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

July 25, 2025

Having just returned from a week of continuing education and two weeks of vacation, I’m reminded of the first verse of John Keble’s (1792-1866) beautiful hymn: “New every morning is the love/our wakening and uprising prove/through sleep and darkness safely brought/restored to life and power and thought” (see The Hymnal 1982, Hymn #10). I’m deeply grateful for the opportunity to have a few weeks for a change of scenery in which both my mind, soul, and body were reinvigorated. Even at Low Mass this morning, I was reminded of how fresh everything seemed after being away for a time. Living, as I do, on campus, I find it immensely helpful to be offsite for a few weeks in the summer. This enables me to turn outwards, so to speak, and it also reminds me of what I appreciate the most about Good Shepherd. This is the importance of time for refreshment and retreat: we remember the vast newness of each moment of daily life and of God’s numerous blessings.

For the first week of my time away, I was in Oxford, UK, attending a theological conference at Pusey House, a notable center of formation and worship in the Anglo-Catholic tradition. At the “Restoring the Image” Conference, I heard nineteen theologians present papers on the topic of theological anthropology, exploring the multifaceted dimensions of the human person before God in Christ. What exactly is the image of God? Was the image once perfect, later tarnished, and then in need of being restored to perfection? Or was the image good but never perfect to begin with and simply yearning for its completion? These were some of the questions explored at the conference. Such occasions of theological enrichment are always humbling for me. I do believe, as the adage goes, that the more one learns, the most one realizes how much one doesn’t know. For me, this is an enticement to continue to learn and grow in theological reflection, to “love God with the mind," as one of my seminary professors used to say.

But another part of the humbling experience of theological formation is that one begins to understand how much we as Christians don’t know and will never know about God. This is partly what makes theological education so enjoyable, and it should keep us modest before God. For instance, in listening to three days’ worth of discussions on the image of God and the human person, one must admit that there’s no defining doctrine posited by the Church. It’s still very much an open discussion and a timely one, considering modern advances in technology and science and greater knowledge of the complexity of human beings and relationships. Many of the speakers at the conference maintained some reticence before the ambiguity of humanity; not all did, which was a further incentive for me to engage different—perhaps even offensive—viewpoints on certain topics with an open mind.

It seems to me that if one takes theology seriously and is well-read in it, one should be severely reluctant to venture forth into judging others as heretical or attempting to constrain too narrowly the limits of “orthodoxy.” Orthodoxy is ultimately about “right worship” or “right praise.” And as our Anglican tradition holds, lex orandi, lex credendi, roughly, “the law of praying is the law of believing.” It all begins with worship. We can never be lost only in our minds before God. We must return to prayer and worship. And lest we idolize any particular theologian or thinker, we should remember the limits and mystery of human finitude. The more I read from theologians over the centuries, the more I’m aware of how much theological diversity has been included within the Church’s definition of “orthodoxy.” Perhaps this was the greatest takeaway I had from this summer’s conference.

While in Oxford, I also had the privilege to preach on July 6 at St. Barnabas, Jericho, an Anglo-Catholic parish founded in the same year as Good Shepherd, 1869. (If you wish, you can read my sermon online.) I’m grateful to the kind invitation to preach by their vicar, Fr. Christopher Woods, who was a gracious host. As I mentioned in my message a few weeks ago, this connection between St. Barnabas and Good Shepherd was made by our parish Friend, the Rev. Dr. Sarah Coakley, with whom I was able to visit and who attends St. Barnabas when in Oxford. I was heartened to see the vibrancy of parish life at St. Barnabas, and it reminds me in many ways of Good Shepherd. There is a diversity of ages, a reverent thoughtfulness, and a warmth of spirit at St. Barnabas. I hope that Fr. Christopher will be able to visit Good Shepherd at some point in the future, and it would be a joy to welcome him into our pulpit.

