The Week of December 31, 2023

Following the 6 p.m. Mass on Christmas Eve, I noticed that only a handful of people had exited the church following the organ voluntary. When I went back inside after greeting a few people at the door, I noticed that many of those in attendance were still standing around in the pews and aisles, engaged in festive conversation. No one seemed to want to leave. Everyone looked happy. It was a fitting conclusion to a beautiful Mass, with glorious music from the choir and organ, a procession, and the comforting words from holy Scripture that the good news always meets us in the darkness.

If you ask me, that scene after Christmas Mass is a vivid symbol of what our life together in worship and community should be like. The inside of the church should be a place where we feel drawn, like an insect to light, to adore almighty God, have the Word of God broken open for us, and feast on the Body and Blood of Christ. I hope everyone in that church took something of that evening’s palpable joy out into the world with them.

I cherish the fact that Good Shepherd is a genuinely happy place. The sense of happiness on Christmas Eve spilled over into the intimate Mass on Christmas Day, as we sang more carols and heard the great Prologue from John’s Gospel. And the joy of Christmas isn’t over. The Church celebrates this joy right up until Epiphany on January 6, and the Church’s calendar of feasts is the primary means by which we enter into this joy, as well as into the mystery of our faith, which teaches us that joy is also wrapped up with sorrow, like a newborn baby in a manger, wrapped in clothes that eerily resembled his future graveclothes. Indeed, true joy is only known in the midst of earthly travail. The good news is that Christ comes to us in all that grieves and afflicts us.

This Sunday, we will sing yet more carols and continue the celebration of Christmas. I also hope that you will make a point of attending Low Mass on the Feast of the Holy Name, January 1, at 9:30 a.m. The Major Holy Days of Christmastide are part of how we enter into the mystery of this season, and at Good Shepherd, we honor the prayer book’s intention of celebrating these days with the ultimate act of thanksgiving, the Mass. And please mark your calendars for a Procession and Sung Mass on the Eve of the Feast of the Epiphany, January 5 at 7 p.m., as we close out the Christmas season. A potluck will follow in the retreat house. I’m deeply grateful for all who helped decorate the church for Christmas and served in liturgical ministries, as well as to Jack Burnam and the choir for the marvelous music.

May God bless you and your family in these remaining days of Christmas. The seasonal blessing at the end of Mass during Christmastide says it best: “May Christ, who by his Incarnation gathered into one things earthly and heavenly, fill you with joy and peace.”

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of December 24, 2023

As I write these words, it is the shortest day of the year, December 21, the winter solstice. The sun is just beginning to break on the horizon, although it’s almost 7 a.m. And I can’t help but think of the timeless words of the Christmas carol “O little town of Bethlehem”: “In thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light.” It’s tempting to sentimentalize these words, but they are deeper than meets the eye.

The author of this hymn was Phillips Brooks (1835-1893), an Episcopal priest and rector of the Church of the Holy Trinity, Rittenhouse Square, a parish in our diocese, when he penned the words to the beloved carol in 1868. Brooks was visiting the Holy Land while on sabbatical, and during his visit to Bethlehem, he was inspired to author this hymn. But in the background of Brooks’ cozy words was the Civil War. Brooks had been a forceful champion of abolition. Indeed, Brooks had struggled with the evils of slavery since his days as a seminarian at Virginia Theological Seminary (my alma mater as well). When Brooks was a student, slaves would have lived on campus. The words of “O little town of Bethlehem” are not simply a product of Romanticism. Consider these words in verse three: “No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.”

The fourth verse captures something of the hope that Brooks saw in Christmas: “Where children pure and happy pray to the blessed Child, where misery cries out to Thee, Son of the mother mild [“undefiled” in the original!]; where charity stands watching and faith holds wide the door, the dark night wakes, the glory breaks, and Christmas comes once more.” It’s those final words of verse four that epitomize the gift of Christmas. “The dark night wakes, the glory breaks.” Each year Christmas comes to remind us that this feast is more than sentimental Christmas pageants. While “no ear may hear his coming,” salvation does come to us, quietly, intimately, yet powerfully, in a small baby. Daily, the risen Christ comes to us, and “the dark night wakes” and “the glory breaks.”

Undoubtedly, we are living in a dark time with echoes of Brooks’ own day. This is the story of human history. But thankfully, “Christmas comes once more.” Amid the gift wrapping, the anxiety of families, the season of flu and COVID, the outbreak of yet another war, and the political instability, “Christmas comes once more.” It comes to remind us that our truest identity is found in a Savior born as a baby to refugee parents in a manger under the threat of a ruthless empire. And no matter how many empires have wreaked their havoc in human history, “Christmas comes again once more.”

Despite the bedecked streets and stores and Christmas muzak, Christmas will begin on the eve of December 25. And at Good Shepherd, it will last for twelve days. Perhaps the light of Christmas can break into your darkness, whatever that may be, by settling into these twelve days. The day after Christmas, we celebrate the first martyr, St. Stephen, reminding us that although the light shines, darkness is always around. But the light is greater. I encourage you to attend Masses on the three Major Holy Days after Christmas (see our schedule). Leave your tree up through Epiphany, and do join us for Procession & Mass on the Eve of the Epiphany, January 5, at 7 p.m., as we celebrate the close of Christmas.

Amid all the uncertainty that our world brings, I pray that this Christmas will be light in the darkness for you. Thank you to all who are helping with decorating and liturgies for Christmas at Good Shepherd. And I’m especially grateful for our wonderful staff, who are working so hard during this time of year. May the blessing of the Christ Child be with you and your family, whether you are currently in light or in darkness. However you may feel, wherever you may be, know that unfailingly, “The dark night wakes, the glory breaks, and Christmas comes once more.” Thanks be to God.

O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin, and enter in, be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell;
Oh, come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel!

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of December 17, 2023

In seminary, my liturgics professor, the Rev. Dr. James Farwell, said in one class that all theology is poetry. That statement has stayed with me for years. Far from undermining the truth behind theology or relativizing it, Dr. Farwell was reminding my class of the power of words and the literary art in trying (however vainly) to speak of the ultimate truth of God, which defies description in human words. Words matter, but in the realm of theology, the multivalent meanings of words especially matter. When we attempt to speak of God, we attempt to speak of a mystery beyond our understanding, and yet we try. We must try.

Have you ever noticed the poetry of the imagery present even within the creeds that we say weekly? We proclaim that Jesus is “Light from Light” and “is seated at the right hand of the Father.” The Holy Spirit is “the giver of life.” In these imagistic phrases, we are trying to say something utterly true about one God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit within the confines of human language. The best theologians, in my mind, are those who understand poetry. It is a difficult endeavor indeed to speak of God and avoid an unimaginative, over-literalization of human language (which often leads to heresy) and a rigid orthodoxy that is devoid of any literary art.

The Anglican tradition is far from the only strand of Christianity that values poetry, but when I think of Anglicanism I inevitably think of poetry. The poetic tradition within the English language is a who’s who list of Anglicans: John Donne, Thomas Traherne, W.H. Auden, T.S. Eliot, and of course, George Herbert, to name a few. I think that poetry is especially compatible with Anglicanism because our via media or “middle way,” at its best, strives for a humility when speaking about God. There is latent within this a sense of via negativa or "negative theology”: who God is is found most powerfully in what we can’t say about God.

