ARCHANGEL | Summer 2023

Cover and inside cover: Belize Mission Trip, photography by Mike Ferguson

When I joined the staff at St. Michael's as Communications Director, I knew I would be filling some pretty big shoes (which is to say nothing of her impeccable taste in stylish, yet comfortable footwear).

In her 14 years on staff at St. Michael's, Susan Rountree transformed church publications and information resources (from the indispensable Canterbury Tales to our friendly, functional website and EVERYTHING in between) into the professional, polished and engaging communications that so eloquently reflect our dynamic church. Along with Ann Garey, Publications Editor, Susan elevated the look, the feel and the voice of St. Michael's. And that is what makes those big shoes so lovely to slip into.

Susan's true legacy, however, is ARCHANGEL. She poured her heart and soul into this gift of words and images. And I will endeavor to do the same.

ARCHANGEL may look a little different, but it will continue to offer stories that capture and reflect the wondrous ways God works in the lives of our clergy, our parishioners and the world around us.

Katherine Poole Editor & Director of Communications

Do you have an idea for a story?

Are you a photographer, artist, poet or storyteller?

Don't hide your light under a bushel!

Drop me a line at poole@holymichael.org.

Pledging allegiance by The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones A STORY TO TELL

Witnessing the work of God by The Rev. Dr. James L. Pahl

THE ALMOST FORGOTTEN DESERT MOTHERS

Meet a little known group of devout Christian women by The Rev. Holly Gloff

TOWARD

Harnessing the power of prayer by The Rev. David Nichols

GOING FORTH

Discovering a new mission by Robin Kennedy

BUILDING COMMUNITY

Reflections on an Eagle Scout project by Connor Jordan

IN SEARCH OF ST. FRANCIS

A lifelong journey by John Constance

PROVIDENCE & TRANSFORMATION

Out of tragedy good can be found by Thomas Hubert

MORNING PRAYER

Q&A with Mimi Keravuori and Anna McLamb by Katherine Poole

The Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi, photograph by John Constance

CROSSWORD

The answers to this puzzle can be found in the ARCHANGEL stories!

WHO, WHAT AND WHERE

1520 Canterbury Road, Raleigh NC 27608 919.782.0731 | holymichael.org

CLERGY

The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones, Rector ext. 117 | jones@holymichael.org

(c) 919.559.2004

The Rev. Jamie L. Pahl, Jr., Vicar ext. 105 | pahl@holymichael.org

(c) 919.339.3854

The Rev. Holly M. Gloff, Associate Rector ext. 127 | gloff@holymichael.org

(c) 919.612.7228

The Rev. David Nichols, Assistant Rector ext. 129 | nichols@holymichael.org

(c) 803.924.6815

VESTRY

Senior Warden: Robert Marshall

Jr. Warden: Claren Englebreth

Clerk: Sam Taylor

CLASS OF 2023

Amanda Carson, Claren Englebreth, Robert Marshall, Sam Taylor, Rose Vaughn Williams

CLASS OF 2024

Hayden Constance, Leslie de Haven, Sally Duff, Tommy Malone, Steve Rolander

CLASS OF 2025

Phil Lambe, Jeff McLamb, Sally Norton, Mike Penick, Ruth Scott vestryonly@holymichael.org

STAFF

Stella Attaway, Coordinator of Nursery & Childcare ext. 106 | attaway@holymichael.org

Catherine Fain, Director of Development ext. 121 | fain@holymichael.org

Ann Garey, Publications Editor ext. 103 | garey@holymichael.org

Lee Hayden, Director of Operations & Newcomer Ministry ext. 108 | hayden@holymichael.org

Kevin Kerstetter, Director of Music ext. 107 | kerstetter@holymichael.org

Carolyn L’Italien, Coordinator of Children’s Ministry ext. 130 | litalien@holymichael.org

Susan Little, Financial Administrator ext. 113 | little@holymichael.org

Robin Kennedy, Parish Care Coordinator ext. 112 | kennedy@holymichael.org

Katherine Poole, Director of Communications ext. 122 | poole@holymichael.org

Abby Van Noppen, Director of Youth & Family Ministries ext. 115 | vannoppen@holymichael.org

Jesus Epigmenio, Groundskeeper Marcela de la Cruz, Housekeeper

PARISH DAY SCHOOL

Mandy Annunziata, Director, Parish Day School ext. 110 | annunziata@holymichael.org

Courtney Alford, Assistant Director, Parish Day School ext. 114 | alford@holymichael.org

CALLED TO SERVE

by THE REVEREND SAMUEL GREGORY JONES, RECTOR

Two flags hang in the nave of St. Michael’s, an Episcopal Church flag and an American flag. Over the course of my career, I have heard it said from time to time that there should be no national symbols in a church. As a theologian and historian, I have spent a great deal of thought considering whether national symbols have a place in and around church buildings. And here’s what I think.

In American history, the separation of church and state was a key part of our founding. The nation would neither support, require nor establish any particular religion. As our country was formed by former citizens of a nation where church and state are two sides of the coin of the realm, it is true that many of our revolutionary founders did not want the repeat of this in the United States of America. But while this clearly argues against putting a church flag in an American government building, it has no bearing on whether a national symbol could appear on church properties in America.

Such symbols have been inside churches going back to before there was an America, of course. Indeed, all the nations of Western Civilization were founded from earlier medieval states, which were descended from the Roman Empire, whose bounds stretched from

Britain to the Middle East, and North Africa to Northern Europe. And that Empire — beginning in the fourth century — was Christian. The incorporation of church into state, and state into church, began a long time ago, and many of the symbols are intertwined.

But while the Christianization of the Roman Empire was good for the empire, the imperialization of the Church was not always so good. For while the Church made some moral improvement to the ways of the empire, the empire likewise corrupted the Church. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, as they say. Christians like myself, who love history and see God’s hand across every century, will say that the Church was probably at its moral best before Constantine, and that the separation of the Church from the clutches of any empire was also good. Which is to say, in America, the fact that no one church (or religion) controls the government is a good thing, and it is also good that the government does not control the Church.

While our mother Church of England is still the established church in England, the decline of religious practice in England is tragic in my view. Yet I doubt it would improve by decree of the government. Indeed, in some countries — like Russia for instance — the Church and the state

in America, the fact that no one church (or religion) controls the government is a good thing . . .

are fused together in a way that has corrupted the moral witness of the Church beyond recognition, and which not only does not criticize but upholds the regime in power. The Russian Orthodox Church serves as the puppet of Vladimir Putin, just as it did the czars long ago, repeatedly lauding and celebrating the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

So why do we have an American flag in our nave, and should we? We have one in our church, not for traditionalist, nationalist or jingoistic reasons, but for one single reason alone: Mission. The flag has to do with our mission imperative, which begins with Jesus and has continued through 2,000 years of ins and outs, where churches have existed within countless cities, states, nations, tribes, cultures and empires. The one, holy, catholic and apostolic church is a universal Church, which belongs to no one people, language, or tribe; no one ethnicity, mindset, or lifestyle; no one generation, civilization or era.

Jesus Christ is the Son of God who calls together people of every nation for the purpose of bringing good news to the world. And, as he commanded, we are to go into all the world baptizing people of every nation in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Thus, we in this church here, exist in this nation here, which we are called to serve. Not as nationalists, but as evangelists.

We are called to serve the world, and this is the part of the world where we are. So this land is our mission field. This land is our home for the exercise, practice and mission of God’s work. Jesus has called us to serve this nation as agents of God’s essential mission of love. And as such, as Bishop Curry reminded us, we are called to work toward the good of this nation — where we live — so that the largest number of its people might not only know the eternal truths of God, but live in a society marked by freedom, democratic principles and mutual care.

In a world and nation, which are always at odds, because division and strife are the Devil’s tools for destroying the creatures of God, we are called to be God’s agents of reconciliation, not just privately, but for the society around us. Thus, the flag is the symbol of whom we are called to serve.

We are called to serve the world, and this is the part of the world where we are.

Katherine Poole (EPISCOPAL FLAG), stock (AMERICAN FLAG)

A STORY TO TELL

by THE REVEREND JAMES L. PAHL JR., D. MIN., VICAR

Did you know that our very own Travis Jackson was standing in NASA Mission Control at Kennedy Space Center, Fla., the very moment Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon? As a young associate engineer, he was witness to the historic mission and he has a story to tell.

A story to tell. We all have stories to tell — the kind of story that serves as a “witness” to what has and is happening in the life our Lord has so graciously given us. And when we hear the story of others, it should cause us to ponder the work of God. To hear and see the hand of God is powerful, a testimony of life-giving things — things that do not end. Each life story is sacred, and as such, we are to honor the work of God in others and what the Lord is doing in us. As “Jesus said to Thomas, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those

who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’” (John 20:29)

of engineers and space experts involved in the technical design and functionality of the rocket boosters, nicknamed “DC Buses,” which would lift the astronauts into the heavens. He then shifted to the Countdown Demonstration Test (CDDT), about a month before launch. Four days before launch, he moved to the Launch Control Center (LCC) and assisted in monitoring system drawings to determine their functionality through the launch.

Travis had a front row seat to some amazing events. The story begins with his graduation from N.C. State in 1966, and an interview with NASA at Reynolds Coliseum. That led to his first job as an associate engineer for NASA, where he served in a supporting role from the late 1960s to early 1970s, witnessing almost all of the Apollo missions (4, 8 and 10-16). On the historic Apollo 8 mission, Travis was part of a large team

“Some people believed that we would never reach the moon,” Travis says, of his time on the Apollo missions. “That it was not meant to be. And most of these people believed this because they considered it ‘God’s territory,’ not meant for us humans to reach. How in the world can this happen? But it did, and we saw God!”

Travis Jackson with his granddaughter Liza

It was history-making work, but as NASA moved away from the Apollo program and toward the design of the Shuttle missions, Travis decided to pursue an advanced degree at N.C. State and focus on his family.

Seeing the Impossible

There are those who have questioned whether the moon landing actually happened, believing it was filmed out in the desert as a government hoax. Many saw it on a black and white screen in July of 1969, but we weren’t there to see it with our own eyes. Travis saw the launch itself, the electronic and digital details in the Control Center, the direct and personal audio communication and the direct, unfiltered video feed into NASA. There is something concrete about seeing!

Often, we are walking blind in the dark, trusting the presence and direction of the Lord. It takes more than belief; it is a matter of faith and keeping the faith, when we are barely hanging on by the tips of our fingers. Even the most faithfully devoted people sometimes have some tinge of doubt with issues of faith and belief. Yet, doubt is not the opposite of faith. The opposite of faith is unbelief. Being in doubt means being engaged, and that can lead to greater revelation — a stronger faith.

The Apostle Thomas discovered truth despite doubt; his eyes saw the impossible, “My Lord, and my God!”

(John 20:28) Sometimes our hearts, minds and souls need our eyes to see and be shown — that it helps form our life story. And, there is nothing wrong with asking the Lord to help us see and sense what God is doing in us and others. We want the visuals. We need the sign. The Apostle Paul needed to see something, and it began

for him on the road to Damascus. Moses — questioning his own fitness to lead — needed to be shown and he found it in the burning bush and the awe and majesty of the mountain-top experience in the divine presence.

What is the story of God's work in you?

We are told in the Gospel of John, Chapter 1, the Lord created all that is and is seen — the stars, you and me, time itself, light... And, the light “showed” us the way. Verse 9 says, “The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.” We see the world with our eyes, and long ago people of this world saw Jesus, the light (God manifested in the person of the Son, fully God). We don’t see Jesus in the flesh as others did, but we see Him in all the manifested ways one can.

Listening to the Sacred

As a young man of faith, Travis witnessed the awe-inspiring moment

when the Apollo 8 crew of William Anders, Jim Lovell, and Commander Frank Borman read the Creation story from Genesis, Chapter 1:1-10. They couldn’t take an entire Bible due to weight, so they read the Scripture from flame-resistant paper. “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth…” These words illuminate God’s mighty works of all creation. While orbiting the moon, looking back toward the earth and reading the scriptural account, the crew saw the “earthrise” for the first time in human existence. And Travis listened and saw it, too. “It was the beginning of a real surge in my faith,” he says. “An unbelievable moment.”

We are all members of the story God is telling the world. What is the story of God’s work in you? Like Travis, we are witnesses to the work of God. It’s up to us to look at our lives and see God there. And we are to share what we see with others, so they, too, can see and believe. Jesus is right, we are to believe without seeing; but, oh, how radiant is the light that shines for our eyes to see – a witness, a story to tell that can grace the ears of others.

As the theologian Frederick Buechner posed in a question, “Why doesn’t God send us a sign to dispel all our doubts, such as a message in the sky, written by the rearrangement of the universe, with suns and moons to dot the “i’s” and cross the “t’s”, so that the night sky would read, ‘I Am God! I Really Do Exist!’” Perhaps He has and does! It’s called, a story to tell

stock (EARTHRISE, MISSION CONTROL), courtesy Travis Jackson (Jackson with photo of Apollo launch)

We are all members of the story God is telling the world.

Mission Control, NASA

THE ALMOST FORGOTTEN

You may not have heard about “The Desert Mothers,” but I have known of them for years. They are a group of remarkable women who lived in the early centuries of the Christian faith, perhaps no more than 100 years after Jesus’ crucifixion. They were wise, well educated, well read — usually voracious readers — and often came from wealthy families. They wanted to live spiritual lives but found that the distractions of the world were too much for them.

Some were expected to live a life that was inconsistent with their desire to spend their time in prayer and doing good deeds. To escape the endless demands placed upon them, they moved out into the quiet desert, where there were fewer distractions. As word of these women spread, other women wanted to study with them and followed them into the desert to be their disciples. Out of this network of women emerged early forms of convents. Here they could live in small communities, support each other, write, learn from one another, and pray the early form of divine office, from

which we get our Morning Prayer, noontime prayers, Evening Prayer, and Compline. While most lived in these communities, many chose to live alone in caves, as they required more solitude to fulfill their spiritual needs.

You may remember that there were many women surrounding Jesus — not only his mother, of course — including Mary Magdalene, who was a huge supporter of Jesus and helped fund his ministry. There was also Priscilla, Lydia, Martha, Phoebe, Mary of Bethany, Mary of Clops — more than 50 women mentioned by name in the New Testament who held leadership roles. Eventually men took on the roles of leadership, and for many years women’s roles were greatly curtailed.

The Desert Mothers believed their greatest enemies were things that bother me as well. Crowds, noise and continuous rushing here and there do not draw one to God. These ascetic women craved silence, so living in the harsh deserts of Egypt kept them focused and allowed them to be quiet and to hear the still small voice of God.

They sought out remote areas, ones with hostile environments — strong winds, little water, and sparse foliage. Such environs were considered the realm of the demonic — a place of death. This difficult lifestyle forced the Desert Mothers to deepen their sense of self. Like Jesus, they were doing battle in the wilderness.

To further devote their lives to God, they also observed severe ascetical practices. They ate very little, some even starving to death. They practiced self-denial in small ways, such as choosing simpler and less appetizing foods, sleeping on uncomfortable beds and wearing hair shirts. But they were delighted to have the freedom and independence to work toward their goal, which was abiding in God’s unconditional love. Their asceticism did not seek to draw attention to itself; these women were quiet, unobtrusive people, and their humility deepened their sense of connectedness with God’s people. They were selfless and always ready to provide spiritual advice and help to those in need in their religious community and even in the non-religious community.

DESERT MOTHERS

by THE REVEREND HOLLY GLOFF, ASSOCIATE RECTOR

The Desert Mothers fascinate me, though we dismiss their severe lifestyle choices because of our present-day sensibilities. Yet we can learn from their devotion, gentleness and determination to put God first.

One of the Desert Mothers, Amma Sarah (Amma, Latin for Mother), was a well-educated woman who lived alone for many years in a small cell near a river. She often attended to the needs of her nearby community. In her fascinating book The Forgotten Desert Mothers, author Laura Swann writes, “It is said that for 60 years she lived next to the river but never lifted her eyes to look at it.” I assume this was for fear that its beauty would distract her from being more fully united to God in prayer. She made use of her environment but did not feel any need to possess it. In other words, she certainly bathed and drank from the river but did not spend time enjoying its beauty.

Another woman, Eugenia of Alexandria, took her spiritual life to a new level. She dressed as a man and moved into a monastic community, where she fit in so well, she was elected abbot! She had a small cell

built where she remained and managed to live a silent and solitary life while serving as a spiritual director for the brethren. I love her tenacity in achieving what she wanted in life, even though it was a bit deceptive. She proved that a woman could achieve what a man could, and she fulfilled her role remarkably well.

Swann writes that Amma Theodora is quoted as saying, “If one is habitually listening to secular speech, how can one yet live for God alone?” Wise words for us 21st century people.

For so many thousands of years, women’s contributions to the world have been in the shadows. Women were the “power behind the throne,” always playing supporting roles. Although nearly forgotten to time and history, the Desert Mothers enjoyed a certain freedom and controlled their own lives.

Only in relatively recent times have women emerged from the shadows of men to serve in roles of leadership, and in the Episcopal Church, permitted to celebrate the Eucharist or preach. There have of course always been nuns, but their work

in the Church has generally been relegated to roles in teaching, serving or nursing. (I certainly do not mean to imply that these are not vital roles.) In the mid 1970s, I was the first woman permitted to read a lesson in front of a congregation at the main service at our church in Connecticut. That was big stuff. I always felt a sense of frustration that I was not permitted to serve as an acolyte or chalice bearer because of my gender. To learn that the Desert Mothers were permitted to do most everything within their communities was an inspiration, but what difficult lives they had to endure in order to have that taste of freedom!

The Desert Mothers were able to have an intimate life with God, which filtered out anything harmful to their souls. An impossible task in today’s world, it seems. I have a lot to learn from these wonderful women. And while I cannot emulate all of their lifestyle choices, I can learn from their devotion and desire to live simpler lives, as close to God as possible.

The Judean Desert, photograph by Jamie Pahl

TOWARDS A QUIETER MIND

by THE REVEREND DAVID NICHOLS, ASSOCIATE RECTOR

This line from the opening paragraph of St. Augustine’s Confessions will have the ring of familiarity for many of you. I have pondered Augustine’s words a great deal since I was reminded of them in a recent conversation.

At times restlessness, distraction, anxiety and covetousness can crowd out the rest of one’s interior life. I suspect you know the feeling of the racing mind at bedtime or the heart that longs for the next shiny new thing as soon as you’ve acquired the last one. Lately for me that’s been a Boston Whaler. (Picture my wife’s eyes rolling.) Then, there are the concerns about the innumerable legion of problems faced by a world inhabited by billions of people.

Despite efforts to curtail my intake, I consume too much news. It buzz-

es through my head, even during peaceful moments. As if that weren’t enough, there are worries closer to home — the immediate needs of our families and fears about their safety and future, the remembrance of those we love and those we have lost, the fond memories of good seasons in life clouded by the melancholy of that season passing.

This buzzing of thoughts and half-visions that swarm the mind in moments of quiet are all too familiar. Perhaps this is why we modern day folk are so apt to avoid quiet — to grab the smartphone and chase away the empty, terrifying silence. Yet, this is not just a modern problem. As easy as it is to blame technology or to point the finger at bad politicians, feckless Silicon Valley bros or consumerism, the problem lies primarily in the fallen human heart.

The early desert monks and nuns certainly knew of distractions from prayer, and it wasn’t because of smartphones, commercials or the constant stream of world news. They certainly knew of a noonday demon who sapped energy for work and prayer. St. Augustine would also have known all too well the many thoughts which disquiet the mind. In his early days, he sought pleasure, romance and the loftiest heights of his intellectual career in Imperial Rome. Inclined toward worldly pursuits, he was never satisfied with prior accomplishments.

After converting to Christianity, Augustine came to understand that our hearts are forever restless until we find sanctuary in God. We cannot, by our own power, find the peace that we so desire. Secular notions of mindfulness, helpful though they

You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.

may be, are not enough. We need time to think about and process the course of our lives, to be sure — to turn off the screens and think quietly about our memories, hopes, dreams and worries. I know I don’t allow myself that time, which explains the intrusion of all the noise when I am in the car or as I prepare for bed.

And yet, for a truly quiet mind — for a heart not constantly restless — we also need time at prayer. Perhaps you know that on some level. And yet, what should you do? Prayer often seems difficult, especially in the beginning. I am no master of prayer life, but I will offer here two practices that I believe can begin to lead to a quieter, more peaceful mind. When I am driving and my thoughts dwell on the things I don’t have or on the worries of the world, I pause and say a brief prayer. I don’t scold myself for thinking these thoughts; I just try to release the covetous, anxious feelings and instead offer thanks to God — thanksgiving for the blessings I have already been given and gratitude for what God has done and for what God has promised. This doesn’t always make the anxiety or the desire for other stuff go away, but it helps. This practice acknowledges for me the fundamental reality that our hearts are restless until they rest in God. It reminds me that what peace I do possess comes from God. The cumulative effect of offering each tiny prayer is not perfection or total contentment, at least in my case. I still want the Boston Whaler, but prayer reminds me that — much as I might enjoy it — I will still have a restless heart if I get one. My heart will be restless until God is all it wants. My second piece of prayer advice is to seek time in silence with God. We

need to feel the love of the maker, the sustainer of our reality, the One who — more than anyone else including ourselves — knows and desires the best for us. There is little in life more sweet than sitting silently in a beautiful place and casting one’s mind up to the heavenly country where God and the saints dwell.

I am learning that this is okay. I say a very short prayer and try to re-focus. I give it the time that I have. Sometimes two minutes, sometimes 30. I never regret it.

You might think you cannot sit in silence with God. That you simply cannot turn off those racing thoughts. I would offer that even when the active thoughts of the mind are distracted, there is value in allowing space for the soul to search for its maker. There is peace — even short glimmers of bliss — in sitting before the Lord and doing our best to have our hearts dwell in Him. The soul might find closeness to God even as the mind races.

Prayer and meditation are not a self-help program to perfect peace. But we cannot go wrong in seeking a solution to a troubled mind in God: the way, the truth and the life. When we turn to God with our restless hearts and minds and acknowledge that God is the only source of true peace, we have found ultimate truth.

There is nothing on our phones that will ease our restless hearts … no earthly success, no possessions, no miracle product advertised on the radio. It is only the Lord God.

This may sound lofty, like the experience of an elite few that have mastered meditation. I can assure you that does not describe me. I am not one practiced in contemplation who can meditate for hours or — if I am honest — sometimes even for a few minutes. But I am amazed at the experience of beginning the journey of silence. Of sitting (preferably outside in my case) and simply being quiet. Of directing my wild, distracted mind toward God. Toward the source of all that is. Often I can only manage for a handful of seconds at a time before the distractions come back.

“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” Seek the Lord, in prayer and in silence, and I believe you may be surprised at how near the heavenly country turns out to be, waiting for your visit.

There is peace — even short glimmers of bliss — in sitting before the Lord

and doing our best to have our hearts dwell in Him.

stock (CLOUDS, BOAT, MONEY, TELEVISION, PHONE)

For probably the past 10 years, I’ve felt the call to join the mission team to Holy Cross Anglican School in Belize. This April, with barely any thought about the decision, I signed up to attend. My travel partner was my 14-year-old son, Richard. He is a kind, thoughtful young man and is always up for a new adventure.

St. Michael’s has sent a mission team to Belize for 16 years, and since my return home, I’ve been asked many times about the trip. I always answer the same way, “The mission was amazing! Our St. Michael’s youth and the youth that we met at Holy Cross Anglican School were the highlight of the trip for me.”

Six teens from St. Michael’s joined us on the trip: Ellery and Baker Fer-

by ROBIN KENNEDY

guson, Kahle and Bayliss van Staveren, Connor Jordan and Richard. And I saw God in every single one.

children. The sparkle in his eyes and the peals of laughter from the children were infectious.

If you want to witness the hands of God, observe the focus of 14-yearold Eagle Scout candidate, Connor, while he leads others in constructing and painting four new wooden benches for the school. Each bench was painted with a Bible verse that was meaningful to Connor:

"But seek first the kingdom of God."

—Matthew 6:33

If you want to witness the face of God, just look into the eyes of 16-year-old Kahle playing soccer in the dusty school yard while being chased by dozens of happy

"I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me."

—Philippians 4:13

"Our faith can move mountains."

—Matthew 17:20

The Belize Mission Team. Front row from left: Alex van Staveren, Baker Fergsuon, Amity Crowther, John McHenry, Meg McHenry. Back row from left: Kahle van Staveren (father), Kahle van Staveren (son), Connor Jordan, Patrick Jordan, Mike Ferguson, Bayliss van Staveren, Richard Kennedy, Ellery Ferguson, Robin Kennedy, Ben Hopkins, Jonathan Stafford, Phil Lambe, Catherine Lambe.

photography courtesy the Belize Mission Team

If you want to witness the love of God, watch 14-year-old Baker help a girl with a hurt foot who was attending our Vacation Bible School. She saw the problem, asked for help from an adult with the First Aid Kit, then comforted the girl. For that entire morning, Baker attended the child, helping her walk, play and hunt for Easter eggs. But most importantly, Baker supported her emotionally, and I have no doubt both girls will always remember that example of kindness and love.

If you want to witness the will of God, sit back and allow the youth to guide the adults. 16-yearold Ellery noticed hurtful words written on the walls of the girl’s bathroom at the school and asked the adults about repainting the walls. The following day, both the boy’s and girl’s bathrooms were repainted! I am certain the students felt the impact of the clean, white walls when they returned to school.

If you want to hear the sound of God, listen to 14-year-old Bayliss join John McHenry in leading the children who attended Vacation Bible School in singing songs of praise. Several children volunteered to teach the group new songs. Hearing the joy in their voices as they shared their music with us raised our spirits.

If you want to witness the peace of God, listen closely to the daily reflections of the mission team as we gathered as a group each evening. We prayed and sang together. We also shared observations from the day and grew closer as a group.

And lastly, if you want to be filled with the faith of God, know that the Lord’s work was at hand when

my son, Richard, whispered to me on the last night of our mission trip, “I’m not ready to leave Belize yet. There is still work to do. Can we come back?”

The trip to Belize proved to be a life changing trip for Richard and me. For what we witnessed, how we made an impact and what we shared, both of us returned home with a renewed faith and focus to serve God.

rooms, built benches, constructed infrastructure at the priest’s house, organized the school library and led Vacation Bible School for 30 children. We also played hard and had opportunities to attend Palm Sunday services, visit a zoo, go cave tubing and snorkel in the barrier reef. We ate delicious ceviche, pupusas, stewed chicken, soursop ice cream, beans and rice, and even rice and beans. (Yes, they are two different dishes!) We had time for fellowship with our evening reflections and dinners together.

A total of 18 missionaries traveled to Belize – six youth and 12 adults. We each had different skill sets, different backgrounds and different gifts to share. Yet we all shared the same desire for personal growth, the inclination to help others, the willingness to practice patience and flexibility, the calling to build relationships within the St. Michael’s community and the passion to strengthen our faith.

We worked hard at Holy Cross Anglican School. We repaired a roof, painted everything from walls to bike racks, created signs for class-

One of the few items I brought home was a small wooden cross that sits in the window of my office. During Vacation Bible School, the teens performed puppet shows to bring Bible stories to life. As a prop to depict the crucifixion, they built a cross using two scraps of wood secured by a single screw. The arms are uneven and a bit wonky. The wood is dinged and speckled with paint splatters and pencil marks. With all its imperfections, the cross is, well . . . perfect. Just like you and me. Serving as a missionary and witnessing the youth of St. Michael’s in action, I was reminded that we humans are also dinged up and wonky, yet we are perfect in God’s eyes while bearing witness to and carrying out His will, His faith, His love.

Robin Kennedy has been a member of St. Michael's since 2005. She has served on the Vestry, as ECW President and co-chair of the Annual Fund. She joined the staff last year as Parish Care Coordinator.

from top left: Attending Palm Sunday services at the Anglican Cathedral in Belize City, repairing the roof of the computer lab, practicing songs for VBS, teaming up for a soccer game, installing a new gate at the computer lab, Connor Jordan's completed Eagle Scout project, painting benches, a VBS puppet show, snorkeling in the Belize Barrier Reef off Amergris Caye

Iam a member of the Boy Scouts of America and it has been my plan to get my Eagle Scout before I turn 16. Part of the requirement for the Eagle Scout rank is to plan and lead a service project that helps a community. You may often see such projects in the form of benches or bridges along nature paths.

I had been thinking about attending the mission trip to Belize, which my dad went on a few years prior. I also wanted to make a special memory of completing my Eagle Scout project, so I quickly seized the chance to combine both.

I asked Holy Cross Anglican School what they needed. At first, I drew up plans for raised pathways or bookshelves, but to my surprise, I learned that what they really needed was benches. The students did not have enough places to sit around the playground during lunch break. So, I drew up new plans and did my best to figure out what I needed to complete my project.

The biggest challenge facing me was all the variables I had to think about, including cost, resource availability and working conditions. Another variable is working with non-Scouts. Scouts have a strong work ethic, and I was not sure if the youth who were supposed to help me would have the perseverance to focus the entire week.

Once I arrived at Holy Cross, we decided where to put the benches

by CONNOR JORDAN

and how much wood I would need. We secured the wood from a nearby lumber yard and with the help of Mr. Freddy, the school’s facilities technician, the other youth and I built all four benches on the first day.

On the second day, I ran into a problem. The paint we ordered was not delivered. I went to the hardware store with John McHenry, the mission trip leader, and sorted it out. We applied the first coat of green and yellow paint that day and the second coat the next day.

The highlight of the day was getting the Belize students involved. Mr. McHenry thought it would be nice to let the kids write their initials in the concrete. I hope they will remember the mark they left on their school.

The benches provide a pop of color against the white walls of the buildings. To make them even more special, I had the idea to put short Bible verses on the benches. With the help of several adults, we stenciled these verses: “I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13), “Our faith can move mountains.” (Matthew 17:20), and “But seek first the kingdom of God” (Matthew 6:33).

By the fourth day, I was worried. I expected the project to be done in two days, but the benches needed to be anchored to the building for security reasons. Also, the ground was too uneven to place and anchor the benches. To solve this issue, we decided to set the benches in concrete. We mixed the concrete by hand, which was hard work, and poured it into the mold to let it dry.

It was an honor to work with our mission team in Belize. I underestimated the abilities of the youth and adults who helped me finish my project on time. I got to know all the youth in ways I did not expect. Teamwork is a crucial aspect to getting any job done, and I am thrilled I got to work with them. I am also glad I could make a difference in the Holy Cross community by interacting with the students and improving the only school in the village. And I take pride in giving them a place to sit and take in all the wonders of God’s creation.

Connor Jordan is the son of Colleen and Patrick Jordan and is a rising freshman at St. David's School.

IN SEARCH OF ST. FRANCIS A LIFELONG JOURNEY

by JOHN CONSTANCE

All Saints, Catonsville, Maryland

It was springtime and my buddy Chris and I were on our bikes.

Unbeknownst to me, a lifelong pilgrimage into the world of St. Francis of Assisi was about to begin.

Hilton Avenue was a major thoroughfare in our neighborhood and its large Victorian homes sheltered some of Catonsville’s largest Catholic families. As you continued south, the neighborhood transitioned to more modest homes, and rather suddenly to undeveloped fields and forest.

On that beautiful day, we followed our normal route to Mr. Morsberger's Stables where three chestnut thoroughbreds were grazing in the field. But instead of stopping to pull grass and feed the horses, we continued, past the entrance to Patapsco State Park, past St. Gabriel’s School, and all the way up to the stone gates with the engraved tablet: All Saints Convent.

We had never been this far before.

But like the two curious little boys that we were, after a brief consultation, we mounted our trusty metal steeds and continued through the gates.

My memory of that day is green, with beautiful daffodils, dogwood blossoms and tulips lining the long, circular path that bordered the fieldstone and Tudor-style buildings. The one in the center was obviously a chapel, the others dormitories, and offices. I remember rounding the turn at the far end of the path and seeing our first nun, kneeling and dressed in a brilliant white habit. We initially thought she was praying, but as we rode closer, we realized that she was weeding one of the flower beds. Dirty work

for someone dressed in white, but she was angelically spotless to our eyes.

We waved and said hello as we rode by.

She looked up from her task, smiled, but said nothing.

Two more sisters were sitting on a bench on the other side of the lane and as we passed, again we said an even louder hello, but got no reaction.

As we passed back through the gate, we came to the same adolescent-boy-conclusion at approximately the same time.

“They’re deaf.”

It was only over dinner that night that our parents filled us in on the concept of a cloistered religious order and their silent hours. That was way cooler than our initial conclusion and I remember being instantly fascinated by the concept of a vocation of prayer.

Like a magnet, that place drew us back time and again and my lifelong interest in the All Saints Order grew.

The Order was founded in 19th Century England by Harriett Brownlow Byron, who turned away from wealth and privilege and “left the

world” on St. Luke’s Day in 1851. She dedicated her life to Christ and the poor, specifically to homeless children and tuberculin women.

canopy of old oaks, cedars and ornamental pines would lower the heat and raise your spirit. We were sometimes greeted by the sound of prayer and choral song. On some visits we took the opportunity to feed a handful of grass to the old white mare that had become the sisters’ four-legged lawn mower. My mom would drive there to buy holiday and note cards designed and printed by the nuns, and as adults, our Episcopal parish would go for silent retreats with the sisters.

Her work became well known in the Anglican world and in 1872, the rector of Mount Calvary Episcopal Church in Baltimore, Maryland, asked the order to send three women as missionaries to begin an extension in the United States. Upon their arrival, with funding from Mount Calvary and the Diocese, they opened a convent in Baltimore. In 1917 they expanded to Catonsville and built their hamlet on Hilton Avenue. Their work with children and the poor has continued unabated for over 150 years.

Even at a young age I recognized the peaceful transition you would feel as you passed through the gate and entered the silent world of All Saints. On the hottest days of summer, the

The All Saints vows of poverty, chastity and obedience link them like a cincture through time to the ministry of St. Francis of Assisi. Francis was the 12th century Italian mystic and Catholic friar who founded the Franciscans. He was the first to construct these three pillars of the covenant shared by Christian religious orders. The rope that girds the waist of his brothers to this day has three knots as a visible reminder of those vows.

Francis was the model for Harriet Brownlow Byron and all who would turn their backs on wealth and privilege to take up the cross and preach penance in the sinful world. Even her imagery of “leaving the world” was a direct quote from Francis. As St. Paul instructed the followers in 2 Corinthians 6:10,

Like a magnet, that place drew us back time and again and my lifelong interest in All Saints Order grew.

John Constance (ST. FRANCIS), stock (ORIOLE), courtesy

All Saint's Chapel and Shrine of St. Anthony's (BUILDINGS)

All Saint's Chapel Shrine of St. Anthony

clockwise from top: Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi, from Borgo Antichi Orti, statue of St. Anthony of Padua with the Christ child at Cathedral of San Rufino, Assisi, Assisi looking south over the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore. Photography by John Constance.

“as having nothing, but possessing everything,” we are called to turn our back on our material possessions and face a sinful world that needs our help.

All I really knew about St. Francis in my youth was that he was the guy holding the bird bath. Not much more sophisticated than that. As a non-Catholic, the saints that had been recognized by all faiths were the ones I knew the best, and Francis was at the top of that list.

Shrine of St. Anthony, Franciscan Friars, Ellicott City, Maryland

When my wife Hayden and I moved to Howard County, Maryland, in 1976, I attended classes conducted by Father John Paul “Jack” Carter and was confirmed in the Episcopal Church at St. John’s Ellicott City. My interest in becoming a more committed Christian and my love for the intertwined history of the church and this country made it a natural fit for me. Our Anglo-Catholic liturgy and traditions take me back to my first experiences at All Saints, eaves-dropping on the sung Mass.

Beginning our last decade in Maryland, Hayden and I bought a fiveacre parcel of land on Triadelphia Road in Ellicott City to design and build a house. The wooded lot was on the western perimeter of what had been the estate of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, Maryland, signer of the Declaration of Independence and the only Catholic to do so.

A stone’s throw from our new home was a 238-acre tract of the original estate now owned by the Franciscan Friars. They had purchased the Carrollton Hall manor house and the land in 1928, but soon outgrew the space and asked one of the friars, an architect, Fr. Benedict Przemielewski

to design a new novitiate. He chose to create a small-scale design of the Sacro Convento, the original Franciscan Friary built in Assisi, Italy in the 13th Century. Sacred ground, it holds the tomb of St. Francis.

The Maryland building was constructed of local granite, faced with Beaver Dam marble and sited on a hill looking down on a plain, much like the original site in Assisi. Completed in 1931, it is a stunning piece of architecture.

Like All Saints Convent before it, this center of religious life drew me in.

I don’t recall getting out of the car on that first drive through the property, but I would come to know the Shrine of St. Anthony well during my 10 years in the neighborhood.

St. Anthony was born in 1195 in Lisbon, Portugal. His baptismal name was Ferdinand and like St. Francis, he was born into wealth and high social status. He entered the priesthood and served throughout his home country. Inspired by the martyrdom in Morocco of a group of Franciscans that he had come to know, he approached his superiors for permission to join the order of St. Francis. With permission granted, he took the name Anthony as a symbol of his new life of poverty and service.

The Shrine was a wonderful venue for retreats, and our parish of St. John’s Ellicott City used it frequently for that purpose. The beautiful courtyard, chapel and conference rooms became familiar places of reflection, worship and planning for my colleagues and me. We even took meals with the friars in the refectory on more than one occasion, a wonderful opportunity to get to know these fellow Christians on a more personal basis.

On a drive to discover our new neighborhood, I came across the Friary by accident. I saw a modest brown sign with an arrow pointing in the direction of the Shrine of St. Anthony, Franciscan Friars. When I reached the gates, I felt the same adolescent curiosity to check it out.

I remember driving up the long approach and being struck by the beauty of the property and the solitude of the site. There was virtually no sign of another human being on the grounds and only a few cars adjacent to some of the associated granite buildings. The novitiate shone brightly at the top of the hill. To find a piece of architecture like this in the rural countryside of Howard County was stunning.

One experience stands above all of the others.

It was on Saturday, April 2, 2005. We were having a Vestry Retreat at St. Anthony’s Shrine and after dinner had returned to the conference room for our evening meeting and Compline. Through an open door that led to the courtyard we saw candlelight and a procession of Friars walking slowly in a single file. They each held a flickering candle and chanted what I later learned was the Requiem Aeternam (Eternal Rest). They eventually formed a circle.

Pope John Paul II (later canonized to become Pope St. John Paul II)

I remember driving up the long approach and being struck by the beauty of the property and solitude of the site.

had died in the Vatican at 3:37 p.m. EST, but in our “dial-up America Online world,” news traveled slowly. It didn’t immediately dawn on me what was happening, but we quickly suspended our proceedings and became silent observers of this tearful remembrance. Though I didn’t feel that close to the persona of the Pope, I couldn’t help feeling empathy for these brown-robed Franciscan Friars, whose emotional response to the loss of the Pontiff filled the night air.

Basilica of San Francesco, Assisi, Italy

So, 63 years after driving through the gates of All Saints, and 18 years after a poignant night of silent observation at St. Anthony’s Shrine, we were planning for some travel in Italy. Our daughter, Brittany, was to be married in Tuscany, and we were looking forward to some post-wedding retreat time to relax and enjoy a more solitary experience. My cousin, who along with his wife were to be our traveling companions, suggested Assisi, and we immediately embraced the idea. None of us had much experience in Umbria, and Assisi sounded like a very special destination.

After the wedding, (which I’d love to talk about, but catch me later), we travelled by private car from Poppi, Tuscany into the Umbria region. In the simplest terms, Tuscany’s history is silk, wealth and the Renaissance; Umbria’s is grit, poverty and agriculture. Tuscany

belonged to the Medicis and Umbria to the Franciscans.

When the bubonic plague devastated Umbria in the 14th century, both Perugia and Assisi were particularly hard hit, but the government and the economy of Perugia brought that city back to life. Assisi, on the other hand, remained frozen in time, largely dependent on the Catholic church and the pilgrims

Its narrow streets, walls, arches and small store-front commerce carry you centuries into the past.

When our driver pulled into our hotel at the foot of the dramatic hill that suspends Assisi heavenward, the imposing Basilica of St. Francis and the Sacro Convento filled the sky above us. It took our breath away. For the next five days, it would be our companion day and night, its massive bells peeling the call to worship, and its springtime squadron of swallows darting through the sky above the olive grove at its base.

As I gazed up at the arches that dominate the façade of the Sacro Convento, I pictured the mirror image that was St. Anthony’s Shrine back in Ellicott City, and it warmed my heart. The continuity of this centuries-old profile tied words and theology to stone and replicated its message.

in search of the miracle sites, relics and footprints of St. Francis. To this day, of the more than six million annual visitors who walk the streets of Assisi, a large percentage are still pilgrims in search of the Saint. What they find is not only stunning art, architecture and a layered civilization stretching back to and beyond the Romans, but a town visually frozen in the Middle Ages.

The next day I was taken by surprise by the depth of emotion I felt as I walked down the steps to the chapel that holds the tomb of St. Francis. Uncovered in 1818 and fully documented as truly his earthly remains, it is contained in a plain stone box, and is candle-illuminated beyond a black iron grate. The silence, the kneeling pilgrims, the dim light and the intimacy of the space combined to make this a moment that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

Watching the number of pilgrims around me who were neither genuflecting nor making the sign of the cross, I was reminded that St.

Francis is that saint who belongs to all Christians, and even some of other faiths. His association with all living creatures and his famous sermon to the birds has made him a sympathetic soul to most everyone.

In the upper cathedral built 100 years after the lower nave, you are surrounded by Giotto’s frescoes of the life of St. Francis. Giotto di Bondone, an Italian painter and architect from Florence, was commissioned to tell the story of this revered mystic and preacher of Assisi. Originally a pictograph vehicle to tell the story to Italians who could neither read nor write, today it serves as a universal interpreter to level the barrier of language for pilgrims from all over the world. The image of St. Francis is everywhere you look in the town, from the frescoes to every imaginable souvenir construct that the human mind can imagine: from salt and pepper shakers, bobble heads, sandals and key

chains, to every imaginable color, shape, and style of Catholic prayer beads. This billion-dollar inventory of kitsch lies in stark contrast to the life of a man who literally gave his fine clothes back to his father when he took up a life of poverty. He built a centuries-old, worldwide movement but would never accept cash alms; only building materials to repair his churches or food to feed his friars.

But like everything else in life, it is a matter of focus.

Yes, the souvenir dollars could be put to better use. The money that was used to build this magnificent basilica could have been used to feed the poor, but how many lives have been inspired by walking through its gates? How many people have come to Assisi and felt a connection through their lives to this simple, little man who stood all of 5 feet 4 inches tall? How many have had a renewal of their

faith through this pilgrimage? How many have been touched by his example of good works or been inspired by his words? How many have gone into the world and continued on the path mapped by St. Francis of Assisi?

I leave you with his words.

Canticle of the Sun, St. Francis of Assisi, San Damiano, 1224

Most high, all powerful, all good Lord! All praise is yours, all glory, all honor, and all blessing. To you, alone, Most High, do they belong. No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce your name.

Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures, especially through my lord Brother Sun, who brings the day; and you give light through him. And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor! Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars; in the heavens you have made them precious and beautiful.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, and clouds and storms, and all the weather, through which you give your creatures sustenance.

Be praised, My Lord, through Sister Water; she is very useful, and humble, and precious, and pure.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Fire, through whom you brighten the night. He is beautiful and cheerful, and powerful and strong.

Be praised, my Lord, through our sister Mother Earth, who feeds us and rules us, and produces various fruits with colored flowers and herbs.

Be praised, my Lord, through those who forgive for love of you; through those who endure sickness and trial. Happy those who endure in peace, for by you, Most High, they will be crowned.

Be praised, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death, from whose embrace no living person can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Happy those she finds doing your most holy will. The second death can do no harm to them.

Praise and bless my Lord, and give thanks, and serve him with great humility.

Former Senior Warden, John Constance is a retired Washington lobbyist and current Trustee of the Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina. He writes a weekly blog available at constancelyhoping.com

PROVIDENCE & TRANSFORMATION

by THOMAS HUBERT

The longer I live, the less I believe in accidents. The corollary to that is an enhanced belief in the unfolding of life events providentially. From that perspective, the issue then is not so much whether it really happens that way but rather, I think, whether we are paying attention to the unfolding.

A case in point: As a newcomer to St. Michael’s, as well as a bibliophile, I wandered into the Walker Library one day. In addition to scanning the book shelves, I examined the photographs on the wall and shelves. One in particular caught my attention; it was an image of Jack Durant, who had been a member of this parish and who

served as a deacon here from 20002004. (The face in that photograph was, not unsurprisingly, quite different from the one I had known as a student of his at Auburn University, more than 50 years ago.) His ministry here and elsewhere is not, of course, news to those who have been at St. Michael’s for many years. According to his obituary, he was highly regarded for his compassion, his wit and his sermons.

Jack Durant and I grew up in the same general neck of the woods; more precisely, he came to young manhood in Birmingham, Ala., and I, 50 miles south in Clanton. My father had grown up in Birmingham also, and after his

death, we used to visit my paternal grandmother, who still lived in Eastlake. (We also both have Tennessee connections.)

More importantly, however, the visit in the library was both revelation and reconnection after some 56 years. I had known Dr. Durant, as I called him at the time, when he was a youngish professor of English at Auburn during my sojourn there between 1967-1969 (he was in his late 30s then). I was a green-as-grass graduate student pursuing an M.A. in literature and was enrolled in his 18th-century novel class during that first year. (After finishing at Auburn, I took a teaching job in the English Department at the University of

Jack Durant at his desk at Auburn University in the mid 1960s, photograph courtesy the Durant Family

Georgia and eventually lost touch.) As many at St. Michael’s know, it was at that time — September 6, 1967 to be exact — that his oldest daughter, Mary or “MayMay,” age 8, was murdered, along with two other girls by a young man who was in time convicted and sentenced to prison for life.

We graduate students knew about that tragic event, along with everyone else in the Auburn community, but there seemed to be a great gulf between us and the awful burden we knew our professor was carrying as he soldiered on during that fall term. A poignant irony about that time, as I reflected later, was that the class was reading some of the wittiest literature ever written in the English language. Representative works include novels such as Tom Jones, Tristram Shandy, Humphrey Clinker, and so on. I cannot imagine that such fare provided the least bit of solace to a grieving father. How he, his wife, and the rest of the family were able to carry on with their lives was something we knew nothing about.

Tragedy, pain, loss, defeat — all of those life experiences we all may face if we live long enough — can have two outcomes. As the truism has it, they can either destroy us or make us stronger. But for the latter to occur, in order for us to prevail, we must make a choice. We have to make that choice and commit to live it out. But I dare say we cannot do so under our own steam. We need others in community with us, and we need the healing and tempering grace of the Incarnate and Crucified Word. For it is Christ himself who invites us to take up our cross if we would follow him (Matthew 16:24). That cross may take many forms, but

some of them seem at the time to be unbearable. The “momentary light affliction” to which Paul refers in I Corinthians 4 hardly seems either light or momentary in real time.

How Jack Durant dealt with the death of his daughter, I do not know. But my intuition is that in the crucible of that experience lay the beginning of a spiritual transformation for him that resulted ultimately in his pursuit of the vocational diaconate where he could give himself in service to others. As I understand it, his ministry was directed in particular to those who, through age and the usual ravages of time, have become disconnected to one degree or another from their community and from the Body of Christ.

as it is possible to come without passing over. To condense a longer story, I was accosted at gunpoint in a parking garage in downtown St. Louis while approaching my car after work one November evening in 1985. I got into the car, inserted the key into the ignition, and just as I began turning the key, a would-be robber, having approached the driver’s side, fired a .38 caliber bullet into my chest through the driver’s window. As the engine started, the shooter took off, and I drove myself on Highway 40/I-64 to Barnes-Jewish Hospital, where I checked in for an eight-day stay.

Why I was spared in this case from death or a debilitating injury, I have no earthly way of knowing. Was Providence at work? I cannot say with empirical certainty of course. What I do know is that, if the bullet had entered one inch this way or that, my wife would have been deprived of her life partner and our daughter of her father. And I would never have experienced two wonderful grandchildren who now have a grandfather who celebrates their lives with immeasurable delight. Indeed, I was spared. And I began almost from that moment asking myself with the author of Psalm 116, “What return can I make to the Lord for all his bounty to me?”

I venture to speculate about Jack Durant’s spiritual path, in part on the basis of certain trials and debilitating losses in my own life and those of others, which have led me down certain transformative paths that I would not otherwise have thought to take.

One such experience was when I came just about as close to death

I do not profess to be an expert in the workings of Providence. But I do know that out of evil — out of pain, defeat, loss, tragedy — can come good in small or great measure. We may, some of us, be subjected to evil and if so, we face it, as believers, not as victims but as witnesses to God’s grace working in the world. For in Christ we are conquerors, maybe on a small stage, maybe for some on a larger one. But that action can happen here. In this place and now.

I do not profess to be an expert in the workings of Providence. But I do know that out of evil — out of pain, defeat, loss, tragedy — can come good in small or great measure.

My own experience with evil in this instance was the beginning of a long journey of transformation involving a search for ways to light a candle against the darkness we all find around us and sometimes within us. It continues. One of those ways has been engaging in a ministry of visiting with those who are either homebound or who live in residential communities and who are accordingly disconnected somewhat from old friends, neighbors and fellow parishioners. Part of that ministry includes taking communion to those unable to get to church on their own.

A number of questions have recently emerged in the past two years. What are the chances, I have recently asked myself, that we — our family — would land

in the Triangle area in the year 2021? And more, what are the chances that we should find a home at St. Michael’s Episcopal Church in 2022-2023, where Jack Durant was a member and a deacon? And still more, what are the odds that I, like Jack Durant, should find a late vocation in ministering to my fellow seasoned citizens? But as I said at the beginning, I don’t really believe in chances and odds. And why should any of us? It makes no sense to “believe” in impersonal forces anyway.

Our God is personal. What we can believe in is a heavenly Father who watches over us through all the chances and changes of this life and who desires in his heart of hearts to bring us safely home. For those who in this place knew Jack Durant, I hardly need to say that his was a life that in God’s plan was to be redirected out of the inexplicable and seemingly unbearable pain of the tragedy that was his. It was a tragedy that neither he nor any of us would choose, but his ultimate response to it bespeaks a redeeming grace that we all have as our birthright as children of the light.

May we always be open to that great gift in whatever ways it may be given. And may we share it as we are able. For it is really only when we give it away that it can redound to us in the first place.

Tom Hubert has been a member of St. Michael's since January of 2023. In his varied career, he taught English at colleges in the South and the Midwest and also worked in business until 2009.

Martha (Mimi) Keravuori has attended St. Michael’s for 50 years. She has served on the Vestry, as ECW Chair and with Gifts of Grace. Her three sons and six grandchildren are or have been members here.

Anna McLamb has been a member of St. Michael's since 2008. She sings in the choir and has previously served on the Vestry, as Junior Warden, and as co-chair of the Annual Fund with her husband Jeff. The couple have two children.

The Tuesday Morning Prayer Group meets in the library at 7:30 a.m. All are welcome!

Tom Hubert in 1969, photograph courtesy the author

Mimi's notes on the day's readings.

Anna's well-loved prayer book.

morning prayer

Q&A with ANNA MCLAMB & MIMI KERAVUOURI photography by Katherine Poole

Every Tuesday at 7:30 a.m., Mimi Keravuori and Anna McLamb gather in the library for Morning Prayer. In the 14 years since the group formed, it has gained and lost dear members; met in the Chapel, the labyrinth, parked cars; weathered illness, mourned deaths, rejoiced births. The one thing that has not changed is their faithful offering of thanks to God. I sat down with Mimi and Anna to shine a light on this special practice. (Our conversation has been edited for clarity.)

KP: Tell me how you got involved in the Tuesday Morning Prayer group.

MK: (Rev.)Roxane Gwyn started the group. She was here doing her discernment year in 2008. There were about 12 of us, mostly women, and we met in Smede’s Chapel.

AM: Yes, Roxanne led us and we did the whole kneeling, standing, sitting thing. Then Roxanne was called and we were all like, “What? No!” But she assured us we could do it ourselves. This is a lay service, lay people can lead it.

MK: We met in the Chapel until the Transept renovation, then we had to move to the library. When it is nice out, we go to the labyrinth. And during COVID, we parked beside each other in the parking lot and rolled down our windows!

AM: I started coming in 2009 when my daughter was almost a year old. I had just returned to work as a lawyer

full-time, which was a lot. My dad was in the hospital here and all of my family came and stayed at my house. We had a household of people, a first birthday, dad in the hospital. I felt like I was about to lose it.

I looked at the bulletin one Sunday morning and saw the prayer group. I'd not really done anything with the church — just kind of showed up, attended services — and I just thought, I need something. I need a little extra church. And that was it. I could drop the baby at daycare, then come here on my way in to work. So that's what I did. And I just made space for it.

KP: From a big group in the Chapel to two in the library … How has your practice evolved over the years?

MK: Well for starters, Anna gave me this wonderful large print Prayer Book.

AM: I’d have thought you'd have it all memorized by now, Mimi.

MK: There's a lot we do have memorized. We got tired of reading the Psalms on Tuesdays, so at one point, we went through all of the Psalms from first to last. That was one way to mix it up. Then we went from the Tuesday morning liturgy to the Wednesday liturgy and now we're on Thursday. We figure we're on our own and nobody can tell us that we're doing it wrong.

AM: That’s the cool thing about morning prayer. You learn about the

different parts of the prayer book that you don't visit on Sundays. Mimi is like our theologian. She keeps track of the calendar and the readings. We just turn to Page 75 of the Prayer Book and start going. We make it our own. And, it gives you a great structure for reading the Bible.

MK: We also don’t hesitate to stop if we need to clarify something. We are serious about learning as we read. I have learned more in the years that we’ve been doing Morning Prayer, than I did all the years before. Tuesday morning. It is absolutely holy.

AM: It’s like having a little support group… Sometimes we’ll say, “What the heck does that mean?” and we’ll go back and figure it out.

KP: Is there room for more at the Morning Prayer table?

MK: Of course! Just because its only the two of us doesn’t mean we are exclusive. We’re happy to have anybody else join us.

AM: One of the best parts of it is right at the end there are two prayers: The General Thanksgiving and the Prayer of St. Chrysostom. We say both of them but the St. Chrysostom prayer is the one that says, “where two or three are gathered together in his name…” And that has always endorsed what we are doing.

MK: We are the two.

AM: And that is enough.

A RCH A NGE L

A LOOK BACK

Members of our Youth Choir (from left: Jack Carson, Dimney Rideout, Mary Susan Rideout, Aidan Reed) June 2014, photograph by Susan Rountree