I’m grateful for the support of the vestry and parish in sending me to the Oxford conference, and I’m sure that my learnings there will be invaluable in teaching and preaching. Thank you to all—staff, lay leaders, and our summer seminarian—who ensured that everything ran so smoothly while I was away. It’s a wonderful thing to be able to leave town for several weeks and not worry about the day-to-day functioning of the parish. As I said earlier, being away always makes me appreciate so many aspects of our life together in community at Good Shepherd. I’ve missed seeing all of you, and I will look forward to reconnecting this Sunday at Mass.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

SEMINARIAN GOES TO COOKHAM

During my trip to England last week, I made a point to visit a small town called Cookham. Located along the River Thames in Berkshire about 45 minutes from central London, it was in Cookham that the artist Sir Stanley Spencer (1891-1959) spent much of his life. Spencer was in love with Cookham, and saw this little town with its old parish church—Holy Trinity—as a “village in heaven.”[1] Spencer’s canvases are often whimsical, curious, and packed with figures. And they are always colorful and infused with a certain vibrancy which must only come from his love for, and sensitive observation of, the world around him. Many of his pictures are scenes from the life of Christ and the Bible transposed to the streets of Cookham and the local countryside. It seems that Spencer thought it was perfectly natural that the great events of salvation should be shown in a small Berkshire town, where Jesus Christ might be depicted preaching from a busy boat on the Thames or where Spencer’s wife, Hilda, might be shown alongside Moses at the last day.

I include here two of my favorite pictures. The first, Christ Carrying the Cross (1920), shows the road to Calvary as passing by a friend’s house in Cookham. Christ is barely visible behind the various onlookers. Notice how the crossed pair of ladders echo the cross itself in a kind of sacred rhythm, showing forth the sanctification of the ordinary. Spencer’s desire to show the road to Calvary as something so integrated into village life did not arise from a lack of seriousness. Rather, as he put it, “Christ had made everything wonderful and glorious,” and he believed that he might “be able to join in that glory.”[2] Indeed, there is something both beautiful and intensely painful to me that the suffering of the cross should be made so ordinary. Our attentiveness to actually seeing Christ in this picture—looking as though he were another resident of Cookham—seems to visualize the visceral reality of everydayness that comes with the fulness of Incarnation. 

Christ Carrying the Cross. Sir Stanley Spencer, 1920

That everydayness may include the reality of suffering and pain and our call to respond to it as followers of Christ Jesus. And that everydayness may include the possibility and reality of knowing that not one thing is beyond the transfiguring light of Christ—even now. The second picture, The Resurrection, Cookham (1924-26) might be said to take up this latter theme. Here, we see the resurrection of the dead at the last day as taking place in the churchyard at Holy Trinity. The vast expanse of the church’s chalk and limestone wall spans the top of the picture, and all around all sorts of people emerge from their graves in various attitudes of praise, bewilderment, calm, and joy. Along the church wall, too, are seated various Old Testament figures. And Jesus Christ himself is shown as a nursing mother under the white rose covered church porch. A pale and all-consuming light comes from the east; as it moves across the picture it seems we can almost feel the crescendo of life that is emerging from the churchyard. On the left side, very near the people emerging from shell-like tombs, we find a mother brushing off her son’s coat as she would at the start of any new school day. The smallest acts of love have been taken up, and continue, in the Resurrection light.

The Resurrection, Cookham. Sir Stanley Spencer, 1924-1926

Of course, I spent some time at Holy Trinity. Under the hot and indiscriminate light of the summer sun, washing everything out with its brightness, I think that The Resurrection, Cookham did come to life. Spencer’s pictures helped me to see the possibility and reality of resurrection even now. Something familiar and present (me standing in the churchyard on a summer’s day in 2025) was transformed through Spencer’s ability to convey in paint a kind of vision which sees the pulse of the divine in the world we know.

None of this is removed from our life here at Good Shepherd. For, in one way or another, every time we come to this place we are reattuning ourselves to see the world as alive with the intense reality of God’s Incarnate being. To me, Spencer’s pictures seem to articulate in another way the words with which we begin every Mass: “Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And blessed be his kingdom, now and for ever.” Spencer, enraptured with seeing the immediate world around him as replete with God’s action, conveys something of the urgency of the Gospel call to realize this Kingdom that is mysteriously now and to come. We are, of course, profoundly blessed at Good Shepherd with a beautiful church and lush grounds (it has become one of my favorite pastimes here to sit on the porch in the morning and watch the light fall across the flowers and ferns by the Lady Chapel). And a beautiful community that—as I have discovered more and more—is so dedicated to the flourishing of this place. And likewise, Spencer’s Cookham and Holy Trinity Church are very beautiful places. It might be tempting, then, to hear all this talk of seeing the divine as a trite or sheltered; it is much more easily done, probably, in pretty places than in unpleasant ones.

Church of the Holy Trinity, Cookham

But I think that Spencer’s eye is, in fact, rooted in a real awareness of the fulness of life. Indeed, Spencer had known first-hand the realities of the First World War during time on the front in Macedonia, to say nothing of the personal travails around his own divorce and remarriage, for instance. Perhaps in some ways it was his deep awareness of the pains of life that enabled him to cling even more closely to the reality that God was present in his beautiful village, in the people and places he loved so much. To proclaim in his own way the blessedness of God’s kingdom now and for ever was not a veil over life’s ugliness or pain. Rather, it was proclaiming boldly a trust, a vision, in the real presence of the ageless, Incarnate God who has met and will meet us precisely in the world we know.  

John Hager
Summer Seminarian Intern

[1] Sir Stanley Spencer CBE, RA (1891-1959). Webpage:

< https://www.cookham.com/about/biographyold.htm >

[2] Stanley Spencer RA (Exhibition catalogue). The Royal Academy of Arts, London. London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1980; p. 62.

July 11, 2025

If Father Kyle’s weekly report has gone missing, it probably means summer is upon us,
providing an opportune time to ruminate on budgetary matters. In brief, revenues
received through the end of May are 8% higher than budgeted. This is partly due to
parishioners accelerating their pledge giving, and additional support from newcomers to
our growing parish. However, operating expenses through May were approximately
10% higher than projected, partly because we underestimated utility costs in our
budget. While it may be difficult to recall during a heat wave, the 2024-25 winter was the
coldest in a decade. Further, our more intense use of the Parish House led to higher
than anticipated heating and cooling bills.

During the first half of 2025, we withdrew $20,000 from our endowment in addition to
the regular distributions provided by our investment manager. This higher withdrawal
was projected in our budget, so our net surplus (the difference between all revenues
and expenses) was just over $3,000 through May. After accounting for the first-half
withdrawal, the balance of our endowment at the end of May was $432,000, only
modestly below the $436,000 balance in May of 2024.

Many thanks to all those who supported our 2025 capital campaign, which raised just
over $175,000. Your support is much appreciated! One of the projects made possible by
this fund is a new roof for our Retreat House, which we expect to be completed in
August. From a budgetary perspective, many capital improvements lower ongoing
repair costs in addition to enhancing our buildings and property, further advancing our
efforts to manage a sustainable budget.

The Church of the Good Shepherd has been blessed to see many new faces in our
congregation during the first-half of 2025, giving us renewed energy in worship. As a
reminder, our financial goals include making the necessary investments to support and
enhance the worship and music we cherish as an Anglo-Catholic parish. We are
balancing the use of our endowment fund with other means of support to reach a
sustainable balance between ongoing operating costs and recurring revenue. If you
have questions about these initiatives or want to join in the effort, please contact me or
any other member of the Finance Committee.

Yours in Christ,
Jonathan Adams
Rector’s Warden

July 4, 2025

As you read this message, I’m preparing to leave for a week of continuing education. The gift of continuing education is that it offers a change of scenery for me to be inspired and energized by learning and conversation in topical areas that will enrich my priestly duties in the parish. Next week, I will be attending a theological conference at Pusey House, Oxford, UK, entitled “Restoring the Image: Creation, Salvation, and the Human Person.” This conference will feature twenty different theologians from across the world, many of whom are giants in their field. I’m very much looking forward to being further educated and invigorated by this conference. The topic at hand is one of great interest to me, and I believe it will strengthen my own teaching and preaching within the parish. I’m grateful for the vestry’s recommendation that the parish fund this continuing education opportunity.

This coming Sunday, July 6, after arriving in Oxford, I will be preaching at St. Barnabas Church, Jericho, a sister Anglo-Catholic parish across the pond. I appreciate the kind invitation of their vicar, Father Christopher Woods. Through our mutual friend, the Rev. Dr. Sarah Coakley (a friend of this parish), Fr. Christopher and I have learned that St. Barnabas and Good Shepherd were both founded in 1869! While in Oxford, Fr. Christopher and I will further discuss the similarities between our two parishes and how we can creatively meet the challenges of modern parish ministry while living into the fullness of our Anglo-Catholic traditions.

While I’m away, I’m thankful for the presence of our supply priests (Fr. Raymond Harbort, Fr. Edward Godden, and Fr. Walter Thorne). Additionally, our summer seminarian, John Hager, parish administrator, Renee Barrick, and financial administrator, Mary Campbell, are doing much to ensure that the daily operations of the office continue uninterrupted. Members of the vestry and other lay leaders are stepping in to help while I’m away. Thank you!

As I reflect on the topic of continuing education, I’m reminded of the importance of Christian formation within our own parish. Our summer formation series will continue even while I’m away. If you’ve attended our meetings this summer, you will know that our overall theme is “Lives Shaped by God.” With the recent distribution of refrigerator magnets announcing special sung liturgies for 2025-2026, we’re making an intentional effort to announce parish events well in advance so that you will have an opportunity to mark them on your calendars. The liturgical calendar is a major way in which our lives are shaped by God.

I’m also pleased to make you aware of our recently published parish events calendar for the 2025-2026 program year. You can find this calendar on our parish website. Please review this calendar carefully and put the dates on your calendar. There are many exciting offerings! I especially draw your attention to our online (Zoom) formation series beginning in September. You will find information about topics and presenters on our website, as well as in the parish events calendar. My hope is that by moving monthly adult formation classes online, we will reserve Sunday coffee hour for fellowship and other conversations. Additionally, we would love for Friends of the parish to join us from across the country (and world) for the online formation series by logging onto Zoom. Stay tuned for parish email announcements with the Zoom links for those presentations. I also draw your attention to a Lenten parish retreat on March 7 led by Brother Ephrem Arcement of the Order of the Holy Cross. I hope you will make a point of attending this retreat, which is intended to draw us into a more fulsome understanding of the spirituality of parish life.

While I’m away, should you have any pastoral emergencies, please call the parish office (610-525-7070), and you will find information about how to contact priests who will be on call to respond to your needs. I will not be checking email while I’m away. For non-emergency requests, you may email the parish office. After attending the conference in Oxford, which ends on July 9, I will be on vacation until July 24. I will miss you while I’m traveling. Thank you to those who are helping with the sustenance of our Daily Office schedule while I’m away. Please note the changes to the daily Mass schedule in the next few weeks by visiting the news page of our website. I’ll look forward to seeing you when I return.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

June 27, 2025

One of my favorite prayers is found in the intercessions we use at Good Shepherd at the end of Morning and Evening Prayer. Each day, we pray for “all yet unknown to us whom God will draw to this place to come to know and love our Lord Jesus.” This prayer is both specific and not so specific that we try to dictate to God exactly what should happen. Such a transactional view of prayer (i.e. “Here is what I want, God, and I expect it to happen immediately”) is tempting. We often expect a change in our feelings or emotions directly after offering a prayer. Or we expect a discernible result within minutes of praying, as if we’re handing a cashier a twenty dollar bill for an item we’ve purchased.

