting on logs with flames coming up out of it signifying her martyrdom (even though she died by sword not by burning). She is flanked over her head and shoulders by two angels.

As with any story of saints and martyrs, you're apt to find more than one; but there are commonalities. It's said that she was born into Roman nobility (hence the purple skirt and gold collar). At some point in her early life she took a vow of virginity (the blue blouse). Despite this vow, her parents forced her to marry a pagan nobleman. At the wedding she sat apart from everyone singing to God in her heart, thereby leading to her becoming the patron saint of music. Shortly after the wedding she told her husband she was being protected by an angel of God and that if he violated her God would punish him, but would love him if he respected her. Her husband asked for proof, so she sent him to be baptized by Pope Urban I, and then he saw the angel standing with Cecilia and crowing her with lilies.

She was martyred either between 176 and 180 or around 230 by being struck on the neck three times with a sword. She lived for three days afterward and asked the pope to convert her home into a church.

The first music festival in her honor was held in 1570. Pope Sixtus V founded the National Academy of Saint Cecilia in Rome in 1585 invoking both St. Cecilia and Pope Gregory the Great. Pope Gregory developed Gregorian chant used by clergy and monks, while Cecilia symbolizes the central role of all music in the liturgy.

Music is an integral part of our liturgy. It is used to praise God (the Gloria or other songs of praise), to tell stories (I sing a song of the saints of God and others), to focus our attention (Lord, be thy word my rule and other sequence hymns), and to draw us deeper into the presence of God (Let all mortal flesh keep silence and other Communion hymns). Music binds us together in a way that words alone don't often do – I've left church whistling/humming a particular tune, but not always reciting the Creed.

The story of Saint Cecilia is one of devotion, dedication, and determination. In her time and in her way she found a path to putting God first in her life. As we make our way through our own lives, may Cecilia inspire us to connect with God more deeply.

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

Blessings,

Todd+

June 24, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Window Stories: North Sanctuary

On the north side of the sanctuary (the right side of the altar as you look from the nave) is a window of Christ. It shows him standing, dressed in a gold robe and red mantle (a type of cloak or loose garment worn over other clothing), and flanked by two trees. There is a blue sky and the faint outline of a city in the distance. On either margin there is a small cross and crown of thorns, which are subtle reminders of what Jesus is to face in the future.

It appears this is a pre-crucifixion image as there are no wounds on his hands or feet, nor are there marks on his head from the crown of thorns. His clothing, the gold robe and red mantle, depict his dual nature – gold that symbolizes his divinity, his role as high priest, and being King of kings, and red that symbolizes his humanity and sacrifice. The colors of his halo alternate between red and gold, further symbolizing the dual nature of Jesus as fully human and fully divine.

In looking at the two trees you wonder about location. One's mind is drawn to Jesus on the Mount of Olives with Jerusalem in the background. The two trees in the window bear a resemblance to real olive trees, confirming that this depicts Jesus on that mountain. The significance of Jesus between the two trees could be that Jesus is the connection between the Old and New Testaments, or maybe that he is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets.

The Mount of Olives is also significant in the gospels. It was from there where Jesus entered Jerusalem on what we know as Palm Sunday. It was there where he foretold the destruction of Jerusalem and the world. It's the traditional site of Gethsemane. And it was from there where Jesus ascended to heaven.

Finally, the window bears the words, What think ye of Christ.

This window, placed where it is in the sanctuary and especially visible to those coming forward to kneel and receive the blessed Sacrament of Body and Blood, asks us to ponder this question – What think ye of Christ?

As you worship God in this place, and as you receive Holy Communion week after week, what think ye of Christ? What stories can you share about Christ in your life? And if you aren't sure, think about where Christ and his Church have been particularly important in your life, meditate on it, and rehearse it until you feel comfortable telling that story.

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

Blessings,

Todd+

June 17, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Stories

I read an article the other day about the importance of stories. A mother, who happens to be an Episcopal priest, told about a recent trip with her family on a Disney cruise. She pointed out that Disney makes every effort to tie its symbolism to the Disney stories and how they reinforce those stories at every turn. Subtle mouse ears in the design of carpets, ice cream shops designed to look like the kitchen in Ratatouille, pre-cruise phone calls to the children from Disney characters, and the list went on. All of these things helped make the stories of Disney come to life for the cruisers.

And then she reminded her readers that Christianity is also full of stories. Stories of Christ, the Saints, and other people and events fill our imagination and memory. Our churches are full of stained glass windows and tapestries that reflect these stories. They are entrances into stories (a picture can't tell the whole story) and they invite us to go deeper. They invite us to expand on and fill in details about why a particular story is important enough to enshrine in a window.

But somewhere along the line, she thought (and I agree) we have lost our ability to tell the story of our faith. We have lost the ability to tell the stories of the imagination of our faith. Or maybe not our ability, but our willingness. Faith has become such a personal issue that we are hesitant to speak about it with others. And then, because we don't speak about it, we either forget how or become unwilling to tell the stories.

Like any skill, though, the more we practice it the better we become. Conversely, the less we do something the more we are unable to do that thing. It's the difference in free throw percentage between Larry Bird and Shaquille O'Neal. Larry Bird had a free throw percentage of 88.6 percent, while Shaq only shot 52.7 percent. The difference was how often the two men practiced shooting free throws.

So over the next several weeks I'm going to tell the stories of our stained glass windows. Not the stories of who sponsored them or in whose memory they were given, but the stories they depict. My hope is that you will learn (or re-learn) the stories of our windows and that you might be inspired to begin telling your own stories.

Blessings,

June 10, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Good Habits

Habits can be good or bad. Habits are things we do over and over again on a regular, recurring basis. And whether good or bad, we miss them when we don't do them.

I came down with a cold last week. I muddled through things, feeling like I was in a thick fog for a funeral on Monday, taking all of the quils – DayQuil, NyQuil, ZzzQuil – along with cough medicine, water, Gatorade, and single-handedly going through a gallon of orange juice in three or four days. I was only in the office in the mornings to get things done, going home to sleep the rest of the day.

But last week was also Bar Week and I didn't make it. I almost didn't realize how much I enjoy that particular habit until I couldn't make it. So I moved it to this week and all seems right again.

Monica is on vacation for the next two weeks. She got everything prepped that she needed to do ahead of time (bulletins, weekly e-mails, etc.) so things around here will continue to flow as normal. But our weekly Tuesday meeting didn't happen, nor did I have a bulletin to proof. So I was a bit off yesterday.

And at Eucharist this morning, just about the time I was consecrating the bread and wine, I realized it was Wednesday and I had forgotten to write the Wednesday Word. So for those of you who have a habit of reading the Wednesday Word over breakfast or morning coffee . . . oops, my bad.

These two things got me thinking about good habits. I have a habit of visiting bars that I wanted to get back to. Maybe you have a habit of waking up to the Wednesday Word that sometimes isn't there because I missed writing it and your morning is a little off. We can have habits of daily prayer, weekly worship, a morning or afternoon walk, or of purchasing a hygiene item or two to donate to the Food Pantry.

Whatever our habits are, we miss them when we miss them; and if we miss them too often, we will fill that time with something else. Our lives are full of both good and bad habits. The trick, over time, is to have more good habits than bad.

Blessings,

Todd+

June 3, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Good, Not Perfect

In the first story of creation (Gen. 1:1 – 2:4a), six times God saw what was created as “good,” and once God sees that everything created was “very good.”

I think about this every so often, especially when something doesn't go as expected or as I had planned (primarily in the case of worship services).

Years later I still think about Easter Vigil fires that wouldn't light or that almost took out a tree, or planned liturgies where each step is counted out only to have participants not pay attention and get the procession out of sync. Altar guilds have misplaced the wine and water causing an acolyte to pour wine on the priest's hands. Lectors have read wrong lessons and mispronounced words. Deacons have read the wrong gospel. Things happen. Mistakes are made.

In looking back at that creation story, even God didn't do perfect. God did good.

We are often our own worst critics, harder on ourselves than others are on us. Can we allow ourselves to come to a place where we recognize that others benefited from our actions rather than focusing on our failings?

As a priest, there are plenty of times for me to fail – forgotten parts of a sermon, spilling wine or dropping bread, forgetting to administer Communion to people in pews, and many more. But I need to ask myself, “Did the people find this worship service meaningful?” And if the answer is yes, then worship was good. Not perfect, but good.

Wherever you are and whatever you do, be willing to allow yourself some grace and forgiveness in the same way you allow grace and forgiveness to others. Because none of us are perfect; but if we strive to be good, things will be okay.

Blessings,

May 27, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Un-Ordinary Time

This coming Sunday is the First Sunday after Pentecost, also known as Trinity Sunday because it is the Sunday specifically dedicated to the Holy Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This Sunday also marks the end of what is often referred to as “Liturgical Time,” that time of year when we are focused on the events of the life of Christ: birth, baptism, preparation, death, resurrection, ascension, and the coming of the Holy Spirit.

The Season after Pentecost follows. This season is otherwise known as “Ordinary Time,” not because things are plain, ordinary, and boring, but because the Sundays that follow are simply referred to by their ordinal numbers in sequence – 1^st, 2^nd, 3^rd, 4^th, 5^th, etc., Sundays after Pentecost. Whereas Liturgical Time focused on the events of Christ's life, Ordinary Time focuses on the life of Christ. They are anything BUT boring as we hear stories of calls, healings, dead people being raised to life, commencements, family strife, and much, much more.

As we get ready to move into Ordinary Time, I'm thinking back to this past Sunday and Pentecost. I'm thinking specifically about Peter's speech to the crowds after they had heard the apostles speaking in many different languages and his quoting of Joel: In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.

This is the reading that moves us out of Liturgical Time. This is the reading that sends us into Ordinary Time. What would it look like if we lived into a summer of dreams? What would it look like if we took those Pentecost visions and worked to make them a reality?

We have all been given gifts – not only to use for the glory of God, but so that others may come to know God through us.

The Holy Spirit has descended upon us and given us power to proclaim the Good News of God in Christ. As we move forward, let us make this Ordinary Time as unordinary as possible.

Blessings,