December 12, 2025

Mission and outreach are always fraught endeavors. While they are hopefully rooted in altruism and good intentions, the history of the Church’s mission endeavors is a checkered one. Perhaps the most significant danger lies in avoiding any personal contact or relationships with those to whom one ministers. Ministry, after all, is really a two-way street. As we minister to others, we must be prepared to be ministered to by them.

But decades of well-intentioned youth mission trips and parish service projects have disturbed healthy balances in mission. Privileged youth from wealthy suburbs spend one week in a third world country and mistakenly think they have changed the world, while at the same time neglecting the real poverty in their own neighborhoods back home. This does not, of course, deny real good that is done by going to other countries. But it takes a lot of work to maintain a healthy perspective in such efforts. In many cases, the privileged who undertake ministry are taking the initiative, maybe without even asking what is needed of those to whom they minister. Spiritual pride runs rampant unless the more privileged do their own prayerful work in discerning how they are also poor.

Thanks to our growing and strengthening Social Concerns Committee at Good Shepherd, we are expanding our own parish’s efforts in outreach. Our first major initiative was the Rosemont Community Retreat House, and there are still many ways in which this ministry needs to be stabilized and set up for sustainable ministry. Many possibilities for outreach through the retreat house remain unexplored, which can add to our existing partnership with Hosts for Hospitals. Our Social Concerns Committee has also been quietly providing assistance for immigrants and refugees, collecting items for the Ardmore Food Pantry, and considering ways in which we can partner with Family Promise of the Main Line. Speaking of the Ardmore Food Pantry, please note the envelopes at the back of the church. In each envelope, you may 1) place a previously-purchased $25 gift card to Acme, Trader Joe’s, or Giant; 2) $25 in cash towards the purchase of gift card(s) to any of those stores; 3) cash towards purchase of gift card(s); and 4) a check made payable to Good Shepherd (memo line: Ardmore Food Pantry) for the purchase of gift card(s). All donations must be received by this Sunday, December 14.

And as we enter the bitterly cold winter months, two of our youth, who were recently confirmed, are leading an effort (in partnership with the Social Concerns Committee) to collect items for the Clare Project, a ministry to those living on the streets of Kensington in Philadelphia who are suffering from the opioid epidemic. Through January 6, we are collecting the following items:

white tube socks;
beef jerky (Slim Jims); and
hot hands (chemical warmers, two each).

You can either bring any of these items to church and place them in the baskets in the Tower entrance and retreat house, or you can purchase them online through our Amazon wishlist, and they will be shipped directly to the church. Items will be blessed at Sung Mass on the Feast of the Epiphany, assembled, and then given to the Clare Project for distribution to those living on the streets of Kensington.

In this time of the year, as our 2026 pledge campaign continues, we must remember that when we give money to the parish, we are giving not only to support the parish’s operations but also to enable the parish’s ministries. While your generous gifts do ensure that we can heat the church, keep the lights on, and pay our staff, by doing all those things, we are able to move outwards from the walls of the church to bless our neighbors in the name of Christ and, maybe most importantly, to receive their blessing on us. Our several ongoing outreach ministries are visible reminders that giving to the Church and giving to outreach are not competing endeavors; they work together! It’s both/and, just as we are called to give generously of our time and our money to support the ministry that God has called us to do.

During this time, while we continue to receive pledges to support ministry in 2026 and while we work to collect donations to minister to the poor and needy among us, we are reminded of the balance required of us in the Christian life. We gather to worship our Lord, and then we are sent from that worship, energized to greet those whom we meet in the name of Christ and ready to be touched by their lives. Thank you for your generosity during this time of year! This Sunday, please plan to attend another Parish Conversation immediately after Sung Mass. A robust coffee hour should help placate your hungry stomachs so that you can stay on to attend Advent Lessons and Carols at 3 p.m. While you are in the church and retreat house this Sunday, please offer your own tangible support of the Ardmore Food Pantry and Clare Project. I will look forward to celebrating Gaudete Sunday with you, as we rejoice in God’s many blessings.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

December 5, 2025

When Bishop Gutiérrez met with our vestry on November 23, during his visitation to the parish, he told the vestry that God has already chosen Good Shepherd’s next rector. He was fielding questions about the upcoming transition process after my departure (as of yet, still undetermined), and his point was that God is already ahead of us, so to speak. God is, of course, beyond time, so I interpret our bishop’s helpful comment to mean that the parish’s task is to catch up to where God is. Or put another way: we are intended to discern God’s call to us.

During our Parish Visioning Conversation last February, one of our parishioners said something that has been frequently quoted in recent months. With regard to living into our future vision as a parish, he said that we shouldn’t “mess it up.” (I am paraphrasing his words.) I have recently been thinking about how we can turn this around in a proactive spirit. As we move into ministry in 2026 as priest and parish working together, how do we “get it right”?

Getting it right means being proactive. It does not mean telling God what we want to do or thinking that we can realize a vision on our own. I see “getting it right” as doing our part to respond to God’s call. This requires prayerful listening to God, followed by active response. Remember how busy Jesus was in his own ministry and how he retired frequently and regularly to be alone in prayer. Although Advent is a season of intentional waiting, the persistent Gospel messages at Mass are about waiting with expectant urgency. We must be prepared for our Lord when he comes. Our proactivity will enable us to “get it right,” so that we catch up to what God is already doing among us. God acts first in the sense that God enables us to do what we are asked to do, but we must do something! Advent (and indeed the Christian life) is all about balancing waiting and listening with a sense of urgency towards action.

At last Sunday’s parish conversation, another parishioner made a helpful point, and it is a point that I think we all need to hear and take seriously. As we prepare for transitions and new leadership, the months ahead are the golden moment to “get it right.” And getting it right means that every single person in the parish is being called to serve in some capacity. Living more fully and deeply into God’s vision for us cannot be done by the priest or staff or a handful of leaders alone. We all must share that joyful burden. If you are not participating in some ministry, please know that God has given you gifts that Good Shepherd needs. If you are already doing something and have room to spare more time, I invite you to consider that prayerfully. Meanwhile, I am working with the vestry to build towards more sustainable, shared ministry.

Getting it right has two parts in the coming year. The first is financial. As was announced at last Sunday’s parish conversation, the decision has been made to lower our pledge goal to $265,000, which is still $30,000 away from where we currently are. I believe this goal is achievable. Stay tuned for more information on the extension of our pledge campaign, culminating in the presentation of a 2026 budget at the January 18th annual meeting, with the vestry officially approving it on January 22. Reaching this $265,000 goal is essential to supporting staffing and ministry needs that will enable us to “get it right” so that ministry continues to flourish at Good Shepherd. So, thinking proactively, if you have not yet made a pledge towards ministry in 2026, please consider doing so as soon as possible so that our vestry and finance committee can plan well for 2026 budgeting. You can pledge right now online. Thank you, in advance for your generosity, and thank you to all who have given generously so far!

The second part of getting it right involves sharing our gifts in ministry. If you are unclear about what ministries exist at Good Shepherd, I direct your attention to this document. I can also highlight certain ministries in which we have an acute need at the present moment:

• laundering altar linens—This may be done at home and is perfect for someone who lives a distance from the church! This can also be done at your convenience, too.

• assisting with Mass and service livestreams—In 2026, we will be relying solely on volunteer efforts for this ministry. And we need more helping hands!

• sacristans guild—Members set up vessels and vestments and prepare the church for Sunday Masses. Training is provided, and members serve in teams.

• pastoral care and hospitality—It would be helpful to have a committed group of parishioners to organize and provide meals (and rides) for parishioners who are recovering from surgery or illness.

As we approach 2026, you will be hearing more about other ways to serve. While Good Shepherd is growing, our rich liturgical life and numerous ministries require more help than might be imagined. Would you join me in praying during this intentional season as we seek to catch up to what God is already doing among us? How will you give of your money and time so that, in response to God’s call, we at Good Shepherd can “get it right”?

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

November 28, 2025

I have never liked waiting, especially when it involves waiting for certain knowledge about the future. Presently, I am doing a lot of waiting. I am waiting on clarity about where God is calling me to serve after I leave Good Shepherd. With the announcement last month about Robert McCormick’s late January departure from Good Shepherd, and my ensuing departure, the parish has entered a time of waiting. We are waiting through the discernment towards a new Organist and Director of Music. You are patiently waiting with me as we determine the timeframe for my departure. I am grateful for your patience. Waiting is never easy.

But I have been pressing myself to settle more into this period of waiting. There is a real gift in waiting, for it requires that we relinquish control and listen for God’s will to be done, not ours. Waiting is a gift to live in the present moment, a supremely difficult task for our impetuous culture. So much information is at our fingertips, but our future always remains elusive and beyond our control.

Advent, of course, is a season for waiting. Though we are waiting for Christmas, we do know exactly when it will arrive. But we are also waiting for our Lord to come again in power and great glory and to establish God’s kingdom for all time. We are waiting for the final consummation of all things, where Christ will be all in all. And as Sunday’s Gospel reading will tell us, we do not know when this will be. We are not meant to know, which seems to be the point. But we know that it will happen, and it will be glorious.

The Christian journey is always about waiting. We never fully arrive where we hope to be in this life, and so we must be patient with our daily struggles. We take two steps forward and then one step back. Nothing is a straight line. There are no easy answers. Following Christ is murky, messy, and circuitous. But the fullness of life that he offers us is abundantly clear. Being open enough to receive that life is another matter.

I suspect that this Advent at Good Shepherd will have a particularly acute meaning for us. As we wait for our Lord to come at Christmas, into our daily lives, and at the completion of all things, we wait on God to show us where to go next. We wait on God to send this parish new leaders, new challenges, new opportunities, and new faithful people who will be a part of the vision God has in store for this parish. We don’t know what the end will look like, but we do know that, because God is good and gracious, it will be wonderful.

On Sunday, November, 30, the First Sunday of Advent, I encourage you to attend our next Parish Conversation, which will have everything to do with waiting. How can we be faithful, patient, and open to the Holy Spirit’s murmuring voice in this season of waiting? If you are traveling for Thanksgiving, I invite you to consider coming back to town a bit early to be present for Sunday’s Parish Conversation. Your presence and your voice matter as we wait on God to give us direction and clarity. May this season of Advent be a holy time of expectation and hope. What we know is that God is faithful to us, and God is good. What we are waiting for is how we will be called to respond to God’s generosity and love.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

November 21, 2025

The mission of the Church, according to our prayer book catechism, is “to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ” (p. 855). Technically speaking, the Church herself does not really have a mission. Mission is always God’s mission, in which the Church is invited to participate. Our particular calling as the body of Christ, “to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ,” is a lofty one.

We might get hung up on “all people” and “unity.” Our calling is universal: the Gospel must reach to the ends of the earth. And we are surely all too aware of the lack of unity in our own society, where divisions and rancor are rampant, and this disunity pervades even the Church. In short, the Church’s calling is not only lofty, it is deeply challenging.

Of course, we need the grace of God to accomplish what we are being called to do. But perhaps it also helps to look for visible signs. We seek out and treasure those signs of our partially realized or aspirational unity. And one such sign for the Church is the episcopacy. As the name suggests, the Episcopal Church is a church “of the bishops.” Episcopal comes from the Greek word episkopos, meaning overseer. From the earliest days of the Church’s existence, there were apostles, “walking sacraments” (to use the image given by the late Anglican theologian Austin Farrer) who journeyed to the ends of the earth to spread the Gospel and witnessed to the sacrificial calling of that same Gospel. The word “martyr” comes from the Greek word for "witness.”

St. Ignatius of Antioch said this: “Wherever the bishop shall appear, there let the multitude [of the people] also be; even as, wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church” (https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0109.htm). Around the bishop, the Church gathers, as a visible sign of the Church’s call to perfect unity. Bishops are guardians of the faith, loving stewards of the mysteries of God and of holy doctrine, ensuring that this treasure of the Church is handed down from age to age. Bishops are pastors, hence the bishop’s staff or crozier, which is shaped like a shepherd’s crook. The bishop is him or herself a shepherd.

In the earliest days of the Church, there were simply bishops and deacons. Only the bishop celebrated the Eucharist, and deacons served. But as the Church expanded, bishops could no longer be the sole celebrants of the Eucharist, and so presbyters or priests were ordained to celebrate the Eucharist on behalf of the bishop. Accordingly, the exercise of my own priestly vocation is always done with the permission of the bishop. I am not a free agent. In order for the Episcopal Church to be truly episcopal, parishes must not be congregational, worlds to themselves. This is why our canon law points everything back to the episcopacy. The episcopacy is not so much an office of power as it is a visible, sacramental sign of the unity to which God calls us.

According to canon law, the bishop of a diocese must visit every parish in his or her diocese at least once every three years. This Sunday, our own bishop, the Rt. Rev. Daniel Gutiérrez, will visit Good Shepherd. This visitation is a reminder that every Mass celebrated at Good Shepherd is an extension of the bishop’s own ministry. A strong and healthy relationship with our bishop is essential, for it is a part of the vocation of the Church to gather around bishops as a sign of our unity. This is a particularly important witness in our own divided age and in a time when, especially within Anglicanism, splinter groups and alternative episcopal oversights are established that weaken the visible unity of the Church gathered around bishops, the successors to the apostles.

In addition to celebrating our call to unity as a Church, I hope that Sunday’s Mass will be an occasion of thanksgiving for how far Good Shepherd has come as a parish. We are growing in faith, hope, and love, and one visible sign of this will be the large number of parishioners coming forward to receive the laying on of hands by the bishop for Confirmation and Reception into the Episcopal Church. Ten people will be confirmed and four received, and two other persons will be joining us from other parishes in the diocese for Confirmation and Reception.

Through Good Shepherd’s difficult times, our bishop has lovingly journeyed with this parish, calling it back into unity with the larger Church. And still, through his gracious support, we receive some modest funding towards my own salary to support outreach through campus ministry. We have much to be grateful for in the support of our bishop and offices of the diocese. This Sunday, I hope you will take a moment to personally offer this thanks to Bishop Gutiérrez. I am personally thankful for his constant support in my time as a priest in this diocese.

I hope you will plan to be present this Sunday as our parish celebrates its visible ties to the wider Church catholic. Come to pray for and support our fellow members of the body of Christ as they are confirmed and received into this communion of the one holy catholic and apostolic Church. Come and celebrate God’s gracious blessings upon this parish as we move forward as a hopeful, visible sign of the power of the Gospel in our own day.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

November 14, 2025

The stock definition of a sacrament, offered by our prayer book, is “an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.” God’s grace is, of course, not limited to the sacraments, but in the sacraments we receive assurance of God’s grace in a particular way. The sacraments are God’s gifts to us, tangible reminders of his unending love for us and gracious provision in our lives. In any good relationship, such gestures of comfort and assurance are important. It should not be surprising, then, that God has chosen to give us hope in the visible, material world through the Church’s sacramental life.

This Sunday is Commitment Sunday. Accordingly, in today’s message, I want to focus on the meaning of commitment, for I believe that Commitment Sunday is about far more than our financial commitment. Commitment Sunday is about the commitment of our entire selves to God and his Church, and particularly, to the Church of the Good Shepherd. In one of our Eucharistic prayers, we come to God’s altar, offering “our selves, our souls and bodies.” In other words, we offer all of us—not a part, but the whole. The offering of our money and time to the Church is a visible expression of this all-encompassing commitment to God. Just as God shows us sure and certain signs of his grace in the sacraments, in the faithful living of our lives, we demonstrate our own commitment to God. We show that we are “all in.”

Of course, God does not need or require our commitment, but the showing forth in our lives of our devotion to God—of our love for God—is a visible sign of the depth of our relationship with God. In a very real way, money is a true test of this devotion in the willingness of each of us to give abundantly from whatever resources we have. The meaning of the Scriptural story of the widow’s mite is not that she gave a ton of money but that in giving a small amount, she, as a poor woman, gave essentially all that she had. Surely, this was the ultimate demonstration of her devotion to God, a devotion that probably seems both nonsensical and frightening to us.

Commitment Sunday is a spiritual practice, because in our willingness to part with something that is integral to our lives (money), we testify in action that we are willing to relinquish something material as a tangible sign that our primary loyalty is to God. The security of God’s provision is greater than our anxiety about not having enough in this earthly life.

As we approach Commitment Sunday, I invite you to consider in prayer the ways in which God has laid a claim on your heart, specifically in parish life at Good Shepherd. It is natural that we should find a specific community in which to live out our relationship with God. Over the course of our pledge campaign, thanks to the efforts of parishioner Allen Crockett, we have had the opportunity to hear voices from Good Shepherd in a series of short videos. Several parishioners have spoken eloquently about how God has touched their own lives through ministry at Good Shepherd.

Peter Riley spoke about how he was first drawn into deeper relationship with God through the beauty of worship at Good Shepherd. And then as he spent more time at Good Shepherd, he found a place of real belonging. This is a central part of Good Shepherd’s mission, as we honor our namesake. We are a place of welcome and belonging for all who are seeking relationship. We are all lost sheep who are found by God, and as such, we are constantly seeking out other lost sheep and welcoming them into God’s loving sheepfold.

Will Hillegeist explained how his gifts of money and time are ways in which he visibly expresses the gladness of being a part of the worshipful community at Good Shepherd. Gladness about God’s generosity to us and gratitude for God’s unending love is something that prompts us to return to God what God has given to us.

Emma Simpson told us that in her search for a place to deepen her relationship with God, she was captivated by this beautiful community, its gorgeous worship and music, the formation she experienced while participating in Pilgrims in Christ, and the warmth of the community. Indeed, in our lives in Christ, we are often drawn by a “hook” into a particular community. Once we find such a community, it is usually something else that compels us to stay as we continue to grow in relationship with God in Christ.

Jack Burnam described his financial contribution to Good Shepherd as an important part of his belonging to Christ’s body, the Church. His pledge is one of the ways in which he lives out his commitment to the local expression of Christ’s presence in the world, as it is concretized in the Church of the Good Shepherd.

Jeannette Burnam talked about returning to God what God has already graciously given to her in the form of a financial contribution and time to the parish, which is a “vehicle” through which God works.

And Melinda Burrows noted her excitement about being part of a parish that puts worship and prayer at its center. This faithful rhythm of prayer is what sustains our common life. It is the impetus for all we do in Christ.

Our commitment to the Church of the Good Shepherd is one way of signaling our loyalty to almighty God, of saying in deed (not just in word!) that God is at the center of our lives. A wise priest once told me that the more our relationship with Christ deepens, the more our clutch on our purse strings loosens. I love this image, for Scripture tells us that love drowns out fear. The more we can let go of fear (for example, of not having enough), the more we can settle into love. Love, as exemplified on the cross, is principally about letting go of all our claims for control. On the cross, love itself is shown in Jesus’s offering of his life, even for those who hated him.

Your commitment to the Church of the Good Shepherd is not just a commitment to a local parish. It is a commitment to God’s work in the world. First and foremost, your contributions of time and money allow us to put worship and prayer at the heart of our existence. Only by doing so can we properly discern what God is calling us to do in ministry. Your commitments of time and labor ensure that we maintain a beauty of worship that is a “hook” for many people, drawing them into the Church’s life—perhaps to their surprise—so that they can be formed and then sent out into a hurting world with the Gospel’s healing power. Your contributions of money and time ensure that our 15,000 square feet of property are utilized as fully as possible for Gospel ministry, which includes the healing work of our retreat house, social outreach to the hungry through our gifts to the Ardmore Food Pantry, and ongoing work for the support of immigrants and refugees. In a moment when relief efforts for the vulnerable are being drastically cut, your support helps us live into our Christian commitment (the promises we made in Baptism) to “seek and serve Christ in all persons” and to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.” Your financial contributions enable our campus ministry to go into the mission field bearing the Gospel, especially to communities of young people who may wonder if the Church is a safe place for them. Your commitments to Good Shepherd are supporting a chorister program for young children, giving them the gift of music in a demystified age and also exposing them to Christ’s good news. Your pledges are keeping the doors of our church open seven days a week, providing a holy space in which our neighbors can come to pray, a visible witness to the infinite inclusivity of the Gospel message. In short, your commitments of money and time are ensuring that ministry at Good Shepherd is changing lives.

Ostensibly, Commitment Sunday is the day on which we are invited to offer a financial commitment (pledge) to ministry at Good Shepherd in 2026. There is certainly a practical dimension to this: a primary means of supporting ministry in this parish is through financial contributions. If you are new to the Episcopal tradition, you may wish to know that we are essentially a financially self-sustaining parish, with a modest amount of monetary support from the diocese, which we are weaning ourselves off of in the near future. Whatever we do not receive in pledged income must come from rental income (which is limited and fixed) and from our endowment (around $460,000, small by the standards of many churches). Obviously, it is not financially sustainable to continue to draw heavily from our endowment, which could be needed in the future for capital projects and other major needs. The endowment principal can also fluctuate dramatically depending on the market. But on a spiritual level, relying so much on an endowment does not encourage us to strengthen our own commitment to the life of the parish.

In the next two days, I invite you to spend some time in prayer, considering the ways in which God has laid a claim on your heart through this parish church. Give thanks for God’s generosity towards you. And prayerfully ask God to challenge you (as two of our parishioners said they did a few weeks ago) as you consider what God is asking you to contribute of your financial resources and time to ensure that the Gospel message remains alive in a fearful, skeptical age.

This year’s Commitment Sunday is perhaps even more notable than those in years past, for we are on the verge of major leadership transitions. Your tangible demonstrations of commitment to this parish are a vital part of how ministry will be sustained as the parish transitions to new leadership. Your commitments in action to ministry here are utterly essential in supporting the new creation that God continues to build (through our efforts) from the challenges of decades past.

If you will be out of town this weekend, please make your pledge commitment online before Sunday, as this will help with our planning. If you are in town, please come to Mass and bring your completed pledge card and place it in the offering plate as a celebration of what God has done for you. Commitment Sunday is a day of celebration! Extra cards will be available at the Tower doors when you arrive. Thank you in advance for your support of this parish. Above all, let us thank almighty God for what he has done for us in recent years. And remember, when we give to God first, remarkable things happen!

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

November 7, 2025

As I have continued to ponder our shared parish life in light of upcoming leadership transitions, as well as in light of our ongoing pledge campaign, I keep returning to the story of the Israelites and God’s provision of manna in their wilderness wanderings. If you recall, these wanderings occur just on the other side of the Red Sea. The Israelites are newly freed and are at risk of taking this freedom for granted. And so, God provides manna for his grumbling children both as a way to satisfy their hunger but also as a way to teach them to rely on God alone.

If you have a moment, take out a Bible and read Exodus 16. (It is a short chapter!) Notice that, first and foremost, the manna is God’s gift, and as such, it cannot be controlled by the Israelites. Notice, too, that the manna appears in quantities and at times that are on God’s terms, not on human terms. Also, the manna appears in quantities that are just enough for those gathering it, for “those who gathered much had nothing over, and those who gathered little had no shortage; they gathered as much as each of them needed” (v. 18). None of it is to be wasted. It cannot be hoarded either. The Israelites must gather and eat it on God’s terms, not on their own. And in the midst of gathering manna, the Israelites are still required to rest on the Sabbath day.

Old Testament scholar and Anglican priest R.W.L. Moberly says that the manna “can be seen to function as a symbolic concretization of divine grace. It testingly challenges Israel to learn to live from an unfamiliar resource; it nourishes the Israelites irrespective of their varying abilities; it resists being accommodated to conventional human desires; it is designed to enable Israel to develop a particular rhythm of life, encompassing both the working week and rest on the Sabbath. In all these ways the manna inducts Israel into the divine pattern for life” (Old Testament Theology: Reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture, Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2013, 84).

We are no longer taught by God with literal manna, but each week in the Mass we are fed with bread from heaven. And the Church has given us spiritual practices that help to “induct us into the divine pattern for life,” to borrow Moberly’s insightful words. The story of the Israelites and the manna should have great resonance in our own day because, if we are honest, we will see that we can be like God’s people of old, grumbling in ingratitude, trying to do things our way, failing to trust that God will provide, and seeking to control the gifts that God freely bestows upon us. For this very reason, we, too, like our ancestors of ancient days, need spiritual practices to invite us into “the divine pattern for life.”

Such practices guard us against what a parishioner recently called “magical thinking.” Magical thinking discourages healthy parish ministry. An example of magical thinking is noticing problems and saying something about them rather than proactively attempting to rectify them. The more positive version of this is articulating an idea or vision for something without being an active part of its realization. Magical thinking assumes that others will take care of ministry needs that need to be done. “Someone else will do it” is the unstated assumption of magical thinking. Some unidentified group of persons will cover the rest of the shortfall needed to meet the pledge goal. I’m sure that we’re all familiar with the temptation towards magical thinking.

But the problem with magical thinking is that it avoids the particulars of real life in Christ. Remember that R.W.L. Moberly described the manna as the “concretization of divine grace.” God does not just talk about doing things; God does them. And when Jesus talks about the rigors of following him, he asks us to do the same. “You give them something to eat,” he told the disciples who were anxious about feeding 5,000 people and who assumed that Jesus would magically take care of it for them. Of course, Jesus does feed them through a miracle, but he also draws in his disciples to take some responsibility, too. We are an incarnational people, which means that for the Gospel to be proclaimed and for ministry to happen, we can’t live only in our heads. We must embody our ideas in reality. When we have a vision for something in the parish or see a need that must be met, perhaps it’s God’s invitation to you and me to do something about it.

In relying on God’s manna, the Israelites are forced to rely on God alone and also rely on one another. The entire group of people in the wilderness must learn to live in intentional community so that all may be shaped by “the divine pattern for life.” And so it is with us in parish life. When we refrain from using our own God-given gifts for Gospel work, then we burden others with too much responsibility. Our life in Christ is a shared endeavor. We must all learn to assume our piece of the burden so that ministry can flourish and thrive.

The spiritual practice of sacrificial giving is another way of being shaped into “the divine pattern for life.” It is also a tactile way of sharing the very specific financial cost of sustaining ministry at Good Shepherd. It is a gift that invites us into a stronger sense of community and our need to support one another. Just as the Israelites had to reckon with manna as a gift that they could not control, so we must reckon with “our” money as something that we should not control but, instead, treat as a gift from God. Maybe we question the value in talking about a tithe on net income as a spiritual practice. It is true that we could over-literalize 10% of one’s net income as the only way to give sacrificially. On the other hand, a tithe is simply what it is: a Biblical injunction to give back to God what God has already given to us and what is ultimately not ours. Tithing assumes that all members of a spiritual community are doing their part of the large task of enabling Gospel work to happen. If everyone is tithing, everyone is sharing in the work of the community. I have no doubt that the appearance of the manna at specific times and the detailed instructions on when to gather it seemed arbitrary to the Israelites. Perhaps a tithe seems so to us. But the point is to live by God’s expectations, not by our own desires. God’s ways will always seem arbitrary if we live only according to our own will. Money holds great power for us for two principal reasons. The world tells us that there isn’t enough, and so we are scared of not having enough money. And second, it is one of the few things that we think we can control in our lives.

But if we live towards “the divine pattern for life,” we will live towards a trust in God’s gracious provision. We must assume, in this divine pattern, that God has given us just what we need and that maybe if we do tithe or work towards a tithe on net income, the walls of our reality might not necessarily crumble. I am not naive as to the great demands that sacrificial giving will make on our lives. I am also deeply aware of the fragility of the current economy and the fact that bills must be paid and mouths fed. But just because sacrificial giving to the Church seem onerous does not mean that it is not an important part of living into a “divine pattern.” It is likely that the call to tithe seems too weighty simply because our culture, even within the Church, has largely forgotten the rigor of living within the “divine pattern for life.”

My invitation is for all of us to do our part in learning to accept a move towards tithing on net income as part of a “divine pattern.” This may not be the year that you can reach a full tithe. Maybe it will take a few years, but now is a great time to start. (As you prayerfully consider what God is calling you to pledge towards ministry in 2026, I encourage you to consult this tithing spreadsheet, put together by our Advancement Committee. It can help you in moving towards a tithe on net income.) As this parish enters a period of transition, my other invitation is for us to refrain from magical thinking. The task of living into a “divine pattern” is the task of each of us. And the task of supporting the ministry to which God has called us, both financially and through our labor, is the task of each of us. Avoiding magical thinking is one way to ensure that we “don’t mess it up,” to paraphrase the words of one parishioner that emerged from our Visioning Conversation last February. In the body of Christ, there are no “other people” who will carry the weight of making things happen. That is magical thinking! The weight of proclaiming a Gospel to a hurting world is the responsibility and duty of every Christian. I invite you to an all-ages formation session this Sunday from 9:30 to 10:15 a.m. in the Parish House formation room. We will be discussing a rule of life. A rule of life is one way in which we can prayerfully cultivate habits and disciplines that shape us into “the divine pattern for life.” As we enter a period of transition in this parish, it can be a helpful exercise for all of us to develop our own rule of life, which will ensure that we are sharing the labor of ministry and sacrificial giving to which we are called.

For our ancestors in the faith, the story of the wilderness wandering and God’s gracious provision and teaching of his people would sustain them through great challenges in the future, including an exile in Babylon. It will be so with us as we face uncertainties and troubles in the rest of our lives. Now is the time to learn to live into the “divine pattern for life,” which will give us strength and courage to live hopefully and abundantly in a world that is fearful and anxious. To begin to live into this new, hopeful life in Christ, we must start with spiritual practices. It requires a radical prioritization of our lives so that we live not by bread but by God alone. And this means nothing less than putting God at the very center of all that we do. And that is no magical thinking.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

October 31, 2025

Over the past few weeks, as I have walked my dog, Beau, throughout the neighborhood, I have been fascinated with the prevalence of Halloween decorations on houses. Many of these decorations are extensive—not just a pumpkin or two, but life-sized ghouls flapping in the wind and fake displays of gravestones with skeletons emerging from the ground. I have not only found some of these displays to be curious; some are downright humorous. While there is a Christian precedent for mocking death (one can see glimpses in the Día de los Muertos tradition in Mexico), I do wonder how many of my Rosemont neighbors even know what Halloween is.

It is, of course, the Eve of All Saints’ Day (All Hallows’ Eve, hence “Hallowe’en”). Amid all the fascination with dressing up in costumes and displaying graveyards in front yards, we live in a death denying culture. Death long ago moved out of the home. People don’t die at home as much as in the past. Funerals are outsourced to the funeral home industry. Bodies are less frequently present for funerals in churches. We are, quite simply, scared of death. If the great secular feast of Halloween were a religious mocking of death, a sound theological statement might be made. But I fear that Halloween is just another occasion with religious origins that has been co-opted by a death denying society.

But of course, within the Church, we are meant to talk about death. Every day of our lives is one day closer to our deaths. We don’t need to meditate on that morbidly but, instead, with honesty and hope in life that perdures beyond death. And talking about death is all the more important in a culture that doesn’t know how to talk maturely and wholesomely about bodies. We either idolize a particular version of bodies and then scorn those that don’t fit the coveted mold, or we are ashamed of our bodies. We treat other people’s bodies with disrespect, and we fail to honor the dignity of other human beings. And this means that we don’t know what to do with dead bodies, because we imagine an immortal soul continuing to live while the body just hangs around like an empty shell. We forget, too easily, that one day, God will raise body and soul together. If the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, then our bodies, surely, are deeply important.

It’s a bold statement we make this time of year when we celebrate first All Saints’ Day and then All Souls’ Day. Low Mass will be celebrated at Good Shepherd on Saturday, November 1, at 9:30 a.m. for All Saints’ Day, but we will keep the feast within its octave (as the prayer book allows) on Sunday, when, appropriately, Sloane Mills will be welcomed into the Body of Christ through the Sacrament of Baptism. On All Saints’ Day, we remember the communion of saints, all those, living and dead, who are bound together as part of the Church. We especially give thanks for those saints whose lives bore vivid witness to a love for Jesus Christ, who testified to the Gospel in their lives, some of whom are known by name and appear on our Church’s liturgical calendar, others of whom we will never know by name. Tradition has spoken of the Church Triumphant (those who have made it into the nearer presence of God), the Church Expectant (those who are still in their pilgrimage towards that nearer presence after death), and the Church Militant (those of us still on our earthly pilgrimage). The communion of saints witnesses to the inability of death to fracture the Church. In each Mass and in our regular prayers, we are “knit together. . . in one communion and fellowship,” as the collect for All Saints’ Day tells us. Death has lost its sting.

And then on All Souls’ Day, we pray for those who have died and are beloved of us, and we ask for God’s mercy as they continue to grow more into the likeness of God in their continuing pilgrimage in Christ, even though we can’t see them any longer. the living and the dead. For me, the All Souls’ Day Requiem Mass is one of the most moving liturgies of the year. As I read the parochial necrology, I read the names of people I have never met, former rectors of this parish, your own loved ones, and the names of my own family members. In its old-fashioned form, the Requiem Mass focuses primarily on the souls of the departed and on the hope, in Christ, that their bodies will one day be raised in glory, too. We believe that those loved ones can and do pray for us as well in our earthly pilgrimage.

In a time when even our liturgies can tend towards self-obsession, the All Souls’ Day Requiem moves us away from ourselves and towards those we love but see no longer and, ultimately, towards the unending mercy of God. We hear a glorious setting of the Requiem Mass not as a concert but within the liturgical context for which it was originally written. For the congregation, the Requiem Mass may seem like a more passive affair than usual, but this is so only if we literalize a need to vocalize words. The Requiem Mass actually allows space for us to offer actively the deepest prayers and gestures from within our hearts, as we mourn the loss of our loved ones and hand them completely over to the care of almighty God.

I’m touched, when reading the necrology each year, that on paper and in our prayers, lay people, priests, and bishops all exist on one plane in Christ. Death is the great humbling experience of life, when the mighty are brought low and the lowly lifted high. In death, “there is no longer Jew or Greek; there is no longer slave or free; there is no longer male and female, for all . . . are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). In the All Souls’ Day Requiem, both the living and dead are united intimately in the Eucharistic feast. At this time of year, as we approach All Saints’ and All Souls’ Days, the veil between this world and the next seems more porous, thinner than usual. And in a world terrified of death, this is a beautiful thing.

However busy your lives may be, I heartily encourage you to be present on Sunday for the Lord’s Day and the celebration of All Saints’. Come to pray and offer your support for Sloane, who will be “sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.” And then join us again on Monday at 7 p.m. to acknowledge the reality of death in a death-denying culture and to give thanks that death has lost its sting. God’s mercy is far greater than death will ever be. Thanks be to God.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

October 24, 2025

In a recent Sunday formation class, some of our older children and I recently discussed the story of the Israelites’ wilderness wanderings after being delivered from slavery in Egypt. We noted how soon God’s people lapse into complaining after treading through the Red Sea. Their heels are hardly dry when the grumbling against Moses and Aaron starts. “If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the pots of meat and ate our fill of bread, for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger” (Exodus 16:2-3). Of course, God provides manna for his children. The real issue in the desert is trust, not a lack of God’s gracious provision.

But what is most striking to me is God’s constant injunction to remember. God very well knows that his chosen ones will complain when the going gets tough. And God very well knows that the antidote to grumbling and despair is gratitude, which involves remembering. It’s no coincidence, then, that a few chapters later, God gives the Ten Commandments to Moses on Mount Sinai. These commandments are to be committed to memory, because these commandments will be a necessary moral compass in times of ingratitude. Indeed, the commandment to honor the Sabbath day is to remember the Sabbath day. By remembering a day of rest, the Israelites are renouncing the anxious culture of overproduction and slavery to which they were subject in Egypt. Remember your time of slavery, and then remember the Sabbath so that you can rest in God.

Later, in chapter 23, God gives a striking commandment that enjoins his children to consider the cause of the resident alien among them. It’s not just a command. It’s a command that has special meaning for the Israelites. “You shall not oppress a resident alien; you know the heart of an alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt” (Exodus 23:9). In other words, do not become so complacent in your freedom that you forget that you once were slaves. Remember, remember, remember. The key to right relationship with God is gratitude for what God has done, and this requires remembrance.

The wilderness wanderings (forty years!) of the Israelites are a time of testing and trial. They are confronted with thirst, hunger, and threats from enemies. The point of these wanderings is for God’s people to be strengthened in learning to rely solely on God. Back in Exodus 13, “[w]hen Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was nearer, for God thought, ‘If the people face war, they may change their minds and return to Egypt.’ So God led the people by the roundabout way of the wilderness bordering the Red Sea” (17-18).

I am moved by how this story of the wilderness wanderings is such an astute appraisal of the human condition. We are so prone to amnesia when things are good. And when things are bad, we may also be prone to forgetting how God has come to our aid in the past in dire circumstances. By remembering, we learn to trust that because God has helped us in the past, we believe that he will continue to do so, even if the conditions of our lives don’t seem to bear witness to that.

It seems to me that the approaching time of transition for Good Shepherd may seem like a wilderness wandering. We don’t know how long it will take, and some, if not many, will probably want to reach the “Promised Land” as soon as possible. But perhaps memory will be the best companion in a time of uncertainty. At Good Shepherd, a remembrance of our parish’s own exodus is necessary, which was God’s deliverance from a time of conflict and into a land of new possibilities and freedom. When the going gets tough, remember. Remember that God brought a parish that was near death into a new life of growth in spiritual maturity, ministry, and people. Remember that when each year a lofty pledge goal was established by parish leadership, people were moved by what God had done for them in their lives and gave generously. Remember that when a new rector in 2020 was told that the parish’s lifespan was five years if nothing changed, God gave five years of life that far exceeded any expectations. There was more than enough to do what God was asking us to do. Remember that even when there seems to be no bread or water, God will provide. When the Israelites gathered the manna that God provided, “those who gathered much had nothing over, and those who gathered little had no shortage; they gathered as much as each of them needed” (16:18). They had enough! And when the wilderness wandering for us seems circuitous and tiresome, there will be an end in sight.

Time in the wilderness will require a renewed sense of identity. The Israelites had to learn who they were and whose they were in the wilderness. To live rightly, they had to remember their past so that they could be hospitable to the aliens among them. So, too, we need to remember how we were once lost sheep and found by God so that we can trust that when we seem lost and wandering, God will deliver us from the valley of the shadow of death and into green pastures again.

Moses never made it to the Promised Land. There will come a time at some point in the future (yet unknown) when leadership will change hands. But the Israelites’ arrival in the Promised Land wasn’t ultimately the work of any leader (such as Moses or Aaron). The arrival was made possible by God. It will be so with Good Shepherd. The good people of this beautiful place will embark on a journey together, strengthened by worship, prayer, fellowship, and core values that point to a shared love of Jesus Christ. In times of challenge or perceived scarcity, the key is to remember. Remember that once we were no people, but now we are God’s people. Remember that once we were lost and now are found. Remember, above all, that in Christ everything old has become new, and one day, all the tears from our eyes will be wiped away by the hand of God.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

October 17, 2025

Chapter four of the Letter to the Ephesians presents us with a helpful “word cloud” describing the Body of Christ functioning as it is intended. Here are some of the characteristics that the author of Ephesians considers integral to a healthy group of Christian disciples: humility, gentleness, patience, bearing with one another in love, unity, peace, maturity, and honesty. As I ponder those words from Ephesians, the image that comes to my mind is the Church of the Good Shepherd. It’s almost as if this parish visibly embodies the Body of Christ as envisioned in Ephesians.

In the past five years that I have known this parish, I have seen great humility, which I think is a direct product of the trials and tribulations this parish has experienced. Parish life in some parts of the Church can easily be skewed towards a form of institutional narcissism that breeds an unhealthy spirit of competition with other parishes or a cliquishness that does not naturally welcome outsiders. But at Good Shepherd, the humbling experience of recent decades has inculcated a spirit of gentleness and loveliness among parishioners that fosters warmth and hospitality.

I have also seen tremendous patience in bearing with one another through sorrows and joys. Patience has certainly been required in the process of letting God rebuild—through human trust and efforts—a parish that came close to death. Patience is shown all the time in parishioners assuming the best in one another and in tolerating the imperfections of our humanity even while we strive to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect. 

Here at Good Shepherd, I see unity around the Gospel and sacramental life of the Church, and this unity supersedes all other loyalties that outside the Church could threaten to divide us. This unity is no easy peace with oppression (against which our prayer book cautions us) but a trust in the Gospel of Jesus Christ as manifested in the Church, knowing that we seek, collectively, the peace that passes all understanding. And this is not peace on the world’s terms.

Loving honesty has been shown in speaking hard truths to one another but assuming that when we tell the truth, we have each other’s best interests in mind. Loving honesty means that we can correct one another in faith while refusing to demonize one another. We can express differences of opinion and viewpoints while listening to one another with respect.

And maturity is deeply embedded in the spirit of Good Shepherd. There is great maturity of character, of knowledge, and of emotions. I realize that last week’s news of Robert McCormick’s (and, eventually, my) impending departure has provoked many emotions, sadness among them. But I have been deeply touched by the maturity exhibited even amid anxiety and sadness. I have heard so much gratitude, kindness, and understanding in your interactions with me. And I’m very grateful for that.

Ephesians 4, along with St. Paul’s theology of the Body of Christ, will be crucial to our parish life in the coming months. On a theological level, Paul’s wisdom enjoins us to do the careful work of encouraging one another as we work together in ministry. Working together assumes that we don’t expect others to lend their hand so we don’t have to or that we don’t assume that a certain segment of the parish will pull the bulk of the weight in financial giving. We are all in it together. Working together as the Body of Christ means that any challenge in the parish is a challenge for each of us, and in collaboration and with God’s help, no challenge is insuperable. To move forward as a spiritually mature family of Christian disciples, we must know our spiritual gifts. We must assume that God has already supplied us at Good Shepherd with the necessary gifts (and people!) to carry out the work God is calling us to do. If all of us are aware of our own gifts and are using them in ministry, then we will avoid burnout because the use of our individual gifts is intended to be lifegiving. But on a practical level, Paul’s words encourage us to trust that we will be strong enough to navigate any challenge or period of uncertainty if we do the careful work of discerning our spiritual gifts and then set about using them. 

In short, the upcoming period of transition at Good Shepherd will require all hands on deck. I have repeatedly said that the parish is weaker than it could be if all of us are not sharing our gifts in ministry. Over the past few years, the vestry and I have been working diligently to ensure that we are building sustainable ministry at Good Shepherd. If a ministry endeavor feels like a stretch at any given time, then it could be that the Holy Spirit has not yet sent us the right people to help us carry out that ministry. That is not cause for anxiety. It is, rather, a cause for patience. It does not mean we should give up on a ministry. We simply might need to wait until everything and everyone we need for that ministry are ripe for harvesting.

We seem to be united as a parish in our understanding of which ministries are important to us. This was evidenced in last February’s Parish Visioning Conversation. The 2026 pledge campaign goal was set based on realizing key takeaways from that visioning conversation. If, after prayer and conversation, we are in agreement about what God is calling us to do, then we can trust that God has already given us what we need to carry out the vision we have discerned.

I say all this as a way of encouraging us as we confront the inevitable accusing voices of anxiety and uncertainty that will enter our heads. As I’ve said previously–and I do believe it!--among our parishioners and Friends, we have the financial resources to reach our pledge goal of $290,000. It will, of course, require true sacrificial giving to look deep within ourselves and into our pocketbooks, to put God at the center of our lives, and then give generously back to God. But I’m trusting that the money we need to support God’s vision for us at Good Shepherd is already present among us. I’m also convinced that the spiritual gifts needed for the parish to thrive into the future are already among us, and I fully expect that the Holy Spirit will continue to send new people with new and necessary gifts to enable spiritual and physical growth in this place. By showing up faithfully for prayer and worship, we will be better poised to notice and welcome those people and their concomitant gifts that show up on our doorstep.

In the months ahead, we should be honest about our feelings of anxiety, skepticism, and uncertainty. I’m sure we all have them. But those feelings are not necessarily indicative of the reality of the future, nor are they even rational. We know that our Lord, in his earthly life, continually encouraged his disciples not to be anxious. It’s easier said than done, but St. Paul gives us some spiritual and practical advice. Let us look to the body of Christ. Let us find those in our midst with the gift of exhortation (encouragement), and let their voices be heard. Let us help one another in discovering their spiritual gifts. Above all, let us pray constantly. And then let us get to work, trusting and knowing that the the One who was raised from the dead is always doing a new thing, and he is ready to equip us and support us in the never-ending work of realizing God’s new creation on earth.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

October 10, 2025

I wonder if you’ve ever been asked to identify your favorite words from Scripture. I personally find this a difficult question to answer, because there are so many beautiful words from the Bible. In my opinion, among them are words from Matthew’s Gospel: “When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you at that time, for it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you” (10:19-20). Similar words are found in both Mark and Luke. The context is Jesus telling his disciples that there will be coming persecutions. His words are intended to comfort the disciples and to discourage them from being anxious.

In Scripture, Jesus speaks a lot about anxiety, urging his disciples not to worry about the next day and not to be anxious about what they are to eat or drink. While Jesus never says that discipleship will be easy, he does reassure his disciples and us, by extension, that they and we are not alone in the mission field or in the Christian life. The Holy Spirit is guiding us, comforting us, and giving us the right words to speak at the right time. We can trust, too, that the Holy Spirit tells us what to say and do in our moments of trial.

Times of transition always seem to provoke anxiety, which is understandable. In the West, we tend to live in a line, wanting to know what is next. Quite naturally, living in between times is disconcerting. As you have probably read in this week’s special email, we are beginning a time of transition at Good Shepherd as our Organist and Director of Music, Robert McCormick, prepares to leave for another position in Richmond, Virginia, in late January. And this means that as Robert’s spouse, I, too, am discerning a new call so that I can eventually join him in Richmond. I realize that this probably brings some measure of anxiety to you as parishioners and Friends of Good Shepherd. I can honestly say that it gives me some measure of anxiety, too. What will happen next? What will the interim period(s) look like? Rather than feeling as if we shouldn’t be anxious, perhaps it’s best to recognize our anxiety and be honest about it.

But Jesus also comforts us in our anxiety, because in times of uncertainty and difficulty, we are not alone. If you have been at Good Shepherd for a while, I hope you have noticed the palpable presence of the Holy Spirit among us. Of course, the Spirit is always with us, praying within us when we lack the words, but sometimes the Spirit’s presence is more readily felt than at others. In the past five years, I have seen evidence of the Spirit’s movement in striking ways at Good Shepherd. I think that in my time here, I have become more adept at learning how to watch and listen for the Holy Spirit’s stirrings among us.

During tense and uncertain times, it is common for us to hold our breath, but it is also true that the best thing to do when we become anxious is to breathe. The coming months are a time for us to breathe, and for us Christians, to breathe—on a spiritual level—is to pray. For the early desert fathers and mothers who retreated from cities in order to pray, prayer was unceasing, as St. Paul enjoins. Every breath taken is a moment to utter some small prayer to God or lift one’s heart to God in thanksgiving. True prayer is as natural as breathing. And so, in this time of transition, the most important thing we can do is to ground ourselves in prayer.

Because we have prayed so much and so diligently as a parish, we have been able to discern what God is calling us to do. We pray for situations that are known to us, and we also pray daily for people whom God will send to Good Shepherd. Those people are known only to God. Our age of anxiety says that we should engage in flashy projects and gimmicks to attract people to church, but our experience at Good Shepherd shows us that all we need to do is put prayer and worship at the center of our lives, and then we will be ready to respond to those God sends our way.

In the coming months, Good Shepherd will need the gifts and support of all of us. Good Shepherd is in a strong place, with mature leadership and faithful, loving people. This parish is strong and resilient. Our 2026 pledge campaign is a reminder of how much our vision for ministry has deepened and expanded, and the vestry and I are committed to continue realizing that vision. It is a vision that surpasses any one of us but that relies on each of us to support it through prayer, action, and sacrificial giving.

If there’s anything I have learned in the past five years as your priest, it is that God is not finished with this parish. God continues to do a new thing here. Every day feels like the eighth day, a new day of creation in the aftermath of the resurrection. In the coming months, both Robert and I are fully committed to working as hard as we can to make the transition to new staff as smooth as possible. The vestry and I have been working persistently in recent months to build sustainable ministry here, not ministry tied to any one individual. And because God is faithful and good, we have every reason to hope. A new thing is only beginning in this place, and you and those whom God will send here are integral to the future.

For now, let us hunker down in prayer. And when we are anxious or worried, let us remember that we do nothing alone in the Christian life. All is with God’s help. And in those moments of testing and trial, none other than the Holy Spirit will teach us what to say and do.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

October 3, 2025

I have long treasured words from the Book of Leviticus: “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. You shall not strip your vineyard bare or gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the alien: I am the Lord your God” (19:9-10). As if this wasn’t clear enough, the same injunction is restated in Leviticus 22. In his excellent book Creation: A Guide for the Perplexed, Simon Oliver suggests that the command in Leviticus is “a reminder that what we receive in creation is more than enough” (London: Bloomsbury, 2017, p. 155). In this vein, we could see the ancient practice of leaving a portion of the cultivated land for the poor and alien as a spiritual practice. Faced with profound anxiety about hunger and poverty, the temptation would be to save earnestly for the future, because the unstated fear is that there is not enough.

We, of course, know all too well this fear of not having enough. Every day, we receive subliminal and overt messages that we should be afraid of running out of whatever we need to survive. Scarcity is a very real thing in third world countries, not because God hasn’t provided enough but because resources have been distributed inequitably. Because some people choose to hoard out of fear, others suffer. But even in places where we are not starving or destitute, there is a throbbing fear: if there isn’t enough now, there will be or could be a time when there won’t be enough. Do what you can now. Save, save, save.

There is something in our spiritual practice of giving to the church’s ministry that echoes the Levitical command to leave some of the gleaning of the harvest for others. Our financial gifts to the church are, on the one hand, practical. The church needs money to support ministries, care for buildings, and pay staff salaries. But those practical needs enable something deeper, which is the spread of the Gospel. The Gospel is good news to the poor and alien. Gospel work is about seeking the lost, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and comforting the oppressed. Our spiritual gifts to the Church are, in some real sense, directed to the poor and alien.

But there’s more. The money that God has given each of us through our labor in the workforce is like the harvest of a good piece of land. We are sorely tempted to hoard as much of the gift of that harvest for the future, gathering up every last bit of the gleanings and reaping to the very edges of the land. And this is why the spiritual practice of giving is tough. We start with the assumption that all we have is ours by right or something that we’ve earned. In an earthly sense, this may be so. But giving from the edges of the land’s harvest reminds us that less than the full harvest is already enough. Moreover, the entire harvest isn’t ours to begin with. It is pure gift from God.

A gift is meant to be passed on. Generosity begets generosity. According to canon law, our church property doesn’t even belong to Good Shepherd; it belongs to our diocese. Ultimately, of course, it belongs to God. But still, each year, we hold a pledge campaign to raise money, partly, to care for property that doesn’t legally belong to us, because we are stewards of this property. So, the money we raise in pledge campaigns isn’t wholly self-serving but, rather, directed to caring for a gift entrusted to our care. And in caring for such a gift, we are able to leave gifts for generations of faithful Christians who will come after us.

There’s a kind of death in giving money away. It hurts to part with something that helps us feel secure. There’s always a nagging doubt about whether a generous gift will impair our financial solidity in the future. And when we give to the church in the form of a pledge, we are giving to a general operating fund. We are saying to the church that we trust her in how the money will be used. We are giving up control, and that is a real death for human beings.

The counter to our world’s deepest fears and anxieties is thankfulness, which itself breeds generosity. The more we become recklessly generous, the more we let go of our fears of not having enough. The Mass helps us learn to be thankful, because we know that ultimately there’s nothing we can give God that will ever be enough. And yet, God, week after week, day after day, gives us the Body and Blood of his Son for our nourishment and for the world’s very life. This ceaseless, ineffable gift is something we can only, bit by bit, come to receive as gift.

This past week, on several occasions, I have experienced generosity from several different people that has touched me profoundly. I have seen magnanimous gestures that are only explainable because they originate in genuine thankfulness. Those examples inspire me. We can be generous in so many different ways: through financial gifts, through kindness, through compassion. But every gesture of generosity must start with one thing: trusting that in the kingdom of God, there is always enough.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

September 26, 2025

When I was in seminary, I was once confronted by a professor in a worship committee meeting. The professor in question was of a convinced “low church” persuasion and knew that I considered myself to be Anglo-Catholic. At the time, I was leading a weekly Evensong service in the seminary chapel, for which I played organ and conducted a choir. The custom for the Tuesday Evensong service, which had begun before I ever entered seminary, was to pray the Angelus in conjunction with it. In a rather unexpected and argumentative tone, the professor announced to the entire worship committee that at some point in the past, it had been decided by seminary officials that the Angelus would not be recited on campus. This was news to me, and I was surprised by it. But as the organizer of the Evensong service, I became the momentary target in the professor’s verbal attack against practices considered too “Catholic.”

I was a bit embarrassed at the time, to tell the truth. I also felt wounded and unjustly accused. Those were initial, emotional responses. In hindsight, I realized that those responses arose out of an immature self-pity on my part. I later reflected on the incident with the seminary’s liturgy professor, who shared my Catholic persuasion in liturgical and theological matters. In that conversation with him, I suddenly remembered the words of St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 8. In this passage, Paul addresses members of the church in Corinth about divisions over food sacrificed to idols in the pagan temples. Paul acknowledges that, of course, so-called idols have no power over the living God, so eating food sacrificed to idols can’t, in and of itself, be spiritually harmful. But then he goes on to say that there are still some whose conscience is “weak,” who do not fully understand the truth about the harmlessness of all food. Paul says to the Corinthians, “take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak. For if others see you, who possess knowledge, eating in the temple of an idol, might they not, since their conscience is weak, be encouraged to the point of eating food sacrificed to idols? So by your knowledge the weak brother or sister for whom Christ died is destroyed. But when you thus sin against brothers and sisters and wound their conscience when it is weak, you sin against Christ. Therefore, if food is a cause of their falling, I will never again eat meat, so that I may not cause one of them to fall” (8:9-13).

Maybe, I told my liturgy professor, that with regard to the recitation of the Angelus at Evensong, I should heed the advice of St. Paul. As much as I loved the Angelus, if its presence in worship offended a brother in Christ for some reason that I couldn’t understand, we should dispense with it. In matters that are adiaphora (not essential to salvation), Christian charity demands sacrificing one’s own desires or comfort for the good of the whole. I tell this story not to laud my own behavior but to bear witness to how the Holy Spirit taught me something in a time when I was feeling aggrieved and sorry for myself.

1 Corinthians 8 is classic Pauline theology. We, as members of Christ’s body, are members of one another. When one member of the body grieves, another grieves. When one rejoices, we all rejoice. And yet, there will also be moments when each of us must take the path of discomfort (or even grief) for the good of the whole. In doing so, we choose not a path of self-inflicted suffering, but a path that forms us towards the ultimate Good, which is participation in the life of God. This understanding of the inextricable ties that bind us to one another may be the Church’s great gift to the world.

I am increasingly troubled by the inability (unwillingness?) of those outside the Church to live as though they were bound together in some kind of fellowship and harmony. I recently listened to a radio broadcast in which the interviewer was attempting to have a productive conversation with someone who shared a different perspective, and within a few minutes, the conversation completely broke down. My heart ached over this. A central teaching of Christianity is that we can never become so entrenched in our own beliefs or convictions that we fail to consider those of others who think differently than we do. This is no call to a milquetoast “happy medium,” nor is it a call to make peace with oppression (to use words from our prayer book). It’s quite simply a call to humility in which all of us must be open to the fact that we could be wrong or our views could be expanded or shifted.

In today’s climate of division and rancor, our particular calling as the Church is to be a place where we exist without defenses. The one thing that unites each of us when we are standing before God’s altar is that we have nothing to hide. God knows it all, as the Collect for Purity reminds us. This utter nakedness before God’s majesty is what unites us, not divides us. The Church is not asked to be a club of like-minded people. She is called to be a diverse array of people who may disagree and view the world differently but who practice the Christian virtues of faith, hope, and love. We agree to love, not hate, our enemies and to offer kind words in place of ugly ones and to practice forgiveness instead of resentment. We believe that with God anything is possible and that we have no reason to despair. Our faith lies in God who is far greater than our human brokenness. We may not see eye to eye on all controversial issues, but if the core values of the Gospel are held dear, the Eucharistic sacrament will be our source of unity in Christ. And bit by bit, our hard edges and stubborn ways will be conformed more into the likeness and image of God. That conformity is God’s doing, not our own.

In Christ, there has been a Copernican revolution of the soul, where all our lives revolve around Christ, rather than the other way around. And although we may be united in our focus on the living Lord who comes for our healing and salvation, our differences persist as part of the richness of Christ’s body on earth. May we so strive to live faithfully that our own practices and desires cause no member of the Body to fall. This requires great humility. It requires love. Above all, it requires yearning for the mind of Christ.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

September 19, 2025

In last week’s youth Confirmation class on the Eucharist, I asked the confirmands about the meaning of sacrifice. As predicted, one member of the class said that sacrifice means giving something up. That’s one way of describing a sacrifice, I explained, but then I offered a different explanation. While a sacrifice usually means parting with something—often something dear to us—it is also a way of offering something to God so that it can be made holy. Sacrifice, in the ancient sense, is setting something apart to be sanctified. This is what we do each week in the Eucharist. We bring many things to God’s altar: bread, wine, money, our selves, and our praise and thanksgiving, and we render them to God to be made holy.

It’s not that all those things are inherently unholy, but the way in which they are often used in the world can be so. Bread that should feed hungry stomachs is assigned a price tag, and the poorest among us lose out. Wine is abused and becomes a source of addiction rather than of joyful feasting. Money is stolen, and its greedy accrual means that those who have little have even less. Human bodies are traded and sold into slavery and trafficked across continents. But when we bring these things into God’s temple to offer them back to God, from whom they first came, we are making a profound, radical statement. We are stating that creation is, from its origins, good, and its goodness is sustained by God, not by us alone. We are stating that all of life is a gift, not a commodity to be bartered or a means by which we can manipulate our neighbors. Above all, we are stating that everything we think we own or possess is not really ours at all but God’s.

Is there any more accurate barometer of our ultimate loyalty to God than our relationship to money? The fact that people in churches are often so unwilling to talk about money demonstrates that we have an inherently uneasy relationship with it. And yet, our Lord talked constantly about money. Ordering our relationship towards money is essential to ordering our relationship to God. It is a spiritual practice that should go hand in hand with prayer, self-discipline, and fasting, among others.

This is the time of year in which we talk a lot about money, although we do try to keep money talk going throughout the year at Good Shepherd, and for good reason: our relationship with money is integral to the health of our spiritual lives. On Sunday, we will officially launch our 2026 pledge campaign. You will hear much more about pledging and its importance in the life of this parish on Sunday, so I will not say too much more in this message. If pledging is an unfamiliar practice to you, please make a point of attending Sunday’s luncheon after Sung Mass, which is hosted by our Advancement Committee. If pledging is nothing new to you, please come, too! The point of the luncheon is to draw the entire parish into a lively discussion about the deepening and expanding vision for ministry at Good Shepherd and to discuss the practical and financial aspects of supporting that vision. If you can’t attend the luncheon, a member of the Advancement Committee will be more than happy to talk with you privately about this year’s pledge campaign. For the flourishing of ministry at Good Shepherd, everyone should know as much as possible about the parish’s vision and needs.

A pledge is a financial contribution of any amount to support ministry at Good Shepherd. A pledge can be $50 or $5,000 or $50,000. Pledging is not only for those who have a lot of money; it’s for everyone. Indeed, the bylaws of our parish and the canons of the Episcopal Church count pledging as essential to being a communicant in good standing, not because the Church is a club but because being a member of the Church requires embracing spiritual practices that are essential to the Christian life. Sacrificial giving of our money to support God’s work in the world is such a practice.

So, how much should one pledge? There are various ways of addressing this question. The first step is to pray. Pray first before even looking at your financial situation. The Bible also offers some guidance through the mention of a tithe, which is giving 10% of what one has to God. Often, a tithe is interpreted as 10% of one’s net income. (For a tithing spreadsheet that might be helpful as you prayerfully consider your own sacrificial gift, please visit the pledge campaign portion of our website.) A tithe need not be idolized; it’s simply a helpful starting place to determine one’s sacrificial gift to God. But however a “tithe” may be interpreted, it demands sacrificial giving. Tithing or working towards a tithe requires giving to God first, rather than giving to God what’s left over after the bills are paid and money is put in savings. In doing this, one might need to give up some things or be more conscious in how money is spent. It doesn’t mean that one should not save for the future or care for loved ones; it just requires trusting that with God’s care, one can give sacrificially and tend to other important needs. Sacrificial giving is, quite simply, giving to God in such a lavish way that one feels the shift in priorities in one’s life and thereby is spiritually aware that nothing we think we own truly belongs to us.

My own spiritual practice of giving has changed over the years. I first started pledging when I was still in graduate school, accruing student loan debt and making very little money. I gave what I could. But over the years, I have tried to deepen my practice of spiritual giving from what I could give to what I should give as a token of growing trust in God’s gracious provision. Now, my practice is to calculate 10% of my net paycheck (estimated for the next calendar year), and then I try to make everything else work out. Certainly, that financial gift could instead go into savings or towards a nice vacation, but it belongs to God, not to me. And as I have pressed myself to believe more in God’s overriding narrative of abundance, I have been less inclined to cave to the world’s anxious obsession with scarcity. In short, sacrificial giving of my money has helped me to trust more in God and to open my heart with greater risk. I invite each of you to consider a sacrificial gift to God’s work through a pledge to ministry at Good Shepherd in 2026.

Please plan to attend Sunday’s luncheon after Sung Mass. Printed pledge campaign materials will also be mailed out next week. I urge you to review them carefully, pray, and then make your pledge to support the vibrant ministry that is growing at Good Shepherd by God’s gracious hand. And more than anything else, I ask you to think of your pledge as more than an obligation. Consider it to be an act of thanksgiving to a God who never holds back from giving us love and life. All our sacrifices to God, especially those in the form of money, are an offering to God of that which seems precious in our lives. We give it to God so that God can make it and us holy. We offer it all to God because God will work wonders with it for the life of the world.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

September 12, 2025

Have you ever heard someone say that their relationship with God is just fine but their relationship with the Church isn’t? Some say that their relationship with God is better without the Church. The Church is an easy target for blame, and sometimes it’s understandable. The Church has needed to be reformed throughout the centuries. The Church is comprised of sinners and fallible humans, who are sometimes on their worst behavior. The Church has aided and abetted crusades and the Inquisition, and she has covered up heinous crimes. We all know this as a simple fact of history. And yet, the Church’s true identity can’t be equated with the frailty of human nature. The Church’s true identity is found in Christ, who is the head of the Church and the author of salvation.

The Church is not merely an earthly organization. The Church has a heavenly calling. The Church’s origins are holy. The Church is essential for the salvation of the entire world. Orthodox priest and theologian John Behr puts it this way: “the church—the ekklesia that is embodied, manifest, realized in each local community—is not simply a community of those called out from the world into yet another grouping in the world, alongside many other bodies but rather those who are called out into the life of the new creation, the eighth day, and are already anticipating that eschatological reality” (In Accordance with the Scriptures: The Shape of Christian Theology, Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2025, 90). Or as Behr also says, drawing on the teaching of the early Church fathers, the Church is “a virginal mother, granting life to those who are born in her womb through their death in confession of Christ” (81). In other words, it is through our participation in the life of the Church that we participate in the paschal mystery, by which we die to an old way of living and rise to a new one in Christ. And in that death and new birth from the womb of the Church, we become truly alive. This is the “life” we hear so often of in John’s Gospel. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. Jesus shows us the way to the Father, who gives us life in the power of the Spirit because of Christ’s own death and resurrection. In connecting the Church to life itself, Cyprian of Carthage put it more bluntly, and yet we should not dismiss the truth of his words because they sting a bit: “You cannot have God for your Father if you no longer have the Church for your mother” (quoted in Behr, In Accordance with the Scriptures, 76).

It sometimes seems en vogue these days to criticize the Church. It’s not that the Church is never in error or reform, it’s just that the fallibility of the Church is no reason to give up on her. The Church is called to holiness, to growth into perfection, not infallibility. The Church’s mission and identity are held in the arms of God, and because the Church is God’s gift to the world, it is through our own participation in the mystery of the Church and in her sacraments and in her very life that we are strengthened to grow more into the likeness of God in whose image we were created.

A “mission” divorced from the Church is really no mission at all, because God himself is mission. For us to properly discern our place and work in the world, we need the Church. The Church, of which Christ is the head, is intended for the healing of the world. This is why, each week at Mass, we bring the cares and troubles of the world that are on our hearts into the church, and we present them at the altar. In a week where we have seen how prevalent violence is in our nation and how deeply divided we are, the altar is where we go to entrust the care and well-being of the entire world to God. We embody our priestly vocation in the Mass, in which, following in the way of our Great High Priest, Jesus Christ, we offer to God prayers for the entire world. The shape of the liturgy, the pattern of the Church’s life, and spiritual practices that come with being a member of the Church, all play a part in how we are changed for the transformation of the world.

When we talk about membership in the Church, it is not the same as membership in a cricket club or a country club or an extracurricular organization (see Fr. Behr’s words above). Membership in the Church is death to sin and all that is not of God so that we may be born again in the womb of mother Church. And this is why being a part of the Church requires not just a part of us—that is, what’s convenient to give—but all of us, “our selves, our souls and bodies,” to use language from the prayer book. Through our participation in the life of the Church—which is the very life of Christ, who is her head—we learn what it means to take up our cross and follow Jesus. Taking up our cross is about self-giving. For those in the early Church, taking up the cross often meant death. Martyrs were, quite literally in the Greek, witnesses—witnesses to what it means to die to self and be born again through the Church’s womb into new life.

These days in a complacent culture, our witness will probably be different from that of the martyrs of old. Death for us may not mean a martyr’s death, but death will mean dying to our own comfort for the sake of the flourishing of the whole body of Christ. Death will mean offering back to God—as priests of God—the gifts God has given us. Death will mean that God becomes the center of our lives instead of those things that promise us happiness but fail to deliver. Death will mean prioritizing the time we give to God and his Church over all other commitments. Death will mean that the spiritual practice of sacrificially giving “our” money to God—i.e., the Church—will challenge our priorities and comfort. But it is only in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Last Sunday’s Old Testament reading from the Book of Deuteronomy put the choice before us in stark, binary terms: choose life, not death, by walking in the ways of God. By choosing the Church and fully living into our membership in that holy fellowship of those both in heaven and on earth who are constantly being born more fully into the likeness of God, we choose life. We choose life, not on the world’s terms of comfort and complacency, but on the terms of the cross, which tells us that although we may seem to give up everything, including our physical life itself, we gain something far greater—real life, true life, eternal life.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

September 5, 2025

I remember lying in bed as a child, thinking about heaven and eternity. Strangely, the more I thought about eternity, the more terrified I became. I couldn’t imagine living forever, and in my childish mind, eternity was a blank of a place, lonely, dreadful, and endless. In the middle of the quiet night, I wanted to scream as I pondered this future existence. But as I’ve been formed more deeply in the study of theology, Scripture, and the Church’s tradition and, above all, through worship, heaven and eternity are no longer an endless stretch of blankness. They are time—however inept that word is to speak of infinity—filled to the brim with perfection, with singing, dancing, conversation, of active being in communion with God and all the saints.

Sometimes, when I try to think of what heaven is like, I picture people I’ve known and loved who have died continuing to do what they always loved to do in this life, except more perfectly. As they continue in their journey in Christ, they are being purified and refined in God’s everlasting love. Wouldn’t their irreverent earthly joking be a more perfect, reverent laughter? And wouldn’t their earthly theological seriousness be transformed into embodied dancing in their glorified bodies? The truth is that we will never know, but it doesn’t hurt to imagine.

As I’ve matured a bit beyond my childhood, I have begun to connect glimpses of heaven with the Church herself. As Rowan Williams puts it, “[h]eaven is what is laid open when the Church is truly the Church,” “when the Church is most clearly committed to the work of transforming the earth in which it lives” [Tokens of Trust, Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2007, p. 138]. It is in the Eucharist that we can come closest to heaven while still on earth, underscoring the importance of this sacred act of thanksgiving that we celebrate on each Lord’s Day. This is why the beauty of worship is so important. Worship deserves our very best, however flawed it may be. Worship deserves not a piece of us, but all of us, “our selves, souls, and bodies,” as the prayer book reminds us. When worship is so lovely that it makes us hold our breath or gasp with wonder, then we have, for a time, been drawn beyond and out of ourselves and into something eternal.

There is, of course, beauty outside of worship. We all know places where we can find such beauty. But all too often, this beauty is marred by hatred, anger, and injustice. In a broken, disordered world, we need a place that strives for the perfection of beauty, even as it will inevitably fall short of perfection. This is what the Church is. This is what the Church can be: a place to which we return, week after week, to catch glimpses of heaven. And then, having caught a taste of heavenly glory, we bring a piece of it back out into the world with us.

I can think of no better reason to go to church than to catch a glimpse of heaven. There is very little in catching a glimpse of heaven that can be abused. We can’t control the beauty we experience. We can’t weaponize it, or it would not be beauty at all. We don’t appreciate beauty to “get” something from God or to manipulate God. Beauty is simply beauty. And the beauty of the Eucharist is a timeless window into eternity, where all is rejoicing, all is gift, all is thankfulness, all is praise.

Rowan Williams says that “at every Eucharist the end of time has indeed come: this is what creation should be, this is what humanity should be. This is where we belong. This is creation restored to its place, where the things of this world take on the quality of transfiguring divine gift, where—instead of relations of possession and manipulation towards the things of this world and to one another—all is gift, all is offering and all is prayer. This is where we learn who we are, and in what relation we stand: what we must realize in ourselves” (“On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand,” in Christ Unabridged, Norwich, UK: SCM, 2020, p. 253). What an astounding thought! A place where all is gift and offering and prayer is as far from the dire blankness of my childhood fears of eternity. Such a place of eternal giftedness is nothing less than heaven.

As we begin a new program year this Sunday, I am looking forward to seeing people who have been traveling this summer. I am excited for the return of the full choir and children’s formation and a fuller church, where our songs of praise will resound more heartily than during the quieter summer months. We will celebrate the new program year with a parish picnic after Mass, an imperfect extension of the glimpse of perfect fellowship we encounter in the Eucharist. As we gather before God’s altar this Sunday, I hope we all might remind ourselves of the oft-neglected Christian task of searching for heaven. We should not search for heaven as something to be grasped or earned but as something that draws us into the nearer presence of God. Heaven is where we dwell close to God, which Rowan Williams likens to St. John’s image of the Logos dwelling in the bosom of the Father, just as John the Beloved Disciple rested close to Jesus’s bosom at the Last Supper (“On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand,” p. 247). When the Church is truly being the Church, as Williams reminds us, we will find heaven.

I have seen glimpses of heaven at Good Shepherd. I have seen a glimpse of heaven on quiet days when the church is illumined with the dying light of a beautiful evening. I have seen heaven peeking into earthly time when the voices of a full church of people singing hymns barrels down the nave towards me standing at the altar. I have espied some glimmer of heaven when row after row of the faithful come to the Communion rail and stretch out their hands to receive Christ, to receive—as St. Augustine of Hippo would tell us—our very selves, or at least, the selves we are called to be in Christ. We are Christ’s risen body on earth.

There is not a one of us that does not need a glimpse of heaven, especially amid so much of the hell that surrounds us each day. As my childhood terrors evidenced, we can’t find heaven if we stay only in our heads. Christian discipleship is a lived experience, not a mental exercise or a feeling. We can’t find heaven by merely thinking about it. Heaven must be experienced in the mystery of worship, in our bodies close to other bodies echoing the same praise, and particularly in the company of others who challenge and comfort us. Heaven is not a solitary experience; it is always communal. And as we await, in hope, the promise of everlasting life—of heaven unadulterated and unhindered—we travel in this earthly life, sustained by imperfect glimpses of heaven, knowing that the real thing will be far greater than we can ever imagine.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

August 29, 2025

From John Hager, Former Summer Seminarian Intern

As Fr. Kyle can attest, I have been known to propose an imaginative alternative to more usual seminary models for young people (in particular) discerning vocations to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church.  This imaginative model would consist of small groups of students being placed at parishes where real, practical assistance is needed. They would generally not be placed at large parishes with lots of clergy and staff and money. Assuming that these students would be under the supervision of experienced and sensitive clergy, they would spend half the week engaged in parish work in all its variety. If they were to be so fortunate as to end up at a parish like Good Shepherd, Rosemont, their parish work would involve significant liturgical training, educational exposure to basic but correct and robust church musicianship, the rhythm of the Daily Office, and opportunities for working with and serving parishioners of various ages. The other half of the week, students would have certain equally robust biblical, theological, liturgical, and historical academic work to do (Kit Apostolacus reminds me they should have some philosophical training, too). The “seminarians” would meet with students from other parishes regularly for worship, seminars, and reflection. 

I warned you this was an imaginative scheme! Such an idea is a tall order, and not without its flaws—and not without my own biases. (It also involves radical changes around how I think the Episcopal Church should use its money!) But I think it speaks to my sense—albeit limited—that there is a real need in seminary education in the Episcopal Church for priestly formation that is grounded in the opportunities of small parish ministry.

And—here’s the important bit—opportunities in small parish ministry truly sustained and grounded in the sustenance of daily worship and the wondrous richness of ancient traditions.   

Even my brief summer at Good Shepherd allows me to not hesitate in suggesting that this special place shows forth a magnificent realization of a small parish sustained and grounded in the sustenance of daily prayer and the wondrous richness of ancient traditions. As we know well at Rosemont, such ancient traditions are not exclusionary or stifling but liberative, inspiring, and engaging to all ages (and God forbid we make our traditions exclusionary or stifling). I do not at all think that parishes must be Anglo-Catholic to show forth such things. But I do think the Anglo-Catholic tradition—which we at Rosemont are blessed to embrace so wonderfully—offers an unusual kind of richness, groundedness, and wisdom that helps re-attune our deepest selves to God’s purpose for us to realize his Kingdom of Love even now in our lonely, violent, and often uninspiring world.

The last thing seminarians (and remember I am writing as one!) need is to be oppressed by narratives about church death. This is not because they should be unaware of the various pragmatic realities around money, attendance, or whatever else we might place into the “failing church” narrative that congregations face or endure. Far from it. As my imaginative model suggests, the future leaders of the Episcopal Church should be acutely aware of such realities—as best they can. And they should be aware of the hard work and dedication that facing such challenges demand; a hard work and dedication that my time working with and learning from Fr. Kyle and various staff and parishioners daily showed forth to me. Indeed, the seminarians of my imaginative model would be aware that they do not face these challenges alone. It should inspire them how so many people, even if they be “fewer”, still care deeply about giving to the life of their church.

Rather than being oppressed, seminarians should be acutely aware of the reality that the church—as much as she operates within all the realities of the world—also looks to a kind of hope that dares to trust in the patient, quiet, and unassuming work of a God who took on this world and transformed it for us. A God who took on the world, and to many, would seem to have even died to the world! I believe this hope—especially for parishes, small or large—must be rooted in the transformative truth of Resurrection as manifested chiefly in the celebration of the Holy Communion. In that celebration we find the greatest expression of this patient, quiet, and unassuming work of God: bread and wine are transformed into the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, and absolutely no one needs to “see” it happening for it to be true. The Holy Communion becomes a whole way of being for the church at all times and in all places which is Christ’s body, and this way of being is not—in the world’s eyes—flashy, tantalizing, immediate, or “product” oriented.

I hope that this message—regardless of the peculiarities of my imaginative seminary model!—allows parishioners and supporters of Good Shepherd to understand what a gift it was for me to spend a few months living and working at Good Shepherd. As I also hope my reflection made clear, the opportunities for learning were many: assisting in leading all-ages formation, teaching Confirmation classes to two brilliant young parishioners, glimpsing the daily administrative tasks that rectors often must busy themselves with, planning and realizing summer camp with excellent volunteers, listening to and watching excellent music being made. The list could go on. I am exceptionally grateful to Fr. Kyle for his very generous giving of his time and sharing his wisdom, skills, and experience with me. I am also grateful to the staff of the parish (especially Robert, Renee, and Mary) for their support, and of course to the many parishioners who were so welcoming to my presence.

Please be assured of my regular prayers for the Church of the Good Shepherd. I look forward to visiting often. And of your charity please pray for me and my companions at Berkely Divinity School at Yale as we continue our formation.

August 22, 2025

One of the many legacies of our former summer seminarian intern, John Hager, is a beautifully illustrated companion to the Mass, “All the Company of Heaven.” On the front cover, John has sketched the west facade of the church building. In the sky to the right of the church is Our Lady, cradling the infant Lord, keeping prayerful watch over the earthly company that gather and worship in the Church of the Good Shepherd. The Blessed Mother is part of that heavenly host of saints who have gone before us. Also watching over us, although not visually depicted in John Hager’s drawing, are the angels and archangels. This whole company of heaven is somewhat easy for us to forget about when we are at Mass, and yet, the words leading into the Sanctus remind us that our song on earth is joined with “all the company of heaven.” At that moment in the Mass, heaven is brought down to earth and earth is brought up to heaven.

Do we need a more powerful reminder of the centrality of the Mass in the Christian life? Our mystical union with God and the company of heaven is something that we can fail to appreciate, perhaps because of its regularity, and yet it is available to us on every Lord’s Day, and even on weekdays. This principal act of praise and thanksgiving is far more than a perfunctory obligation or casual add-on to our daily lives. It is the source of our life in Christ. There is never a time in our existence when we don’t need the Mass. It is, of course, not something to be used or received as an injection of holiness. It is a priestly act of God’s people, offering themselves to God in thanks and praise, being sanctified therein, and then offered back to the world for its transformation in Christ.

At Mass, God assures us that the nearness of the kingdom of God is more palpable than we often realize, and the world’s transformation is not a fading pipedream but a very real prospect. Apart from the Mass, we live as if hope is lost or as if we alone are responsible for changing the world. And this is a vicious cycle of disappointment. But with the Mass at the center of our lives, the kingdom of God is brought nearer to us, and our earthly efforts towards justice, peace, and reconciliation are aided by the prayers of the entire company of heaven. In the Mass, we live and breathe God’s paradigm of abundance, which is a countercultural movement of resistance against the world’s paradigm of scarcity.

For many these days, church is one more choice in their busy lives, like a pizza topping or a gift wrapping option when shopping online. To put the Mass at the center of our lives takes work and intention. It means prioritizing the Mass especially when our lives are filled to the brim with alternative ways of spending our time. It means living into a consistent rhythm of feasting at the heavenly banquet on every Lord’s Day, whether we’re traveling or caught up in an all-consuming work assignment. There will be many times in which we don’t “feel” like attending Mass, but that is no indication that we shouldn’t be at worship with all the company of heaven. There is no more transformative antidote to the world’s scarcity mindset than to return weekly to the feast in which God assures us of his abundant provision. There is no more powerful counter to the world’s thanklessness than, with all the company of heaven, to give thanks weekly to the God who created us, redeemed us, and continues to sanctify us as his holy people in the world.

When the Mass becomes the center of our lives, we begin to live as a Eucharistic people, offering ourselves, sanctified by God, to a broken world, and then returning to worship with the company of heaven to offer the world’s brokenness back to God for healing and salvation. In the Mass, we learn to live into our true vocation as a priestly people, always at prayer and always seeking the wholeness of creation. In short, at Mass, with all the company of heaven, we learn to become Christ for the world.

The original intention of John Hager’s exquisite companion to the Mass was to help children learn to participate more fully in the ritual and beauty of the Mass. But as the little booklet evolved, it became clear that this Mass companion was for all ages. In the Godly Play curriculum that we use with young children at Sunday formation, we hear that the Holy Communion (second) part of the Mass takes us where words and thinking about them can’t take us. [See “The Circle of the Holy Eucharist” lesson in The Complete Guide to Godly Play, vol. 4, by Jerome Berryman, New York: Church Publishing, 2018, pp. 131-142.] In other words, we enter into mystery. Whether or not we feel like being at Mass on a particular day or whether or not the Scripture readings on a given day speak to us, there is always a point of engagement in the glorious beauty of the Mass. John Hager’s companion booklet is intended to draw all of us into the mystery of worshipping with all the company of heaven.

As we close out the summer months, I encourage you to give renewed consideration to putting the Mass at the center of your lives. To do otherwise is, in some sense, to reject God’s eternal gift of his Son in bread and wine and to reject the countless opportunities for us to present ourselves—our souls and bodies—for transformation “for the life of the world.” When you’re at Mass, pick up a copy of “All the Company of Heaven.” I suspect you will learn some things about the Mass. If you have children with you, assist them in engaging with the Mass. For just over an hour each week, we have a magnificent opportunity to leave our cell phones and worldly distractions at the church door and enter into thanks and praise with all the company of heaven. Or, should our cares and distractions be too much, we can bring them with us to God’s altar and offer them up for God, who sets us free. I will look forward to seeing you this Sunday as we continue our never-ending worship with all the company of heaven.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

August 15, 2025

One of my favorite weeks of the year is during our children’s arts and music summer camp. On this day—the Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary—we’re concluding our fifth annual camp. Each year’s camp is different in its own way, and this year’s camp was spectacular. We benefited enormously from the artistic gifts shared by our summer seminarian, John Hager, who took on the bulk of the coordination of the camp and also led the children in engaging art projects. A testimony to the cleverness of these projects was the fact that most of the children were intensely working on their artwork for thirty to forty minutes at a time! We were also blessed by the help of our camp staff helpers and parishioner Sarah Austen. (By the way, John Hager’s last Sunday with us is this coming Sunday, so please plan to be present to celebrate John at coffee hour after Sung Mass.)

In eight years of working with children as a parish priest, I have learned so much. I have become more aware of the limitations of my own knowledge because when working with children, one must really understand theological concepts. Children pose questions that are often difficult to answer. But even more importantly, they remind adults to use their imaginations. This past week, stories about Jesus and the Bible rubbed shoulders with artwork of unicorns and water snakes and inscriptions in various languages. Some of the most complex theological concepts were summed up in ways no adult would ever put forth. I was immensely pleased to hear children in our regular Sunday formation classes spouting forth their Biblical knowledge while understanding deeply the events of Jesus’s life.

Watching the activity and life at this year’s summer camp, it’s hard to imagine that there was no children’s formation program here five years ago. But now, children who sing in choir and hear Godly Play lessons together on Sundays spend time with each other outside of church. Real community has formed in our very midst. This is all the work of the Holy Spirit. Children’s formation has been revived at Good Shepherd because nearly five years ago a mother wrote to me out of the blue (and during pandemic) to ask if we had children’s formation classes. I said, “not at the moment, but we’ll start something.” The arrival of this family to our parish was a pure gift of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit’s continuing gift is seen in those coming to our chorister program, as well as some of the children who attend camp. One of our youth, who is currently preparing for Confirmation, came to Good Shepherd through children’s summer camp four years ago. My time at Good Shepherd has taught me that the growth of the parish will occur not, primarily, through our own innovative plans or superhuman efforts, but by God’s impetus, whereby people find a parish that we’re indeed working hard to maintain, steward, and build faithfully.

It is extraordinarily fitting that we conclude our summer camp on this Major Holy Day, when we celebrate the life and witness of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God. Through her openness, humility, and acquiescence, the Word of God was born into the world. Mary is, as the Eastern Church reminds us, the God-bearer. Mary, in some sense, points us back to the children we all were at one time. In my office, there is a lovely icon with Mary holding the infant Lord in her lap. He seems to be bursting with energy, straining to slip out of her arms. Surely he is in wonder about being a new person in the world. In a world that is sometimes far too serious, and thus far too angry, bitter, and resentful, can we meditate for just a time on the mystery that in Christ, God experienced the playfulness, buoyancy, and creativity of a child? Over the past week, through free play, art, music, and imaginative engagement with theology and Scripture, I caught glimpses of the richness of the Incarnation.

On this feast day, I hope you will spare some time to join us in celebration with a Procession and Sung Mass this evening at 7 p.m. We will sing wonderful Marian hymns and delight in the almost supernumerary honoring of the Blessed Mother, who sought no praise and glory in her earthly life and who always in that life, and in the legacy of icons, points to her Son, our risen and ascended Lord. Come and celebrate, as we’re joined by friends from Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, and stay after for a wonderful potluck supper. Come and sing of Mary, and recall that it’s only by becoming like a little child that we can enter the kingdom of heaven.

Sing we of the blessèd Mother
who received the angel's word,
and obedient to his summons
bore in love the infant Lord;
sing we of the joys of Mary
at whose breast that child was fed
who is Son of God eternal
and the everlasting Bread. (text: George B. Timms, 1910-1997)

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

August 8, 2025

Back in June, one of our parish youth told the Parable of the Sower from the Godly Play curriculum as part of our summer formation series for all ages. (If you aren’t familiar with this parable, you can read it in all of the synoptic Gospels: Matthew 13:1-12, Mark 4:1-20, and Luke 8:4-15). This parable was told in Part One of our summer series, “Putting God at the Center.” The theme of this entire series has been “Lives Shaped by God.” The summer seems like an odd time to explore this theme. It’s a season of vacations and travel. Many people are away, and parishioners are coming and going. But there was indeed some intentionality in settling on the topic of this series. Regardless of travel plans and the summer instability in church attendance, our summer series has been intended to make a point: the summer is not a period of decreased focus on God or ministry activity. Perhaps more than any other season, it’s a time during which we might most need to reflect on what is at the center of our lives.

The Parable of the Sower is an engaging story, and it’s a profoundly challenging one. As Jesus interprets the parables to his “inside” group of disciples, the parable can be read as an exhortation to be “good soil.” The good soil is capable of nourishing the seeds of God’s word, so that they can put down deep roots. In short, Jesus warns his disciples that while we may have the best of intentions in receiving the word of God and in walking in the ways of God, we will be tempted (often by ungodly forces) to remain as or deteriorate into shallow soil or soil incapable of nourishing the planted word.

The intention of the Christian life nourished in a particular community of faith is, ultimately, to cultivate good soil. Spiritual practices and disciplines are intended to enrich the soil of our lives. They fertilize the soil, if you will. Through fertilization, the Church gives space for God’s seed to grow. It grows only by the power and grace of God, but our responsibility is to cultivate the soil for good growth.

If we press Jesus’s parable a bit further (recalling that parables are multivalent and analogies break down at some point!), we will be conscious of the many competing interests/forces in our lives that make it challenging for God’s word to flourish among us. The first seeds sown on the path are simply left on the ground and easily snatched up by birds. In what ways are our lives shallow receptacles for God’s word? Who and what are the birds that get to God’s word before it can sink into our lives? What are the thorns among us that choke the word? Is our overzealousness about a certain cause a thorn? Or is another thorn our need to control how God is active in our lives?

I read Jesus’s teaching in the Parable of the Sower to be principally a caution against living as shallow Christians. These days, we can see far too many Christians obsessing about theological “orthodoxy” and living as if they have never read the Gospel injunctions towards mercy. Others profess to be Christian with their lips, but aren’t willing to do the hard work of discipleship. To use words from the Letter of James, we are to be doers of the word, not merely hearers. It’s very easy to say we’ll do something or intend to do something, but it’s much more difficult to follow through. There’s something of the way of the cross in this: to follow Jesus in word and action involves a posture of humility, discipline, and commitment. It involves sacrifice.

Trends seem to show that churches that demand something of their members are growing. Flashy trends and gimmicks are reside on the level of the shallow surface. But churches that are rooted in worship, formation, and service are thriving because they are incubators of “good soil people.” These Christians stick around for a while and have a long shelf life. They are “all in,” so to speak.

The word “discipline” is unpopular these days, but seen through the lens of the cross, we should know that what seems restrictive is really the way to freedom and eternal life. Sometimes cultivating rich soil—going deep, as it were—means narrowing our activities or practices so that we can give them due attention. To use a musical analogy, rather than taking on violin, piano, flute, and cello, maybe violin itself is enough. One good, fruitful spiritual practice is better than ten. And making the time for practice—especially when it feels like an inconvenience—is the only way to advance beyond scales to sonatas. It’s no different in the spiritual life.

To be people of good soil requires commitment and discipline. It demands shaping all of our lives so that God comes first. The summer is a wonderful time to practice being “good soil people.” Many distractions vie for our attention, so prioritizing worship, prayer, and spiritual practices will be something of a challenge. We should name this and then seek to move past it. Our age is quite adept at finding legitimate excuses to avoid spiritual habits, and we should be aware of false dichotomies. As we approach a new program year, we might begin to consider prayerfully how we can distill the activities of our busy lives to make room for God.

All this talk about worship, prayer, and spiritual practices is sometimes labeled as inward-looking or even as a waste of time. I’ve heard some clergy themselves express that they’re too busy for the Daily Office or some other discipline. But to choose between prayer and service is one of those false dichotomies we should eschew. When we deepen our spiritual lives, we’re equipped as mature disciples, ready to go outwards into the world in service. Any true contemplative (just read Thomas Merton, for example) will tell you that the root of social action is worship and prayer.

We live in a confusing time when Christians are struggling to find meaningful ways to respond to social injustice and to minister to those in need. Our deepest response will emerge when our lives are molded around God. In the remaining weeks of this summer, whether you’re traveling or at home, I encourage you to find ways to make God the center of all you do. What we have frequently said in our stewardship discussions applies as much to money as to the rest of our lives: when we give to God first, amazing things happen.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

August 1, 2025

Nearly four years ago, staff from the Diocese of Pennsylvania brought a group of visitors from another Episcopal diocese to talk with members of Good Shepherd. The visitors wanted to meet with representatives of various parishes to witness and hear more about the ways in which the Diocese of Pennsylvania was providing support for its parishes. Good Shepherd, Rosemont, was highlighted as an example of a parish beginning to grow because of such support. In the course of the conversation, one of the visitors made an observation. She kept hearing from Good Shepherd parishioners that they felt valued. People nodded their heads and affirmed this assessment. I’ve never forgotten that moment.

I’ve thought of it frequently as I’ve watched this parish grow over the past five years. Newcomers routinely tell me the same thing that visitor articulated four years ago. They feel valued. Perhaps we at Good Shepherd value the gifts of newcomers in a salient way because we are yet a small parish, even though we’re growing. There aren’t discernable cliques of “insiders” and “outsiders.” Because the vast majority of parishioners and regular attendees are relatively new, there’s little territorialism in ministry. If people want to become involved, they’re readily signed up! Parishioners in more established parishes with entrenched ministries often forget how unwelcoming they can be to newcomers.

Good Shepherd, Rosemont, is a place where I pray that everyone can feel valued. True to our name, we’re a parish that strives to welcome—indeed, to seek out—the lost sheep and to turn the house upside down to find that one lost coin. Now, the flip side of this wonderful attribute of our parish is that when anyone is not sharing of their gifts or involved in parish life beyond Sunday worship, the parish is affected. In fact, the parish is weaker as a result. As I’ve said many times, we’re not what we can be when some are withholding their gifts, for whatever reason. However incomprehensible it may be, we’re approaching a new program year. And as we do so, we need to look carefully at the broad scope of our parish ministries and identify areas in which the sharing of gifts, time, and talent are sorely needed.

Hear again the timely, beautiful words from the Letter to the Ephesians:

[Christ] himself granted that some are apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ. We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming; but speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love (4:11-16).

Notice how the author of the letter, in the spirit of St. Paul, enjoins us to maturity. A mature body of believers (a mature ekklesia) is one in which all share freely and abundantly of their gifts. This sharing is integral to the flourishing of God’s kingdom on earth. Part of what makes Good Shepherd a strong, healthy parish (small but mighty!) is this generous sharing of gifts. But there is yet more room for growth in this regard. As we increase in numbers, we need more people to assist with ministry as it expands and deepens. I would like to offer a sweeping survey of our parish ministries, noting specific areas where assistance is especially needed.

Worship
Worship is at the heart of what we do as Christians, the wellspring from which our lives of faith and service flow. At Good Shepherd, we sustain a liturgical schedule more robust than the vast majority of Episcopal parishes, many of which are much larger than we are.

• Acolytes serve at the altar for all Masses. We are always in need of more acolytes. We especially need acolytes to serve occasionally for Sunday morning Low Masses at 8 a.m., as well as for weekday Masses (Wednesdays at 12:05 p.m., Fridays at 8 a.m., and Major Holy Days).

• The Sacristans Guild prepare vessels, the sacristy, and the church for all liturgies. They usually set up on Saturday mornings.

• The Altar Guild launder linens for use at the altar. This can be done at anyone’s convenience and at home.

• Daily Office officiants lead Morning Prayer (9 a.m.) and Evening Prayer (5:30 p.m.) on weekdays. These services are attended by people in person and are also livestreamed to a regular online “congregation.” We would benefit significantly from more Daily Office officiants.

• Lectors read the Scripture lessons at liturgies.

• Ushers greet people at Mass, hand out service leaflets, and welcome newcomers.

Outreach

• The Rosemont Community Retreat House is at the heart of our outreach ministries. We routinely welcome guests from across the country to stay in the house for individual retreats, prayer, rest, and respite. We also partner with Hosts for Hospitals to provide free lodging for those traveling to the Philadelphia area for hospital stays. We will use the coming year to pray and discern towards a more sustainable plan for our retreat house. Of all our parish ministries, I think this ministry is most in need of support. We would eagerly welcome anyone who is interested in working towards a clear and manageable vision for the retreat house, as well as others who are willing to offer their time in service, as we continue to look outwards beyond the bounds of the parish.

• We collect non-perishable food items in the Tower entrance to be donated to the Ardmore Food Pantry. Volunteers are needed to ferry items from the church to the pantry.

• Our campus ministry to Bryn Mawr and Haverford Colleges is led primarily by our student leaders and me. As we seek to continue this ministry and as the parish grows, we will need further support from parishioners.

• The Social Concerns Committee meets regularly to discern how Good Shepherd can serve the greater community by easing suffering, giving hope, and identifying and helping individuals and families who are in need. Over the coming year, the committee will be discussing whether we wish to partner with Family Promise of the Main Line, which works to identify temporary housing for homeless families who are striving for full independence.

Hospitality and Fellowship

• Sunday coffee hours are a joyful time of conversation and fellowship. There is an acute need for more coffee hour hosts. Current coffee hour hosts are working diligently to make the hosting process simple and manageable.

• We host potluck suppers after most special evening feast day Masses. Volunteers help with setting up, cleaning up, and coordinating the online supper signups.

Formation

• Adult formation is largely coordinated by me, in consultation with parishioners. However, if you have a passion for formation, there may be specific ways in which your gifts can be utilized.

• Children’s formation occurs weekly on Sunday mornings during the program year, from 9:30 to 10:15 a.m. in the Parish House. Because of the wide span of ages, we have two classes. This coming program year, we’ve had to recruit more teachers, and there’s a real need for more assistance, whether in serving as a second adult or in teaching. As the number of children in the parish grows, we will need to expand our offerings to accommodate ages. This area of ministry requires more help and support as we look to the future.

Music

• The adult choir comprises paid staff singers, but volunteers are welcomed, too. Because of the limited rehearsal time each week (just over an hour each Sunday morning before Mass), volunteers would need to be auditioned and be excellent sight readers.

• Our new chorister program will need additional support in the coming year in order to grow into the future. Specifically, we’re almost solely reliant on word of mouth by parents and those who know families with children to spread the word about this incredible program, which offers unparalleled musical education, character formation, and life experience. We eagerly welcome your efforts in advertising this program, helping us recruit new choristers by word of mouth, or agreeing to serve as a second adult for after-school rehearsals.

Buildings and Property

• Our campus consists of over 15,000 square feet of real estate. Our small Buildings and Property Committee meets monthly to discuss issues that need to be addressed. We’re working towards a long-term buildings/property plan that puts less of a burden on our small and overstretched staff. To realize a sustainable plan that ensures the careful stewardship of what God has entrusted to our care, it’s essential to have more people serving on this committee. If you live reasonably close to the church (or don’t mind driving here frequently!) and are willing to lend your eyes on a regular basis to the state of our buildings and property and can attend monthly meetings, we would welcome your help!

It should be evident from the above list that there is no shortage of opportunities for you to share your time and talents at Good Shepherd. Indeed, for ministry to continue to thrive and deepen, we will need to rely on the gifts of all parishioners and regular attendees, as well as Friends of the parish. Are you feeling an itch to use some of your gifts? Are you eager to become involved beyond attendance on Sunday mornings? Do you have an urge to serve the least of these in the name of Christ? If so, please reach out to me. I would be most happy to schedule a time to discuss any of the above ministries. Part of the responsible use of our God-given gifts involves careful discernment of our own spiritual gifts. I thoroughly enjoy helping parishioners in that process. And we always provide training and support for those serving in ministries. After speaking with you, I’d be happy to direct you to an appropriate ministry head who can incorporate you into your ministry of choice.

I’ve frequently said that when I came to Good Shepherd nearly five years ago, I would never have dreamed of what we’re now doing in ministry. And none of us can imagine what is possible over the coming years; God’s vision for his kingdom always infinitely exceeds our capacity to dream. Each of you is valued here. Each of you has gifts to use. Your presence is an integral part of our future flourishing. How will you help?

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle