Holy Week on Spy Wednesday* from Parson Kit

Spy Wednesday*
Wednesday in Holy Week

Lord God, whose blessed Son our Savior gave his body to be
whipped and his face to be spit upon: Give us grace to accept
joyfully the sufferings of the present time, confident of the
glory that shall be revealed; through Jesus Christ your Son our
Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one
God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Collect for Wednesday in Holy Week BCP p. 220

Dear ones,

Blessings in this Holy Week. This week’s edition of the eBB contains information on what is happening at StJB this week and beyond this week. Whatever your practice and devotion are for this season, I pray that is is spirit-filled and blessed, and that you are able to be with us in person, or on Zoom, in prayer and worship.

This evening (I’m writing on Wednesday morning), Jews around the world begin the feast of Passover. Muslims are in the midst of the holy month of Ramadan. And we prepare for Maundy Thursday, and the great three days of the Triduum, observed in our worship as Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil. These holy times often, but not always overlap.

This is also a time when increased anti-Semitic acts and terrible anti-Jesish violence have erupted. I’m attaching two links to articles about how to engage with Christian antisemitism in this season in particular.

The first is by Dr. Amy-Jill Levine, professor of New Testament at Vanderbilt Divinity School:

https://www.abc.net.au/religion/holy-week-and-the-hatred-of-the-jews-avoiding-anti-judaism-at-ea/10098440

If you don’t have time to read the entire article, at least read the last few paragraphs as a starting point.

The second is from The Rt. Rev. Deon Johnson, Bishop of Missouri, and addresses his position on “Christian Seders.” https://www.diocesemo.org/blog/bishops-letter-to-the-diocese-christian-seder-meals-banned/

Like the work of anti-racism, there are no easy solutions and answers to broad systemic problems, but that’s not reason to not address them. Especially in light of recent acts of antisemitic, racist, transphobic, and homophobic vandalism in nearby New Hampshire communities, if we are to love our neighbor as we love ourselves, we need to be willing to examine the anti-Jewish rhetoric and action that may be derived from our scriptures and other texts.

In God’s peace,

Parson Kit+

*Spy Wednesday, the Wednesday in Holy Week, is used to refer to Judas’s betrayal of Jesus to the authorities.

Holy Week and Easter at St. John the Baptist from Parson Kit

Dear ones,

Holy Week and Easter are fast approaching. This coming Sunday we will observe Palm Sunday, which ushers us in to the Great Mystery of Jesus’s passion, and death on the cross. We observe Jesus’s triumphal entrance into Jerusalem for the last time at the beginning of the service, moving through the drama of passion and crucifixion. Our Holy Week services unpack these events, and provide us with space to contemplate the mysteries as we observe them. The last three days of Holy Week, running into Easter, are called the Triduum, or Three Sacred Days of our redemption.

On Maundy Thursday, we gather to remember the Last Supper, Jesus gathered with his friends for a meal before the indignity of arrest, mock trial, torture, and execution. We commemorate Jesus enacting and modeling servant ministry as we wash one another’s feet. At the close of the Maundy Thursday observance, there is no dismissal, as the observance of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil are one great service extending over the days of Jesus’s passion, death, and resurrection.

On Good Friday, many gather at noon to observe the hours that Jesus hung on the cross. We have been invited by First Congregational Church in Wakefield to attend their noonday service, which will be followed by a silent vigil until three o’clock. Our evening service commemorates Jesus’s crucifixion in the reading of the Passion, and an opportunity for contemplation before the cross.

The Triduum continues into Holy Saturday, the quietest day, when there is no celebration of the Eucharist, and we wait at the tomb. The service for Holy Saturday is in the Book of Common Prayer on page 283, and I commend it to your personal devotions on that day.

The Triduum continues into Easter with the Great Vigil of Easter, properly observed between sunset on Holy Saturday and sunrise on Easter morning. It includes light in the darkness—the kindling of the new fire, the recounting of our salvation history, baptism or renewal of baptismal vows, and the first Eucharist of Easter. The Easter Vigil was a traditional time for baptism following significant preparation. While we are not hosting an Easter Vigil this year, we are invited to share with All Saints Wolfeboro in this most important of celebrations.

Our celebration of Easter continues with our Easter morning Eucharist at 9 am, and through Easter Week to the Second Sunday of Easter, the end of the Octave of Easter, a week of continuing celebration heralding the remainder of the Great Fifty Days of Easter, because it’s such an important celebration that we can’t fit it into just one day!

I invite each of you to join us for as much of Holy Week as you are able.

--Parson Kit+

Holy Week and Easter Services

4/3      5 PM Monday in Holy Week Stations of the Cross with DOK

4/6      5 PM Maundy Thursday Liturgy with Foot washing and Holy Communion

4/7      Noon Quiet Good Friday Service followed by silent vigil until 3 pm at First Congregational Church in Wakefield

            5 PM Good Friday Liturgy w/Solemn Collects and Veneration of the Cross

4/8      5 PM Easter Vigil at All Saints in Wolfeboro

4/9      9 AM Easter Sunday Festal Eucharist

4/16    9 am Second Sunday in Easter Festal Eucharist

The Fourth Sunday in Lent: Laetare, Refreshment or Mothering Sunday, by Parson Kit

The Fourth Sunday in Lent is known, in Latin, as Laetare, for lightening, indicating a lessening of the Lenten fast.

In the English church, it is also known as “Mothering Sunday,” and the faithful were encouraged to visit the church or cathedral where they were baptized. Apprentices working away from home had the day to visit their mother church and their mother, so this Sunday is the church’s celebration of mothers and those who serve in a mothering capacity in our lives, secular and spiritual.

The Lenten fast was no small thing in earlier times! In the historical murder mystery I’m currently reading (set fairly late in the reign of Henry VIII), it notes butchers arrested by the authorities at the behest of the Bishop of London for selling meat during Lent, and nobles imprisoned for Lent-breaking.

In England, Simnel Cake is the traditional food of Mothering Sunday. It’s a special fruitcake, traditionally topped with eleven marzipan balls representing the Jesus’s faithful disciples.

For more on Simnel Cakes: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simnel_cake

Here’s a simpler Simnel Cake recipe:https://www.goodhousekeeping.com/uk/easter/easter-recipes/a26585500/easy-simnel-cake/

Our new Priest-in-Charge introduces himself

St. John the Baptist welcomed the Rev. Kit Wang as our Priest-in-Charge
on March 2, 2023.

Parson Kit wrote to introduce himself to us…

I’m so delighted to be with you! I look forward to getting to know each of you by name and face, through Sunday mornings, participating in the regular life of St. John the Baptist, and through smaller gatherings either in person or via Zoom. Look for more info on those opportunities in the weeks to come.

Please call me “Parson Kit,” if you feel the need for a title.  I’ll likely answer to whatever you call me, but I avoid “Father.”

It’s lovely to be joining you during Lent, and with time to prepare for Holy Week and Easter. I’m a bit of a liturgy geek, and have a great love for facilitating meaningful worship, especially during this most holy of seasons. I’ve spent much of my life teaching, and have been trained in Godly Play, the Montessori-based Episcopal formation program. Godly Play shows up regularly in my preaching and teaching.

When I was ordained in 2008, I served at St. Stephen the Martyr in Waterboro ME , where I heard great stories about Fr. “Mac” MacDougall, preceding his tenure here. I most recently served the Seacoast Shared Ministry in Portsmouth and Hampton.

I value the work of community ecumenical and interfaith groups, as well as diocesan, provincial, and Episcopal Church-wide organizations, boards or committees. I’m currently a member of the Joint Nominating Committee for the Election of the (next) Presiding Bishop, as well as on the steering committee of TransEpiscopal.

In my life, work, and wider ministry, I am passionate about gender justice and expansive inclusion, particularly as demonstrated in worship, and for children, youth and LGBTQ+ folks in our congregations.

In addition to things church, I spend time walking or snowshoeing, often with my rambunctious dog, Sam; knitting lace shawls, baby blankets and hats; reading murder mysteries, practicing yoga, and enjoying the community

A message from Bishop Rob at Lambeth

Dear Friends in Christ,

If you are following the reports of the Lambeth Conference now underway in Canterbury, England, you may be concerned or confused by the controversy surrounding the “Lambeth Calls” document that the gathered bishops are asked to vote on. A draft of these “Calls” was issued late last week, just prior to our arrival at the Conference. In them was a “Call on Human Dignity” in which the writer — as yet unidentified and unknown — inserted a statement that Christian marriage is between a man and a woman, renouncing any endorsement of marriage between persons of the same gender. The inclusion of that statement came as a complete surprise to the committee that drafted the Call.

After several days of vigorous responses to the draft of the “Call on Human Dignity” from many bishops from all over the Communion — not only from those in The Episcopal Church — the Call’s language has been revised to say, more accurately, that the bishops of the Anglican Communion are not in agreement in these matters, but we are committed to walking together in witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Many bishops are also considering the value of voting, up or down, yea or nay, on our support of this or any of the Calls. Voting is the practice of a legislative body such as a General Convention or Congress. Historically, the Lambeth Conference has not been a legislative body, rather its statements are meant to inform the wider church, including the Church in the Diocese of New Hampshire, what its bishops are thinking about any number of topics. That is all.

I write my dear diocese of New Hampshire to inform you of what I know is happening here. But more importantly, I want to assure you with no hesitation in my heart or mind, that the Gospel of Jesus is for all of God’s children. Our commitment to marriage equality and the full inclusion of all lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer and questioning persons in our church is unwavering.

The Calls document that was distributed last week was not a setback to the work of full inclusion, neither in New Hampshire nor in The Episcopal Church. We have traveled so far, borne so many personal and costly sacrifices, to change the course of this commitment now. I consider it a deep and humbling honor to be here, among several wonderful LBGTQIA+ bishop colleagues, especially since in 2008 my predecessor and your bishop, the Rt. Rev. Gene Robinson, was the solitary disinvited-to-Lambeth bishop who could only walk and bear powerful witness to what you and he had done to make God real in New Hampshire and throughout the world.

Despite media reports, I do not see widespread and deep discord among the bishops at Lambeth. Yes, the conference has just begun, but what I see is prayer, fellowship, and a desire to be friends in Christ, even among those who disagree. I see a passion to continue with God’s mission to heal a world imperiled by war, catastrophic ecological collapse, wounding gaps in wealth and privilege, and the need to repair relationships broken by civil, religious, and economic violence. Jesus was often confronted by those who sought to trap him in controversies. Even the Cross could not hinder his mission to include all humankind on the journey to the Kingdom of God. Nothing ensnared him, not even death. That’s the Easter power with which I seek to be his disciple, and your bishop, while I’m so honored to be here in Canterbury.

With love in Christ Jesus,

The Right Reverend A. Robert Hirschfeld

Bishop of New Hampshire

A message to the St. John the Baptist Community from Mary DeSalvo

To the St. John the Baptist Community,

             I wanted to thank you for my lovely flowers and generous check to support our upcoming trip to Jerusalem and for the other gifts to honor David’s ministry with you. But more importantly, I wanted to thank you for your gracious warmth in welcoming this “sometimes in attendance” priest’s wife throughout these past three years. Your unfailing hospitality attests to you true understanding of what it means to “welcome all” through your red doors.

            I also offer you my sincere and genuine thanks for being the shepherds you were  to David. Being given the opportunity to complete his ministry in St. John the Baptist community was a blessing neither he nor I could have ever predicted when we left St. Andrew’s School in 2018. One of my favorite sayings is “you meet the people you are supposed to meet in life,” and I (and we) truly feel that David was supposed (perhaps destined) to meet up with all of you. At St. Andrews in his role as school chaplain, David often felt that he was preaching each week to 350 young minds questioning and discerning whether religion had any relevance in their lives, 350 young people who came to chapel not because they wanted to but because they had to and would often wish they were doing something else. So it was with great joy that David found, for three years, a community of people who loved their church, who came because they wanted to, and had a deep and abiding faith. He often said, “I love St. Johns’s because  the people love their church.” And that fact was palpable each time I attended any event, church service or any kind of gathering. This was a gift, and you made it happen. 

            One of my favorite authors, Alexandra Fuller, who writes memoirs about her time growing up in Africa, titled one of her books, “Leaving before the rains come, because by then it is too late.” Sad though it was for David to leave, this was the right time and your love and support allowed him to retire in dignity and with grace. I thank you deeply for that. 

            We will always be indebted to you all, and we wish you well in your next journey and chapter in the life of the church. 

Peace,

StJB’s Father Dave – Loving Him Out Well, By Maureen Gillum

St John’s had a poignant service and touching farewell celebration for Dave DeSalvo, StJB’s Priest-in-Charge since mid 2019, on yesterday’s brisk Mother’s Day ’22 morning. Emotions ran high during Father Dave’s last homily -- aptly on shepherding and moms -- and listening to his final guitar song for us, accompanied by Judy Gray (organ), Linda Loucony (drums) and Dave G (guitar). Fittingly, Dave Moberg presented Fr Dave his iconic plaque; our God Sighting shepherd, Jim Nevin, shared some sage words; and Sr Warden, Dave Giunta, offered our heartfelt thanks.  

Reflecting when Father Dave first came to StJB in May 2019, none of us could have imagined the challenges and opportunities we would face together over these past three years. It’s truly astonishing all our little Episcopal church of St John the Baptist has achieved under the extraordinary care and adept shepherding of our beloved Father Dave, including:   

• Raising more than $108,000 in our Building Hope capital campaign (2019-2022); 

• Completed our bold and major campus reconfiguration (tore down our old Parish Hall 1/19; sold the rectory 10/20) and built the wonderful Hansen Pike Hall (dedicated 7/21); 

• Topped EpiscoGolf’s cumulative (since 1995) donation milestone of $100,000 last year to support dozens of worthy local children’s charities; 

• Initiated StJB Cares - a new neighbor-helping-neighbor outreach program;

• Rallied to recently collect and send nearly $3,000 and our prayers to World Central Kitchen to help feed and sustain the war-torn people and refuges of Ukraine. 

 Did I forget to mention that St John’s did most of this under Fr Dave’s guidance amid a global pandemic? StJB built a vibrant virtual community with amazing Zoom services, thanks to Kathryn Saunders (weekly eBB, Zoom shepherd/bulletins, website) and other  Zoom shepherds (Burkes, Joe & Roland, Kirt & I).

 Beyond tangibles, Dave DeSalvo also empowered StJB qualitatively. He has shown us enormous compassion and empathy; he brought people together and seeks unity within our parish and community. Dave has a calm strength, a curious mind, a gentle kindness and affinity to children. He always looks to serve, near and far, especially those marginalized. He keenly notices, acknowledges, accepts and appreciates others. Dave’s ever present warm smile and openness helps bring light into any situation. As a good shepherd, Fr Dave guided us by living example; he challenges and encourages us all of us to be shepherds of Jesus’ love. 

 Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 reminds us, “to everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under the heaven.” We all face pain, loss, and tragedy, as well as joy and blessings, as a parish and individually. Our church family has lost many cherished members these last few years, including Mary Hansen, our generous and faithful benefactress of Hansen Pike Hall; as well as beloveds like Tom Bond, Joe Branca, Jeffrey Colmer, and Paul Elkins. Thankfully, under Dick Burke’s safety shepherding, we’ve endured the pain and isolation of Covid. We’re thriving with new members and just celebrated the marriage blessing of two most welcome newcomers to St John’s flock, Roland LaScala and Joe Beard. Life is fragile, hard, fleeting and beautiful. It’s best lived together within a loving, supportive community open to all, like St John the Baptist, and we are ever blessed for Fr Dave’s leadership. 

 Personally, we’ve worked closely with Fr Dave on Building Committee, Zoom, Vestry and many StJB projects. Kirt and I faced the fight of our lives against his sarcoma, a rare and aggressive cancer the last 18 months. We lost our dear brother-in-law, Fred, at our lake house in a horrible accident last spring. Our only daughter, Katie, married Austin Kennedy at St John’s lovely sanctuary on a spectacular day last September. Fr Dave played a crucial role in all three of these major life events: our prayer warrior throughout Kirt’s long cancer battle; God’s envoy of comfort and solace to our traumatized family within our home and hours of tragedy; a minister of light and love joyously presiding over Katie and Austin’s union, as well as their advisor in their preparation of marriage. As he’s done for so many, Dave went way above and beyond in his love and support for us. We’re forever grateful to him and will always cherish our personal connection – as pastor, shepherd, and friend. 

 Now, this chapter ends for Father Dave and all of us at St John’s. A most difficult, but necessary part of this transition – as dictated by Diocesan contract -- is the abrupt and complete end of all contact (personal meetings, e-mails, calls, letters, texts, etc) between Fr Dave and all StJB wardens and parishioners. Under Diocesan rules, Father Dave is not allowed to communicate or respond to StJB parishioners for any reason, so let’s all please understand and respect these rules -- and not feel bad when we don’t hear back from him. The potential caveat is the concluding contract clause regarding no contact, “at least until new ordained leadership is fully integrated into the life of the church, and then only at their invitation.” So, keep faith…perhaps in a year or two…we may rejoice to see Father Dave visit StJB. 

 Exciting new chapters are also beginning for both the DeSalvos and StJB. For starters, Dave and Mary leave this Friday for several weeks of spiritual study and immersive exploration in old Jerusalem. We wish them the very best in their retirement; fulfilling, fun and safe travels; and more precious time with their family. Remarkably, StJB’s Vestry/search team will interview an exceptional candidate as a potential transitional priest this week. Thanks to Fr Dave, we are a better, stronger and more vibrant community of ‘associate shepherds’ prepared for our continued transformation and work ahead. Stay tuned…  

 In closing, we shared many smiles, reflections, hugs and choked back a few tears at StJB’s feast and farewell celebration for Fr Dave and Mary on May 8, 2022. StJB Wardens, Dave Giunta and Dave Tyler, shared our sincere thanks for all the DeSalvos have done for us and how far we’ve come together.  Fr Dave personally commended his StJB’s ‘shepherds/partners’, including Vestry, Music Ministers, Altar Guild, DoK, Building Committee, Prayer Circle, Bible Study, Zoom and Covid Shepherds, as well as many parishioners, most notably, StJB’s beacon, Jackie Keating and our faithful and generous Martha Pike.  Special tributes were presented to Father Dave and Mary: a beautiful handmade quilt with parishioner’s hand prints, a lovely portraiture of Jesus, a gorgeous photo banner of StJB, a cake and collective purse  – all remnants of St John’s appreciation, respect, admiration, and love for Mary and Dave. 

Fr Dave has forever impacted all of us at St John’s -- we are so thankful for and will always cherish his ministry here. We surely hope we have ‘loved him out well’ – as he has so well loved us. God Bless you, Father Dave!

God-Sighting: the Nicest Thing by Dave Guinta

Working at The Home Depot, I see my share of angry customers returning items which didn’t work to their expectation. That was the case last week when a middle-aged man returned two house keys that didn’t open his door.

     I looked at the keys and saw they didn’t match the original. In fact, the master could only be reproduced by a locksmith. When I told the man he should go to the service desk and get his $5.50 back, he grumbled something and walked away with a grimace.

     A few minutes later I saw the same man walking toward me. He apologized for the way he spoke to me. At that point a homeless person with a backpack walked by. The man stopped him and said, “I have something for you. Merry Christmas,” and handed him a $25 gift card. I told him it was the nicest things I had witnessed in a while. He said, “Follow me around; I do this all the time around Christmas.”

Seeing God By Peter Campbell

     My sense of  “seeing God” is about my life experience which happened 56 years ago. But only recently did I see the blessing.  

     I was drafted into the U.S. Army in 1965 and went to Basic Training and Infantry Training at Ft. Dix, N.J. During those 16 weeks of training, I became friends with Bill Callery, who was from Lowell, Mass. At the end of our training,  Bill was sent to Vietnam and I was sent to Korea to patrol the DMZ. Within three months, Bill was killed in Vietnam.

     In the past few days, I was looking through a book that the Army gave us after Basic Training. There are individual pictures of all 179 of us. Ironically, Bill and I were pictured next to each other, which made it easy for me to imagine that I could have gone to Nam and he to Korea. This made me see that I have so much to be grateful for.

     Thank you, God!  I owe you!

     Now, in Lowell, Mass, there is an athletic field named after Bill, and I am grateful to be right here at St. John the Baptist Church. Amen.

Veterans Day

Happy Veterans Day,

I have coached several girls soccer teams over the years. All of the girls played for the Portsmouth City Soccer Club. After the PCSC seasons, most would go on to play indoor soccer in Hampton. After the indoor game before Veterans Day, the players would be given paper and things to write with to make Veterans Day cards. All of the cards would go that night to the Veterans of Foreign Wars post on Deer Street—now the Statey Bar & Grill.

At least six of the young stars, together with a parent, would make the trip each year. We would walk in and I would go to the bartender and ask if it would be okay for the young ladies to give cards to the veterans. The answer was always, “yes!” The girls would go up to each veteran, hand them a card, and I would watch those veterans melt with pride and then enjoy some lively conversation with the girls, after which we would be on our way.

One year was different.

That year when I went to the bartender she told me that the Board of Directors were in a meeting upstairs and would be out in a couple of minutes. Could we wait? Of course we could. Soon five, grouchy old veterans came walking out of their meeting. The ladies walked up to them and handed them the cards they had made for them. (Picture the grinch when he realizes the meaning of Christmas.) All of the board members began to smile; they melted from what was being handed to them.

Unfortunately, I do not have any videos of my soccer players interacting with these local veterans, but the link below captures those warm feelings of generosity and appreciation. As you will see, Frank Grasberger is a veteran with a huge heart.

Friends, there are thousands of veterans out there whose hearts are touched by a simple letter that says, “Thank you.”

Happy Veterans Day, Jim

https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/2021/09/14/wwii-vet-letter-child-war/

Louisiana and Ida by James Cross

As I sit here in Wolfeboro, NH enjoying the cool weather, I am troubled by the news from home. My hometown of Lafayette, LA did not get any damage from Ida, but my son Arthur is without power except for a small generator. He works at Trader Joe’s in Baton Rouge and is overwhelmed by customers needing basics like water and ice; and, as soon as he gets off work, he spends time in long gas lines waiting to fill up his car and gas cans to run the generator. My sister further east in Mandeville, LA has no power or cell phone service, but she does have a generator and water at her front door. My brother in Belle Chasse, LA is in the same condition at home (no power or cell service), but he does have a generator. His business is a marina in Venice, LA, which is at the end of the road near the mouth of the Mississippi River. He cannot drive to the marina because the roads are flooded and covered with debris. He has damage there and is still surveying what needs to be done to get his business back up and running.

My three family members are representative of the eastern half of Louisiana—Ida has affected them all—rich, poor, healthy, sick, old and young. Many people have damage to property, some have been injured and some have died. Many areas of the state remain inaccessible because of damaged or flooded roads. Many people still have flooded homes, and many homes have been damaged beyond repair. People can’t move, can’t get help or basic supplies. Repair crews are coming into the state but have no place to stay because hotels can’t open without power or water.  Sewer systems all over eastern Louisiana are inoperable because they are under water. Stores which can open cannot get new supplies and have empty shelves.

But little by little, recovery is beginning. People in Louisiana who can are helping those in need. The Cajun Navy has volunteers boating into flooded areas rescuing people. Ordinary people who have friends in the affected areas are joining them and rendering aid. Power is slowly being restored, but it will be a long time before everyone is reconnected. The airport in New Orleans is closed and not sure when it will reopen, but we expect it in the next few days.

What can people in New Hampshire do? Donate to Red Cross; donate to Episcopal Relief Fund; join some of the folks who are going down there to help. And Pray. Prayer always helps.

I am scheduled to fly into New Orleans on 14 September. My son in Baton Rouge is supposed to pick us up and drive us home to Lafayette. I hope we can get there, and I hope he can pick us up. In the meantime, I will pray.

Earth Day by David DeSalvo

Yesterday was Earth Day and I was struck by the varied weather I witnessed while handing out lunches in Portsmouth: wind, cold, snow, sunshine, mist, rain, more wind, more snow, more sunshine. Weird as it was, somehow the daffodils, pansies, and cherry blossoms survived!

I don’t know how others feel, but I believe that we are beginning to turn a corner with respect to climate change in this country. No longer are leaders willfully ignoring the facts, the science, and the cries of young people who are concerned about the ways we spend their inheritance—the natural capital that will be their soil, their clean water and air, their diversity of flowers, trees, insects, birds, animals, fish...

I found myself thinking and praying that, because we truly care about God’s creation, which includes every living thing on this planet, we will do the right thing and show more love and appreciation for Mother Earth our island home, and do all we can to leave a cleaner, healthier place for all who come after us.

On Earth Day 2005, my good friend and colleague, biology teacher Peter McLean wrote, “Although the problems are many, the possible solutions are endless. We simply have to wake up you all; we have to get with it. God has endowed us with great reservoirs of consideration, compassion, and love, and we are asked to be responsible stewards of our natural world. Given what we know, what will you believe? What will you, not the person beside you, what will you contribute? The need is urgent. We’ll be watching and listening for your response.”

16 years later, we are asking the same questions and with more urgency than ever.

The Alarm Clock of Life by Jim Nevin

There has not been a lot good news over the last year. I have some to share...

When the e-mail is sent out on Thursday afternoons for Sunday's service, there is a prayer list at the bottom of the e-mail. If you look towards the bottom of the list, you will see Jim. That is me. To those of you in the prayer group, thank you. Prayers do work. I know because I am the thankful recipient of what prayers can do.

October 14 - I was diagnosed with a symptomatic retinal break in the left eye. I was able to have surgery that afternoon. I was advised that it could take a couple of months to fully recover. Thank you God for the successful surgery...but there was more to come.

December 8 - After a weekend of trying to figure out the curtain that had come to cover half of the same eye, I was in emergency surgery at Beth Israel in Boston. My retina had detached in a different part of the retina. The surgery was successful. I now had to wait a month to see if it was to remain attached. I looked at a gas bubble for the next three weeks to help the retina stay attached.

January 13 (a day I will not forget) - The retina remained attached but a cataract had formed. I knew that the cataract would probably be a result of the surgery. That was the least of my worries. I was now on my way to recovery.

March 2 - Cataract surgery is considered an elective surgery in Massachusetts during this pandemic. Elective surgeries were on hold. The hold was lifted on March 1. The surgery that I had scheduled for February 23 was able to be rescheduled for March 2.

March 4 - I write to you today after my follow up appointment yesterday. Everything "looks" good and I am hopefully on my way over the next couple of months to close to full eyesight again.

So where does the alarm clock of life come in?

Over the past four plus months, I tried to find a way to look at things half full, to somehow keep my faith. I was reminded that I had four of five things I prayed to have. If only I could get the fifth back. I am slowly getting the fifth back.

So, when you hear your alarm clock go off, I ask you to consider the following:

When you hear it, be thankful for being able to hear.
When you hit the snooze bar for the third time, be thankful that you are able to feel.
When you sip the glass of water on your night stand, be thankful that you can taste.
When your dog gives you a good morning lick with her fabulous dog breath, be thankful that you can smell.
When you sit on the end of your bed and look out the window, be thankful that you can see the beautiful day God has waiting for you.

You have SO MUCH to be thankful for, even over the last year...and you are not even out of bed yet...😍

In Christ, Jim Nevin

Closing “A” Circle of Faith in Route to StJB by Rich Cotter

Every journey has its twists and turns, and mine has had plenty, both figuratively and literally. My home, when I came into the world, was in Medford, MA. Dad managed an automotive parts store, Mom was a homemaker, and then there was me, my brother Jim and my sister Bernice, twins who were six years older. Family lore has it that when the hurricane of 1938 came through town tearing shingles off rooves and doors off the porches, I merely slept through the storm—a good start for dealing with turbulence.

I was baptized in Medford by Father Hall who became the Bishop of New Hampshire through the war years. My Mom and Dad met at business school. On the side, Dad and Uncle John had a song and dance team. Now married, my Dad was transferred to a new store in Lebanon, NH, which was just one of our many interesting family journeys. The Lebanon transfer led to my fondest memory, and, recently, an answer to a long held “Why?” Near Christmas that year, Dad, Jim, Sis and I went off to a basketball game, but the car would not start so we walked. Lebanon gets cold in the winter. I do not remember a thing about the game or how I got home, but the next morning, in the stairwell, was a huge decorated Christmas tree, a life-long memory tucked away; I couldn’t have been more than three or four at the time.

Dad's next transfer was to Portsmouth, NH, which really started the ball rolling. Mom must have had it with New England winters, for the next three years my mother and I went to live in St. Pete, FL with my grandparents. We left Portsmouth shortly after Christmas and stayed until spring. Thus, I went to NH school and Florida school. Those three years for me were the best and the worst. I was constantly doing annual catch-up because I was a third grader who still did not know to read. But the flowers, canals, alligators, beaches and open windows of my Florida school rooms were a joy. Back home for another third grade, Ms. Stone, the principal, took me under her wing and taught me how to read and to comprehend what I read. Being a teacher’s pet was a blessing, since I had been put on the “school phobia spectrum” prior to Ms. Stone. Over time, the Lord has provided me with Ms. Stone, spell check, and an English teacher spouse. Looking back, my goal to become a teacher was set by Ms. Stone.

While in Portsmouth, the family joined St. John's Episcopal Church. Jim served at the altar, Dad sang in the choir, Mom was a member of the Altar Guild, and Sis and I sat in the congregation.  That little kid who liked to sing joined the choir as its newest boy soprano and left the choir as a bass when I eventually went off to Teachers College in Keene, NH. 

But what about those Fellowship years at St. John's with Father Dunn? At a Fellowship Conference at Holderness School dealing with “Pressure,” I was elected leader for the Seacoast group that gathered at St. John's. By the end of the conference, I was the champion “pressure resister.” God is good! Plus, I was introduced to the Lakes Region of New Hampshire.

Junior high came and went, and I was determined to get ready for high school football and follow in my “hero” brother’s footsteps as a center. My friend’s Gentlemen Farmer uncle in Union invited us to build some bulk later in the summer haying. It didn't happen, but, I still have the five-tine fork that was bought for the adventure. I started the summer as a camp counselor at a lake in Ossipee. After a week or so we engaged in our first Crew Swim. The bottom came up too fast, and when I came out of the water I had trouble seeing and walking. I made it to the first aid station believing that all I needed was some liniment. Instead, I was put in the camp ambulance and taken to the hospital in Wolfeboro, where I had some follow-the-finger tests and x-rays, etc... Thinking I was all set, the driver and I headed back to camp. Shortly after, a real ambulance arrived, with me strapped down this time, and we headed back to the hospital. This time an order was issued: I was to wait, not leave! The Trinity was looking out for me that day, for, as it happened, the chief surgeon from the New England Medical Center was vacationing in Wolfeboro and was called in. He told me, "Young man you are lucky to be alive. There are serious cracks in your number one and two vertebrae. Unfortunately, we cannot put you in traction. You will need to remain flat on your back. You cannot move! Can you do it? A full-body cast will be coming in a week." Apparently, for once I did what I was told. The memory that stands out is the stink that grew as those seven or eight days progressed. Finally, the cast arrived, and I was locked in from my waist to my ears for six months. Later, I was put in a Thomas Collar for a while longer. What a way for an active high school kid to learn what it is like to be "different."

Turbulence—enough already.  Life changes in spades. What Now? My journey of faith and turbulence to be continued…

New Year by David DeSalvo

As I reflect on the year 2020, it is clear to me that we have come a long way. Most of us have learned to do things we never imagined we would: buy a new iPhone or iPad so that we could learn to navigate Zoom and Facebook, order food, consult with our doctors, send and receive e-cards to and from friends and relatives, bake bread, attend church, record and listen to music, stay connected, endure quiet days at home, appreciate nature, and pray for ourselves and others.

All in all, it was a year of growth that we never expected, but growth that has made us more patient and more understanding of what really matters. God has given us this life to live, and we are called to accept both the joy and the despair, the fears and the inspirations, the darkness and the light.

In a conversation with a priest from England yesterday, the last day of 2020, she mentioned the poet, scholar and theologian Howard Thurman, whom we might remember as one of the pioneers of the 1960’s Civil Rights Movement. Thurman wrote this poem about the ongoing work that began with the birth of a baby in Bethlehem many years ago. I hope it brings a sense of purpose to your life as we take on the work before us in 2021. Happy New Year!

The Work of Christmas
—by Howard Thurman

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,

Being Alone At Christmas by The Rev. Robert Appleyard

Being alone at Christmas … it just doesn’t seem right, does it? Yet, here we are pandemic-isolated, constrained from worshipping together as the parishioners of St. John the Baptist and unable to be with the family members with whom we want, so much, to celebrate.

In a strange way, I have almost always been alone at Christmas. Being the Rector of a parish did not allow me to go and be with members of my family, or my wife’s, to open presents and share a family meal. I usually had as many as three services on Christmas Eve and then at least one more on Christmas Day. Depending on which day of the week Christmas fell, there was not usually even time to travel and be with family in the days following. My side of the family understood (my father was a bishop, my two brothers were parish priests and my sister was on an Episcopal church staff) but it was hard on my wife’s extended family. As for my wife, Debby, and our son, Ben, I might just as well have been away for the days leading up to Christmas Eve because of all the time I took preparing. And by the time I got home after the last service on Christmas Day, I could hardly be counted on to stay awake during the gift-giving excitement or share the delicious meal with toasts to honor the two people at the table whom I loved so dearly. I was often so tired I could barely keep my eyes open.

Now retired, of course, things are different. I don’t have the same obligations which would keep us from going to be with our son and our four grandkids. We could host them here, also, were it not for the Covid crises. However, I have made a Christmas discovery which will change the way I feel about Christmas loneliness from now on. While Debby and I were decorating our Christmas tree the other day, I took some time to notice it—in some ways for the first time. There were the green branches covered with lights and smelling of pine, but it was the decorations I especially noticed. Some, like the lace snowflakes stitched by my grandmother, had hung at Christmas for all of my 73 years. Others were made by our grandchildren just a couple of years ago. There were toy soldiers and santas and Raggedy Ann and Andys, and reindeer and candy canes - some of which were made by my wife for Christmas Fairs in each of our parishes. There were bejeweled ornaments reflecting the lights, needlework Christmas bells and holly, or miniatures of each parish where I was Rector made by parishioners. There were ornaments representing trips which Debby and I had made to England and Savannah and New Orleans and Hawaii. There were ones which made me smile: like the red Webber grill (a tiny version of what I cook on year-round) or the bear with glasses, a clerical collar and a white Christmas stole which looks a bit too much like me. What company I have had over my many Christmases. Why did I think I was ever alone? The ornaments tell the tale, the truth.

There is one more ornament on our tree. It is a hand-painted Christmas Ball. On it are the words “Christmas is a Birthday” which was a theme we used at two of my parishes to remind ourselves and share with others: that Christmas is not about us, or the gifts or the decorations or the busy holiday. Christmas is a Birthday. And on a birthday, you think about the one who is born. This day is for Jesus, the One who is born to us, to be with us, for us. There amongst the other ornaments is the reminder that no matter our circumstances, we won’t be alone.

Active Waiting by Maureen Gillum

As I awoke at 5:30 am this Dec 21st, 2020, I’m struck that this particular season of Advent is an elongated period of active waiting like no other...as we all or most (less 318K Americans lost so far, RIP) continue to endure this previously unfathomable pandemic. I’ve always equated ‘active waiting’ as synonymous with hope or more aptly faith in action.

It is the indispensable nurse/Docs/med staff, grocery clerk, teacher, delivery person & many many others who mask up and show up every day to help and serve others. It is the kids who drop off groceries in their parent’s or elder’s driveways each week with a loving wave.

It is a profound gift of ~dozen dear Hudson pals of all and even no denomination that physically gather in CGS for a prayer vigil the night before a friend’s cancer surgery.

It is a thoughtful neighbor who lives a mile away who just happens to be rolling by with his 2 mph tractor to help clear a driveway end after last week’s 30” snow storm.

It is a loving daughter who chooses to separate from her new fiancée to quarantine and work for weeks in our remote NH home to take care of our rambunctious puppy and help with... everything. It is a caring son living in CA who faithfully calls or FaceTimes daily just to check in.

It is awesome college friends who move out to offer their lovely Wellesley home for me to safely quarantine (squat) to more easily go into Brigham & Women’s hospital in Boston daily. And many family & friends who drop off meals, books, cards or simply call, text or connect for a masked outdoor walk in 12 degrees.

It is a faithful minister of a little white church on the hill that puts out a plea to help with a local family in need just a few days before Christmas — and is met with an overwhelming response of generosity and kindness. And the open StJB parishioners that patiently await their new Parish Hall to serve & celebrate community... hopefully very soon.

It is a wife who anxiously awaits a phone call this morning to go pick up her beloved and courageous husband, after his 2 grueling surgeries to eradicate sarcoma, 2 weeks in the hospital (the last 4 days solo) and after driving into Boston daily the month before for 25 radiation treatments. Though he’s beat up and faces a long recovery, we’re so grateful he’s alive and will be home for this quiet & healing Christmas. Thank YOU & Bless YOU ALL!

While all of us face so many challenges this dark winter — of health, financial and food insecurities, loneliness, anguish of any kind — I remind you that there is also much hope in this season of active waiting. We may celebrate this Christmas virtually alone... so that more of us can gather to celebrate joyously in person next year. Thankfully, more of our blessed front line workers are getting vaccines every day...and miraculously most will have access early to mid next year. In the interim, please remember we are alone...together; stay safe, protect each other and keep faith.

Merry & Blessed Christmas! Happy, healthy & peaceful 2021!

Walking Into The Sky by Joanna Cotter

How did I come to walking into the sky? 

Coming from a family of walkers, I soon joined the others. My Bubchi walked miles one day to visit our first child, Deirdre. My Dad walked and greeted all he met daily with a smile, and my Mom was still walking in her early 70s. Like many children, I walked to and from school, but I could not leave the house until I finished the wholesome breakfast my father prepared. Thus, I still favor hearty breakfasts. I walked to school with Lucy Ellen, my favorite friend. As a teen, my boyfriend Frank walked with me, carrying my books. Away at college, this city girl walked everywhere, braving the cold of Keene, NH as I crossed campus. Then Rich, my boyfriend, suggested I take a break and ride in his car. In that, the floor on the passenger side was not all there, I declined and walked.

A young Mom, living in the country, I walked Deirdre almost daily. She could see and marvel at birds, flowers, and even a nearby cow. A few years later, now in the city, I walked with Stacey in the carriage and Deirdre next to me. One day Deirdre noticed the people across the street and said, "Look Mommy, they look like you." I had recently talked to her about people of color, but I said, "No, I am not black." I have often thought it was not the right answer, for my dear friend Lucy Eiien was black. Soon another baby, our son Richie, was in the carriage, and the girls prattled to their brother about birds, trucks, and anything moving. After we settled in Rye, NH, with the beach nearby, I often walked the three tow-heads to the beach later in the day. How I wished I had an extra hand as I watched the girls playing in the water while I held onto Richie

As the children became more independent, I could walk to the beach alone, and how I relished the feel of the sand under my feet, and the cry of the gulls as I picked up shells, which I still do to this day. I especially enjoyed sitting and looking at the ocean, feeling joy, at one with the earth. These were truly wonderful years, bringing up the family, living in Rye with the beach nearby—a dream come true. The children, now adults, moved on and started their own families. Before long, I was a grandmother, pushing our grandson Christian in the carriage down the road. A few years later, Aidan was the new baby, and Christian rode on the back of the carriage down to the beach and all around as I pointed out marsh grasses, the sea gulls, and the ocean.

So again, how did I come to walking into the sky? 

We now lived on a pristine lake in NH, so different from the ocean with its crashing waves. Yet I felt calm as I stood and looked at the shimmering lake, bounded by purple tinted mountains. Daily I walked up the road, sometimes meditating, sometimes hashing out problems. But I marveled at the trees as I walked with the lake always in view. One day walking back up the hill, I looked ahead and said, I am walking into the sky. Why did I feel this? I still don’t know. But God knows, so I am content.

Surprise by Dave Giunta

God surprises me all the time. Sometimes I understand His message right away and other times they confuse me, but in time I understand.

When I first found St. John the Baptist, God’s message was clear, “This where I want you to be. You belong here.” Ever since that first Sunday, I immersed myself spiritually and physically in this church. Working with Vestry and the Building Committee has taught me a lot about myself and others, both within and outside our Parish.

The work of the Building Committee has been a year-long challenge for all of us. Delayed starts and difficulty in getting materials caused much frustration. Knowing we were losing our storage space because of the sale of the Rectory, Vestry approved the purchase of a storage shed. Dave Tyler took on the task of sizing and ordering the new shed. The scheduled date of delivery was the last week of September. The new owners kindly said we could keep our things in what was now their shed until ours came. However, unbeknownst to us at the time, there was an issue. 

We would learn later, because of Covid, the construction and subsequent delivery of our new shed would be delayed for two months. Alice Ann, the new owner of the Rectory, was very kind and understanding even though she needed the space. Anyone who has met her and her family know they are very special people. I honestly believe, as she does, that God had a lot to do with her finding and buying the house. 

After contacting the shed company and getting a new delivery date, the shed again didn't arrive as promised. When called, the builder promised we would receive it in early November. Again, it did not arrive. Both Dave Tyler and I called the builders to get some clarification and a commitment. When I called, I was transferred to the head of the transportation company which now had our shed in its possession. I’m not sure how Dave T’s call went, but mine was contentious. I was very agitated and let them know. I’m sure there was some cussing going on, at least on my part. The person I spoke with, Bob I believe, promised the shed would arrive on the Monday before Thanksgiving. I waited at the church most of that day. No shed. They called late in the day and said they were delayed a day and it would be delivered in the morning of the next day. Again, I went to the church and waited most of the day. Finally, around 3 pm, two men showed up with the shed.

Once there,  it took well over an hour to get the shed positioned properly. The placement was managed by one man. The other person, the supervisor, spoke with me most of the time. He was very interested in the church, our customs and beliefs, and how I ended up at St. John’s. We also spoke of his faith journey. It turns out he was Bob, the person I had spoken to on the phone. I was more than a bit embarrassed.

Once the helper was finished, Bob called him over. He asked if I would pray with them. His helper took off his hat and Bob began to lead us in prayer. He first thanked the Lord for our fellowship. He asked for blessings for our building project and the new shed. He ended the prayer by asking for God’s healing hands to be on a critically ill friend.

So, there we were, three strangers sharing God's love, peace and blessings in the parking lot of a construction site. 

I will never forget that special moment.

Taking My Faith for Granted by Ann Prunier

I was brought up in the Catholic religion. I was the middle of seven children. I went through twelve years of Catholic School. I received the Sacraments and honored the Holy Days of Obligation. I fell in love and married a man who was Catholic. We had three sons, who we brought up Catholic. We went through Baptism, Confession, Holy Communion and Confirmation—times three.

I know all the prayers. I sang in the choir. I taught Sunday School. I knew all the rules. But I never really thought about my faith. I guess I took my faith for granted. That is, until I really needed it. You see one of my sons, at 15, got involved with drugs. I found out that I really needed, not so much my Catholic religion, but my faith.

It was only that faith that got me through three years of hell. My son became suicidal. He hit rock bottom and agreed to go to rehab. I did the research and got him into a fabulous place called “Summit Achievement” in Maine, where he remained for three months. My son went on to four years of college and is now an outstanding citizen with boys of his own.

I will never again take my faith for granted, for I have known the incredible power of prayer. Amen.