St. Michael's Episcopal Church — Summer Archangel 2020

ARCHANGEL

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

WE ARE EASTER PE OPLE

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Table of Contents 4

Jesus Has Risen, And So Have We

The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones examines how a closed building led to opening minds during the pandemic.

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Fear & Hope

The Rev. Dr. James Pahl Jr. reflects on how fear of the unknown can lead to hope in God’s promise to us.

12 We Are Easter People

The church closed in mid-March, but our crack video team has been bringing it home with beauty and the Holy Spirit.

16 Here Comes the Dreamer Newly-minted deacon the Rev. Anna S. Page shares her thoughts on joining the Holy Order of Deacons in the middle of an international health crisis.

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

All area codes are 919 unless noted

FEATURES 8 New-Fashioned Connection

Without physical worship, St. Michael’s parishioners find new ways to care for one another.

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When Faith & Science Collide Priest Associate Dr. Vincent J. Kopp considers how his faith and his scientific training join to change his thinking about both.

THE GOOD NEWS 19 On Waking

A morning walk gives Shelia Pueschel time for thought.

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Time To Say Yes

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Mining the Memories

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A New Kind of Spring

The Governor’s stay-at-home order allows Anna McLamb time for a “yes” that leads to unexpected family joy.

Pandemic isolation provides writer Harriet Hill time to sort through her history of scrapbooks.

Writer Melanie Jones quiets the mayhem of raising three busy girls and reflects on what this new season means.

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@hoymichael.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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Jesus Has Risen, and So Have We

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Words: The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones, Rector

WHEN WE ARE TOGETHER FOR WORSHIP AT CHURCH, WE ARE IMMERSED IN A MASSIVE SYMPHONY OF EXPERIENCE AND SENSORIAL INPUTS. THE PEOPLE, THE ARCHITECTURE, THE STAINED GLASS, THE SMELLS, THE SIGHTS, THE SOUNDS, THE LITURGICAL MOVEMENTS — OUR SENSES TAKE IT ALL IN, AND OUR BRAINS PROCESS IT, AND THEN OUR HEARTS AND OUR SOULS ADD TO ALL OF THAT A DEPTH — IT REALLY CANNOT BE CAPTURED BY ANY CAMERA OR MICROPHONE.

On March 3

, at our staff meeting at church, we talked about what we might do if the novel coronavirus ever reached North Carolina. I recall thinking it was weeks away. An hour later the first case in Wake County made the news. A week later all services and church events were canceled. It has been two months since that staff meeting, Holy Week has come and gone, and our community of more than 2,000 faithful followers of Jesus have not met together in the flesh. The church building has been shut down, and it’s as quiet as the grave around there. And yet, we are Easter people. The Lord Jesus rose from the grave, and like him we live.

When the Rt. Rev. Samuel Rodman announced the closing of churches for worship, within momentsI called Chris Carson and Jeff McLamb to set a plan in motion for filling the gap. These are the two fellows who have been faithfully recording Sunday Adult Forum classes for a long time. I realized we were going to have to create an alternative to Sunday worship, and I didn’t even pause before thinking of these two. It was like God said, “call Jeff and Chris.”

And thus the video ministry was transformed from two guys recording lectures for our website to creating what would amount to a TV show, from scratch, to replace our regular Sunday services. And though you might think somebody would pause for a moment to reflect on the scope of what they were being asked to do, I never heard a moment’s hesitation. They responded to my request as the faithful always do. They said, “Let’s do it.”

My initial notion of how we would offer an alternative to corporate worship was that we would do some kind of abbreviated liturgy in the church, and Chris and Jeff would livestream that.

I wasn’t thrilled with the idea. To be sure, churches have had cameras in them for a long time, and I’ve seen plenty of examples of a worship service broadcast. And I can’t lie, I never thought it was very compelling. Lots of bigger churches, in fact, have video cameras installed so they can record the usual services, but in my experience, the cameras are distant, the sound is inferior, and there’s a lot of shuffling around and dead air time. The fact is, live events don’t make for good TV without an enormous amount of equipment, talent, editing and adjustment.

Since the earliest days of social media, I have watched clergy experiment on Facebook and elsewhere with livestreaming, and I have to say I never thought it translated well to the medium. I guess I’m picky, but I’ve been watching TV for 50 years, and I know what makes for good TV. Watching a screen is watching a screen, whether it be on a computer or a phone.

And what makes for good TV carries over to all the screens we watch. The first law of TV is this: Real TV is Not Real Life. And the second is like unto it: Real Life is Not Real TV. Which is why “reality television” is such a lie. It’s neither reality nor television.

No, it takes many cameras, lights, microphones and hours of careful thought to produce even a mediocre minute of

Archangel filmed content. And even that is far from real experience.

When we are together for worship at church, we are immersed in a massive symphony of experience and sensorial inputs. The people, the architecture, the stained glass, the smells, the sights, the sounds, the liturgical movements — our senses take it all in, and our brains process it, and then our hearts and our souls add to all of that a depth — it really cannot be captured by any camera or microphone.

So when I realized in March we were going to have to invent something almost from scratch as a substitute for the great joys of corporate worship, I was worried.

Moreover, we weren’t even going to be having anything “live” to share. Unlike that football game the camera and production crews try to broadcast to those fans who are not at the stadium, in our situation, there was no football game being played, and the stadium was closed.

5 And so, we began early knowing we would not follow the hour long Sunday order of service we are used to. Given that audio-video takes up an enormous amount of data — which has to be created, edited, uploaded and stored — the shorter the service the better. As well, unless a show is really well made, it bores the audience easily. We also knew that it had to look and sound good.

We decided the key value of our Sunday production was to foster a sense of connection to our common life and place together, in these days of our dispersion.

We would develop this with a combination of stunning cinematography of the grounds and inside spaces. We would likewise make use of Kevin’s tremendous musical talents to record pieces that would move our ears and our hearts. We would pare the liturgy down to essential bits, like the reading of Scripture, preaching, praying. We would not try to do any version of communion because, well, I don’t believe sacraments can be meaningfully televised.

We didn’t have something live to livestream.

And maybe that was a good thing. Why go live when there is nothing live happening? I realized what we did could be pre-recorded, and folks could watch it whenever they wanted. And since it could be pre-recorded, it could be edited. And since it could be edited, it could be processed and created in layers. Which meant it could look and sound as good as possible.

And since the best feature of TV (or screens of any kind) is that you can send out pretty sounds and pictures, we decided to focus on quality imagery and sound. Perhaps, we thought, this filmed work of some higher aesthetic quality could be a helpful temporary substitute for the reallife worship experience, which is intrinsically an aesthetic experience. There is no line between art and spirituality, after all, for both come from the Lord of the Dance.

Which is why I called Jeff and Chris. Jeff is an engineer who designs computer chips, and he has an amateur interest in videography and cool stuff like cameras, drones and computers. And Chris, well, Chris is actually a pro. He owns a company that creates TV shows. I call it “TV shows.” He calls it educational and corporate audio-video content, made to be streamed for educational and business purposes: classes, lectures, training programs and so forth.

So he also has really good gear, a ton of experience, and an eye for what people want to see and hear in well made audio-visual content.

These guys know how to make good TV, and good TV is what we felt called to make. If we couldn’t have a good liturgical experience in person, we could at least make a good virtual one.

The work Jeff and Chris did is one part of an array of ways people have been creating “church” during the pandemic.

In this issue of Archangel, we explore how our staff and parishioners have brought church home to the people. We profile our video team. (Chris Carson has recently left to resume his crucial online professional work, though he’ll help with post production.) And we spotlight how many of you have answered the call with phone calls and social media communications, prayer gatherings, Bible study and small group meetings. Despite our closed doors, there remains a great deal of connection between us.

In addition, our priest associate, Vince Kopp, examines his own spiritual connection to the science that leads us now; Anna Page explores her new role as deacon during a pandemic; and others in our congregation write about how they are coping during this unprecedented time.

Yes, we are Easter people. We seek to follow a risen Lord, and you can’t do that sitting down. You can’t be raised and not get up. And so, while the novel coronavirus seems to have knocked the whole world over — and even closed our church’s building like Jesus’ grave — God has even still rolled the stone away, and the tomb is empty.

For the Lord is risen. And so have we.

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Fear & Hope Words: The Rev. James L. Pahl Jr., D. Min., Vicar

Photo: Susan Rountree

Iremember a

time when my parents piled all five of us kids in the van and began driving eastward. I was the oldest by almost eight years, so my brothers and I being the oldest, had a better sense of what was really happening than did my sisters. You see, every time someone in the family got strep throat, all of us were hauled into the doctor’s office for that dreaded penicillin shot!

So, one day Mom and Dad put us in the van and said, “We are headed for the hospital (New Hanover) in Wilmington for each of you to have your tonsils removed.” One could imagine the fear this brought — it was truly a fear of the unknown. So, we cried, we wailed and we complained, trying to convince them why they were wrong!

Once we pulled into the hospital parking lot, my dad got out of the car with such a grimace on his face. It was clear he was serious, and the fear within us only deepened. In some sense, I remember now a resignation to the fact that this trip was indeed culminating in a visit to the hospital.

As he moved around the car, he gently opened the door.

And then, he said with a great big smile, “Surprise! We’re going to the beach!”

Little did we know, they packed everything in the back, and covered it up. And yet, the excitement we now felt was somewhat tempered. Looking back on it, that excitement was mostly about avoiding the hospital! Of course, in a matter of days we would forget about that part of the trip, as we swam in the ocean and played in the sand. But, we have always loved Dad for his sense of humor.

In the midst of this unprecedented time (our favorite phrase of late), I heard a radio host say it is like those Hollywood movies, or more appropriately, a B-rated horror movie where someone is moving down a dark hallway toward a closed door. The fear is of the unknown — what lies behind the door. Our imaginations run wild, because fear spreads as wildly as this killer virus, and we are unable to see an end. And this fear only builds more strongly as we remain in the hallway, uncertain what we will face on the other side of the door.

I share this, because, in a real sense there are two kinds of fear that seem to pervade us, and especially today in this

ever anxious world. First, there is the fear of the unknown and the anxiety that grips us at every turn. These fears and uncertainty concerning COVID-19 clearly represent a historic moment in our history. There is no question that leaders across the spectrum made the right decisions to isolate us all from exposure, as best as possible. The virus is real and dangerous; but mostly, it has brought about a fear that is the result of the unknown. And this causes the human nature in us to be full of fear and anxiety. Unfortunately, the financial ramifications of this and its impact on families and businesses is a reality that adds to the fear.

I think about it now as I write these thoughts down, because, like my brothers, sisters, and me piled in the van with the fear of uncertainty resting on our hearts, now my family (like yours) is quarantined in our home in the same fashion.

Of course, we can get out and walk and go to the store, but life as we knew it has come to a sudden suspension — and we were not expecting it. What is on the other side of that door? How will this impact my family? And, what will the future look like going forward? I know everyone has been asking these same questions. And the truth is, none of us will really know for some time.

On a personal level, in the midst of the more difficult moments of this “unprecedented time” there have been real signs of hope — I just had to open my eyes and let my heart take it all in: 1. Four dogs who love having us at home with them all day long, every day! And yet, I’m sure they are asking why we are occupying so much of their space these days? 2. About 10 baby bunnies born just before Easter in our back yard ... a reminder of new life just in time for Easter! 3. Long-desired and needed rest! 4. Long-awaited projects are finally getting some attention. 5. A reminder that the sun rises every morning, and the gift of rain comes when needed. 6. The kids are now eating leftovers! I tried for so long to get them to eat leftovers from the days’ previous meal and to not waste food — they always resisted.

Now we are cooking and grilling together every day. I could think of so many more experiences, and I know each of you have your own.

While the virus was beginning to grip the world, we began traveling through the Lenten season at St. Michael’s with the book, Love Wins, by Rob Bell. This book is easy to read,

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and yet, it is full of questions and challenges… addressing some very difficult issues around heaven and hell.

Some folks found Love Wins not to be so comforting.

It challenges their traditional view and understanding of heaven and hell, even though the book is filled with solid scholarship with regard to scriptural context and the original meaning of the biblical text in its ancient language, primarily, Koine Greek. Nevertheless, it challenges us to see a different picture when we engage the actual text — as opposed to more recent translations.

And the wider message of the book itself challenges us to see the incomprehensibility of our God. Regardless, fear in this case is the fear of engaging something that will change us or challenge us — something we fear may open us up to a new reality that exposes us. Or, the fear that we may be left in a place without our self-perceived and rehearsed answers to anything that takes us to those uncomfortable places.

But this fear, unlike the other will not harm or destroy us. When we engage it, we discover that behind that door is HOPE! Hope sees a future. Hope sees a bigger picture — a picture in which we see and sense ourselves in the midst of a larger, comforting reality. It is our story, too.

As we acknowledge in the Episcopal/Anglican tradition, the three legs of the stool (our supportive foundation) are the Holy Scriptures, church tradition and human reasoning — human reasoning, because we do not check our brains at the door. Fear can be unhealthy and binding — keeping us from growing further in the life that is found in Christ and holding the Spirit at bay from doing new things in us — keeping us from the true waters of the holy well. It is a true blessing to open up our hearts and souls and allow God, through grace and hope, to move in new ways in us. This is when we recognize in ourselves that we cannot put God in a box!

No one can put God in a box! It is so much more than we could ever conceive.”

The incredible message of God’s never-ending love for us is that it is not our message. It is God’s message; it is God’s love; because, God is love! Fear and anxiety will convince us that God can be put in a box, and that is just simply wrong. We must always remember that Eas-

ter is not free. Good Friday had to take place first. The self-opening, self-exposing, difficult discoveries of Good Friday that we realize in Jesus’ emptying of himself for us on the cross, was the payment for the eternal gift of joy and hope found in the Eastertide.

As the Apostle Paul said in Romans 8, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Whatever fears and stresses we have journeyed through over these past months, the good news is there is always hope on the other side of the door; because, the Lord is in it all!

We are Easter people, called to continue looking for and experiencing the hope of the Lord amongst the fear of what is passing away — and this hope can be found in the simplest of places. No matter what season of the year we find ourselves, no matter what event or trauma is upon us, the Holy Spirit is calling us to a deeper faith and allowing for new self-discovery in the context of an active, ever-moving God. May the hope of the Eastertide be that much more of a blessing for us as we continue to deepen our spiritual journeys in this unprecedented time. Fear may always surround us; but hope is eternal — it is right in front of us all the time, ready to set us free!

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New-Fashioned Words: & Photos: Susan Rountree

“When two

or three are gathered together, Jesus said in Matthew 10, “I will be in the midst of you.”

our initial Covid-19 closing,” says Lee, “a sense of loss and extreme sadness was overwhelming as I moved through our 37,000 square feet of empty space. It took time for our necessary distance and the absence of our people to settle in my soul.”

Gathering. It’s a fact that followers of Jesus have been practicing for more than 2,000 years. In twos and threes and hundreds and thousands — to worship and to sing and to pray, to study and provide comfort, to learn and to be nurtured.

But the thing about church is this: People need it. They need the connection Sunday mornings and committee meetings and study and breaking bread together bring. And as the pandemic continued and people kept comfort in their homes, they sought each other out in ways both remarkable and old-fashioned, taking it upon The early disciples gathered at the temple, as was their themselves to keep the practice, and then broke bread in their homes line of communication to honor Jesus’ request to “do this in remem“When I returned to the building open, even though they brance of me.” Through the centuries, people could no longer — at built churches and cathedrals and gathered by several days after our initial Covid-19 least temporarily — pass the dozens and the thousands, praising and the peace. praying and singing, and on Sunday mornings closing,” says Lee, “a sense of loss and for a very long time, all seemed right. extreme sadness was overwhelming as I Among the first things the Rev. Holly Gloff did Until a microscopic virus brought it all to a halt. moved through our 37,000 square feet was pick up the phone.

In her ministry to the older members of our In mid-March churches all over the country of empty space. It took time for our parish, she knew full well shut their doors to the outside world. No the most vulnerable in services, no meetings, no more knitting in par- necessary distance and the absence of our congregation needed lors, no more mid-weeks meals for the elderly, assurance that all would no more gatherings of any kind of 10 people our people to settle in my soul.” be well. With more than or more.

— LEE HAYDEN 300 members over 70, that proved to be quite At St. Michael’s, Lee Hayden, director of operthe task, and she asked for help. ations and our newcomer ministry, opened the church master calendar and cleared it, a task unthinkable only “We are not permitted to go to hospitals and homes days before. In spring, the St. Michael’s calendar blooms at this time,” says Holly. “About the best we can do for like a newly-planted garden — the ECW Garden Party, each other is to stay in contact, and make sure everychoir festival, Senior Sunday, Confirmation, Spring Fling one is at least safe. Some we call, sometimes several — a calendar so full Lee can hardly find rooms to schedtimes.” ule every event.

Yet throughout this spring, our parking lot lay empty, the front doors of the church locked, offices dark, as the congregation, clergy and staff waited for news of when we could open again.

“When I returned to the building several days after

She’s learned about parishioners with family members in hospice care, where visitors are no longer allowed.

“Lots of people who live at Springmoor, the Cypress, the Cardinal and other retirement communities are locked down and not permitted to have friends come by and

The

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Connections “People who have been retired for a while still have a need to be listened to. They need to be respected and paid attention to. Is this not true of everyone of ANY age?

No, we can’t always see each others’ eyes when we visit by phone, but we can, over the phone, hear the catch in someone’s voice if you listen carefully.”

Among the volunteers answering Holly’s ministerial call was Diane Carter, a lay Eucharistic minister who is also a chalice bearer, has been taking communion to people in their homes for the past few years.

“The Lay Eucharistic Ministry, for me, is largely the relationship we have with the e St. Michael’s staff has stayed connected through weekly Zoom meetings. receiver and their family or caregiver and the connection we can bring them to the outvisit,” Holly adds. “So many people are bored, feel caged in, side world,” she says. Though a typical visit includes time to “incarcerated” as one person put it. Fortunately, we have, catch up, “the communion itself is the most important and for the most part, many who “take it as it comes. most meaningful to them,” she says. “I can see it in their faces and in their demeanor as we share in the Eucharist.”

“Many of our parishioners are inveterate readers, and with the Internet, they have more subjects to explore than you Each month, Diane sends a visitation schedule for Euchacan shake a stick at. One person has been spending weeks ristic home visits. For the time being, though, phone calls exploring her ancestry and is learning so much that she can share with her family. One gentleman is writing a book. have had to replace the personal contact. “During these not normal times, when I sent out the April schedule, I quoted Holly from one of her early sermons: “get out your “Most of us, in our busy lives, have forgotten how to parish directory and dust it off,” and call people. connect with people in any way except for passing along information in the fastest most efficient ways,” Holly adds.

Staff, clergy and Vestry members have all been calling members of the congregation since stay-at-home orders “And this has sadly replaced any form of communicabegan. Every few weeks, new lists circulated, and for those tion where people have time to process their answers to who picked up the phone, a new voice inquired as to their questions. This time has afforded us the opportunity to sit welfare. down with a cup of tea and chat. It’s not wasting time; it’s building community.

See CONNECTIONS on page 10

At left, refugee family Dusabe Nyirazana and her three young sons hold food provided by Wake County Schools and delivered by members of the St. Michael’s Refugee Ministry. The team has been tutoring them and helping set up Internet service so the children and Dusabe can all learn virtually during the pandemic. Below right, Elizabeth Harrell set up a small chapel in her home so her daughter could watch “Mr. Bob” in All Angels Chapel.

Scotty Steele photo

CONNECTIONS

Elizabeth Harrell photo

continued from page 9

Another important ministry that refused to allow COVID-19 to interfere is the St. Michael’s Intercessory Prayer team.

The group has gathered behind closed doors each Wednesday for many years, and though they could no longer meet in person, they quickly figured out how to continue to pray for members of our congregation and the world by using the online meeting software Zoom.

“The first couple of times we sputtered a bit,” says Karen Wagoner, “with members learning how to get onto Zoom.”

Though they typically pray specific prayers together, Karen says, “We learned very quickly that all of us speaking at one time simply didn’t work, so we have modified our format so that only one of us is saying the group prayers.”

“I have finally managed to get both my voice and face on line, but not always at the same time,” says Bobbie Courie. “It is so wonderful to see each other and continue our prayers for our St. Michael’s family and others.” The team has added prayers for doctors, nurses, health care workers, first responders, respiratory therapists and those who clean our hospitals.

“And all who go to work each day because they perform essential work,” Bobbie says. “Farmers, grocery store workers, and child care and adult care providers.”

The Women’s Bible Study was not as successful. Frances Penick, the leader, was at a loss when she learned they could no longer meet at church. “Regretfully,” she says.

“I was not familiar with Zoom and other virtual capabilities, so in the interim, my only contact with the ladies was through email. It just wasn’t enough. No beautiful smiling faces. No sounds of laughter. No welcoming hugs. No holding hands together in prayer. No shared insight of the Scriptures. No personal interaction in fellowship at all. And that is truly the heart of our gathering.”

It’s been a struggle, she says, to be without this important spiritual group and without worship in the church. “I believe that in the midst of our anguish blessings can be found,” she says. “My eyes have been opened to what I took for granted.”

The Women’s Bible Study group will reconvene in the fall.

Parishioners did find inventive ways of staying connected to each other, though, and in the case of our Refugee Support Team, that connection has been crucial. The team arranged to pick up meals for Dusabe and her children from their school to make sure the children were fed during a time when at least two meals each day had been provided to the children by Wake County Schools.

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“Our St. Michael’s Refugee Ministry has taken advantage of the WCPSS food distribution at school sites in order to pick up bundles of lunch and breakfast packages and deliver to Dusabe’s door each day,” says Scotty Steele, who serves on the ministry team. “Later, the distribution points changed, so Dusabe could pick up the food bundles at her neighborhood park very close to her apartment.

“In addition,” Scottie says, “Lutheran Services made it possible for our committee to pick up every Thursday from the Inter-Faith Food Shuttle a large box of fresh produce and a frozen casserole and deliver to Dusabe.”

Ministry members also helped tutor Pitie and Cedric, Dusabe’s oldest children. “They have school computers with Internet capability and are receiving remote help from the committee tutoring team,” Scotty adds. “Dusabe is beginning an ESL online program with Wake Tech. Carroll’s Kitchen plans to call Dusabe back to work when they reopen.

“Work is continuing with Catholic Charities to have the family placed in better housing,” Scotty says.“ The Canterbury Shop, suddenly faced with no shoppers because the church was closed to parishioners, launched the Canterbury Shop To Go just days after the church building closed. The virtual shop opened in time for Easter and Mother’s Day giving, and parishioners were quick to respond. The shop offered popular items for sale online through holymichael.org, with at the church pickup and even delivery.

“We were excited we figured out how to launch The Canterbury Shop To Go on very short notice,” says Frances Fontaine, the shop’s buyer. “And we have done well. It’s not the same as greeting our customers in person, but we’ve been happy we could help people with birthday presents, baby presents, Mother’s Day and more as we continue to raise funds for St. Michael’s outreach projects.” The Canterbury Shop Committee hopes everyone will check out the website on a regular basis as they make updates weekly.

“Let us know how we can help you!” she adds.

Others hung prayers on the prayer tree the Rev. Anna Page created. They set up tiny chapels for their children to watch “Mr. Bob” tell stories on Sunday mornings. And our “lay weeders” continue their work on Tuesday mornings — six feet apart — to make sure our grounds stay beautiful for the many neighbors who find solace walking our labyrinth and spending time in our gardens.

The Diocese of North Carolina has formed a task force to look at when churches might reopen and how. Much has to be considered before bringing hundreds of people back into the church to sit together in close quarters. The

“Mr. Bob” Vevurka moved All Angels chapel services to the Manly Garden. He and other volunteers have continued their programs for children during the pandemic.

Rev. Dr. Vincent Kopp, St. Michael’s priest associate, is a member of the Task Force and is part of the group looking at the safety of congregations, clergy and staff as churches reopen, but there are a range of factors under consideration, most importantly how to conduct in-person worship as safely as possible.

No matter where or how we worship, though, all agree that God is in our midst.

“Knowing the body of Christ still exists, but was disbursed for a greater good eventually became acceptable,” Lee says of the time the building has been empty. “We are shaped deeply by our life inside the walls of St. Michael’s, so whether we are gathered or scattered we continue as the body of Christ, a people well equipped to share the grace of God with our families, friends, neighbors and strangers.

There is no better time to be a Christian, as we are being given the opportunity to respond to a hurting world daily.”

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We Are Easter People THE DYNAMIC DUO BRINGING SUNDAY SERVICES TO OUR BREAKFAST ROOMS EACH WEEK SHINES LIGHT FOR US ALL IN THESE DARK TIMES.

Words & Photos: Susan Byrum Rountree

It’s quiet,

and Chris Carson stands alone in the St. Michael’s nave, packing up the last of his video equipment at the end of his Easter recording session. He looks around at the brilliant purples and aquas and golds of the stained glass windows casting hues over the empty pews and revels in the beauty, even empty, of our church home. It’s clear the Holy Spirit has been here, though the people have not.

It has been a long few weeks as Chris and video compadre Jeff McLamb have balanced their professional jobs with their new volunteer assignment to bring the church home to close to 2,000 St. Michael’s parishioners. It’s a job neither of them knew they were signing up for when, days after news of the COVID-19 pandemic, they gathered in the church with the Rev. Greg Jones and Bob Spaziano, the parish’s technology guru, to discuss how to livestream Sunday services for those who could no longer attend safely.

And then, the Rt. Rev. Samuel Rodman closed the churches to all.

Bishop Rodman’s motion set into play our new video team, creating hundreds of hours and de-

tails that together formed a new way of worshiping at St. Michael’s. This new way involves not only sermons, prayers and hymns, but drones and even the concept of coffee — creatively woven into a spiritual tapestry that on Easter Day would reach close to 1,400 households. That’s hundreds more than on a typical Easter Day. Each week, the videos capture the essence of our parish in ways that are both beautiful and surprising, and though the services are much shorter than normal, “attendees” leave spiritually fed and emotionally moved.

“It all happened so fast,” says Chris. “One day we were talking about recording a sermon and suddenly we were producing short films with wonderful music, images of the church and gardens.”

This new undertaking grew from a simple ask a couple of years ago.

Jeff, an electrical engineer who designs video processing hardware for monitors used with high-end camera equipment for a Cary company, and former Associate Rector Robert Fruehwirth were chatting about Jeff’s job. Robert

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asked Jeff if he knew anything about videography, and Jeff soon found himself behind the camera, recording Adult Forum sessions for holymichael.org.

“I really don’t do videography for a living,” Jeff says, “but (I thought) my small amount of knowledge could really improve the production value of our forums.”

Who could have predicted in 2018 that Jeff’s camera would in 2020 be the lens for our parishioners to join in worship from breakfast rooms all over Raleigh?

Chris came into the video ministry from a different direction.

Six years ago, he fulfilled a lifelong dream and started STEMbrite Learning, a company providing online learning services using “Lightboard,” a glass chalkboard used for recording video topics.

“In early days,” says Chris, “we hired videographers, but as I worked closely with them, my curiosity got the best of me and I started to learn how to handle the production myself.

I found that I could translate my background and love of painting and architecture into this new medium.”

Chris and Jeff continued to work in their professional jobs during the pandemic, Chris working alone in his studio with clients through Zoom, and Jeff at home in his “test lab,” set up in the bonus room. Most of the employees at Jeff’s work had a two-week furlough, but he was considered a “critical contributor.” (Chris has since returned to his work full time.)

“When the notice came out that church services and programs were canceled,” Jeff recalls, “my first thought was, ‘well now at least I don’t have to worry about figuring out how to livestream services and still keep them interesting.’ My mind very quickly turned to, ‘What can we do to provide a church community experience on Sunday to those who now aren’t even allowed to attend, and will we be allowed to do it?’”

It soon became clear that pre-recorded content allows for better production value. Recorded content can be edited, music added, along “B-roll” — the images of our parish grounds coming to life in spring, of our baptismal font, and of all that light, casting colors through the windows onto the pews and floors of the nave.

Though at first, the idea was to shoot the sermon and “get the message to the people in the most direct way possible,” says Jeff. But as the team worked together, their creativity kicked in, and the plan transformed to create a powerful spiritual drama unfolding throughout the weeks of Lent and on into the season of Easter.

“We turned on all the lights, lit the altar candles, and did whatever we could to make an empty church not look so empty,” Jeff says.

When the Rev. Jamie Pahl asked to have a song he’d written added to the end of his sermon, that created another opportunity.

“We essentially invented a church music video,” Jeff says, which needed some imagery behind the music on the screen.

“The experience of each week has fed the next,” says Chris. “Each week as we look back on the work we’ve produced, we see things that we would have done differently. So we think, ‘next time, I’ll get a shot of the windows, or altar, etc.’ And it’s been a time to showcase some of our favorite places at the church, iconic views, things we all love.”

Jeff McLamb watches the camera as Bonnie Woodruff prays the Prayers of the People in a recent taping session.

While many churches around the country have been livestreaming services for some years, few have the advantage of having a licensed drone operator create parts of the service. Jeff, who is licensed, brought his drone into the church (and over it).

See TEAM on the next page

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TEAM Continued from page 13 “My main focus with the drone is to give the people the feeling that they are still together with the St. Michael’s community. The drone provides a feeling of floating over and around the church, inside and out. This is how I imagine the Holy Spirit to be present with us while we worship.”

Chris estimates that between the two of them, he and Jeff spent close to 20 hours each week of Lent recording and editing the videos. They became more efficient each week.

But it always takes 20 hours if you count the whole process: planning, shoots, setup and breakdown, post-production editing and finally, uploading the completed video for St. Michael’s staff to upload it to holymichael.org and our YouTube channel. They share in the post-production work.

“Jeff and I have complementary skills, equipment and experience,” Chris says. “It’s been amazing how what we know has just dovetailed. We support each other, teach each other new things and share our experience. We build off of the work of the other, adding and enhancing. We both think it’s been a fun and meaningful experience and have been challenged in doing it as well.”

On a recent shoot, the two of them aimed their lenses at an empty pew where in a few minutes, parishioner Bonnie Woodruff would take her seat to read the Prayers of the People. They measured the light, adjusted the F-stops to a shallow depth-of-field, seated her in “her pew” and hit “record.” They then moved Bonnie to the transept for the reading of the Epistle, each taking a separate camera angle so in post-production Bonnie would not be staring into one camera.

“In all my years at St. Michael’s there have been a number of highly memorable periods,” says the Rev. Greg Jones.

“But working with Jeff and Chris during this unprecedented time that none of us has ever experienced in our lifetimes — or in any lifetime it would seem — has been a great pleasure.

“With virtually no lead time and no prior experience doing anything like it, we went from never videotaping worship services to producing a high-quality weekly product. We simply will not ever be able to thank them enough for what they have done for us and getting us through this time with these videos.”

Chris Carson adjusts camera settings before recording the Rev. Dr. James L. Pahl Jr

Jeff McLamb, left and Chris Carson, form our video team, bringing services to our congregation each Sunday morning. Below, Chris adjusts the SLR settings during a recent shoot.

Parishioners like Pat Morrison, who has been a member of St. Michael’s for 52 years, have found the videos to be heartwarming.

“You feel like you are there, like you want to touch something at the church,” she says. “And when Greg put our pictures on the altar, I thought, well, I’m not there physically, but I am spiritually.”

Pat raised her family at St. Michael’s. Though her husband and children have passed away. She regularly attends Wednesday services and you can find her in the kitchen on those days, fixing lunch for others. “St. Michael’s has always been there for me,” she says.

Now she watches on Sunday mornings. The videos, she says, help her feel everything about church. “I love how they take the drone into the church and show it all. You can see all the angles, like you’re walking in. And the garden.

It’s remarkable. I’ve been going to Wednesday services for a long time, but I might have to go on Sundays when this is over.”

he was going to make a special case to the CEO to keep me going as a critical contributor. I hung up the phone and said a prayer for peace and strength for me and my co-workers to face whatever comes. At that moment, the sun erupted from behind a gray cloud. It felt as if God were telling me that no matter what happens, it is going to be all right.”

On March 22, the message rang clear again, as the Rev. Anna Page preached her first sermon of the pandemic.

“There was a moment when she used the expression, ‘we are Easter people,’” says Jeff. “I had heard her use it before, but for some reason I felt my heart swell with joy. For me, those were exactly the words I needed to hear at that moment; that we are not alone, even in this pandemic, and that we can place our hope in a resurrected Jesus.”

Chris and Jeff, through their ministry, show that Easter people are everywhere at St. Michael’s, bringing the light to all.

The filming itself has been particularly meaningful to the team as well.

“I set up early one morning to shoot a time lapse video of the sun rising behind the bell tower,” Jeff says. “I was doing work on my laptop, sitting on the tailgate of my SUV about half an hour after the sun came up when my cell phone rang. The engineering director from my office called to tell me that because of the pandemic we’d be shutting down our office and furloughing most employees, but that

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

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Here Comes the Dreamer ANNA PAGE REALIZED HER DREAM OF ORDINATION BUT NOT UNDER TYPICAL CIRCUMSTANCES. HERE, SHE MARVELS AT THE WORLD OF THE DEACONATE, WHICH SHE JOINED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PANDEMIC. Words: The Rev. Anna S. Page

As someone

ordained to represent Christ and Christ’s Church through serving those in need, assisting bishops and priests, publicly proclaiming the Gospel, and administering the sacraments, a newly-minted Deacon may feel lost if ordained during a global pandemic. A new Deacon may feel inadequate, unsure of how to live into her Holy Orders in a climate in which everyone is required to stay home. She may be searching for meaning. I know she may be feeling this because that newly minted Deacon is me.

On April 4, roughly three weeks after the state of North Carolina instated a mandatory shelter-in-place order, I was ordained as a transitional Deacon in the Episcopal Church. We had scheduled this ordination weeks before COVID-19 became a household name. As time progressed, “COVID-19,” “pandemic,” “quarantine” and “social distancing” became commonplace terminology. So, we iterated our plans.

As a bi-vocational clergy member and Army officer, “adapt and overcome” is in my DNA. Never did I imagine, however, that this phrase would apply to my ordination. But there it was. We configured an ordination for two ordinands, with fewer than 10 people physically present. Yet, while only 10 were present, nearly 2,000 joined via a Facebook livestream.

This is how my ordained ministry began – with flexibility, in liminality and from ingenuity. Thus, to be ordained a Deacon during pandemic is to be called to creativity. It is a

Photos: Jeff McLamb

charge to blur the lines between sacred and secular. and it is a command to dream.

In the past few months, we have been forced to reconsider how we communicate, work, inhabit space and even eat.

For those of us in the Church, we have also had to confront how we do ministry. And that takes creativity. According to the Book of Common Prayer, as someone called to the “special ministry of servanthood,” a deacon must consider: “What does it mean to serve?” and “How do we serve those in need?” Underscoring these questions is the perennial question of, “What would Jesus do?” Expressed another way, “What would the Embodiment of Love do?”

Embracing this call to service takes myriad forms during a pandemic. One may take a monastic approach, quietly fulfilling her commitment to studying Scripture and praying for the world. She may also find herself assisting in public worship, offering prayer or preaching virtually. Perhaps she is learning to view the world sacramentally — seeing God’s grace at work in growing plants, hearing God’s grace as the birds chirp or experiencing God’s grace through the kindness of a stranger. She then may assist others in viewing the world in such a way too, facilitating the sacramental engagement of others.

Or, perhaps, she embodies her role of dismissing the congregation to be a blessing to the world. She dons a mask and participates in community food drives, she helps congregants make meaning of their lives so they may be beacons for others, and she serves as a reminder to be gentle — with ourselves and with others. As the Rt. Rev. Samuel continued on the next page

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The Rt. Rev. Samuel Rodman ordains Anna S. Page to the deaconate on April 4

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DEACON

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Rodman reminded us during my ordination, this new way of being the church “invites us to do our best, to recognize that we will make mistakes, to honor the fact that we are all figuring this out together. Leadership is a call to imperfection: honesty, vulnerability and willingness to own the ways in which we fail to measure up.” A deacon can be this living reminder as she creatively approaches service to others as a continuation of the Embodiment of Love.

One aspect of the Embodiment of Love is that Christ blurred the line between the sacred and the secular. He invited us to live into the “already but not yet” of God’s kingdom.

Now, as we find ourselves quarantined at home, barred from gathering in traditionally sacred spaces, we can accept this invitation. We must reconsider our normative definitions of sacred spaces, times and rituals.

In his ordination sermon, Bishop Rodman equated liturgical action in pandemic to “setting the table in the wilderness.” Given that the liturgical call of the deacon is the

setting of the table, she stands at the forefront of setting this table in our current lived reality. She stands at the forefront of blurring the lines between sacred and secular.

This begins with the literal ordination, an outward sign that “things which were cast down are being raised up,” occurring in a season of perpetual Good Fridays. It then continues with the deacon living into her call to creativity.

Creativity opens the door to — sets the table in — liminal space, which is Christian hope. This is so because we know, as Bishop Rodman said, that the “promise of Scripture is that God is always setting tables in the wilderness.” As we find ourselves in wilderness, therefore, the deacon must encourage us to find the sacred in the secular as she sets the table for the Church in new ways.

Envisioning what the Church would be, moreover, would not be possible without the ability to dream. A pandemic ordination demands dreaming. For me, this reality was emboldened by the fact that I was ordained on the feast day of Martin Luther King Jr., a perfect example of a dreamer who, in the midst of pandemic, envisioned what the world could be and set the table to make his dream a reality. His dream consisted of love, unity and justice.

His dream echoed Luke’s Gospel words, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” Martin Luther King, Jr.’s dream can be the dream of the newly-minted deacon. His dream seeks to answer, “What would the Embodiment of Love do?” and it answers this question by creatively blurring the lines between the sacred and the secular.

This is how my ordained ministry began — with flexibility, in liminality and from ingenuity. Being ordained during a global pandemic in which everyone is required to stay home is to be called to a ministry of creativity, finding the sacred in the secular, and dreaming. Yet, perhaps, this is what the whole Church is called to during these unprecedented times.

The Rev. Anna Page holds the stole she wore for her ordination. She made it as a confirmand in 9th grade and it depicts Love of all, service to the world, scripture, Christ’s sacrifice, spreading joy and the Trinity. “They were important to me then and inform my ministry now.”

Though this charge takes a particular form in an ordained capacity, it is a challenge to which we can all rise. We are all members of the body of Christ, called to make God’s kingdom come here on earth. As such, we all have a ministry. May we all embrace this period as we launch the Church — and the world — into what it could be.

Thank you to all who made this ordination possible. In particular: The Episcopal Diocese of NC, the Rev. Greg Jones, St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, the Bishop of Armed Forces and Federal Ministries, and the Diocese of Massachusetts.

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Photo by Shelia Peuschel

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Faith & Science

We Work Best with Two Eyes Open Words & Photo: The Rev. Dr. Vincent Joseph Kopp, Priest Associate

As Christians

we are told to “Hear what our Lord Jesus Christ saith: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” (BCP, 324) The COVID-19 pandemic has caused me to think about faith and science in a new way.

Participating in the diocesan task force for reopening churches has made me realize that people of faith must also be people of science. Not scientists, necessarily, but persons who find in God’s cCreation lessons about how we might fulfill the Great Commandments in a crisis like the one we face, that calls upon science.

In the context of the Great Commandments, faith and science are never in conflict. The pivotal point is that while each is expressed in different words, each is “like unto” the other in every respect. Like two eyes in one head, faith and science work best together.

They work together to help us see creation and our relation to it more clearly. Close one eye—or the other—and your view gets distorted. Divide the eyes’ neural connections in the brain’s anatomy, and your mind becomes less integrated, more nonsensical.

Folks who insist faith trumps science or science negates faith distort God’s creation. Neither faith nor science can bear the full burden of God’s reality.

Only love can do that, and then imperfectly until time ends. Our job is to be

in relationship with God, our neighbors and ourselves, on God’s terms, and to do the best we can.

Where faith tries to uncover creation’s certain meaning and science attempts to uncover Creation’s unfolding mystery, neither meaning supplied by faith nor mystery dispelled by science completes God’s love for us. That’s because God’s love is impassable beyond meaning and mystery and depends totally on relationship.

Like Moses, we can ask God to “show me your glory” (Exodus 33:18). Faith and science, in different ways, make this request—and most clumsily at that. Yet experience teaches what scripture reveals—God’s reply will be “I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by; then I shall take away my hand, and you will see my back; but my face shall not be seen” (Exodus 33:22–23).

Only in Christ do we get to see full-on what Moses asked to see; and only in keeping God’s Great Commandments do we see God’s glory through Jesus Christ, who loves us best of all. Great as faith and science are — alone or together—they can only place us near God’s back. To see God we must first see God in others, as Jesus Christ’s Gospel reveals and Christianity purports to teach.

And this brings me back to the task force work being done. It is really an act of love. Put simply, the guidance prepared for churches to reopen illustrates science serving faith, but also faith deferring to science. But it is not just any faith or any science. It is faith and science as two eyes, God-given, working as one mind, heart, and

soul to fulfill God’s will for us in our part of creation. The faith served by the task force is the faith Christians profess when they work to keep the Great Commandments as a whole, not as separate installments. It is the true faith of the full gospel contained in the Great Commandments.

There are people who profess to love God but whose actions reveal they surely hate their neighbors (or themselves). Conversely, there are those who evidently really love themselves and mostly tolerate their neighbors but cannot love God—either because God has “disappointed” them, or they don’t believe God exists in the first place. In either case, such people might live by a Good Commandment but rarely strive to live by the Great Commandments. Instead they would sooner assert some rights-based or faith-based claim of personal or holy exception to the detriment of others than accept an evidence-based or science-based conclusion that protects their neighbors as well as themselves.

That the Holy Spirit remains with us always is central to Christian belief though agreement on what this looks like divides Christians. For us it is incarnational. During this pandemic, incarnate love might mean another virtual meeting, wearing a mask, and staying 6 feet apart even if you don’t want to. This is what science recommends. This is what faith should support. Loving our neighbors as ourselves, after all, is “like unto” loving God with all our heart, soul, and mind—the very mind that best works when two eyes remain wide open.

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Having Time To Say ‘Yes!’ Words: Anna McLamb Photos: Anna McLamb & Susan Rountree

When our

first child was a toddler, I bought “No!”, a CD by They Might Be Giants, because the songs were enjoyable both for the kids and for us parents. Ten years later, it’s still in the CD carousel in my car. (Yes, I still drive a car with a CD carousel.)

I loved the title track because it could’ve as easily been sung by the parents about kids saying “No!” all the time, as it could have been sung by a kid about constantly being told “No!” by the adults in their life.

The number of No’s exchanged within our family has always been robust, but saying “No” to people other than my children was hard for me to learn, whether it was turning down work that I didn’t have time to do, or about avoiding “opportunities” that really were pits of quicksand, or putting up other boundaries around my well-being. Over time, though, I got pretty good at it.

With my personal boundaries under guard by my “No!” reflex, I was reluctant to let even good things in the gate, but every now and then, it would happen. Recently, the St. Michael’s Adult Choir made it through.

I joined the choir last fall, and when the pandemic forced us all into our homes, I was just getting used to the rhythm of weekly rehearsals on Wednesdays (the logistics of which were, trust me, complicated) and getting to church by 9:10 a.m. each Sunday, ready to sing. And then, just like that, I traded in my choir responsibilities for things like designing a “home-school” curriculum for my kids, building a home office and finding acceptable toilet paper.

On day 10 of the new normal, Kevin Kerstetter emailed the Adult Choir about a Virtual Choir being organized by the Episcopal Church’s Washington Cathedral for Easter. The catch was that you’d have to learn your part, record it (on video...yikes) and upload it within the next two days.

In normal times, this sort of thing would have been way outside of my “No!” fence, but now, with no choir, no church, no school, almost no extra-curricular activities for our kids (music lessons on video calls being the exception), and with everything that mattered in my life happening inside the walls of my house, this chance to be part of something musical and even possibly joyful, was irresistible.

Step one was downloading the music and the “click track” for my part (a recording with a metronome beat that emphasizes your part over the backing music).

Then once I sang through my part, I realized that my daughter, Nora, could sing it with me, which would be cool because, even though she has a beautiful voice, the demands of middle school had caused her to step back from singing in the choir. So I asked her, and she said yes!

Then came step two: practicing.

Though I struggled consistently with one high part, singing with my daughter definitely made up for it.

While we were at it, we noticed parts on the website for all sorts of instruments, so Nora got to work on the cello part, and her brother, Anson, got to work on the snare drum part.

Step three was recording the video.

Since my husband, Jeff, is one of the

volunteer video producers for the St. Michael’s Sunday worship services during the quarantine, it was clear who would be in charge of the camera. Unlike yours truly, Jeff is loath to put anything off until the last minute, so while we were given an extravagant 48 hours to submit our entries, he made sure we got our stuff in a day early.

Was it perfect? Hardly. Was it up to Kevin Kerstetter’s standards? Doubtful. But did we work on it, all of us, together? Did we enjoy it? Did we send it in anyway? Yes, yes to all.

And once the videos were submitted, this unexpected, wonderful, vaguely familiar thing happened: We awaited the future with hope.

I mean, no one was losing sleep about whether we would make the cut, and who knew if they’d even be able to pull off the mammoth feat of reviewing the submissions (all told there were 800 of them) and then synthesizing them into something that the world would want to hear. But it sure would be cool, with or without us, and with three entries, our chances weren’t bad.

While we counted our blessings of jobs and good health, our lives had suddenly become untied from so many things that had given us meaning, that daring to look forward to something more than three days into the future felt, well, amazing — almost revolutionary.

The days turned into weeks, and eventually, Easter did come. Though it had no dresses or hats or white shoes, I’ve never experienced an Easter where the world has

Anna McLamb and her daughter, Nora, above on bottom left, sing with the Easter Day Virtual Choir produced by the Episcopal Church for its National Cathedral service. At right, Nora plays her cello and Anson McLamb the snare drum (both circled in yellow), as a family effort during the pandemic. been so obviously inadequate and the promise of love and reconciliation with Jesus forever has been so literally life-giving. As the day filled with breakfast, candy-filled baskets, couch church and then a big lunch, I didn’t even think about the choir thing until Jeff’s St. Michael’s video teammate, Chris Carson, texted him that Nora and I were on the Episcopal Church feed. (We were where?!).

And there it was, this glorious video of 600 musicians and singers playing and singing “The Strife is O’er!”

And there WE were! ALL of us! Nora on her cello and Anson on his drum around 0:13 in the opening instrumental, and then Nora and me singing, in the opening Alleluias around 0:26, crawling across the screen!

Honestly, I didn’t like the song as we were learning and recording our individual parts. It certainly was no “Jesus Christ is Risen Today!”,

and it was a far sight from the experience of singing in the Adult Choir, but WOW, what a beautiful thing it became with all our individual parts woven together. All those Easter people, performing their parts in the darkest Lent of my lifetime, and throwing that little piece of their creative selves into the universe, met with the hardworking team of musical and video people who did all of the weaving, all with God’s help. It was more than I ever knew how to hope for.

If you haven’t heard it, just Google Episcopal Church Virtual Choir and turn up the volume.

“Let hymns of praise his triumph tell. Alleluia!”

Anna McLamb is an attorney with Wyrick Robbins, wife to an adventurous husband, and mother to two interesting, if not always good, kids.

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Mining the Mem As a gift to our children and grandchildren, I have been “downsizing” 10 scrapbooks that date back to my early childhood — when the population of Florence, Alabama, was 24,000 and World War II was ending. A small letter costs 2 cents to mail with a three-line address: Harriet Tomlinson, Sherrod Ave., City.

The remnants of my history lay before me, and I began turning the fragile pages, carefully opening the tiny, mailed invitations to small dances and gatherings our parents had for us in our homes. Tasseled dance cards with boys’ names scribbled in pencil filled the adjacent page. I remembered each boy, wondering what their years have been like — are they still alive? I know that a few are.

I found two elementary school “newspapers” – “The Kilby Feast” — 8-1/2 x 11, numerous pages, printed by sixth graders on a duplicating machine. The faded purple ink no longer stained, but I could still read the “interest” articles, riddles, jokes and sports — all written by children. A fourth grade joke: “Sam was about to leave for the office.

‘Dear’, said his wife, ‘Does money talk?’ ‘Yes’ Sam said, ‘That’s what they say.’ ‘Well I wish you would leave some here to talk to me during the day. I get so lonesome.’”

Hmm!

dent’s daughter) even sang there — in our high school auditorium. Our children didn’t know those artists when I mentioned how excited I had been about the performances. It caught me by surprise. They were world renown. Who would remember? Who would care? Indeed, who would cherish those recollections — my history? I put the programs back in the save pile.

I looked again at the discarded items, and at the saved ones, thinking of the friends who have colored my life. I began writing names on manila envelopes, putting aside articles and pictures that would bring smiles through the mail.

Pages in subsequent books covered high school and college. Two letters from an attentive beau — he ended up at Harvard. I perused the Internet for Harvard reunions.

His name didn’t match the picture — a bit rounder and with less hair than I recall. Then I moved along through travel itineraries, music programs, wedding invitations (attendants in several), funeral services. Our own wedding announcement, toasts to the brides and grooms, pictures (often black and white).

Group class pictures of each year — the skirts of our dresses pulled down to our shoes as we all sat on the amphitheater steps – hair uncombed, mostly not posed.

Awkward pictures from 6th grade summer camp — we looked so chubby, so unsure of ourselves. Summer church and music camps — transitions into high school — the same friends through the 12th grade! The yearly changes were appreciable.

A new scrapbook, 1975-1981, starkly changed the memorabilia and the memories. The pages, covered with crayoned swirls and “artistically” pasted flowers for Mother’s Day tell my motherhood story. Circular drawings of faces with huge eyes and mouths, four or five strands of hair growing out of the heads, wide-opened stick arms — and always a heart. Kindergarten at St. Michael’s and her loving teachers — Miz Wishon, Miz Palmour, Miss Hazel — only three of the beloved ones!

Days of sweet performances, All Angels Chapel, choirs and acolytes!

Another book: full of programs from our town’s concert series — a huge community effort: Rubinstein, Heifetz, Beverly Sills, Fred Waring, operas! A friend from those years reminded me that Margaret Truman (the Presi-

Articles, loving notes of remembrances and cards, connected our three sons to us through middle school, mission trips, jazz and marching bands, high school and college. Occasionally, the tears fell as my memories of

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mories the loss of our son, Robert, caught up with my laughter.

Most photographs of their achievements during those years remain in their own scrapbooks and albums to be enjoyed with their children.

Greeting cards then were just as humorous and hilarious as they are today, and I laughed at each one, as I lovingly laid most of them in a white bag with a red tie.

I did save letters of appreciation and a few honors that are part of my history, part of my volunteer years, and I cherish each one. I am filled with gratitude and appreciation for the friends, the associations and the music that have enriched my life.

Words: & Photo: Harriet Hill

As friends and family members receive envelopes, my phone rings or emails arrive -- someone laughs, is delighted. “How did you keep all of this?” they say. We agree that it is good — to remember our awkward days, our sweethearts, our innocents, our advantages, our losses, our families, our hopes.

I never imagined the days would come when I would actually have time to sort through my history. But for me, isolation’s reward has been hours of reflection, priceless reconnections, God-centered spiritual re-bonding. I rejoice that the pages of tattered scrapbooks have offered solace and joy during our uncertain times — a time to remember when our lives were so different.

Harriet Hill is the author of For the Love of Robert and Escaping Viet Nam. She is a mother and grandmother and an avid keeper of history.

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Archangel

A New Kind of Spring Words & Photo: Melanie Jones

S

pring is

about being alive, reborn, not just on the calendar but visibly in nature. The turn of the weather, from early, cold nights to longer days with hot sun and cool air energizes us, luring us outdoors from after school to beyond bedtime. The delicate peonies bloom like fragrant pompoms, cheering for spring in all her glory. Baby bunnies peek out of the bushes and learn to hop across the yard, while bluebirds dart in and out of their houses with their electric blue wings flashing through the sky.

You can sense the hum, the buzz, the collective energy of life.

Spring is normally a frenetic time in our home. Three March birthdays to celebrate, lacrosse to be played and coached, the peak season for real estate sales — and Holy Week in the home of a priest — the demands on our time keep us barely hanging on through April.

But not so much this year. Like everyone else, we’ve rarely left home except for essentials, which is odd for a family that uses a digital calendar with nine color codes to keep everyone in the right place on the right day. We clean and organize and weed. We bake bread, make soup, then strawberry shortcake as the berries come into season.

We eat family meals and attend church together — which never happens much anymore, so we don’t care that it’s digital. I like not arguing to get the girls in the car on Sunday mornings. We Zoom call with friends and some of us drink. Maybe too much some nights. It seems to be a marker

that another day — one awfully similar to the day before — has ended.

We appear to have become European, an occasional glass of rose at lunch, walking everywhere and chatting with neighbors as if we have all the time in the world.

The dog thrives. He eats homemade treats and tolerates all-day snuggling.

He has basked in multiple trips to the farm to chase deer — his true calling on this planet. I walk him on the greenway, tuning into podcasts, listening to voices of reason who are also struggling.

The collective grief the world is experiencing, for the life we once had, is complex and large, just like the virus itself. But Frosty scampers along, tormenting squirrels and splashing in Crabtree Creek. The other day, while lounging on the bed with his floppy ears in my hand, I realized he will be the last family dog we get while all the girls live under this roof. And it grieves me already, this thought.

While quarantine feels as though it has lasted forever, time still passes quickly.

I have enjoyed this time of the great global pause button. Am I selfish to say that? My kids seem well rested, we have had time to ride bikes and swing, and do nothing. The weather has been a true gift. Twenty years of yard work have been crammed into this one season. I practice yoga to connect with the earth and myself and to learn how to really breathe.

Some scenarios say it isn’t safe to see them until the summer of 2021. What if one dies before then?

That thought I brush away.

I miss my friends and those unexpected encounters with a familiar face that ground me. There is nothing random these days; everything is planned, avoided or canceled.

When the monkey thoughts dance across my brain, I try to nudge them quickly out. Sometimes they spew out my lips and toward those around me.

We chip at nail polish and each other.

We cry as another game or awards ceremony or graduation party gets crossed off the calendar. There was some bargaining about EOGs and exams being worth it if we could just see our friends. We yell and stomp out of boredom and fear. What if camp is cancelled? What if lacrosse recruiting tournaments are over? What does the new normal look like and when will it come to fruition?

We just don’t know, but did we ever?

So much of life was a grind, a push toward the next and the next and the next. And now? We hear the birds chirp, loudly and all day. Are they, too, more present and refreshed or am I just now present enough to notice?

Of course I worry about the health care workers, mental health, money and tuition — my aging parents who have not left home for seven weeks.

Melanie Jones is a Realtor but wishes she were a writer. She has a lot of questions for God.

Archangel

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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

On the Cover: When the churches closed, the Rev. Greg Jones conducted a scavenger hunt of sorts, finding all the photos in the church that included parishioners — directory pages, EYC photos, newcomers, Young Adults — and combined those with our printed database. He placed every photo and name on the altar, and there they remain.

Our parishioners may not yet be able to worship in person, but all are placed in God’s care on the altar, in community. Photo: Susan Rountree