But the specificity of prayer commended by our Lord in a Biblical passage such as Matthew 7:7 (“Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you”) balances both human clarity of purpose and the divine mystery of God’s response. Our daily prayer at Good Shepherd for “all yet unknown to us” whom God will draw to the parish conveys to God our desire for others to join us in Christian discipleship. And at the same time, it defers to God’s wisdom in sending us the people in question.

More clearly than ever before in my experience as a priest, over the past five years that I have been at Good Shepherd, I’ve seen the power of prayer and of God’s response. Discerning God’s response is not as clear as asking Google what the weather patterns are in New York City and having Google spit an answer back out. Rather, discerning God’s response to prayer is like gazing for a while at an autostereogram and, suddenly, noticing the clear image hidden within it. I have been amazed at those persons who walk through the doors of our church bearing gifts exactly suited for the parish’s needs. Or in other cases, the persons who show up here are in need of something that only this parish can provide. In other instances, these persons are linked with our parish for a brief period of time (for a reason known only to God) and then move on by the circumstances of life. But I believe firmly that all who find their way to Good Shepherd are sent by God.

And in my opinion, this is why the modern grasping after gimmicks and flashy tricks to lure people to church doesn’t work. That quest is Pelagian, assuming that only our human efforts will draw people into the life of faith. What I’ve discovered palpably at Good Shepherd is that if we show up regularly to pray, opening ourselves to God while also specifically conveying to God our intentions, God responds in his own way and in a way that is best for us and for the world God created. The modern Church, so fearful and anxious about dying, doesn’t need a strategic plan for growth or a bag of tricks; she simply needs to pray and show up faithfully to respond to those whom God sends her way, welcoming them into the fold of Christ and partnering with them in a way that honors everyone’s God-given gifts.

As we at Good Shepherd seek to be specific in our prayer, it behooves us to name those areas in our common life where we need God’s help. Currently, the parish vestry and I are striving to build more sustainable ministry at Good Shepherd. In other words, how does ministry thrive beyond the leadership of any one person, whether that of the rector, a staff member, or a parishioner who leads it? This is healthy and ensures that ministry will outlive the persons involved in it. It also assumes that ministry will flourish around the respect for each person’s specific gifts.

I’m inviting you to pray with me for those whom God will send to the parish to support the ministry that God is building among us. I’m also inviting you to pray for those who are already here who may need encouragement in sharing and using the gifts God has given them. Our prayer needs only to be as specific as our daily prayer for “all yet unknown to us whom God will draw to this place to come to know and love our Lord Jesus.” And at the same time, we can name those areas of parish life where help is needed. This is being honest and clear, and lest we think of prayer as demanding things from God, we should also recognize how prayer shapes us as we pray.

Let me offer some intentions for us in our common life. First, we are in need of a long-term plan for oversight of our buildings and property (over 15,000 square feet, to be exact). Currently, the management of this property falls too heavily on our small staff (of which I’m the only full-time employee). Our magnificent property manager, Kevin Loughrey, is only onsite five hours a week, hardly enough time to accomplish all that we throw at him. I ask you to pray for those whom God will send to help us with the stewardship of our wonderful buildings. And if you have gifts to share in this regard, pray about whether God is calling you to help us. Such help doesn’t require expert knowledge. Part of what we need is someone to help us with organizational systems of oversight. Much property requires many eyes watching over it to ensure its health and security.

Second, please pray for our discernment as we build a sustainable system for managing our retreat house. We’d love to see even more programming and activity in that house, but to do so, we need more help. Our retreat house is an invaluable ministry that has welcomed guests from across the world. We’ve also partnered on numerous occasions with Hosts for Hospitals, providing accommodations (free of charge) for those coming to the area for medical care. Our own parishioner Kit Apostolacus has just moved into the retreat house, where, for a year, she will serve as an Assistant for Liturgical and Retreat House Ministries, helping us manage the running of the house and also assisting at the Daily Office and Masses during the week. Please pray for those we don’t yet know whom God will draw here to help with our retreat house ministry, as well as for those already here who might be called to assist, too.

Third, please pray for the growth and flourishing of our new chorister program. This ministry is off to a strong start, but I believe there’s more potential for children in the local community to be touched by the gift of music, and at the same time, acquire important skills for growing into mature and well-rounded individuals. Additionally, they are blessed by Jesus in the process, as ministry allows seeds of faith to be planted in their hearts. We need help in spreading the word about this program and in ensuring its vitality in the future.

In a parish as vibrant as ours, there are many other areas of our common life that are in need of assistance, but at the moment, the areas of ministry I have named seem most salient. I’ve said many times before that our parish will not function as fully as it can unless all of us are using our God-given gifts. But how we use those gifts is determined by our prayer. Please pray for this parish, its proclamation of the Gospel, and our increasing outreach to the local community, wider Church, and world. I’ll look forward to seeing you in church this Sunday as we offer our corporate prayer to the God who always surprises us with his abundant gifts. If you’re traveling this weekend, please offer your own prayers before the altar of another church in your travels. Let’s be specific in our prayer, but then, we must hand the rest over to God to accomplish all things in his good time.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

June 20, 2025

This past week, I attended the annual conference of the Association of Anglican Musicians in Cincinnati. As a former professional church musician, I have been a member of AAM since 2011, and I try to attend the annual conference most years. Also in attendance this year from Good Shepherd were Robert McCormick, our Organist and Director of Music, and parishioner Jack Burnam, who is himself a past President of AAM.

Good Shepherd, Rosemont, has developed a strong relationship with AAM in recent years. For three years, I served as chair of AAM’s Professional Concerns and Development Committee, whose work was focused on strengthening relationships between clergy and musicians. I currently chair AAM’s Taskforce on Power Dynamics and Abuse in the Episcopal Workplace. Back in 2022, when we were renovating the former parish rectory to open our retreat house, we were given a generous grant of $10,000 from AAM. In fact, members of the AAM Board were the first guests in our retreat house! The Board held a retreat at Good Shepherd last year and will do so again this coming September. I hope there will be other opportunities in which we can partner with AAM, especially as the organization seeks to build healthy relationships between clergy and musicians throughout the Episcopal Church.

I’m deeply thankful for my membership in AAM. At each conference, I enjoy seeing colleagues (musicians and clergy), and I’m inspired by the creativity of the organization. The good energy within AAM reminds me of the good energy at Good Shepherd, where there is a hopefulness for the future of the Church. AAM currently supports an organ fellowship for young organists to receive mentoring in church music in parishes throughout the Episcopal Church. And AAM is persistent in encouraging all who serve within the Episcopal Church to utilize just and ethical employment practices and to strive to live into healthy and mature relationships as members of the Body of Christ.

But each year at the AAM conference, I’m probably most inspired by the vigorous singing. This year, 250 attendees raised the roofs on several churches, as they sang hymns and psalms together, an audible reminder of the power of sacred music. In singing these hymns with fellow musicians and clergy drawn from across the United States, I reflected on music’s incredible power to unite a diverse group of people. Surely we’re all troubled by the rancorous and searing divisions we see among us. Surely we’re all heartbroken at the unending wars and the new ones that have begun across the world. Surely we’re saddened by enmities in our own families, workplaces, schools, and communities. But when people sing together, it becomes much more difficult to remain hard-hearted. When we sing together, our voices are literally vibrating on the same wavelengths, and physiologically and spiritually, something marvelous happens.

You have perhaps heard that music builds community. Of course, it does! Music is a keen agent of cohesiveness in our own parish life. Our new chorister program has knit families within the parish more closely together. And when we sing together in the liturgy, we become a countercultural witness to music’s power to unite in an age of great divisiveness. This is inherently of the Gospel. Where we see deliberate estrangement, we don’t see a visible expression of the Gospel. Where we see reconciliation and efforts at reconciliation, we see the Gospel come alive.

As a musician myself, I think it’s quite difficult to remain at enmity with someone with whom you are making music. This makes music a vital part of our own particular expression of the Christian life both within the Episcopal Church and within the Anglo-Catholic tradition. At Good Shepherd, most of our liturgy is sung. This helps neutralize our own personalities (especially that of the Celebrant!), and it enhances what we share in common—voice, breath, and a yearning to express ourselves in song. It may be that in a time when divisions permeate both Church and world, the witness of an organization like the Association of Anglican Musicians is most needed.

One of my favorite moments in Sung Mass is when we all face east together at the beginning and bless the name of God. And then half an hour later, we all face east again and sing the Nicene Creed, the ancient affirmation of our faith in God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the God revealed in Jesus Christ. This action, Sunday after Sunday, is one of the most profound ways in which we as Christians of different backgrounds and perspectives witness to a different way of being in the world, a way of being together in spite of difference, with hearts of flesh given by God rather than hearts of stone.

This Sunday, as we celebrate the Feast of the Corpus Christi (transferred), we will visibly proclaim our willingness to be united in the mind of Christ, a mind that invites us into selflessness for the sake of the Body. We will sing to the One who feeds us eternally, and who alone is our strength and stay. And we will sing to the One who comes among us in Bread and Wine to be the Source of our unity, to knit together those in heaven and on earth into one fellowship of the mystical Body of Christ. I will look forward to singing with you this Sunday at Mass.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

June 13, 2025

In chapter 64 of the Book of Isaiah, the prophet says, “O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand” (v. 8). Several other verses in Scripture liken God to the potter and humankind to clay. In chapter 9 of his letter to the Romans, St. Paul further develops this image, making a case for God’s sovereignty. I have always found comfort in the metaphor of God as a potter who shapes the clay of humankind. But in a modern age of individualism with its buffet of choices, it may be an increasingly unpopular image.

I personally don’t read the image of God as a potter to be a controlling God of predestinarianism. Rather, I interpret the image as distinguishing God from humankind, making a distinction between a perfect and eternally creative God and imperfect and finite human existence. What appeals to me in the Scriptural images of potter and clay is the dynamic creativity at work in both of them. God’s creative shaping of our lives is for our good. And yet such a God doesn’t forcefully shape us. If the clay is too hard or recalcitrant, it will not be formed into a vase. If we are too stubborn and self-consumed, we will fail to be malleable to God’s hands.

If God is a potter and we are clay in his hands, then we are intended to be shaped and formed by God. The spiritual life becomes a process of allowing God to shape us so that we can grow more and more into the likeness of God. We are created in God’s image, and yet we must continually be molded by God’s grace working in our lives. This shaping happens, of course, in the liturgy. The liturgy is not primarily educative, but it has educative effects. If you want to learn to be a good Christian, going to church is the way to start.

But we supplement this liturgical shaping with Christian formation. At Good Shepherd, we use the word “formation” quite intentionally (rather than “education”). Education suggests something that is head-centered. Formation implies something that is more holistic, pertaining to heart, mind, body, and soul. We could also say that our “primary theology” is our worship. We come together in community to worship God and offer prayer and our lives for transformation. But our “secondary theology” is our reflection on such worship, which is at the heart of Christian formation.

There’s a deep interest in Christian formation at Good Shepherd. During the program year (September through May), we offer regular formation for both children and adults on Sundays. This Sunday (June 15) will be the first meeting of our summer formation series, which brings children and adults together to learn about their faith. The topic is “Lives Shaped by God,” and you can view the list of topics and meetings online. In this formation series, children and adults will tell stories and participate in discussions on central stories and topics of our faith. This Sunday, we begin with a look at the liturgical year. Following the story or presentation in each meeting, we will have interactive discussions or collaborative games as we learn more about each other and the topics presented. Above all, I hope this formation series will be enjoyable, allowing adults and children to uphold one another in their common lives of discipleship. I hope to see you this Sunday at 9:30 a.m. in the Parish House. (Enter via the office door off the circle drive, take a left once inside, go up the steps, and we’ll be in the first room on your right.) There will be snacks for children!

Another significant means of formation within the parish is our Pilgrims in Christ process, which prepares people for Baptism, Confirmation, Reception into the Episcopal Church, and Reaffirmation of Baptismal Vows. Some people simply participate in Pilgrims to further their own spiritual growth. Pilgrims is not so much a series of classes as it is a process, a process of being continually molded, as clay, by the loving hand of God. While Pilgrims in Christ has just concluded after nine months of regularly gathering for teaching, discussion, and theological reflection, we’re already looking toward next program year.

This year, in our Pilgrims process, we had four people prepared for Baptism, as well as numerous others preparing for Confirmation, Reception into the Episcopal Church, and Reaffirmation of Baptismal Vows. But we also had one lifelong Christian and seasoned Episcopalian participate as well. Pilgrims is not only for newcomers to the church. Indeed, I strongly encourage all—especially experienced Episcopalians!—to consider this formation process. Here’s what some of this past year’s pilgrims had to say about their experience.

Good Shepherd's “Pilgrims” class is aptly named. Our weekly sessions became a journey that broadened my knowledge of the Episcopal Anglo-Catholic tradition while deepening my Christian faith. Moreover, the insights and questions from my fellow pilgrims quickly became a much anticipated weekly blessing.  

The Pilgrims in Christ course was an extraordinary experience with in-depth discussions of the key concepts of Christianity in the context of the unique traditions of the Anglo-Catholic church. The course combined with regular attendance at Mass at the Church of the Good Shepherd prepared me for the life-changing experience of becoming a baptized Episcopalian. 

Every part that reached me felt like exactly what I had been seeking. Pilgrims opened a door for me into the heart of Christianity, and I’m deeply grateful for the grace and wisdom shared in this journey.

I found Pilgrims to be a valuable exploration of the Episcopal and Anglo-Catholic traditions and viewpoints as well as a useful review of key Christian concepts more generally. I found it particularly helpful in illustrating the interweaving of practice (worship, prayer) and principle (faith, theology). 

Pilgrims is a beautiful, deeply nurturing experience that provides a solid grounding in Christianity and the Episcopal faith—its history, holy texts, worship, and spirituality. It was joyous, illuminating, and ever-surprising. I loved every minute of it.

While I have been associated with Episcopal churches for many years, both personally and professionally,  I am relatively new to Anglo-Catholic worship. I was surprised not only by how much I learned in Pilgrims but also by how much my faith increased as a result of the course. Getting to know other parishioners on a deeper level was an added benefit.

If you’re interested in being shaped by God as a complement to regular worship and prayer, consider participating in Pilgrims in Christ in the 2025-2026 program year. You may register online now. You may also view the 2025-2026 schedule of meetings and topics online. In 2026-2026 Pilgrims will meet from 7 to 8:30 p.m. on Wednesdays in the Parish House.

One of the most invigorating and inspiring aspects of our parish life is the curiosity, intelligence, and spiritual hunger among parishioners. I’ve found that our theological conversations—whether in Sunday adult formation classes, Pilgrims, or children’s formation—have enriched my own spiritual life. If you’re looking for a way to engage with your faith in a way that extends beyond Sunday Mass, I heartily encourage you to join us this summer on Sundays at 9:30 a.m. Beginning next program year, monthly adult formation will occur on Zoom, so stay tuned for an announcement about topics and presenters.

One of the great paradoxes of the spiritual life is that the more we submit to God and allow ourselves to be shaped by him, the freer we become. God is the potter, we are the clay. This is wonderfully good news because in the hands of an all-loving, merciful, eternally creative God, we will discover that God can indeed do “infinitely more than we can ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20).

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle