St. Michael's Episcopal Church Fall 2020 Archangel

ARCHANGEL A Publication of St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Raleigh, NC • V ol. 3, Issue 3, Fall 2020

TOGETHER, THOUGH APART

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Table of Contents 4

In Christ Together

Seventy years ago, we founded St. Michael’s. The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones examines how a closed building led to opening minds during the pandemic.

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The Sacred Shadow

Everyone has a shadow, but in the time of COVID-19, some shadows are stronger than others. The Rev. James Pahl Jr., D. Min. ,examines how ancient civilizations viewed the shadow as a portal into our inner selves.

In God’s Garden

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The Rev. Holly M. Gloff has been tending her garden during the pandemic, and watching it grow has taught her a lot about God’s tending to us.

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Hell in the Hallway

Hospital chaplain Elaine Bayless shares what it has been like to minister in the halls of Rex Hospital where patients have been kept apart from those they love.

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Who’s Who at St. Michael’s Church Phone: (919) 782-0731

All area codes are 919 unless noted

FEATURES 20 We Remember

Since March, we’ve been unable to celebrate the life of our friends who have died. Here’s a look at who we miss.

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Reflect & Connect Connecting over the Gospel, newcomers and longtime members find a virtual community.

THE GOOD NEWS 12 Creating Sacred Space for God

The Rev. Dr. Vincent Kopp explores how Centering Prayer, even on Zoom, keeps us focused on God’s voice.

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You Are Here

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Circled by Love

Writer Beth Grace finds that serving as a reader during COVID-19 fills the pews of what seems like an empty nave.

A Family Support Circle gathering in Marty Munt’s driveway reminds her of the many ways the circle comes around.

The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones, Rector ext. 117 • jones@holymichael.org (c) 559-2004 The Rev. James L Pahl Jr. Vicar ext. 105 • pahl@holymichael.org (c) 919.339.3854 The Rev. Holly Gloff, Associate Rector ext. 127 • gloff@holymichael.org (c) 612-7228 The Rev. Anna S. Page, Deacon page@holymichael.org The Rev. Dr. Vincent Kopp Priest Associate kopp@holymichael.org Marion B. “Chip” Chase, Verger (h) 851-9576 VESTRY

Class of 2020 Ashleigh Black •789-8284 |John Connell • 336-407-891 Rob Griffin • 510-9982 |Marty Munt • 847-6780 Karen Wagoner • 604-4701 Class of 2021 Liz Driscoll • 886-3424 | Matt Marchione • 426-8504 Katherine Poole • 623-3498 | Logan Price • 270-3700 Melissa Raley • 219-2746 Class of 2022 Amanda Carson • 961-4952 Claren Englebreth • 252-205-4126 Robert Marshall • 260-4363 |Sam Taylor • 908-339-5566 Rose Vaughn Williams • 922-0386 STAFF

Stella Attaway, Director of Early Childhood Christian Education attaway@holymichael.org • ext. 106 Ann Garey, Publications garey@holymichael.org • ext. 103 Charlotte Griffin, Director of Development griffin@holymichael.org • ext. 121 Lee Hayden, Director of Operations & Newcomer Ministry hayden@holymichael.org • ext.108 Abby Van Noppen, Director of Youth Ministry vannoppen@holymichael.org • ext. 115 Kevin Kerstetter, Director of Music kerstetter@holymichael.org • ext. 101 Susan Little, Financial Administrator little@holymichael.org • ext. 113 Carolyn L’Italien, Director of Primary Sunday School Christian Education and Assistant to Operations litalien@holymichael.org Jean Olson, Parish Secretary olson@holymichael.org • ext. 112 Susan Rountree, Director of Communications rountree@holymichael.org • ext.122 FACILITIES STAFF

Jesús Epigmenio, Groundskeeper Marcela de la Cruz, Housekeeper PARISH DAY SCHOOL 782-6430 Mandy Annunziata, Director annunziata@holymichael.org • ext. 110 Cason Maddison, Assistant Director • ext.114 maddison@holymichael.org

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In Christ Together Words: The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones, Rector

File Photo: Logan Price

NEARLY EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK, THE CENTRAL IDENTITY, IN ACTION, OF THE PARISH WAS THAT PEOPLE WERE CONSTANTLY COMING HERE TO THIS SACRED GROUND TO BE TOGETHER. PEOPLE WALKING INTO THE BUILDING AND AROUND THE GROUNDS AND GATHERING. FOR THE DAY SCHOOL. FOR MEETINGS. FOR MEALS. FOR WORSHIP. TO WORK TOGETHER, TO DO TOGETHER, TO BE TOGETHER. TO DRINK HUGE QUANTITIES OF COFFEE.

Here’s the

church. Here’s the steeple.

Open the door and see none of the people.

That’s how it feels these days so much of the time. I come to check on things at the church most days, and very frequently I’m the only one here. Sometimes there are a few of us in masks in our offices. Sometimes the lay weeders are outside working hard in the church gardens.

I often see Jesus and Marcela working at a distance with a lawn mower or hedge trimmer. Lee Hayden is usually about to come in or go out overseeing some project on the campus. Bob Spaziano is frequently working on the computer systems, which we depend on to do so much, especially when we are not in the building.

From time to time, a meeting is had on the front steps of the church between a member of the clergy and someone, sitting, with mask, six feet apart in folding chairs. On Thursdays, typically, we are filming the worship video and the nave has turned into a vast set for a TV show recorded not in front of a live studio audience.

Preaching to a camera in an empty room — and there’s not even a person behind the camera — that’s something we didn’t prepare for in seminary. Celebrating the Eucharist live in the church knowing that others are with me through the veil of the computer screen, though I see them not, that’s not something I ever imagined I would do. Not something I ever wanted to do. As Gil Scot Heron famously

said, “the revolution will not be televised,” I used to say, “and neither will church.” Turns out I was mistaken.

Yes, here’s the church, here’s the steeple, open the door, and see none of the people. These are some tough times to work in an organization entirely formed around the concept of people being together. For the 16 years I have been here, I have had the pleasure of working within a body of people, who for the most part would identify themselves as a community because we come together in person. Nearly every day of the week, the central identity, in action, of the parish was that people were constantly coming here to this sacred ground to be together. People walking into the building and around the grounds and gathering. For the day school. For meetings. For meals. For worship. To work together, to do together, to be together.

To drink huge quantities of coffee.

As an entity heretofore defined in the flesh as a thing conjoined by people being together in person, it seems we now have discovered a broader definition of who we are as a parish. We are a thing conjoined not only by the act of being together in person, we are a thing conjoined by the sinews and threads and linkages of mind, will, intention and spirit. We are one because we say we are one. We are one because we inhabit virtual spaces together. We are one because, well, the Holy Spirit of God has made us one in Christ, no matter what distance of the body may come between us.

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In this issue of Archangel, we continue to share the story of how we inhabit not only our virtual spaces, but literal spaces in this time of pandemic. The hallways of Rex Hospital, where writer and chaplain Elaine Bayless is called to be with the sick and dying when their families can’t be. Spiritual spaces can transcend the church walls, as the Rev. Dr. Vince Kopp takes us into the virtue of Centering Prayer, an ancient practice of making space for God. We explore Reflection Circles with those who are connecting to the parish and each other online as they study the Sunday Gospel readings. Writer Beth Grace shares a powerful moment when she served as reader to an empty nave. And we remember those in our parish family whom we have lost but have not yet bidden farewell.

As Paul writes in Romans, “I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

This is such good news, because we are not only in this together, we are in Christ together, however long we may be apart. Though now we see through the computer screen dimly, one day we will see each other face to face.

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The Sacred Shadow Words: The Rev. James L. Pahl Jr., D. Min., Vicar

Photo: Susan Rountree

Recently I

got to thinking about shadows and what they mean. I know this sounds odd, but the thought crossed my mind when I heard someone in a Western miniseries speak about this reflection of ourselves that mysteriously extends out from our being. What does it mean to have a shadow? Well, traditionally speaking, a shadow means presence — presence of something. A robust shadow indicates life, presence, vitality — because, shadows can be long, wide and full of meaning. At the same time, they can be short, narrow and meaningless!

I am not talking about standing or following in someone else’s shadow. I’m talking about our own shadow . . . the one that precedes and follows us wherever we go.

