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+

August 19, 2026

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

The south wall of the nave (on the left as you enter the church) has three windows. The middle window is unusual in that it doesn't depict a biblical image or story. Instead it has a dedication and donor information which reads: Dedicated to Rev. and Mrs. George McKay by the Skoonataps.

I had to do some digging, but here's what I uncovered:

On page 33 of 100 Years of Worship: 1884-1984 (the centennial history of our parish), there is a sketch of this window. Although the window isn't titled, the book refers to it as the “Red Cross Window.” The priest to whom this window was dedicated, Fr. George McKay, had been a chaplain in the Canadian Mounted Police and supposedly served as the model for the hero of Ralph Connor's novel, The Sky Pilot, although that may not be true as there are other claims to who the character was modeled after.

Fr. McKay and his wife (who unfortunately is only ever referred to as “Mrs. McKay”) came to Saint Luke's in 1918 and served until 1926 – although his picture in Onderdonk Hall says 1918 – 1929.

Fr. McKay was the easy part, but who were the Skoonataps? As it turns out, they're not a who but a what. During his time as priest, Fr. McKay “organized a fine group of young matrons of the Church known as 'The Schoonataps' . . . The meaning known only to the members.” This social group of women were active in the life of the church and extremely fond of Fr. and Mrs. McKay, who was also an excellent musician and she helped with the choir and other church music. The group was so fond of both of them, in fact, that they gave this window in their honor.

The image itself is of an unknown item and derives the Red Cross name from the small, red, St Andrew's cross in its center. The item, at first glance, seems to be an old-fashioned key, but upon closer inspection is not. A purple brocade surrounds the image on all sides.

The story of this window is like the stories of countless Christians through the centuries. It remembers a man who faithfully served the Church. It remembers a woman whose only name is attached to her husband, but who also faithfully served the Church. And it remembers a group of anonymous Christians who served the Church in their own way. The story of this window is that knowing the specific names of people and what they did isn't important; what's important is that those people served faithfully. What's important is that our story is a story of faithfulness.

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

Blessings,

Todd+

August 12, 2026

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

The south wall of the nave (on the left as you enter the church) has three windows, and the rearmost window on the south side is titled “Christ the Consoler.”

In this window a seated Jesus is dressed more as a Roman than as Judean. He's wearing (what I'm guessing) an orange and red pallium over a type of white tunic called a chiton (and, yes, I went down a rabbit hold figuring this all out), and is adorned with his typical halo.

Kneeling in front of him appears to be a young woman who is wearing a green-ish colored dress, and she is being embraced by Jesus.

The left margin of the window contains a fleur-de-lis, literally flower lily in French. Among other things, it symbolizes royalty and religious purity. The right margin of the window contains an image of an anchor. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews used an anchor as a metaphor for the hope and stability given to Christians in the storms of life (Heb. 6:19).

The idea of Christ as a comforter or consoler comes, not from Jesus, but probably first from 1 Peter 5:7 – Cast all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. Paul also sees Jesus as a comforter when he writes in 2 Corinthians 1:3-7 about Christ consoling us so that we may console others who are suffering. And Psalm 55:22 advises us to “Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you.”

On August 2 we heard the gospel story of the feeding of the 5000. At the end of that story we are told that the disciples collected and filled 12-baskets full of the broken pieces of bread that were left over. I'm reminded that, at its best, the Church is a place where broken people are gathered up and cared for. We are the Body of Christ on earth right now. Our story should be that we are the place where burdens are cast and people are cared for and sustained.

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

Blessings,

Todd+

August 5, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Window Stories: Rear Nave – SE Corner

As you stand at the front of the church and look back to the east entrance, there are two windows on either side of the double doors. Today we look at the one on the right, titled “Christ Among the Doctors.”**

This window depicts delinquent Jesus in the temple sitting among the teachers and asking questions. I say “delinquent” because he and his parents had gone up to Jerusalem for the festival and, rather than heading home with everyone, he stayed behind (Luke 2:41-51).

In the window a 12-year old Jesus is with two older men, one of them obviously Jewish by his clothing, and the other one not so obvious. It could be that the artist wanted to depict a Pharisee and a Sadducee, since those were the two groups that Jesus most often encountered. He is standing, a prominent halo about his head, and his right hand raised in the traditional priestly blessing style.

The man on the left has a white beard, indicating he is older (and maybe wiser?), and wears a purple and plum robe with a head covering (see Ex. 28:4-5 for the priestly dress code). He is also seated at what might be a prayer desk with a book (the Torah?) in front of him. He's not looking at Jesus and appears to be a little annoyed.

The man on the right is younger (brown hair and beard), and dressed only in blue robes. This man is looking up at the young Jesus and appears to be not annoyed, but pondering what Jesus has to say.

In the window's left margin there is a book with stylized Hebrew writing and a quill and ink bottle. This could be symbolic of Jesus, the Word, being present in scripture, but that's just conjecture. And the right margin contains another image of that broach thing from last week's window.

The story behind this window, and this incident in Luke, should remind us that we are never too old to learn something new – especially when it comes to our faith; because it is in learning that we grow and it is in being willing to be open to new interpretations that can give scriptures new life within us.

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

Blessings,

Todd+

**A “Doctor” doesn't mean what we normally think of when we hear that term. In the Christian tradition, the title “Doctor” was bestowed upon certain theologians of outstanding merit and acknowledged saintliness. The original Doctors of the Church were Pope Gregory the Great, Ambrose, Augustine, and Jerome, but that list later grew over time. By titling this window “Christ Among the Doctors,” the artist is recognizing that the Judaism also had theologians of outstanding merit.

July 29, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Window Stories: Rear Nave – NE Corner

As you stand at the front of the church and look back to the east entrance, there are two windows on either side of the double doors. Today we look at the one on the left, titled “Nativity.”

This is a typical Nativity scene with Joseph, Mary, and Jesus (thankfully omitting the wise men). Joseph, standing, and Mary, kneeling, are gazing down at the infant Jesus who is lying in a manger. Unlike last week's window where only Jesus had a halo, all three are depicted with a halo.

Joseph is garbed in brown robes and holds a shepherd's staff or crook. Although he is identified as a carpenter (Matthew and Mark record people calling Jesus “the carpenter's son”), the shepherd's staff in art is used to symbolize being a descendant of King David (a shepherd in his youth and the great shepherd of Israel) and for his care and protection of Mary and Jesus.

Mary, looking rather put together for just having given birth, is dressed in her traditional blue.

Infant Jesus is lying in a manger covered by a pink blanket and gazing lovingly up at his parents. In one article I read, pink was once seen as a “boys” color because, as a shade of red, it was a strong, decisive, and active color. Blue, on the other hand, was seen as more delicate, adding one more reason why Mary is given blue clothing (although there was nothing delicate about Mary).

A single star is shining down on Jesus (borrowing from Matthew), and, if you pay attention, you can see the head of an ox or donkey on the right side of the window.

In the left margin of the window is a 5-pointed flower, most likely a five petal rose, symbolizing the five wounds of Christ. The right margin has something that looks like a woman's broach, but I can't identify what it actually is (if anyone has any ideas, let me know).

The story of the Incarnation is, perhaps, the greatest story of our faith. In that story the omnipotent, omniscient, eternal creator of everything that ever was, both seen and unseen, chose to become human. God didn't appear as a warrior king, fully formed, to defeat enemies through battle, but as an infant child, reliant on parents for food, protection, shelter, and nurturing. And, being born in a manger, a feeding trough for animals, he became food for the world.

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

Blessings,

Todd+

July 22, 2026

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

The north wall of the nave (on the right as you enter the church) has three windows, and the rearmost window on the north side depicts Christ blessing children.

Jesus, centered in the frame, has three children gathered around him, while holding an infant in his left arm. The oldest is a girl I would put at about 12-years old and she is holding two bouquets of flowers, one white and one orange (although the white flowers could be a headpiece or crown to contrast the crown of thorns Jesus will wear later). If you didn't know this child was a girl, the artist makes it explicit by putting her in a pink dress or tunic.

A second child appears to be a young boy of about 8-years old who is wearing a white tunic. The third child could be either male or female, about 4-years old and is wearing a green tunic. Jesus is reaching down with his right hand to touch him or her on the head. A woman stands to Jesus' right, and is most likely the Blessed Virgin Mary as she is garbed in the traditional blue.

Out of the six figures in the window, only Jesus is shown with a halo. This is a departure from other windows that depict Mary with a halo and often show children with halos to convey their innocence.

The left margin has a butterfly, which is a symbol of resurrection and/or new life and could have been chosen as a nod to children who grow and change into adults over time. The right margin has an image of what I'm guessing is a beehive. This has several meanings in Christian art such as a good work ethic, the purity of the Church (because worker bees don't mate), and the community of the Church (many individuals working for one goal), among other things.

All three synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) have stories about Jesus blessing children over the objections of the disciples, and in each Jesus says something along the lines of, “It is to these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.” There are many interpretations of this, but my favorite is for us to view the kingdom of heaven with the same awe, wonder, and fascination that children often view life. In sharing stories of our faith, can we do it with the same excitement and fascination that children have when showing a new bug to their parent?

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

Blessings,

Todd+

July 15, 2026

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

The north wall of the nave (on the right as you enter the church) has three windows. The center window bears an image of three women meeting an angel. The window is titled, “Resurrection,” and while it doesn't give a scriptural citation, this scene comes from Mark 16:1, as that is the only resurrection story with three women and one angel. The women are identified as Salome, Mary the mother of James, and Mary Magdalene. In the left margin is a peacock. The peacock has been part of Christian art symbolizing immortality, resurrection (new, vibrant feathers replacing older feathers when it molts), and possibly the many-eyed creature of Revelation 4. The right margin contains a pomegranate – a symbol of Christ's suffering, the blood he shed, and the many seeds representing the unity of believers in the one Church.

The women in the window aren't named, but I'm guessing that Salome is in gold, Mary the mother of James is in blue, and Mary Magdalene is in a purple-ish red. Unfortunately we really don't know who exactly Salome was, but there are several conjectures as to who she might be without having a clear identity. The Blessed Virgin Mary is always depicted in blue, and I wonder if “Mary the mother of James” refers to James, the brother of Jesus, thereby making this woman Mary the mother of Jesus. Mary Magdalene is often depicted in red from a story where she proclaimed the resurrection to Emperor Tiberius who said, “If Christ is risen, this egg is red,” and the white egg became red.

In Matthew, Luke, and John, the women (woman in John) leave the empty tomb and proclaim the resurrection to the eleven disciples. In Mark, however, the women leave the tomb and “say nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” I love this ending because it's an open-ended story. It tells us the resurrection happened, but then leaves it up to us to proclaim the good news of the resurrection. This gospel reminds us that we can either say nothing to anyone because we are afraid, or we can be the ones to proclaim the good news. If we do not tell this most important story of our faith, it ends with us. But if we tell the story of the resurrection, and how that story of new life relates to us, the story will continue.

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

Blessings,

Todd+

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,

May 20, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Forgiving and Retaining Sins

If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained. – John 20:23

This is the final verse from the gospel reading for this upcoming Sunday. For years I would read this passage, and this verse, and immediately think that the disciples whom Jesus is addressing, and by extension the Church, were being given the authority to pass judgment on people. They were being given the authority to forgive sins and/or continue to use a person's sin as a form of punishment, giving this whole thing a kind of Law & Order feeling: “In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the police, who investigate crime, and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders.”

In that system people are either found innocent (their sins are forgiven) or guilty (their sins are retained). That certainly seems to be the “plain reading” of this verse. And there are many churches, in both the denominational sense of the word and in the congregational sense of the word, that use this verse in that way; just think about how many people have been ousted from churches because their sins were retained.

But, and I've said this before, forgiving sins isn't about the other person. When we forgive those who have sinned against us, we have come to the point where what was done to us no longer holds sway over us. We are no longer beholden to the feelings of hate or revenge or whatever that permeated us when an act was committed (or maybe omitted). This does not mean we forget, because there are plenty of reasons why a person would not want to forget what was done; but it does mean we can move on with our lives instead of dwelling on the event.

So instead of creating an ecclesiastical court system of forgiving and retaining sins, I think this statement was, and is, addressed to individual people. “If you (Tom, Bob, Sally, Mary) forgive the sins of any, then you will be able to live in peace. But if you retain their sins, then you will continue to live with that sin festering within you and you will not live in peace.”

Forgiving the sins of others isn't about letting them off without consequences. Forgiving the sins of others is about allowing ourselves to move on in peace.

Blessings,

May 13, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Faithful Perseverance

Our vacation last week took us back to Maryland to visit good friends and spend some time with our daughter and her boyfriend. All in all it was a good trip, and United didn't lose our luggage.

While there I had a conversation with a clergy friend of mine (a non-denominational pastor who has served several churches and now also teaches a couple of courses at the local community college) that started when he asked, “Do you ever get tired of doing this?”

I had almost that same conversation with another clergy friend this past Monday when they talked about the low attendance at their church on Sunday and scrambling to find replacements for the assigned liturgical ministers.

We (clergy) are called to teach and preach. We administer the Sacraments. We absolve and bless. We baptize and bury. We do any number of things, seen and unseen, for the benefit of people, church, and God. And, at times, it can feel like a futile endeavor as we struggle to form disciples of Christ.

In a results-driven world, we can be our own worst enemies as we wonder why people don't attend the bible studies or other formation classes they've asked us to create. We wonder how we can make Sunday worship essential to people who see it as just one of several activities to choose from that day. We try to come up with creative answers when asked, “How many people are in your congregation?” And we fight to keep from comparing what we offer against what others offer.

Do I ever get tired of doing this? Sometimes. Some days are worse than others. Which is why I look for opportunities to learn and refresh, like the webinar I've signed up for later today called, “Holy Limits in a Burned-Out World: A Conversation for Clergy.”

But when I feel particularly tired of doing this, I remind myself that, more than anything else in my job description, I am called to be faithful. I am not called to be a corporate CEO. I am not called to have the most entertaining sermons. We are not called to have the slickest website or most polished streaming production. We – me and you – are called to be faithful in worship, prayer, and working for the spread of the kingdom of God. It can be hard. It can be discouraging. It can also be extremely rewarding and life-giving. And looking back, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Everyone gets tired. Everyone needs a break – even Jesus went away to recharge. May we all be faithful, as the Lord is faithful, and persevere in working for the spread of God's kingdom.

Blessings,

May 5, 2026

Wednesday Word . . . Vacation

In case you missed it, Joelene and I are off on vacation this week. We left last Thursday evening and will return sometime this coming Sunday.

We went back to Maryland to visit our daughter and her boyfriend, take in some sights, and have family photos taken. We are also reconnecting with a number of our friends while out there.

Vacations, for me, are a mixed blessing. The planning, prepping, packing, and pre-trip organizing can seem like more work than it's worth. And when I return, there's the unpacking, laundry, getting back into my time zone, and falling back into the rhythm of everyday life. I need a vacation from my vacation.

On the positive side, we get to spend time away, put work pressures out of mind, and just enjoy things as best we can. The fact that it hasn't been as hot and humid as it is during the summer also helps.

So know that we are enjoying ourselves, but we are also looking forward to being home in a few days when I hope to find everyone safe and healthy.

Blessings,