Ancient Native American thought on the so-called, “Sacred Shadow Self” speaks of the divinity or holiness that is found in one’s shadow. In his book, Penucquem Speaks: A Look at Our World from a Different Culture, Ronald Thomas West quotes this thought, which says: “We are all a precious child of creator and as such our shadow is also a sacred part of our selves as the precious children of the holy people. This means that our inherent divinity is fore-given to each of us, equally manifested as our Conscience, yet people deny this, on a continuum.”

According to some Native American thought, shadows are like portals to a divine dimension. These portals keep us tuned into an awareness within our own thoughts and souls about something greater and bigger than us. This points us to all things in life that are connected to our Creator. Therefore, our shadow can be a good thing.

Jungian Psychology speaks more sinisterly of our shadows — our unknown sides. Carl Jung said, “Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.” In other words, according to Jung, the shadow is that part of ourselves that is more primitive, instinctual and private . . . that part we really don’t know and understand and one we hope others will not see — jealousy, envy, lust, greed, etc. Many of these aspects of ourselves may not be so easily categorized into “good or bad” — they just are.

Because we all experience these emotions in our subconscious, we can reasonably assume they are real, and Jung

says we should not hide or ignore them. We should face them head-on, or at least, he says, we should get in touch with these places in our lives and have compassion for them. In the Christian tradition, we might call these the places in our being that open us up to sinful behavior. We are called to engage these emotions, as it is essential to the spiritual health of our souls and recognition of our shadows. And yet, there is that more despairing sense of losing one’s shadow.

Native American thought warned against those places where our souls are knocked out of alignment with our portals. In this case, we are said to have “lost our shadow.”

This could be serious and life threatening, because we lose the ability to know our surrounding environment, and this could quite literally mean our survival. Some even reference this state as “shadow stealing.” because it resembles “the weak of the herd” that will be sacrificially taken by others for their own survival.

As I mentioned above, I was watching a miniseries on Netflix and a character in the show was told he had lost his shadow. He seemed to be rambling about in life, having lost his sense of purpose and direction. He did not like hearing those thoughts — he was perplexed. I guess in a real sense he had lost his shadow . . . his wife had died suddenly, his children were losing the dad they once knew, his job was overwhelming and now a burden, and his physical eyesight was fading. He was a lost, wandering soul, and his shadow was dissipating quickly.

It was in that Western series where I heard, “Our shadow is the one last thing we own after we have lost everything else. A person who has lost their shadow has nothing to lose and everything to gain.” If we don’t have a shadow, then we don’t exist. Some are scared of their shadow.

Some may even feel as though their shadow is dissipating.

In my way of thinking, it means losing a sense of one’s self, or what others may perceive in us as no life left within. This is despair, and it is troubling.

Many have sensed the loss or fading of their shadows over the past months in the unbelievably varied and sundry changes of both our individual and corporate state of being. After all, when we are alone and apart from community as we have been (with the exception of family for some), all we really have left is the self and our shadow. And for

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the most part, no one is there to see it but us — if it’s there.

a part of ourselves, just as we are each created in the very image of God.

The shadow of St. Michael’s may have become more distant to us over these past six months. As the days and weeks roll by, that usual, familiar pattern of a Sunday morning has become a new habit in other ways.

Personally, I would have never thought that I would have been mowing the grass at 10 a.m. on Easter Sunday, or feeling some According to some Native sense of guilt and loss of my own idenAmerican thought, shadows tity in not attending church in the physical on Sunday mornings. are like “portals” to a And yet, the shadow of St. Michael’s is still divine dimension. These there! It is still there almost 70 years to portals keep us tuned into the day in which it was established. an awareness within our

Holy Scripture is filled with references to shadows, and specifically the protection they provide and the foresight or glimpse they give us of the fullness of God. Psalm 57:1 says, “Be merciful to me, O God . . . for in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge.” Psalm 91:1 says, “You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty.” Colossians 2:17 says, “These are only a shadow of what is to come, but the substance belongs to Christ.” In Matthew 4:16 we are told, “The people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned.” In this case, we know it is in the shadow of the new light that we now live.

own thoughts and souls about something greater and bigger than us. This points us to all things in life that are connected to our Creator. Therefore, our

Many shadows have passed through the doors of the nave and are now re-absorbed into the portal of the eternal; but the steady shadow of this parish is ever present where heaven and earth intersect.

You may be asking shadow can be a good thing. — as I did myself — what does Holy Scripture say about shadows? Well, believe it or not, quite a bit! The Scriptures speak in a similar vein to the Native American view of the sacredness of the shadow.

In Hebrews 10:1, we are told, “For since the law has but a shadow of the good things to come instead of the true form of these realities, it can never, by the same sacrifices that are continually offered every year, make perfect those who draw near.” Our shadows are but a small glimpse of the bigger, eternal picture in which we live and have our being. Our shadows are very much

And finally, in Acts 5:15, Luke tells us that “they carried out the sick into the streets and laid them on cots and mats, that as Peter came by at least his shadow might fall on some of them.” It is all about presence! Our shadows are the very proof of our presence — our living — and we are to embrace them.

When we find ourselves complaining about the stresses of 2020: the strains of Covid-19, the death tolls, the separation, political upheaval and division in our country and world, storms, hurricanes, earthquakes and so on, remember: Our times, our country, our world may not really be so bad after all. We must think bigger. We are standing in the shadow of Christ, where we are forever in his embrace. As Colossians 2 says, we are standing in the shadow and the “substance belongs to Christ.”

Thanks be to God!

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Tending God’s Words: & Photos: The Rev. Holly M. Gloff

“

In nature,

you never see anything in isolation; but everything in connection with something else.” — Goethe This summer has been a wonderful time to recharge my batteries. I’ve been busy checking up on folks, preparing my sermons, spending endless hours it seems on Zoom calls. But a fair chunk of my time has also been outside in my garden, adjacent to the woods.

When I had a horse farm in Charlottesville, I owned 40 acres; 30 of which was forest. It was a great playground and schoolroom for my kids and me, and I missed hearing birdsong as my playlist when I traded it for the cars, airplanes and sometimes noisy neighbors of suburbia.

I missed the peace and the color green surrounding me.

When I moved to my townhouse in North Raleigh, my back garden area was an eroded disaster. I hired someone to build a small retaining wall, bring in loads of compost, soil and mulch, and plant lots of plants. I’m not a great gardener, I’ll admit, but I had a decent garden at one house in Connecticut. It’s much cooler up there, and I didn’t mind going outside and weeding!

But the heat, humidity and I don’t get along well, so I’m frankly not spending the summer months outside with a garden spade. This little garden is manageable and almost completely shaded, which forced me to learn more about which plants thrive in the shade and which don’t.

I’ve been given plants by better gardeners and I’ve discovered it’s a heck of a lot easier to garden if you have wonderful soil. Obvious, I know, but I really learned why in this garden’s go-round since I had to start from scratch! The contrast of lousy rocky and sandy soil in coastal Connecticut — and dense clay soil in Virginia and North Carolina — has been eye-opening, as I’ve watched my garden grow in rich black soil. The baby plants flourished with the perfect conditions I have been able to give them.

We are like that as well, aren’t we? When our optimum living conditions are depleted, we are not at our best. Often, it’s self-induced, I have to admit. Do we get enough fresh air? Exercise (ouch)? Healthy food?

Enough sleep? I’d like to include here, also, interaction with others, although time with others has been at a premium the past almost seven months.

Keeping up with church folks helps keep us together, if physically apart. And that’s been a particular goal of mine during this time. Because like Goethe said, “In nature, everything is in connection with something else.”

As I sit in nature in my little back yard, it has been fun to watch the interaction of life. I’ve been feeding the birds, largely I admit for my own entertainment. They love the “hot meats” seeds I feed them, because the squirrels don’t like it. Some birds don’t care for feeders, but do drop lots of bits and pieces which other birds love to pick up! Towhees, thrushes, catbirds, purple finches and mourning doves in particular. The cardinals, I’ve noticed are

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Garden the restaurateurs of the bird world. They “open” and “close” the feeders as they are the first to arrive in the morning and last to leave at night. Perhaps they are just greedy, but I like to think they are the caretakers. Am I anthropomorphizing too much?

The bluebirds have been my delight. The bluebird was once the state bird of Connecticut, but they almost died off so the state bird became the more prolific Cardinal. (Also North Carolina’s state bird.) I don’t know if that’s actually true, but I like the story. Two years ago, I bought a bluebird house from the Canterbury Shop. This is the second year I’ve had a family inhabit it. (Bluebirds have thrived in North Carolina in recent years because of Bluebird Trails set up by caring birders.)

This year, I had two fledges! I learned that the young kids from the first fledge come back to help build the nest for the next clutch. This fascinated me. How do they know to do that? The kids from the first fledge (I called them Bubba and Bubette) learned to come to the feeder, but they really preferred the worms their parents provided. So when the kids were at the feeder and saw the parental units arrive, they immediately stopped eating seeds and opened their mouths wide demanding the “real thing”! They certainly do have personalities! Apparently the same family returns each year. I do hope I’ll recognize “my” bluebirds.

The woods behind my house give refuge to other birds, and the woodpeckers and nuthatches peck away at the trunks looking for insects and other goodies. They come to the feeders and appreciate the “grab and go” type of service the feeders offer. They take the seed and head back to their favorite tree. Goldfinches (who happily live here year-round, even though their bright yellow feathers fade) also grab and go, usually sitting on the nearby mimosa tree to eat. If I’m working quietly, I’ll see the occasional black snake and lots of little five-lined skinks with their iridescent blue tails. I love them, but I can never get a good photo of them because they scuttle away too quickly.

Holly Gloff’s garden is a sanctuary for flowers and birds of all kinds, including baby bluebirds, above.

I’m a little nervous about what life will be like when it’s too cold to sit outside — will there be enough activity to keep me coming back to the window? I feel God’s closeness surrounded by my ferns, bushes, flowers and shrubs —and my birds. I don’t feel lonely or cut off from people having all this life surrounding me, but as I see leaves beginning to turn, I have my concerns about how my life will change.

But I do know that God is ever present and will still be with me when once again “incarcerated” in my home. We may all be apart physically, but we are together in the Holy Spirit.

Hell in the Hallway HOSPITAL CHAPLAIN ELAINE BAYLESS FINDS GOD IN THE IN-BETWEEN WORLD OF COVID AS SHE CARES FOR THE SICK AND DYING

Words: Elaine Bayless Photo: Jeff McLamb

“

At 2:45

a.m. I received notification of the death of Mr. Smith on the 4th floor,” reported the overnight chaplain.

“What?” I interrupted.

“Did you know him?”

“Yes, I’ve been working with his family for months. I can’t believe it. Did his family come?”

“I don’t know.”

I sat back, my mind racing through the rest of the morning meeting. James, the man I had visited and sung to and prayed over was dead. I couldn’t believe it, and yet, hadn’t his nurse told me the week before that he would die in the hospital?

It was my second year as a hospital chaplain at Rex, providing pastoral care to patients and families. When I first met James, he was in intensive care, totally dependent on machines. A stroke two months prior had gone from bad to worse, and now the former musician, father and grandfather was lying mute and helpless in Rex Hospital.

Where was James? Was he in the helpless body, trapped in a prison of darkness? Did his brain have some awareness of his situation? Was his soul in limbo, not on earth, but not in the afterlife? When I work with patients like James, I am confronted with the question of what it means to be alive.

Within a few weeks of meeting James, I would face a similar question about my job. As Covid-19 drew nearer, each day brought change to the hospital. Daily we were notified of policy changes. We couldn’t go to the ER. We could, but they didn’t have masks. We could, and we should ask for masks. Patients were re-arranged and supplies found new homes. Non-essential surgeries were cancelled. Because we were conserving PPE, we couldn’t visit patients with any contagious infections, much less any Covid-19 patients. Suddenly my “parish” shrank from over 50 patients to less than 20.

As the hospital prepared for the worst, our team (myself and five other second-year residents) scrambled to learn how to be chaplains in this new world. We were used to working with family and friends, but now they weren’t allowed in the hospital. We were accustomed to face-toface ministry, including giving hugs, and now we questioned whether we could even enter a room, much less have physical contact.

Blessedly, our leadership had one consistent message for us: No matter the medium, we provided pastoral care. We began calling people. We obtained iPads for FaceTime and used tablets for WebEx and Zoom. Just as doctors used machines to keep patients breathing, we used machines to keep families in touch. Our methods changed with dizzying speed, but our motives remained steadfast: care for the soul. As stress levels throughout the hospital mounted, our parish expanded to include staff. My reduced numbers suddenly exploded.

11 Uncertainty stalked the halls and chaos attacked the country. The uncertainty and the mask arguments and the protests became huge the stressors for us as chaplains as for the staff. As the CDC issued ever-changing advice, people grew increasingly troubled. Everyone from nurses to food delivery staff isolated from family members at home, changed clothes at work, worried about PPE supplies. I spent more and more time talking with my co-workers in other departments, listening to their thoughts and affirming their feelings. Offering them a calm presence, a warm voice, an occasional prayer. With churches and clubs and gatherings off-limits, we became the only in-person spiritual guides available.

All the while, we ourselves stewed in the same uncertainties. We worried about family members and friends.

We wondered if wearing masks for hours at a time really protected us. We shared the pain of watching patients die alone. We mourned the loss of our own church worship services and leaned on each other and on our faith.

Even so, we wondered if we would break.

The Rev. Meta Ellington once told me that when God closes a door, He opens another, but it’s hell in the hallway. And we were all living in the hallway. It goes by many names: limbo, liminal space, dark night of the soul, ennui, acedia.

It is the space of not-knowing, the confrontation of what it really means, as Paul wrote to the Hebrews in Hebrews 11:1, to be sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

I experienced my own dark night of the soul many years ago, and I learned that I was unfit to life in the darkness. Instead, I discovered that just as the Psalmist promises, when I made my bed in the depths, God was there. When the darkness covered me, it was not dark to God. (Psalm 139) As chaplains, we all had experienced the hallway. Much of our calling involves being present with others there. As they wander in the limbo, frightened and unsure, we show up, holding their hands, sharing the space. We can’t open any doors, but we can be God’s presence in the depths.

Now, months later, we still live in this in-between world.

We have made accommodations and have found new ways of connecting, but we still don’t when children will go back to in-person school. I am back at the hospital after seven weeks away, with both familiar and unfamiliar coworkers.

We are still in the hallway, wondering when a surge will hit, wondering if our resources will be sufficient. In March, we prepared for a sprint, but now we find ourselves in a marathon.

When I first met James, he was in the hallway. He never moved. His eyes might flutter open from time to time, his mouth might grimace, but there was no intentionality. And yet we all had relationship with him. Medical staff adjusted his medications, monitored his machines, fed him and changed him. Staff used medical devices to preserve range of motion in his arms and legs. Chaplains visited him, talking to him and praying for him. Every person I spoke to about James had an emotional connection to him.

I have faith that wherever James was, he was not alone. James was with the tender Creator who knew every hair on his head. His bed was in the ICU, but the Holy Spirit was there. All the staff who worked with James were there in the darkness with him.

I wasn’t there when James died. By the time I reached his room that morning, it was empty, waiting for a new occupant. I saw a nurse and asked about him, and in that instant, a cardinal perched on the windowsill. James had left the hallway.

NOTE: names and identifying details have been changed to protect identity

Elaine Bayless is a hospital chaplain, baking enthusiast and writer.

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Centering Prayer

Creating Sacred Space for God Words : The Rev. Dr. Vincent Joseph Kopp, Priest Associate Photo: Susan Rountree

“

Who will

separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?” (Romans 8:35)

Thomas Merton, and in the 21st century Thomas Keating— along with others—worked to revive and teach contemplative prayer to Christians both inside and outside monastic cloisters.

Or COVID-19?

Most church activities organized around in-person gatherings are suffering pandemic-induced challenges around holding “together apart.”

The Centering Prayer group at St. Michael’s is no exception.

For anyone unfamiliar with Centering Prayer or how it works — at St. Michael’s or elsewhere — an introduction may be in order.

Centering Prayer is a contemplative practice with very ancient roots. Its focus is wordless meditative prayer. While it shares a superficial resemblance with Eastern meditation and secular mindfulness training, it differs in two key aspects. First, its purpose is to achieve self-emptying so God’s presence can be felt through fewer filters. Second, it employs not a mantra to “brush” thoughts away, but a sacred word to “hush” consciousness amidst distractions to induce a renewed sense of God in total silence.

As a Christian practice, Centering Prayer regards Jesus’ habit of solitary prayer before action as its model. Derived from practices later adopted by early Church dessert Abbas and Ammas (Fathers and Mothers) as their path toward unity with God, contemplatio — a vision of truth — became the subject of intense theological debate, like everything in the early Church. By the end of the 6th century, Gregory the Great characterized contemplation as “resting in God.” So defined, contemplative Christian prayer found its most congenial shelter in then-burgeoning monastic communities. By the 14th century, a Middle English (as opposed to Latin) monastic contemplative prayer manual existed.

This anonymously written volume, The Cloud of Unknowing, remains an important touchstone for contemplative prayer circles.

Others, like Hildegard of Bingen, Meister Eckhart, Ignatius of Loyola, Theresa of Avilla, and John of the Cross contributed greatly to the mystical contemplative tradition. After the Reformation, however, contemplative practices fell out of sanctioned favor and went underground. By the 20th C.

Most relevant to St. Michael’s is Keating, who popularized the four steps of Centering Prayer used by our group. The first step is individual choice of a sacred word as the symbol of an intention to consent to God’s presence and action within. Second is settling and sitting comfortably and with eyes closed before introduction of the sacred word as an intention of this symbol during a timed “sit.” Third is the discipline of silent and gentle return by use of the sacred word to the intention to be in God’s presence whenever thoughts and sensations intrude, as they inevitably do, during a “sit.” And fourth is the measured practice of gradual return to normal consciousness and surroundings in silence and patience at the end of a prescribed time, a transition often made easier by recitation of a formal prayer.

As described, you’d be right to ask, “What is there about Centering Prayer that lends itself to group practice?”

The answer is simple. As straightforward as these four steps sound, they are difficult to achieve. Even experienced practitioners have lapses and setbacks in any or all four of the steps in their private practices. So it is that Centering Prayer practiced in isolation sometimes leads one to wonder or fret, “Am I doing this right?”

For example, the presence of physical pain and discomfort while sitting still; the presence of noise distractions impossible to eliminate; the certainty of intrusive thoughts that float by uninvited on the mind’s river; or even flashes of panic rooted in the sudden sensation of yielding “control” to mystery in the midst of deep prayer — these experiences require help to learn from others how to accept and handle such occurrences.

When such experiences are discussed in a Centering Prayer group, the support one obtains in a community context becomes a vital part of any individual practitioner’s spiritual journey.

Another dimension of Centering Prayer practice that depends on the group is Lectio Divina or Divine Reading.

Done either before or after a Centering Prayer “sit” (this

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signaled the end of the period by softly striking a chime or signing bowl. Recitation of the Lord’s Prayer by the convener followed, and transition to a reading and discussion period ensued. Participants might openly comment on the reading’s content or say nothing at all. At the end of the time, the convener said a prayer and the group dispersed for the week. In the meantime, each person did Centering Prayer on their own.

Transitioning to Zoom for group Centering Prayer presented some challenges. Fortunately, Quakers and other Centering Prayer groups pioneered online meetings.

The initial strangeness of sitting, eyes closed in silence, in front of a Zoom screen passed quickly for most. The sense of re-established connection compensated for the oddness of it all. The next challenge was getting the session timing and sign in right. The St. Michael’s group kept Tuesday but moved to 9 a.m.-to 9:45 a.m. Unfortunately, not everyone in our group chose to join in the new format, which also left less room for check-in, reading and reflective discussion. varies for different groups), a passage of scripture or inspired writing is read aloud, usually twice, and reflected upon by those assembled.

The objective of group lectio is to discern and share impressions left by the words on each listener’s soul. The goal is never to achieve a “correct” interpretation or a mere intellectual clarity about a passage. Rather it is to welcome what moves a soul in that moment so as to hold it for continued reflection and meditation.

In pre-pandemic days the St. Michael’s Centering Prayer group met from 9:15 a.m.- 10 a.m each Tuesday in the Convocation Room. Attendance ranged from nine to 15 participants each week, not all of whom are St. Michael’s parishioners.

Each session followed a set pattern. A convener greeted everyone as they sat in a circle of chairs. After folks settled, the convener lit a candle and spoke a prayer to open the session. Participants then engaged in 20 minutes of collective silent contemplation with eyes closed. At the end of 20 minutes, the convener—who is also the timekeeper—

Yet the core activity of collective contemplative prayer remained. Those able to continue in the Centering Prayer group soon experienced a new sense of mutual blessing, support, and discernment.

That blessings, support and discernment are enhanced by community work is something we have learned anew during this pandemic. The St. Michael’s Centering Prayer group, like other contemplative groups around the world, has learned to transcend limits by being “together apart” through weekly Zoom meetings. These sessions supply us with a new vision of Church while assuring us that God’s work cannot be stopped.

As one of our group’s number said, “The Church really is the population inside the walls, not the building itself.” In this strange time of new ways of being “together apart” the same can be said about the Church online: it’s not the computers and Zoom boxes on our screens that hold us together, but the people we connect with through the power of the Holy Spirit.

And nothing can separate us from that.

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Not One was Missing Words: Beth Grace

H

Photo screen capture: Greg Jones

ow beautiful

those who bring good news ….

are the feet of

I was delighted to get the ask: Would I be willing to come and record the lessons for this Sunday at church? Would I???? Yes, yes, yes!

I love to read the lessons. I never understand them so well as when I read them out loud to others. And, frankly, it reminds me of my Dad, who often was the lector at church when I was a kid. I remember him practicing the readings over and over, always ending with a bit of harmless irreverence: “The word of the Lord. …. And don’t you forget it!” Hmmm. Wonder where I get it?

A couple days later, I headed to Canterbury Road for my noon “shoot.”

Jeff McLamb, our Sunday service video wizard, greeted me at the door with a welcoming whisper. Reverend Vince was in the sanctuary, finishing up his sermon.

The race was on between the preacher and the bells in the tower above. Would the Good News be uttered before the bells tolled the noon hour, or would he need another take? Victory! He finished seconds before the bells rang.

Woo hoo! My turn.

I walked into the sanctuary, mumbling the million-dollar tongue-twisters in this week’s readings. Abel-mehola. Shaphat. Hazael. Seriously? And Elisha and Elijah in the same reading. Not fair guys.

I headed to the lectern, and Jeff handed me a lavalier mic. I clipped it on, scanning the readings one more time while Jeff explained that for safety, I could take my mask off to read and he would step out of the sanctuary. No probs, I responded, not even looking up from the papers in front of me.

As he walked out of the room, I looked up. My breath caught in my throat. My eyes widened and memories flooded in. I smelled the oil in the candles and the polish that keeps the pews shiny. I heard the musical creaking of the ceiling in the soft wind outside.

Sounds of home. I looked at row after row of empty pews. I know this church so well. I know who sits where and I looked for them. In my memory, there they were.

I didn’t cry. That surprises me. I’m like a human faucet these days. I cry over just about everything.

I did my readings, acting like I did this every day. I read out the Word to an empty church. The reference

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Beth Grace is a communications and marketing professional who loves her family, her friends, her dog and her church. This story was originally shared on her blog, Emergency Smarties.

in Paul to the “sound of sheer silence” did not escape me. I got through the hard-to-pronounce parts with aplomb, if I do say so myself. (Pro tip for lectors: When you come across these words, just read them with gusto and authority. Nobody really knows how to pronounce them and anyone who did is long dead.)

I smiled as I read Paul’s final line: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news.” I’m not totally sure what it means, frankly, but I can’t really argue with the thought. That Paul. He wrote some dang good letters. Couldn’t punctuate worth beans, but otherwise, the guy wasn’t a half-bad essayist.

Jeff signaled that all was well with the recording, and I put my mask back on and gathered my papers.

Then I remembered.

I turned around and walked up to the altar.

There they were. There YOU all were.

Our rector, Greg, has taped the photos of all members onto the altar, so we can be there to worship in spirit and, I would guess, so our clergy don’t feel so alone when they preach and celebrate in an empty church.

Bless every last one of them. That has got to be hard on the heart.

Lord, how I have missed all of these faces, these voices, these personalities.

I have missed the great sermons (and even the not-sogreat ones), the smiles, the hugs — oh, how I miss the hugs. I don’t know what it is about Episcopalians, but we cannot declare it a proper Sunday until we have hugged the necks of every last body in the church and the parking lot, and asked how they are, how work is, how their pets, families, hobbies, vacations are or were.

I miss seeing everyone’s kids, from babies to young adults. I miss the official post-church lunch/gossip fest with my peeps at MoJoes – girls at one table, boys at the other. Order of tots to start.

But there you all were, in memory and heart. You all showed up. Not a one of you was missing.

We will be together again for real, my friends.

Have patience. Have faith. What a day THAT will be!

I. Cannot. Wait.

Breathing In Community

Words & Photos: The Rev. Anna S. Page

I normally

pride myself on making relatively intelligent decisions.

The Army taught me that for any mission, no matter how small, planning is the first step. I must always conduct a risk analysis before stepping off. And to establish a communication plan which includes multiple forms of communication in case the primary fails.

Well, pride cometh before the fall.

Rewind to July 2020 when I found myself driving a renovated 1993 Ford Econoline van, weighing roughly 3 tons and boasting 200,000 miles, through the mountains of West Virginia where, apparently, Sprint does not cover cell reception.

After that, I can no longer claim pride around always making smart decisions. I had planned my route, but failed to plan for potential emergencies; I egotistically concluded that a risk analysis was irrelevant; and I

assumed that if my cell phone worked while I traversed by bus through Central America two summers ago, that it would work anywhere in the United States.

Fear crept through my body as I navigated twists and turns over thousands of feet of elevation in a van with which I was barely acquainted. With no cell reception and no other cars in sight, I was alone. Yet, I did not feel lonely.

Rather, I felt connected.

This story of connectivity begins in April 2020 when, early one morning, I bought a bright red van off Craigslist.

Inspired by a friend and mentor who, years ago, renovated a Sprinter van, I was now searching for both a hobby and a way to adventure during our global health pandemic. That is when I saw my van.

The purchase seemed like a no-brainer as she was old but in good condition and already partially renovated.

We drove out to Greensboro, I bought my van, and the daydream turned

into a tangible reality.

I quickly learned, however, that this tangible reality required carpentry and renovation skills that I did not possess. Turning to Facebook, I posted a request for plywood, power tools, and wisdom. It was then that the Reynolds family came to my rescue. Maria connected me with Albert, her father, and the first point of van-facilitated community was born.

After confessing my ignorance, Albert graciously offered to teach me how to use power tools. He then let me borrow his to build a wood floor and furniture for my van. Albert empowered me with the skills and confidence (albeit this confidence was likely my ego talking) that I needed to continue with my project. His kindness and willingness to share his knowledge and equipment was my first lesson in community.

I did not know it then, but community would be the recurring theme throughout my renovations and my van-venture.

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The Rev. Anna S. Page, St. Michael’s curate, spent more than two weeks on the road in a 27-year-old Econoline van she purchased on Craig’s List and retrofitted it to make it her traveling home. Photos from left: the van’s interior where there is literally a place for everything: enjoying the mountain views; staying connected with daily Compline. Above, Anna sits for a portrait.

As I prepared to set off in the beginning of July, many people reached out expressing interest in my trip and the van herself. Margaret and Gilliam Nicholson even asked for my itinerary so that they could pray for me along the way!

It was clear that people were both curious and supportive. At first, I assumed support was solely around developing new skills and undertaking a project. Upon reflection, I realized that the support ran much deeper than this. People — our St. Michael’s community — were supportive of me taking time to adventure, be in nature and breathe. Truthfully, I’m still processing this, as I cannot recall having a community actively encouraging and blessing me to just breathe. This blessing to breathe was my second lesson in community.

Since March, when North Carolina first declared our state of emergency, we have all been expressing how this season is forcing a collective pause.

We are finding more time for hobbies, family, and friends. Yet, I wonder how many of us actually feel like we have been breathing. I’m not talking about breath for survival; I’m talking about the soul-filling, life-giving breath that God first breathed into us when God created all of humanity, out of the dust, in God’s image and likeness.

Though fear crept through my body as I traversed the perilous mountains of West Virginia in my 27-year-old van on the first leg of my journey, the fear didn’t last. Rather, it was quickly replaced with a smile as I reminisced about the people who enabled my journey to happen and who were continuing to journey with me.

I know I had not been breathing this breath. In fact, until working on and adventuring in my van, I did not know I was allowed to breathe this breath. I thought this breath was for others; or that it would come in time. However, experiencing the community’s blessing through Margaret and Gilliam’s constant prayer, the encouraging comments from our St. Michael’s community on Facebook and Instagram, and the support from Greg to work remotely from the road all showed me that I am allowed to breathe – and, more importantly, that I am not breathing alone.

I admit, next time I should plan for emergencies, conduct a more thorough risk assessment and establish alternative forms of communication. I won’t let my pride factor into my decision-making. Yet, this snapshot of my first van-venture is just one of many scenarios in this season that taught me that when I fall, I have a community to catch me. No matter where I am — where any of us are — even when I’m alone, I am not lonely.

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C ircle d by Love It doesn’t Words: Marty Munt Photo: Susan Rountree take a lot of living to learn that life surrounds us with circles. We named our daughter, Helen, after my husband’s grandmother, who died on the very day Helen was baptized.

Circles are everywhere if you look for them. And I found one recently in the middle of my driveway, on a warm summer day when our Family Support Circle gathered, wearing our masks. We were there to celebrate the family we had supported for the past year or so, and the realization of their hopes and dreams. We needed a lot of fortitude, prayer and most of all love to reach this point, but we had persevered and were excited to celebrate with her. Our Circle, led by Sam Taylor, included Mary Reca Todd, Barbara Barron, Leon Woodruff, Sally Norton, Marsha Coles, Hayden Constance and me.

We first met the family when the mother came to St. Michael’s as a part of the Family Promise program in July 2018. She was homeless, unemployed and had a 21-year-old son with Down syndrome and aggressive behavior issues. Her situation captured our hearts, and we volunteered to become her Support Circle, working with Catholic Charities.

Uncertain, we drew around her as she coped with so many issues — helping her seemed overwhelming to us. But we moved her into a new home that summer, forming a circle in prayer that it would be a haven for her.

We learned she was proud, resourceful and a fierce mother bear, all qualities which eventually led to her success. In that year, we sometimes felt this roller coaster circle back on itself, but by August of last year, she had a great job, she found different housing, learned a lot about handling her finances, and her son had full time support services.

Ending our agreement didn’t mean that we stopped caring or staying in touch. This spring, when Hayden checked in with her, she had surprising news: She had married and moved about an hour from Raleigh and bought a house. Her son had his own room and was quite happy in his new surroundings. She had done the hard work as we surrounded her with love.

When I contacted her to congratulate her, she texted saying she had a garden and wondered whether I had any cuttings of plants to share. She wanted a tangible reminder of the circle we’d created for her — a living garden filled with plants from her friends. We arranged a time for her to come to my house to pick them up.

As a surprise, I invited everyone in our circle to bring cuttings or plants. Some were out of town, but the rest of us brought plants and herbs to celebrate. We will always remember the surprised look on her face when she stepped out of her car and realized we were there to see her and to meet her husband. Our smiling eyes showed how wonderful it was to be together again. I led her to my garden where she cut parsley and oregano, and I gave her holly and maple saplings so she could plant some trees for shade.

We sat, circled around the plants we’d gathered to share, prayed, then sent her off with a car full of plants and love.

She was not the only one feeling surrounded by love that day. I looked around at our circle, overwhelmed by the love and respect we felt for each other. When we first met, most of us were strangers, but in our gathering, we worked hard together to enable a family to be successful.

In our weekly gatherings, we developed a sense of respect, love and trust for each person and for the talents and energy within the circle itself.

We learned to be open and honest with each other in order to determine the best ways to help and guide our

family. We worked in pairs, which helped me get to know my fellow circle members.

Standing in my driveway, we agreed that this had been one of the most meaningful experiences of service we had ever had, and we were so grateful for the opportunity to work together.

And then came the time when our Support Circle circled me. Last May, I had total knee replacement surgery — my right knee — which left me unable to drive for over two months. My Circle of Friends checked on me, brought dinners, drove me to PT — Driving Ms. Marty they called it! I was surrounded by their love and encouragement, which surely helped my healing process.

All the challenges and successes we encountered along the way in supporting this challenging family brought us closer together, and we missed working with each other when our agreement ended. So much so, that when Catholic Charities contacted us again we agreed to work with another family!

Marsha has moved away and Sam and Barbara have many other obligations at church, but the rest of us will meet our new family (virtually of course) later in August. Joe Campbell and Ruth Scott complete our new circle.

No doubt there will be many challenges ahead in working with our new family, but one thing we have learned is that together, we will circle them with love.

Marty Munt recently retired from teaching preschool. She is clerk of the Vestry.

Bob Pollard, at right, pictured with staff members Susan Little, left, Ann Garey and Jean Olson, loved giving little gifts like those above.

He cherished St. Michael’s and was a familiar face to all.

We Remember

SINCE THE PANDEMIC BEGAN, WE’VE LOST MANY MEMBERS OF OUR ST. MICHAEL’S FAMILY. LET’S GET TO KNOW THEM, EVEN AS WE SAY GOOD-BYE. EDITOR’S NOTE: AT PRESSTIME, THIS WAS A COMPLETE LIST OF THOSE WHO HAVE PASSED AS REPORTED TO THE CHURCH.

Words: Susan B. Rountree Photos: Submitted by families and friends

Being

members of an Episcopal church family is the job of a lifetime.

You need only to open the Book of Common Prayer to find the guidelines laid out for you, starting with Holy Baptism on page 299. We witness the baptism of babies and children and adults, inviting them into our household. We support those babies and children and adults as they affirm their faith and commitment to their baptismal covenant at the service of Confirmation. We celebrate and bless their marriages, pray for them when they are sick. And when they die, we are there, too, to comfort and to console.

Yet in the past six months, we’ve done very little of any of it. Babies have been born, yes, but most in our family have yet to be baptized. Confirmation, canceled in May, sits in hiatus and

will be moved to 7th grade next year.

A handful of couples have married, those witnessing vows — and the priest conducting the ceremony — masked, the priest unable to touch the rings exchanged.

And we can’t physically comfort and console the families of those who have died. We’ve been unable to celebrate their lives or bury them yet, though as we enter Stage 1B Diocesan guidelines, we will be able to conduct burials outside in our columbarium with no more than 35 people present.

Today we remember them, and we share their stories.

Seabrook Schaffer Seabrook “Brook” Schaffer died on March 5, only a few days before the church doors closed because of the pandemic. He had been ill for some time. Brook served on the Finance

and Endowment committees and also went on two church missions to Honduras.

“Brook liked playing golf, fine wine, and spending time with friends, family and his dog, Charlie,” his obituary read. “He enjoyed maintaining his status as an enigma with a twinkle in his eye..”

As an early member of the Endowment Committee (prior to the establishment of the Holy Michael Foundation), Brook served an important role as liaison between St. Michael’s and the Diocesan investment committee.

“He did a very good job of making sure our investments with the diocese were being handled correctly,” says Susan Little, financial coordinator. “He kept in contact with me on a regular basis about it.”

When he became ill, one day he

Susan Rountree photo

Tate Lanning, above, was a whiz at the piano and storyteller extraordinaire.

called Susan at the office. “You know I consider you my friend,” he told her.

It was a sweet an unexpected sentiment.

Brook is survived by a daughter, Virginia Brandon Shaffer, and granddaughter, Jessica Amber Shaffer.

Bob Pollard If ever there was a familiar face around St. Michael’s it was Bob’s. He frequently sat at the receptionist’s desk, greeting visitors and answering the phone. On Fridays, you might find him there, visiting and stuffing bulletins.

A Farmville, N.C., native, Bob wore a sly smile and was ready to share his latest joke, sometimes off-color. Clergy frequently drafted him as crucifer for funerals, and he loved telling stories about his life and giggling with the Wednesday lunch crowd. A Carolina graduate, he served as a university librarian at UNC for seven years before moving to the N.C. State library, where he remained for 23 years.

Bob left St. Michael’s a few years ago, moving to Birmingham, Ala., to be closer to his son, Al, and Al’s triplet children, whom Bob adored. He died unexpectedly on April 1 in the retirement community where he lived.

Reverdy “Rev” Winfree, above, was an avid collector who enjoyed the hunt.

“BP was a Tar Heel by birth, a true Southern Gentleman by the Grace of God, and a Democrat by choice,” his obituary read. “He loved and was loved by many, if not all, and will be missed greatly.”

The St. Michael’s staff adored Bob, who at Christmas gave them trinkets for their desks.

“Bob Pollard was quite the Southern gentleman,” says Ann Garey, “very caring, sentimental and thoughtful.

I have a collection of ‘Bob gifts’ that I keep at the office to remind me of him. In my den there is a lovely piece of pottery he gave me when he moved to Alabama. I walk by it every day and think of him.

“I loved his joke-telling while we stuffed bulletins on Friday afternoons.

There are some great Episcopal jokes out there—he loved to make me chuckle!”

“Bob was one of a kind,” says parish secretary Jean Olson. “I loved our chats, especially when he was working at the receptionist desk. I think he volunteered in practically every aspect of our church life. He was very dedicated to St. Michael’s. He was so interesting to talk to. It amazed me what a great memory he had.”

Bob’s family will eventually bring him home to St. Michael’s for his final rest.

Tate Lanning Most people knew Tate Lanning as a quiet, thoughtful man, a civil engineer “more comfortable with blueprints than small talk,” recalls Tate’s daughter, Carrie Shuping. “Whether he was serving as Lay Reader, Chalice Bearer, or Senior Warden of the Vestry, Tate exuded modesty and dignity. But the Saint Michael’s Follies gave Tate a chance to share his hidden talents, and he surprised and captivated audiences with piano renditions of favorite hymns, as well as his performances of Andy Griffith’s humorous monologues, ‘What It Was Was Football’ and ‘Romeo and Juliet.’”

Tate and his wife, Michael, were members of St. Michael’s for more than 50 years and were active in every aspect of the church.

A Durham native, he graduated from Duke University with a degree in civil engineering. In 1972, he established Tate Lanning & Associates, specializing in the design of water and wastewater systems for municipalities throughout North Carolina.

Tate died on April 8 from Parkinson’s disease. continued on the next page

22 from the previous page “He was an avid golfer and accomplished musician who entertained friends and family with his unique renditions of praise songs and bluegrass tunes,” his obituary read. “His children and grandchildren will miss his special birthday phone calls, which always included a live performance of “Happy Birthday,” featuring elaborate licks and riffs, played on his beloved baby grand. Tate was married for 56 years to his high school sweetheart, Michael May Lanning. Following her death, Tate moved to Grace Ridge Retirement Community in Morganton, where he enjoyed singing in the chorus, hosting family gatherings, and worshipping at Grace Episcopal Church.”

He is survived by three daughters: Kathy Robertson of Rutherfordton, Rebecca Lanning of Chapel Hill, and Carrie Shuping of Crossnore; and seven grandchildren. Tate’s ashes will join those of his beloved wife, Michael, in the church’s columbarium, a fitting resting spot for a devoted couple who were active members of our community for nearly 50 years.

Reverdy Winfree Jr. Rev and his wife, Judy, “bumbled into” St. Michael’s, Judy recalls, when having recently moved to Raleigh, they needed a spot in a preschool for their daughter, Peyton. “Someone Rev knew from Kiwanis in Roanoke Rapids knew of St. Michael’s. That connection led him to join the Men’s Breakfast group, which he called ‘Baconalia.’ And he later found himself serving on mission teams, first to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, then later to Belize to work on Holy Cross Anglican School.

“He was deeply touched by what the school was trying to do,” Judy says.

In recent years, Rev suffered from vascular dementia, which “takes the person,” Judy says. Though she kept him at home with nursing care until

Steve van Westendorp met his wife, Laura Mae, on a blind date — but she was not his date. Navy officer and Renaissance man, he was a scholar, art lover and gentleman.

February, he moved to an assisted living group home just before the pandemic hit, then his health declined more rapidly and he was moved to Duke Raleigh.

In the beginning, Judy and her children couldn’t visit, but after a massive stroke, doctors allowed the family to visit one at a time.

“God is so merciful,” she says, as they were comforted by an intern from Duke Divinity School (who is also the youth minister at Christ Church.)

“There are just moments when you know God is there.”

Rev died on April 24.

Now that he’s gone, Judy surrounds herself with the many things Rev collected, remembering how much he enjoyed the hunt. “He lived to collect things,” she says — Buffalo nickles, antique toys, comic books and old advertisements. He loved many genres of music, with gospel, do-wop, rock-androll, and bluegrass as his favorites.”

“He was a very sweet man, and he loved to laugh,” his granddaughter Lauren Noel Morales says. “When my brother was little he couldn’t say ‘Grandfather.’ What came out instead was ‘Grammyfodder.’ That’s what we called him when we were growing up

when we were joking around. And that’s how I will always remember him.”

Rev is survived by Judy, and his three children, Reverdy III (Trip), and daughter’s Laura and Peyton — and four grandchildren.

Steve van Westendorp Many people remember Steve for his commanding lay reader’s voice.

And the fact that he was a Navy man.

Captain van Westendorp commanded the destroyer USS Brinkley Bass from 1968 to 1970 in the Vietnamese war. In addition to the Purple Heart, according to his obituary, he was the recipient of numerous awards and commendations, chief among them the Legion of Merit (with Combat “V”) and the Bronze Star Medal (with Combat “V”).

After retiring from the Navy in 1976, Steve and wife Laura Mae welcomed a son, Christiaan, to their family. They moved to Raleigh in 1978. After teaching math at Sanderson High School for eight years, Steve and Laura Mae traveled the world, collecting what would become a stellar collection of fine art for their home.

Steve spoke fluent French and passable German, and on Pentecost could be found reading the Gospel in

23 German in tandem with Greg Jones in Spanish. He served on the Vestry at St. Michael’s (and as senior warden) and was a volunteer radio announcer for WCPE radio.

In his later years, Steve spent Monday mornings gathered around the conference room table counting the paper bills and coins from Sunday’s offering.

“He tried to do as much as he could at the church,” says Garland Radford.

“He never stopped talking. It’s hard to count money. He would do anything in the world for anybody. He was a fun guy. He was a good friend and a real gentleman. We met faithfully every Monday.”

spirits within the parish. And of course, it’s always good to have prods to read things you might not have chosen for yourself.

“Mom also greatly enjoyed the OWLS! In addition to the programming — like getting to hear Valerie Bauerlein talk about being a reporter at the Wall Street Journal —Mom met some of her closest friends through OWLS. She also loved the ECW Garden Party, and was often a ‘hearty bidder.’

Last year she put together an herb basket to donate and already had assembled the makings of another herb

“Music is the thread that weaves through every part of her life, our family and her friendships. I can just picture Mom up in heaven right now, singing along with her sister LuAnn at the piano. “ At the end of her life, she battled cancer, but her faith remained strong.

She died on June 10 and is survived

by Amanda, her son, Scott, and two grandchildren.

“He had a wonderful dry wit and was always on time,” Susan Little recalls.

Don McKee Don McKee was a longtime member of St. Michael’s choir.

“He told a lot of great stories about his life. He was so dedicated to St. Michael’s.”

Steve died April 30.

He will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors at a later date.

Memphis then traveling down into Mississippi, hitting some of the blues hot spots. ”In Memphis, we spent the better part of a day in the Stax Museum and then drove Route 61 (‘Blues Highway’) to visit blues hot spots in Mississippi. Mom visited New Orleans more often than anywhere else in the world,” Amanda says, though on a trip to Paris in 2007, they visited the Jazz Club Etoile to hear a Chicago blues band.

Carolyn Martin was a genteel beauty who loved all kinds of music, especially the blues. Last year she attended the Paul McCartney concert in Raleigh with her family.

Carolyn Martin When Carolyn moved to Raleigh to be closer to her daughter, Amanda, she joined the St. Michael’s family with a quiet grace. Carolyn had called Gulf Breeze, Fla., home for 50 years before moving here in 2015.

“Even before Mom moved here, she enjoyed meeting women at a Mother-Daughter dinner years ago,” says daughter Amanda. “Mom really loved Words & Wisdom. As a lifelong reader, Mom appreciated W&W as a way to more deeply come to know kindred

basket when COVID-19 caused the Garden Party to be canceled.”

What many might not know about Carolyn is that she loved the blues.

She grew up in a musical family — all of her brothers and her sister played instruments or sang. “Music was an integral part of Mom’s birth family,” Amanda says, “and it certainly was central to who we were as a family.”

(Carolyn attended the Paul McCartney concert in Raleigh just last year.)

She and Amanda traveled together on a “blues trip” in 2005, starting in

“Don loved singing,” Kevin Kerstetter says, “and had a beautifully rich baritone voice. He was one of the most gentle people I’ve ever met, and he was such a good listener. Chatting with Don was always a treat.”

The Rev. Greg Jones remembers him fondly. “He was a warm and wonderful gentleman who’s speaking voice was also a delight to listen to, and he possessed a keen intelligence.”

Don is is survived by his wife of 42 years, Lorraine; a son, Robert K. Revicki Jr.; and daughters and son-in-law, Laurie Ann Webster, Karen Revicki Perry and Brian Murphy Perry.

Susan B. Rountree is director of communications for St. Michael’s.

Reflect & Connect REFLECTION CIRCLES PROVIDE NEWCOMERS AND LONGTIME MEMBERS WITH IMPORTANT LINKS TO EACH OTHER, ALL WHILE STUDYING THE GOSPEL. JOIN A CIRCLE: MONDAY, 9 AM — SALLY NORTON MONDAY 7:30 PM — SHELIA PUESCHEL (NOTE TIME CHANGE) TUESDAY 9 AM — HARRY WALKER (NOTE TIME CHANGE) TUESDAY 10 AM — RALEIGH BAKER TUESDAY 10 AM — SAM TAYLOR TUESDAY 7 PM — BARBARA BARRON WEDNESDAY 10 AM — NANCI ATKESON VISIT HOLYMICHAEL.ORG TO SIGN UP.

Words & Photo: Susan Rountree

When Paul

Scrimgeour moved to Apex from California earlier this year, he knew he wanted to find an Episcopal church to attend. His brother connected him with Sam and Christine Taylor, and they invited him to visit St. Michael’s.

“I wasn’t sure St. Michael’s would be the place for me because it’s quite a bit bigger than the churches I’m used to. There were churches closer to me,” he says, “but I came because of Sam and Christine.”

Soon after, Paul found himself singing in the choir, making the small-group connection that is vital in a church as large as ours.

“I sang maybe three Sundays before we got shut down,” he says. But the fact of the pandemic hasn’t kept Paul from creating new connections with people in the parish. He hasjoined the virtual choir Kevin Kerstetter created, and in recent months he’s joined one of the Reflection Circles created during the pandemic to keep people studying the Bible and interacting with each other.

“In the story of the feeding of the 5,000, Jesus invited his disciples to participate in the work and in the miracle,” says Sam, who helped start the Reflection Circles at the beginning of the pandemic. “The disciples suggested to Jesus that they send the people away to find their own food, but Jesus said, ‘You feed them!’

“When the coronavirus shut (the church) down,” Sam adds, “I wondered what I could do to help people stay connected to each other and to God. The Thursday morning Men’s Bible Study (in which I participate) switched quickly to meeting by Zoom, and to my surprise, the average attendance went up.

Was there something here we could use?”

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“MOSTLY I AM GRATEFUL FOR THE PEOPLE I MEET WITH — WHO THEY ARE, THEIR WISDOM AND THEIR FRIENDSHIP. WE ARE IN PRAYER FOR EACH OTHER, OUR LOVED ONES, AND OUR WORLD. IT IS HARD TO IMAGINE A BETTER PLACE TO BE RIGHT NOW.” — SAM TAYLOR , REFLECTION CIRCLE LEADER

Sam talked it over with the small-group leaders who had been trained in the last couple of years, and they decided to create Zoom groups that would meet weekly for 40 minutes to discuss the Gospel of the week. Starting in April with four groups, participation has grown, and now seven groups — around 50 people — meet weekly.

“There was clearly a hunger for conversation and connection in the parish, and we had a meaningful offering.”

And Zoom is not limited by geography, he says. Bruce and Joyce Hunn, former members who moved to New Mexico when their son, Michael, was called to be bishop of the Diocese of the Rio Grande, join Sam’s group each week. “It is great to have these wonderful friends in our midst again.

Likewise, we can welcome people new to the parish.”

“I really look forward to it,” says Paul. “We share the collect and Gospel reading and discuss it, and we also share what’s going on in our lives and our concerns as people of faith. It’s a very caring group of people. Once when I couldn’t attend, they all reached out to me. I was really touched by that. For people to connect after the group met, showed to me this is a very caring community of faith.”

Some of the Reflection Circles use the Lectio Divina method of Bible Study, reading a passage of Scripture slowly by reading it three times, looking at certain individual words, then phrases, then the entire reading and reflecting after each time we read it. “It gives you time to reflect on what the passage is saying and what meaning it has for you personally,” says Harry Walker, who has led many small groups in his many years at St. Michael’s. “The surprising part is how much you can absorb from this method and the different ideas that come to you after each reading,” he says.

The groups met through mid-August and after a short hiatus will be returning in September. As new people want to join, they’ll form new groups.

Harry’s group is made up of different ages and new and longtime members. “Over the months we got to know each other much more than we might have if we did not have the group,” says Harry. “Everyone was open to sharing and we had a relaxed time talking and listening. No pressure to speak ever. The surprising thing was the freedom you have to express your thoughts or feelings that you might not have had the chance in a large church setting.”

“I feel like St. Michael’s is a beloved community given my brief experience,” says Paul.

“One of these days we’ll be able to go back inside,” he says.

“Many of us are missing singing in community and the organ. Given that we are globally going through it, given our technology, we can tune in to the services and classes and see and hear and feel music. People are doing a lot of creative work to make it a beloved community.”

And we are reaching far beyond our Raleigh footprint.

Paul’s California sisters are tuning in to our services each Sunday.

Sam is grateful for much about the Reflection Circles.

“Mostly I am grateful for the people I meet with — who they are, their wisdom and their friendship. We are in prayer for each other, our loved ones, and our world. It is hard to imagine a better place to be right now.”

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Archangel

Gifts of Grace Moves To Online Giving ne of

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Whitford.

the busiest weeks in the fall at St. Michael’s is Gifts of Grace week. Committee members are busy setting up tables and signs, and ECW chapters have gathered in the church kitchen and elsewhere to bake rolls, make pimiento cheese, and assemble cookie jars and soup mixes.. And then there is the Lou’s Dressing team which orders cases of mayonnaise and Gorgonzola cheese before gathering in the kitchen to make the dressing with assembly-line precision.

During COVID-19, some services were curtailed, but by late summer, the volunteers — some of whom have served the same families for years — started returning for home visits.. The services they provide are for people aged 60 or older (or over 18 with disabilities). “Some of our recipients are stroke victims, born blind, or injured during military service.”

“The Center was created 28 years ago to run services for communities of faith,” Elaine says.

But this year—its 18th year— Gifts of Grace will look much different.

The kitchen will be quiet, the Parish Hall bare, because this longtime St. Michael’s tradition — like every other program since COVID-19 hit — has to be transformed.

The Gifts of Grace team has spent the months they’ve been away to plan how to move their flagship Mission & Outreach event online.

On Sunday, Nov. 8, we will gather digitally to do what we always do at Gifts of Grace: support our community with donations to two dozen organizations that serve the needy in our area.

In the coming weeks, each household will receive instructions by snail mail on how to give to individual organizations in thanksgiving for friends and family — or how to give a general Gifts of Grace donation that will be dispersed between all the participating organizations.

New this year is the Center for Volunteer Caregiving, which provides transportation, family respite care and in-home connections to individuals all over Wake County. More than 450 people are currently being served by the Center, with 340 volunteers, according to Executive Director Elaine

Who Will Participate?

“We are now community-based, with referrals coming from places like Meals on Wheels, The Ark, Transitions Life Care, doctors offices and home health agencies. The Center is one of the few volunteer organizations of its kind left in the area.” she says.

The Center is careful to match the volunteer with the care-receiver. “Sometimes they forget they are volunteering,” Elaine says. “This fosters relationships. It’s not on a per- shift basis.”

All the services are free to the care-receiver. You can learn more about the Center on their website, https://volunteercaregiving.org/.

So plan now to join us on Sunday, Nov. 8, when Gifts of Grace will launch its first virtual event. Watch for emails and visit holymichael.org for news of special online events as we move closer to Nov. 8.

We hope to “see” you there!

Alliance Medical Ministry Center for Volunteer Caregiving Community Music School Episcopal Farmworker Ministry Family Promise FIGS Healing Transitions Hilltop Home InterAct Inter-Faith Food Shuttle Loaves and Fishes

Match of NC Meals on Wheels of Wake County Oak Ranch PLM Families Together SAFEchild St. Saviour’s StepUp Ministry Urban Ministries Wake Relief Wheels4Hope

Adult Forums for Fall Sundays

Teachable Moments Who, What, When, Where, Why, and Today? — The Lesser-known Saints and Feast Days with the St. Michael’s Clergy This fall, St. Michael’s will be offering short, five- to 10-minute video teachings called, “Teachable Moments.” These Sunday videos will be taking a closer look at the lesser known saints and feast days we recognize in the Church. Who were they, what did they do, when did they live, where did they carry out their ministry, why were they so passionate, and what impact do they have upon us today?

Sept. 13 Holy Cross Day with the Rev. Dr. James L. Pahl Jr. It was there that a relic of the true cross was discovered, and that day has been set aside for commemoration ever since.

Sept. 20 Mildred Holland, Wife of The Rev. William Holland – Huntingfield, Suffolk, England” With the Rev. Holly M. Gloff Mrs. Holland lay on her back on scaffolding to recreate the splendor of a 15th century Angel ceiling in a parish called, St. Mary the Virgin.

Sept. 27 Remigius, Bishop of Rheims with the Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones At the age of 22, Remigius became Bishop of Rheims. He gave the famous charge, “Worship what you have burned, and burn what you have worshiped.”

Oct. 4 St. Francis of Assisi & Animal Blessings with the Rev. Holly M. Gloff Son of a prosperous businessman, Francis gave it all up to serve the Lord with great meekness and gentleness of spirit. He is associated with the blessing of all creatures.

Oct. 4, continued Drive-Through Animal Blessing 4-5 pm Oct. 4 Bring your dogs and cats and gerbils, your goldfish and your parakeets, for a special Drive-Through blessing. And for those who have lost a pet, please bring their remains and a photograph for a special prayer and blessing for our earthly companions who are no longer with us.

Nov. 22 Clement of Rome with the Rev. Anna S. Page Early Church father, third Bishop of Rome, Clement preached the Gospel of Christ and set forth a hierarchical view of Church authority.

Advent Nov. 29 Understanding Advent

Oct. 11 Hugh Latimer, Nicholas Ridley, & Thomas Cranmer with the Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man; we shall this day light such a candle by God’s grace in England as (I trust) shall never be put out”

Dec. 6 A Messenger to Prepare the Way – John the Baptist

Oct. 18 St. James of Jerusalem Brother of our Lord Jesus Christ, Bishop of Jerusalem, and a holy servant of God. Oct. 25 St. Simon & St. Jude, Apostles With the Rev. Anna S. Page Two faithful disciples of the Lord, who were zealous in their mission.

Nov. 1 All Saints Day with the Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones “I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true, who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.”

Nov. 8 Gifts of Grace Special Virtual Programming Nov. 15 Hilda, Abbess of Whitby with the Rev. Holly M. Gloff Renowned for her wisdom, eagerness for learning, and devotion to God, Hilda entered the monastic life and played a major role in preaching the gospel of peace

Dec. 13 The Song of Mary: The Magnificat Dec. 20 The Song of Simeon: Nunc dimittis

SMALL GROUP BOOK STUDIES

Listening for God: Volume 1 A Small-group study of Contemporary Literature and the Life of Faith – Finding the voice of the Lord in the ordinary.

Sept. 28 – Nov. 20.

The small groups will be facilitated by a leader who will guide the groups in contemporary literature selections, brief author profiles, and discussion and reflection. Questions are arranged into eight chapters.

Included are selections from: Flannery O’Connor, Frederick Buechner, Patricia Hampf, Raymond Carver, Annie Dillard, and Alice Walker.

The groups will meet Tuesdays at 1:30 p.m. and Wednesdays at 7 p.m. Contact Sam Taylor, samuel.o.taylor@gmail.com, to sign up.

ARCHANGEL

A PUBLICATION OF ST. MICHAEL’S EPISCOPAL CHURCH 1520 Canterbury Rd. Raleigh NC 27608-1106 919.782.0731 holymichael.org

NON-PROFIT ORG. US POSTAGE PAID Raleigh, NC PERMIT NO. 696

EDITOR: SUSAN B. ROUNTREE STORY IDEAS? ROUNTREE@HOLYMICHAEL.ORG

SPECIAL EVENT

Courage to Thrive: Finding Joy and Hope in the Midst of Pandemic October 3, 10 & 17 9 am-10 am Three Saturday morning sessions with the Rev. Dr. Bob Flanagan, author of the book, Courage to Thrive: Finding Joy and Hope in the Midst of Mental Health Struggles.

This will be a virtual Zoom presentation focused on the challenges and struggles we are all facing in the presence of the Covid-19 pandemic and our own mental health. How have we been challenged?

Where do we find the hope and joy amongst so much despairing news and events? What about loneliness? Dr. Flanagan will share his experience and point us to the places of health and vitality. The book is available in the Canterbury Shop.

Visit holymichael.org/canterbury-shop to place your order through The Canterbury Shop To Go. Please join us for these three virtual sessions.

Author Dr. Bob Flanagan