Scripture itself is full of poetry—not just the genres themselves, but the use of words and echoes of the Old Testament within the New and hymns of God’s majesty inserted into other kinds of texts. Liturgies are poetic, where time is not linear and where we encounter Scripture much differently than how we might meet it in a Bible study. Some of the best sermons I know are poetic. Christians are fairly inept at understanding the power by which the Holy Spirit fires our imaginations to lead us into all truth. Truth is too powerful to be confined to our fallible human constructs.

It seems fitting that for this year’s Advent Quiet Day we explore the poetry of George Herbert (1593-1633), an Anglican priest, renowned orator, musician, and astounding poet. Herbert’s poetry is deeply theological and also deeply musical (the best poetry is!). Words light up with unexpected resonances, and the verses sing. And yet within this beauty of language are deep truths of God and the human soul in relation to God. One can sense that Herbert was all too aware of his frailty and sinfulness, and he wrestles with this in his poetry. But he always arrives at the truth that so often evades our consciousness: God’s mercy, forgiveness, and love are persistent in trying to meet us. And often, relishing our own frailty and sinfulness is a form of pride that prevents us from being close to God, almost deliberately so [see his poem “Love (III”].

As we pray through the fleeting days of this Advent, I invite you to consider attending tomorrow’s Advent Quiet Day. Parishioner Donald McCown will explore poems of Herbert and offer instruction in entering into a state of contemplative awareness. And Sarah Cunningham, a world-renowned viol player affiliated with our Main Line Early Music Concert series, will perform viol music of Tobias Hume (c. 1549-1645) a rough contemporary of Herbert’s. This year’s Advent Quiet Day is a gift in a season of busyness to slow down, breathe, and pray through the art of poetry and music. Mass will be offered in the middle of the day, and our day will be flanked by Morning and Evening Prayer. Simple breakfast fare and lunch will be provided.

I hope to see some of you on Saturday, and may these final days of Advent be an opportunity for you to encounter the poetry of God

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of December 10, 2023

This past week, a guest has been making an individual retreat in our retreat house. He traveled from Brooklyn to spend a week praying, resting, and writing on our campus. He has been joining me for the Daily Office regularly, and it has been wonderful to have the company. After Morning Prayer one day, he said that once he arrived at the retreat house and came to Sunday Mass, he suddenly understood what our retreat house is about. “You’re inviting people into the prayer life of a parish,” he said excitedly. “That’s right,” I replied. I was thrilled that someone “got” what the retreat house is designed to do without my having to explain it.

I’m not surprised that this particular guest “got it.” He is a seasoned visitor to monasteries and someone for whom the regular rhythm of prayer in a particular community is the backbone of a time of retreat. Since we opened the Rosemont Community Retreat House, we have been inviting others into the corporate prayer life of our parish. Every day of the week (with occasional exceptions) the church is open for public prayer of some sort. My hope is that over time we can reestablish the daily Mass, which has traditionally been the heartbeat of Anglo-Catholic parishes. The only reason we don’t have a daily Mass at present is that we don’t yet have enough people attending daily Masses to ensure that Mass can proceed (in the Anglican tradition, a priest must have a congregation to say Mass).

I also hope that as our parish grows, we may come to embrace our collective Rule of Life more extensively. Wouldn’t it be a wonderful thing if there were at least one other person besides the officiant for Morning or Evening Prayer? I wonder if some of you might consider taking one of the Offices during the week, or perhaps a Low (Said) Mass, and making it part of your own Rule of Life. Already, some in this parish are committing to either a Mass or Morning or Evening Prayer on a certain day of the week. Perhaps this could be part of an Advent New Year’s resolution!

We should not underestimate the power of this public witness to prayer within the Church. At Good Shepherd, I’m convinced that we have realized unconsciously far more of the fruits of this prayer than we would know. It is part of the Church’s duty to keep this stream of ordered prayer going. The Daily Office is a gift, because it can be prayed by anyone, anywhere. I don’t doubt for a minute that the vibrancy astir at Good Shepherd is directly related to our constant stream of shared prayer: Daily Office, Mass, and private prayer. Praying is not magically summoning God to bless us; it’s attuning our own hearts and minds to God’s will. When we do this, amazing things happen. You often can’t connect prayer to its fruit in a direct causal way, but I believe that we are always experiencing the fruit of prayer, whether we realize it or not. There is tremendous power in one or two persons praying the Daily Office on a regular basis in one place.

The heart of our retreat house ministry is to invite others into a holy place of prayer. But as I reflect on it, the retreat house also embodies every one of the pillars of our common life, which I enumerated in my weekly message back in August. The retreat house is 1) grounded in worship, 2) provides formation and is the current physical location for formation in the parish, 3) touches music and the arts through various retreats centered around those disciplines, 4) is itself an outreach ministry (our primary one), and 5) is a place of continuing fellowship.

We’ve only begun to scratch the surface of the ministry we will continue to see in the Rosemont Community Retreat House. For now, will you help us spread the word? With the generous help of the media center of the Episcopal Diocese of Pennsylvania, we now have a promotional video about our retreat house that can be shared online. You can still purchase retreat house “swag,” and part of those proceeds will go directly to support the retreat house. You can even adopt a room!

And as we begin to close out 2023, please mark your calendars for our annual parish meeting on Sunday, January 28, 2024, held after Sung Mass. During that meeting, the vestry will introduce us to a series of future parish visioning conversations, centered around the pillars of our parish life, as we look to expand ministry in the future. These conversations will also equip us to devise new mission and visioning statements for the parish.

In the meantime, I’d love to see you at Morning or Evening Prayer on a weekday (or pray with us online!) Or come to our weekday Masses on Major Holy Days, Thursdays at 6 p.m., or Fridays at 8 a.m. There is one thing you can assume about Good Shepherd: we’re always open for prayer!

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of December 3, 2023

One of my favorite collects in the Book of Common Prayer is found in the ordination rite, the Solemn Liturgy for Good Friday, and also in the Great Vigil of Easter: “O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquility the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.” In particular, my skin tingles at the hope that “things which had grown old are being made new.” This is what we celebrate with the season of Advent.

Of course, the ultimate time of newness in the Christian year is at Easter, but Advent begins a new Church/liturgical year. We might make New Year’s resolutions on January 1, but as Christians, perhaps the First Sunday of Advent is the time for us to make such resolutions.

We signal this newness in various ways within the liturgy as Advent begins. We move into a new cycle of Sunday lectionary readings (this year, journeying through the Gospel according to Mark on most Sundays). We also begin a new cycle of lectionary readings for the Daily Office (Morning and Evening Prayer). We hear the prophets’ call to repentance and renewal of life. The liturgical color shifts to violet, and the Gloria in excelsis is omitted at Sunday Masses. During Advent at Good Shepherd, we will move to Eucharistic Prayer B for the canon of the Mass. This prayer incorporates more incarnational imagery, allowing for a broader understanding of salvation encompassing the cross and the saving deeds of Jesus’s earthly ministry.

As we celebrate the newness of a new liturgical year, at Sung Mass this Sunday, we will also welcome nine new members to Good Shepherd, using a brief rite found in the Book of Occasional Services (2022). These nine members have recently transferred their membership to Good Shepherd, either by letter of transfer from another parish or by indicating that they would like their baptism recorded in our parish register. While we have many active members at Good Shepherd who might not be officially listed in our parish register (and for whom we are so grateful!), for canonical requirements and annual parochial report purposes, active baptized members are defined as follows by the Episcopal Church canons.

“All persons who have received the Sacrament of Holy Baptism with water in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, whether in this Church or in another Christian Church, and whose Baptisms have been duly recorded in this Church,” are members thereof. (Canon I.17.1)

Note: A person’s baptism, when duly recorded in the Register of Church Membership and Rites (also known as the Parish Register or Church Register) of the recording congregation, is his/her record of membership in the Episcopal Church.

Many of you are already active baptized members, so consider yourself welcomed! But from henceforward, I would like us to regularly welcome new active baptized members in the context of the Sunday Mass, and this Sunday, we will welcome those who have transferred in during 2023. If you are interested in either baptism or transferring your membership to Good Shepherd, please speak to me.

Part of celebrating the beginning of a new liturgical year involves taking on certain practices to enter into the Advent spirit of preparation, repentance, and waiting with joyful expectation for Christ’s coming at Christmas, daily coming into our lives, and Second Coming at the end of time. I invite you to consider attending our annual Service of Advent Lessons and Carols on Sunday, December 10 at 3 p.m. to explore Advent themes through music and Scripture. A reception will follow in the retreat house. And on Saturday, December 16, we are offering an Advent Quiet Day of Prayer and Reflection featuring the poetry of George Herbert (1593 - 1633), led by parishioner Donald McCown, with viol music by world-renowned gambist Sarah Cunningham from Main Line Early Music. Register here.

The season of Advent is always an appropriate time to engage in self-examination through the Sacrament of Reconciliation. You may schedule a private confession with me at any time. Just email me or call the parish office. This sacrament is about receiving God’s gift of forgiveness with joy, which opens up space in our hearts for Christ’s daily entrance into our lives. I encourage all of you to consider making a confession during Advent, not as a punitive measure but as a means of healing grace. I recommend Martin Smith’s excellent book, Reconciliation, for anyone who has not made a confession in the Anglican tradition before. I am always delighted to talk more about the Reconciliation of a Penitent with anyone who is interested.

I will look forward to seeing you on Sunday, as we greet both new members to our parish and the newness of another Church year!

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of November 26, 2023

Growing up in the Roman Catholic Church, I was used to hearing about the Sunday “obligation” to attend Mass. The same was true for Holy Days of obligation. I have written before that I don’t find the term “obligation” especially inspiring. On the other hand, I’m deeply sympathetic to what it intends to encourage. The risk of wielding a stick (“the obligation”) in order to get people to church can create an unholy fear, so that people then treat attendance at Mass as a punch card for salvation. So, what if we reframed the idea of “obligation” in the Christian life?

I want to reframe it, not dispense with it, because I believe that duties and practices (which include attendance at Mass) are essential to the Christian life. I believe that the Church in certain corners of the world is experiencing some spiritual atrophy after decades of eschewing demands on Christian discipleship. Perhaps we have not taken seriously enough the necessity of duty and obligation. Simply put: to be a Christian means to be faithful in doing certain things, whether prayer, works of charity and mercy, but most importantly, in attending church. This is not works righteousness because we don’t do things to earn anything. We do them because they visibly express our spiritual posture as followers of the risen Christ.

I’d rather call Sundays and Holy Days days of rejoicing, for that’s really what they are. In an ideal universe, we would get up on a Sunday and leap out of bed because we’re so excited to go to church. But although I’m an idealist, I’m also practical. And I know that each of us has days where we’re just not “feeling it.” The beauty of Christian discipleship is that we need not feel guilty if we’re not “feeling it.” We just know what we need to do: say our prayers, go to church, treat people with kindness, live generously. Sometimes doing those things (especially when we don’t “feel it”) will transform us and get us out of our ruts of malaise or apathy. And often the fruit of what we do is realized in some mysterious way in our lives, later when we least expect it.

Years ago, when I was serving as a musician in a church, I was greeted each day when I showed up for work by an office volunteer, who answered the phone each Wednesday and helped with tasks. She showed up faithfully each week for her volunteer shift, but she never came to church on the Lord’s Day. She said something to the effect of “I can worship God elsewhere.” She was lovely and dedicated in her own way, but I disagreed with her understanding of Christian worship. One is a Christian simply by virtue of being baptized; that is a fact. But to live as a Christian, one must always be connected to a worshipping community to be held accountable to one’s baptismal promises. And while it’s true that there are non-Christians who are more Christlike than Christians who attend Mass every week, this doesn’t mean that we are excused from going to church. Sunday worship is the center of our lives. We can be good people without the Mass, but to forego the Mass means foregoing the spiritual benefits and grace of the sacrament of the altar, which works on us objectively regardless of our feelings. It’s not a magic pill or a vaccine; it’s a mysterious and certain source of grace. And if we also subjectively begin to understand its significance in our lives, then hopefully we are changed, too.

As we move towards a new liturgical year with the start of the season of Advent on December 3, I invite us all to consider making the Lord’s Day (and Holy Days, also called “red letter days”) the heart of our lives of faith. Try it. Try stretching yourself to attend even when you don’t “feel it.” I suspect you will be changed, not out of fear, but out of love.

I have begun to see that the joy many of us experience at coffee hour (or potlucks) following Masses is more than just “fellowship.” That joy springs from a deep bond of love that forms among us when we routinely worship together. Coffee hour is almost a visible extension of the joy fostered and bred during each Mass. Consider the Mass as the source of your life’s joy. The Mass is primarily an act of thanksgiving. When you get out of bed each Sunday (or on Major Holy Days), take a minute to think of all for which you’re grateful. Then go to Mass, because it’s the epitome of thanksgiving.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of November 19, 2023

Every Sunday in children’s formation (Sunday School), we open our time together with prayer. Our way of praying is a way that I have borrowed from my previous time as choral director at St. James School in Philadelphia. We say “please, God” and “thank you, God” prayers. On one level, this is a simplistic way of praying, but it is also a way to teach children that the first step in praying is simply to talk with God. Over time, prayer can be deepened. But what I find interesting about these Sunday morning prayers with children is that the “thank you, God” prayers are usually more abundant and come more easily than the “please, God” prayers. As I ponder this a bit more, this is theologically correct. Whether we are aware of it or not, all movements toward prayer are—even if unconsciously—impulses from a place of gratitude. The gratitude that moves one toward prayer might be an instinctive awareness of God’s ability and willingness to act and respond to prayer, and this can be true of our most impassioned laments.

Something that is not entirely true from the word “Mass” is that the Mass is primarily an act of thanksgiving. While the average person has no idea that “Eucharist,” which is synonymous with “Mass,” comes from the Greek word for thanksgiving (eucharisteo), the term “Eucharist” does more directly point to the Mass as a corporate act of giving thanks. When Mass is no more than an “obligation,” thanksgiving is crowded out. And yet, when we have no sense of our obligation to be at Mass, we are also losing something, too. Perhaps when we are finding it difficult to hang onto the expectation of observing the Lord’s Day, we would benefit from a gentle recollection that attendance at Mass (even if we don’t “feel” it) is principally an act of gratitude.

For me, this is most visibly felt at the beginning of each Sunday Mass. We move corporately towards God’s altar with singing, and then as we all face east, we begin with the opening acclamation: “Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” We start by blessing God, or put another way, acknowledging the awesome majesty of God. This is an act of thanksgiving. The rest of the Mass flows from this. It flows into our daily life, when we look out our window at dusk during this time of year to see a beautiful color in the sky or when we experience some act of kindness from another person or even when we recognize that some disappointment in our life reminds us gently of our utter reliance on God.

There is something to be gained from an annual pause in the life of a nation to give thanks. The Thanksgiving holiday is such a blessed relief from some of the anxiety and social pressures that come with late December. The Thanksgiving holiday can be eucharistic for us if we allow it to be.

Hardly a day passes when I am not consciously grateful for some great blessing in ministry at Good Shepherd. I hope you find this to be true as well. Such conscious gratitude can occur even when the world around us seems to be crumbling down or in our moments of deepest despair. I am grateful for all of you, for your connection to this parish, and for your prayerful and financial support of its ministry. I’m grateful for our excellent and hard-working staff. I’m grateful for the privilege of serving as your rector.

On Monday, November 20, we will celebrate Thanksgiving as a parish a bit early, as I will be away over the holiday and many of you may be traveling, too. We will have a liturgical act of thanksgiving with Low (Said) Mass at 6 p.m. in the Lady Chapel. Afterwards, we’ll gather in the retreat house for a potluck supper. Please bring a dish from your family’s heritage (I’ll bring something Cajun!), or just bring anything at all. You don’t even have to make it yourself! You can sign up here. Monday evening will be an opportunity for all of us to give thanks together and enjoy each other’s company.

If you are traveling over the next week, may God bless your travels. I ask us all to keep in mind those who will not have food or shelter this Thanksgiving and to include them in our prayers. And even in the midst of war, daily violence, health challenges, and the many very real concerns of this life, may we always know that there is ample reason and time to give thanks. Thanks be to God for such boundless love, mercy, and compassion shown to us!

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of November 12, 2023

The offertory is the hinge point of the Mass. It is not just the midpoint of the Mass but the moment, theologically speaking, when we move from receiving to giving. We could, for instance, hear the word of God proclaimed and broken open in the first half and then leave, satisfied that we have received some kind of edification and need no more. Or we could ignore the first part of the Mass and then show up at the offertory to receive the sacramental grace of the Eucharist. But, of course, neither of those approaches is sufficient or appropriate. We need both halves; they function as a complete entity, for the Mass is the Mass because of both. We need to hear God’s word proclaimed and then we need to respond to that word proclaimed by offering fruits of the earth (bread and wine), money, and our selves back to God so that God may sanctify them for the life of the world. We have received the spiritual fruits of hearing God’s word proclaimed, and our only proper response is to give back to God what God has given us, to be blessed and then shared again with the world. From God all things proceed, and to God they will return.

Contrary to popular belief, the offertory of the Mass finds its deepest meaning far beyond the offering of collection plates filled with money. The offertory is, theologically, about returning to God what is God’s: bread, wine, our very “souls and bodies,” and of course, money. We might say that the offertory of the Mass embodies the spiritual practice of giving.

Over the past two months, you have been hearing and reading a lot about giving, more specifically, about giving of your financial resources to support ministry at Good Shepherd, as well as of your time and talent. The parish Advancement Committee has urged us all to give sacrificially. We usually think of sacrifice as something negative or painful. It can be. But the root of the word sacrifice is the Latin sacrificium, which suggests something more along the lines of setting things apart to be made holy or sacred. In that view, then, the giving of our financial resources, time, and talent is a visible and tangible offering of who we are to God. Moreover, it is giving back to God what God has first given us. We don’t make sacrifices to appease God’s wrath; we make them because those things that God has given us become distorted in our frail hands that operate in a world of sin. We must constantly give our gifts back to God so that they can be reordered and then shared again with the world to put it back together anew. Our giving to God plays a part in the world’s healing by God’s hand.

Sacrificial giving (I mean this as more than just giving what is convenient) is a spiritual practice. Spiritual practices are not always popular to talk about and do, but they are crucial to Christian discipleship. It’s not always a joy to pray or go to church, but to be a Christian in an authentic way, we have to do both. Sacrificial giving is no different. I would argue that in our modern world, sacrificial giving is one of the most important spiritual practices in which we can engage because it requires that we put God, and God alone, at the center of our lives. And this is incredibly difficult in a world obsessed with clinging to money. Sacrificial giving necessitates a profound spiritual reorientation.

To tithe (say, give 10% of one’s net income to God’s mission in the world) or to give sacrificially means that we choose to give to God first and then figure everything else out. Any financial planner will tell you this is absurd, but there you have it. (I also know that if you tell your financial planner that you intend to do this, they can also advise you how to make it all work accordingly.) This means that we sacrifice other things to make room for God, and this usually highlights those things that have become idols for us. I have found in my own attempts to give sacrificially, that I have come to rely more on God, which is the purpose of sacrificial giving as a spiritual practice. And although the risk required to give sacrificial giving at first seems scary, over time, it proves to be not so bad after all. God really does provide.

A spiritual practice like sacrificial giving is not foolproof. One can tithe and not be spiritually transformed, especially if the money given has strings attached to it. But true sacrificial giving always aims to be free giving, with no strings attached and with no illusion that the money is given with any ulterior motive. But perhaps above all, the spiritual practice of sacrificial giving frees us from sinful anxiety, and I suspect that anxiety is the predominant reason that people are scared to move from giving to sacrificial giving. They believe the world’s lies that there isn’t enough. If I give too much to God and the Church, I’ll not have enough for retirement or my children’s education or for my own well-being. Sacrificial giving asks us to take a bold leap of faith to trust that with God there is always enough.

I believe that the two most difficult things to relinquish are resentments and money. Holding on to both gives us a sense of power, but it’s a false sense of power. We learn in Christ that true power comes from self-emptying, not from self-filling. Sacrificial giving is a spiritual movement towards this self-emptying (kenotic) power of Christ.

There are many reasons why I feel comfortable encouraging you to give generously and sacrificially to God’s ministry at Good Shepherd. Your money will go to good use, because daily, lives are being transformed through this parish. This parish, of course, needs your financial support to survive and sustain its vision and God’s mission in this place. By giving, you are also supporting a place that is offering something to you in return. But most of all, I know that giving sacrificially is good for our souls. We don’t give to sway God’s hand in our favor. We don’t give to get to heaven. We give because it is the only true response to God’s inestimable love for us and for his boundless gifts to us. This is the meaning of the offertory: the more we are aware of what God has given us, the less we will want to hold back from returning to God.

This Sunday is Commitment Sunday. I invite all of you to practice or begin to move towards sacrificial giving. A gift of any amount can constitute a pledge. If you have already pledged online, please bring a physical pledge card to Mass to place in the offertory collection plate as a visible sign of your gift to God’s work at Good Shepherd. If you have lost your pledge card, there are plenty of extras at the church. If you can’t make it to Mass on Sunday, please mail your card to the church and pledge online.

We have already seen incredible generosity in this year’s campaign; thank you! I’m hopeful that we will reach our goal of $170K, and perhaps we will exceed it. The greatest thing about sacrificial giving is that it is ultimately liberating. When we are struggling with hope or despair or trust in God, the best remedy is to give—give generously. And then we will begin to understand just how generous God has been with us.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of November 5, 2023

As Christians, we say that we are truly free. We claim that in Christ, our sins are forgiven, death no longer has dominion over us, and we are moved from a realm of captivity into a place of utter freedom, living exclusively under the rule of our Lord Jesus Christ. Those who do not profess any kind of belief in God wonder at how we might claim to be free when we have so many rules to follow and duties that come with being Christian. This, of course, is the great paradox: by submitting ourselves to the Lordship of Christ, we are truly and mysteriously free.

This is especially apparent to me when I consider the life of prayer. Prayer, on the surface, seems like one more thing to do. To some extent, this is exactly right. To be a good Christian and to be faithful, we must take some action. We have to do things. We have to make time to say our prayers. We have to make the effort to go to church. We have to take steps to care for our neighbor. These all require effort, and it’s hard work. But after we take that initial step, moving past “I don’t feel like it,” we then find that we are utterly free.

In prayer, I’m reminded that although I have shown up to pray and made the effort to be present to God, that is all I have had to do and that is all I can do. It is then God who acts. Prayer is really about how we let God shape us; it’s less about what we do, aside from showing up to pray. St. Paul’s words in the Letter to the Romans are encouraging when we have no words to pray: “the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words” (Romans 8:26). What is more freeing than that?

What is more freeing than to show up at particular hours of the day to be with God and let the Holy Spirit pray within us? What is more freeing than to show up for Mass, even if we are feeling apathetic, depressed, or spiritually arid, and yet know that the power of prayer is not dependent on our feelings? What is more freeing than to know that to receive the fruit of prayer we don’t have to have the right words or the latest novel way of praying or the right frame of mind? We don’t have to check boxes or get everything exactly right. Showing up is what’s important. Prayer, quite apart from what we usually imagine, is not so much about how we feel. Prayer is an action and an effort of the heart. All we need to do to pray is be present with and to God and let the Spirit pray within us. This is not, of course, to say that feelings and emotions aren’t important. They can be wonderful gifts from God in our prayer lives. It’s simply to say that prayer is frequently quite effective even when we feel nothing.

If you ask me, this is utter freedom. In a world that always demands more and more of us, that measures our success by how innovative we are, prayer is simple, perhaps mechanical at times, and it might even seem boring. But it doesn’t matter: it’s what we do. That’s why the modern sentiment and acceptable excuse “I don’t feel like it” is irrelevant (and perhaps disastrous) to a life of prayer. All God needs is our presence and our hearts for prayer to bear fruit in the world. It ultimately doesn’t matter how we feel.

And this is why day after day, the doors at Good Shepherd are open for prayer. It doesn’t matter if it’s one officiant leading the Daily Office and livestreaming to the internet. It doesn’t matter if only two show up for Mass. It doesn’t matter how tired we are when we show up or if the Scripture readings for the day speak in any way to us. Something ineffable is happening in the life of God to us, probably most acutely when we are unaware of it. Whether it’s twenty or sixty people in the pews, prayer happens and is efficacious because God is God and because people show up to make themselves available to God. The lifeblood of our parish church, and of every Christian church, is this constant, dependable, rhythmic, unchanging commitment to prayer.

Maybe the most freeing thing of all is that we don’t need to feel differently after prayer. We most likely will not be aware of an immediate change in ourselves or a sudden burst of inspiration right after praying. But what we will find is that at some point, when we least expect it, the fruit of some arid period of prayer weeks before will suddenly be made known. This is beyond our control, and this is marvelously freeing. This thing we call prayer is about our showing up and leaving the rest to God. And what good news that is!

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of October 29, 2023

On a recent late September day, I was walking down County Line Road to pick up dry cleaning near Bryn Mawr Hospital. I was feeling particularly nervous about an event later that day. I was lonely and vulnerable. I offered up a prayer to God, and then as I passed Bryn Mawr Hospital, I remembered that my former spiritual director, who died within the past year, had been born in that very hospital. And so, I asked him to pray for me, too. In that moment, I was feeling quite alone, and I knew that what I had to face later in the day would need more than my own stamina or courage. I needed, first, God’s help. And I needed the prayers of the saints and of those beloved of us who have gone before us. I’m sure that my late spiritual director heard my prayer and offered one for me as well.

This may sound strange to you if you are not familiar with either praying for the dead or with asking for their prayers. But it’s not strange at all, and it certainly is not strange within the Anglo-Catholic tradition. While it’s true that Anglo-Catholics have long made a habit of praying for the dead, it’s also true that that practice is solidly within our prayer book tradition. Consider, for instance, this prayer from our funeral liturgy: “Grant that, increasing in knowledge and love of thee, he may go from strength to strength in the life of perfect service in thy heavenly kingdom” (The Book of Common Prayer 1979, p. 481). Or note the following from prayers for the dead: “Into thy hands, O Lord, we commend thy servant N., our dear brother, as into the hands of a faithful Creator and most merciful Savior, beseeching thee that he may be precious in thy sight. Wash him, we pray thee, in the blood of that immaculate Lamb that was slain to take away the sins of the world; that, whatsoever defilements he may have contracted in the midst of this earthly life being purged and done away, he may be presented pure and without spot before thee; through the merits of Jesus Christ thine only Son our Lord. Amen” (BCP 1979, p. 488). These prayers certainly suggest that one’s life in Christ and spiritual journey continue beyond the grave. This latter prayer implies a purgation or cleansing by which God’s beloved children are drawn, over time and in eternal time, into God’s loving arms.

If, as we profess, we believe in the communion of saints, then when we pray, we never pray alone, although we might be alone in our room. At Mass, we are rejoicing in the fellowship of a whole company of holy men and women who are in the nearer presence of God. They pray, just as we pray. The Good Shepherd parishioner who died in 1896 prays with us still in 2023. We pray for one another. We are united in bonds of fellowship and are bound together by baptism, and we share in that same hope of the resurrection from the dead in which have access to eternal life. In the collect for All Saints’ Day, we are reminded that we are “knit together. . . in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of. . . Christ our Lord” (p. 194).

Next week, we will celebrate, first, All Saints’ Day, on Wednesday, November 1, with a Procession and Sung Mass at 7 p.m. All Saints’ Day is a principal feast of the Church year, so if at all possible, I strongly encourage you to attend Mass on that day. On All Saints’ Day, we rejoice in the great company of holy men and women who have died but now live in Christ and who continue to pray for us and with us, just as we pray for and with them. On All Saints’ Day, we think especially of those people recognized as “saints” by the Church, although many unnamed individuals are in that heavenly company. On the following day, Thursday, November 2, All Souls’ Day, we pray by name for the particular souls of those beloved of us. We also acknowledge liturgically on All Souls’ Day that the Christian journey of sanctification and purification continues into the next life, and that is why we can rightly and effectively pray for the dead. As is our custom and with the permission of our bishop, the Mass will be a Requiem Mass from the American Missal, with a choral setting by Josef Rheinberger (1839 - 1901) sung by our wonderful choir. The Requiem Mass is poignantly beautiful, in my opinion, because it doesn’t feel self-conscious; its focus is purely on the saving grace of God in Christ, by which the souls of the departed are assisted in drawing nearer to God’s presence in heaven. The vestments for a Requiem Mass are black. A catafalque is set up in the crossing and covered by a black pall, to stand in for those souls for whom we will pray. Rather than finding All Souls’ Day depressing, I find it deeply encouraging. It reminds me that even though I will mess many things up in this earthly life, when I die, I can still have the benefit of the prayers of those still living on earth to aid me in my continuing journey. In other words, when I die, the story will not be finished. This doesn’t mean we don’t feel the wrenching loss of those loved ones who die, but it means that we can always rejoice in our bonds of ongoing communion with them.

This time of year, as we draw near to All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day, feels like a thin time of year. We have those moments throughout our lives, where the presence of the dead is palpably with us, and when we might even sense the prayers the dead are offering for us. All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day are important for us to embrace the unchanging reality of death, as well as the glorious hope that we have for spiritual purification and perfection in the life to come, as God draws us and the whole world to himself in boundless love.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of October 22, 2023

Over the past few weeks, our Advancement Committee has been inviting all of us to prayerfully consider the financial commitment that God is asking us to make to support ministry at Good Shepherd. Financial support is, of course, crucial to the existence of Good Shepherd and to the support of God’s mission here. But it is also only a part of what God invites us to give back to him as a token of gratitude for his enduring love. It’s St. Paul who gives us the wonderful image of the Body of Christ, because each of us has particular gifts that are not meant to be hidden under a bushel but, rather, shared with the world for the benefit of all.

The author of the Letter of the Ephesians (although probably not Paul but someone writing in the vein of Paul’s theology) suggests that God bestows gifts on each of us in order for the Body of Christ to be built up and for the maturation of our own spiritual lives (see chapter 4). Just as giving back to God sacrificially the money that he has given us is essential for our spiritual health, so, too, is sharing our gifts. Giving is not an alternative to sharing our gifts, nor is sharing our gifts a reason not to give money. They are both critical for mature spiritual lives in Christ.

Ministry at Good Shepherd is flourishing because so many of you have chosen to share your gifts and money for the good of the Church and the world. Some of you might be discerning how you want to share the gifts God has given to you. Others of you might not know the specific opportunities for sharing your gifts in this parish. It’s one thing to generically ask for people to offer their gifts in service; it’s another thing to ask for specific ways of helping God’s ministry. Maybe you need assistance in discerning what gifts God has given you. I’m always eager to help you with that.

To that end, I’ve drawn on the theme for this year’s stewardship campaign to invite you to consider the many specific ways of serving God at Good Shepherd. As you may recall, this year’s pledge campaign theme is “How Firm a Foundation,” taken from the great hymn found in The Hymnal 1982 (nos. 636 and 637). To riff on that hymn, the firm foundation of faith is laid for us in God’s word, vividly expressed in the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ. Christ is our foundation, but we are to build upon that foundation so that the Body of Christ can mature and strengthen and the Gospel be proclaimed to the ends of the earth.

One way of building on that foundation is by giving of yourself. Whether you know it or not (or want to accept it or not!), God has given you gifts to be used. Indeed, I will make an even stronger statement: God has specifically connected you with Good Shepherd not only to help ministry here but so that you might be strengthened in faith by using what God has given you.

As part of the 2024 stewardship appeal, would you consider prayerfully reflecting on how your own gifts and passions align with needs in this parish? Please take some time to review and complete this survey, which is based on the “pillars of our common life” that I shared in my message back in August. Those pillars are 1) worship; 2) formation; 3) music and the arts; 4) outreach; and 5) fellowship. The survey gives you a chance to indicate areas of parish life in which you are interested or with which you might like to assist. If you are new to the parish, it might be appropriate for you to take some time to simply be before involving yourself in ministry. Again, I would be happy to talk with you further about your own personal discernment in that regard. And plan to attend a February 11th Sunday adult formation on this topic by our theologian-in-residence, Dr. Ellen Charry.

Hardly a week goes by when I don’t find encouragement in a note left in the basket for prayer intentions at the back of the church or in something that someone says about how Good Shepherd has touched their lives. These encouraging words usually express something about how Good Shepherd meets an acute need in their lives. We should never underestimate how an open church during the week or a formation class or a music selection or a weekday service on livestream can give great meaning to someone’s life, perhaps someone you will never meet in person. And thank you for your continuing support of all that makes Good Shepherd a vibrant proclamation of and witness to the Gospel.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of October 15, 2023

In January of 2016, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to travel to the Holy Land with a group from my seminary. For two weeks, we stayed at St. George’s College, Jerusalem, an “Anglican center for pilgrimage, education, hospitality, and reconciliation.” The trip was both a January-term course, which included a significant educational component, as well as a prayerful pilgrimage. We traced the steps of our Lord, from Bethlehem to Nazareth, even venturing as far afield as the Golan Heights. Needless to say, the experience was a profound one for me.

Since that trip, I have never read Scripture in the same way. Once I visited Jerusalem, I truly understood why someone in Syria could go “up” to Jerusalem. “Up” had nothing to do with cardinal directions and everything to do with the topography of Jerusalem, which is situated on a large hill. I still get chills thinking about walking on the remaining stones of the Temple, where Jesus’s feet trod, or kissing the stone on the spot believed to be the place of Jesus’s birth.

In preparation for that trip to the Holy Land, I and other seminarians were required to take a class on Christian mission, and through that class, my eyes were opened to the complexities of the historic and present tensions between Israelis and Palestinians. I learned that the seemingly intractable problems in the relationship between Israelis and Palestinians could largely be traced back to the Balfour Declaration of 1917, which ambiguously attempted to parcel out land between Israelis and Palestinians but was, in reality, heavily colored by British national interests. I was reminded that fighting over land, which, ultimately, is God’s land, has been a stain on the integrity of humanity since Biblical times. We see that stain currently in the Middle East, and in the past history of the oppression of Indigenous Peoples in the Americas, and in the way in which modern powers have assumed control over land to the detriment of the weak.

The point of that seminary class I took was to prepare seminarians who were to engage in study abroad classes, mission trips, or a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. The underlying agenda of the class—and rightly so—was to challenge our easy assumptions about engaging with other cultures, especially when journeying from a first world country to a country that is not first world, or to a nation whose identity has been heavily formed by colonialism. I learned that church mission trips are fraught with power dynamics: the rich church seeks to “help” a less wealthy church, out of good motives, for sure, but in a way that could be patronizing and perhaps less than helpful, or even harmful.

Back in 2016, as I reflected on my upcoming trip to the Holy Land, I was excited and also a bit frightened. We were told that, although the State Department usually discouraged Americans from visiting Israel/Palestine, St. George’s College, Jerusalem, was experienced in providing safe pilgrimages in the midst of tense political and religious situations. And indeed, I felt safe on my pilgrimage to the Holy Land. It was a wonderful trip. But I will never forget seeing machine-gun wielding soldiers in the various quarters of Jerusalem, or passing through tense checkpoints, or being cautioned about existing landmines in the Jordan River.

Despite all the wonderful memories of that trip, I left the Holy Land confused and troubled. I realized that it was, in many ways, very difficult to judge the situation there. There was so much pain, so much twisted history and interference by outside nations, that it was impossible to make sense of it all. But my takeaway from the trip was that the land was steeped in holiness. It’s hard to describe the palpable sense of prayer at the Wailing Wall or at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem or on the Mount of Olives. Undoubtedly, passions run high in that land because everything comes down to religion. In that Holy City, three Abrahamic faiths struggle for their “own” territory. They struggle for the truth in which they believe. In the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, at the site of Jesus’s crucifixion, I saw both some of the most pious behavior and most deplorable behavior.

With regard to the ongoing war between Hamas and Israel, I have no words. I know enough to know what I don’t know. If I learned anything at all from visiting the Holy Land, perhaps I learned some humility about assuming who’s right and who’s wrong in the decades-old conflict, having seen the dangers of devaluing the mystery of the other. I certainly know that any acts of violence and murder, no matter how invested one is in a cause, is wrong. We long for peace between Israelis and Palestinians, but perhaps we despair of seeing it realized. And it reminds me that we should never take lightly the peace of God. At every Mass, we share Christ’s peace with each other. It’s the peace that passes all understanding. We can’t create this peace ourselves. We can only receive it and pass it on to others. The peace of God is ultimately what we must desire for the Holy Land. When humans try to enforce it or make it happen, it will fail. True peace will only be God’s doing.

The picture included here, which I took on that trip to the Holy Land, is looking out of a window from inside the Church of Dominus Flevit on the Mount of Olives. “Dominus flevit” means “the Lord wept” in Latin. It commemorates the site where Jesus looked out over Jerusalem and wept over its future (Luke 19:37-42). This particular window is moving because it is placed behind the altar and includes the outward signs of the Christian sacrament of unity, the Eucharist. Right now, we can only weep for the land where Palestinians and Israelis live. And as Christians, we are compelled to see the prospect of unity given by God through his sacrament given to his Church in which we find our deepest communion with God and one another. Bread, broken and blessed, is shared so that our own broken world might be put back together by God.

We are to believe that by God’s almighty power, peace and reconciliation are actually possible. At Good Shepherd, we are praying daily for this peace, for those affected, injured, and killed in the ongoing devastating tragedy. We pray for our Jewish brothers and sisters, and for our Palestinian brothers and sisters. We pray for the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem. We pray for pilgrims at St. George’s College. We pray for an end to terrorism of any kind. The words of Psalm 122 say it best:

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: *
"May they prosper who love you.

Peace be within your walls *
    and quietness within your towers.

For my brethren and companions' sake, *
    I pray for your prosperity.

Because of the house of the LORD our God, *
    I will seek to do you good."

May God give his peace to that holiest of lands, where he deigned to come among us in human flesh.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of October 8, 2023

“Glory to God, whose power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.” These words from the Letter to the Ephesians, are also found as closing sentences for Morning or Evening Prayer. They are some of my favorite words from Scripture that are contained within the Book of Common Prayer. These exhilarating words also remind me of the Church of the Good Shepherd.

We could describe God’s power working in us as the movement and impetus of the Holy Spirit. And in recent years, the Holy Spirit’s movement in this parish has been palpable. Here’s some of what has happened by the hand of God working through all of us here:

• average Sunday attendance has nearly doubled since 2020, even given the challenges of a pandemic.

• parish ministry has expanded to include children’s and adult formation.

• the new retreat house ministry has flourished and brought many people, from across the country, into contact with Good Shepherd, Rosemont. It has also generated $14K so far this year in donations that serve as a source of revenue for the parish.

• the diligent work of staff and parishioners has enabled us to address significant deferred maintenance on campus.

• pledged giving has increased from under $50K in 2020 to $130K (anticipated) in 2023.

• people’s lives continue to be blessed by an open church during the week and regular public worship.

• our online presence has expanded to include a network of prayerful supporters across the country.

• campus ministry brings the Gospel to local college students on a regular basis.

These are only a few of the incredible things that God is doing at Good Shepherd through the hands and hearts of so many people. I dare say that at various points in the past decade, this would have seemed much “more than we could ask or imagine.” This past week, our Advancement Committee held two online Zoom presentations as we move through the 2024 pledge campaign. I heard much excitement from parishioners and new faces in our midst. What I kept hearing was expressed inspiration at the hopeful spirit in this parish. Many parishes, when they become anxious about survival or finances, try to “cut their way to success.” They slash programs (especially music) and withdraw into their shells. They are ostensibly doing the “right” thing, but I believe it’s for the wrong reason. What they can’t see (perhaps through insufficient hope) is that cutting usually has the opposite of the intended effect. But what I see happening at Good Shepherd is a courageous willingness to expand spending, even despite financial challenges, in order to invest in ministry that is part of God’s intended flourishing for this parish.

I don’t believe this is irresponsible. It is most definitely a balancing act. We can’t get ahead of ourselves in spending, but we have to take some risks. When the three-member vestry of Good Shepherd decided to call a full-time rector in 2020, it was a huge risk. They were willing to do it out of hope. They were able to do it with the generous support of the Episcopal Diocese of Pennsylvania.

Now, as we enter the second year of our five-year plan for fiscal sustainability, we are not cutting our way to success. We’re investing our way to flourishing. We are setting an ambitious pledge goal in 2024 so that we can bring staff salaries to fair levels, because investing in our staff is investing in ministry. We are investing even more money (and trust!) in our music ministry through the calling of a new Director of Music, with confidence that this will be a part of our parish’s outreach and growth. Our five-year plan will not be a straight line, because ministry never is. I believe this is another moment (like three years ago) when we need to take another leap of faith in how we invest money in ministry. Once again, we are able to do this through the generous support of our diocese, which is giving us an even larger stipend to support the rector’s salary for campus ministry, trusting that this parish is being bold for the sake of the Gospel and basing that trust on what is already happening at Good Shepherd. But beginning in 2025, we need to begin weaning ourselves off diocesan support for our own financial sustainability and health. I encourage you to read more in the weekly email about why pledging is so important in the Episcopal Church, especially if you are coming from another denomination. In short, with the exception of our current diocesan support, we are a financially self-sustaining parish.

So, here’s the invitation: would you mirror the trusting spirit of Good Shepherd, Rosemont, by giving sacrificially towards ministry in 2024? First and foremost, sacrificial giving is an invaluable spiritual practice that teaches us to relinquish our grasp on the thing that so often becomes the center of our lives. What would it mean to take a bold leap of faith in 2024 with your financial gift to the parish? If you are like me, “trying out” sacrificial giving for even a year might teach you that everything does work out after all. My firm belief is this: God has given Good Shepherd everything it needs to carry out the ministry to which he is calling us. It’s a bit like manna: no more, no less. We are not aiming to be rich. We are aiming to be faithful. What we need is right under our eyes. Will you share what God has given you by giving a sacrificial portion back to God? With God, anything is possible. And the fruits of our investment will undoubtedly be infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of October 1, 2023

In her autobiography, The Long Loneliness, Dorothy Day recounts her experience with a priest named Father Roy, who had an unusually profound trust in God’s abundance, as well as an unshakeable conviction that Christians are called to live generously. I have shared these words before with the parish and vestry, but they are so compelling, that I am moved to share them again. Dorothy Day quotes Fr. Roy, who said,

“Suppose you want to go to California and it costs a hundred dollars. You have fifteen. It is not enough. So give it away, give it to the poor. Then you suddenly have twenty-five, and that is not enough and the only thing to do is to give it away too. Even seventy-five. That is not enough. Tell the Lord you want more. Throw it away recklessly. You will get back your hundredfold. You will get what you need. Maybe it will come in graces. Maybe it will cover your spiritual needs, not just your physical. But sow, sow! As ye sow, so shall ye reap. He who sows sparingly, reaps sparingly.” [Dorothy Day, The Long Loneliness (New York: HarperOne), Kindle edition, 252]

She continues:

“If we are rushed for time, sow time and we will reap time. Go to church and spend a quiet hour in prayer. You will have more time than ever and your work will get done. Sow time with the poor. Sit and listen to them, give them your time lavishly. You will reap time a hundredfold. Sow kindness and you will reap kindness. Sow love, you will reap love.” (p. 252)

The 24-7 message on television, social media, and in the accusing voices of our heads is that there is not enough. There’s never enough time. We’re never educated enough. There’s not enough money. And on and on. But this is a lie. While it’s true that many people lack the necessary resources to live a good life, that’s not because the resources are lacking in the world; it’s because those who have more than they need refuse to share what they have.

But Dorothy Day’s interpretation of sowing and reaping also suggests that we can sow one thing and reap another. We might be moved to sow all the money we have, and this doesn’t mean we’ll then reap more money by winning the lottery. We might reap such intangible things as a greater sense of charity within ourselves, or perhaps more trust in God, or perhaps stronger patience towards others.

Going out on a limb by being generous is in no sense a testing of God. Scripture warns against such dangerous behavior. When we are sacrificially generous with whatever we have—time, material possessions, money, love—we are ultimately placing our trust in God’s love and provision, as well as the conviction that God always gives us what we need. Always.

During this 2024 pledge campaign, I want to encourage all of us to take a chance on God’s generosity by summoning our own generosity. I also want to say that I believe God has given us exactly what we need right now to do the work to which we’re called. I believe that all the financial resources, time, and talent we need to sustain the vibrant life of ministry at Good Shepherd are in our midst. They are not on the outside of the parish; they are already here. Practically speaking, however, we seem to have a need. We seem to lack sufficient pledging to support ministry (which is why we have set an ambitious goal this year!), and we could use more helping hands in ministry. And so, this is why the pledge campaign is first and foremost about asking us to give to God first. We are asking because we are convinced that what we have is right before our eyes. It may not all be given, but it’s there. The question we’re all invited to prayerfully considered for the benefit of our souls as well as for the well-being of Good Shepherd, Rosemont, is this: can we trust God enough to be abundantly generous with what we’ve been given?

In some sense, we’re inviting you to echo what this parish and its leadership have done in recent years. This parish has taken bold leaps of faith, trusting in God’s generosity, by investing its limited financial resources in ministry, calling a full-time rector, supporting music, formation, and outreach. The results are the amazing things that God is doing among us. Now, we are asking you to consider doing the same with what God has given you.

If you were not able to attend the Advancement Committee’s presentation on September 17, please join one of two 30-minute Zoom presentations on Tuesday, October 3 at 7 p.m. ET and Thursday, October 5 at noon ET. The Advancement Committee is keen on ensuring that everyone understands our financial challenges at Good Shepherd as well as the realizable plan for achieving fiscal sustainability in the near future. Please take some time out of your busy schedules to join the committee for these discussions. There will be opportunities for you to ask questions, too.

And please pray for all who minister, worship, and serve at Good Shepherd as we seek to be faithful to God’s call, to know Jesus Christ, and to make him known in all that we do. Thank you!

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of September 24, 2023

Discernment rarely happens in a straight line, at least it rarely does for me. Periods of discernment require patience and can be confusing. Looking back upon the paths after reaching the “destination,” one would probably see winding, circuitous routes through unexpected places. This time of transition in our music ministry has been such a time for me.

Shortly after Easter, nearly six months ago, our former Organist & Choirmaster Matthew Glandorf told me that he had accepted a church position in Germany. After the initial surprise and then sense of sadness at seeing Matt go (as well as genuine happiness for him), I immediately set to work devising a plan for how to proceed through the coming months. As you might know, I am action-oriented and strive for efficiency, and yet this is not always how God works in our lives! With the approval of the parish vestry, we called Jack Burnam to be our Interim Organist & Choirmaster to see us through the end of the calendar year. Jack has been such a gift to us. He has already done so much in his brief time at Good Shepherd, and our new program year is off to a great start under his leadership. Back in April, I knew that we needed the gift of time to undergo proper discernment of whom God would send us as our next Director of Music.

A music advisory committee was formed to assist me in reviewing application of candidates for the position. A great deal of time was spent crafting a position description and envisioning how the parish should support a new Director of Music. Applications were received from a number of candidates, and they were carefully reviewed. Then, we invited two of the most promising candidates to audition and interview in person.

But meanwhile, God was guiding our whole process, which meant that we should have been prepared for some surprises. As much as I, the vestry, and music advisory committee could plan, we were also praying. And I believe that by setting a foundation of prayer, the task of discernment involves paying attention to what’s occurring in everyday life. What was occurring was that God seemed to be inviting us to consider my husband Robert as a candidate for this position. I should say that shortly after Matt’s departure was announced, several parishioners (including vestry members) asked whether this might be possible. I readily dismissed those suggestions, thinking about a possible conflict of interest and other practical matters. But over the ensuing weeks, God seemed to continue to bring the possibility before me and Robert, and then, ultimately, before the vestry and music advisory committee. There were, of course, many practical details to work out, but I realized that I needed to be open enough in the process of discernment to consider something that I had initially dismissed. I spoke with the vestry and music advisory committee, with our bishop (who offered his complete support), and with my spiritual director. Seeing no immediate objections, we decided to entertain the possibility of Robert becoming a candidate for the position.

At this point in the process, I agreed to step back from it so that some objectivity could be possible. Anne Hallmark, a member of the advisory committee, agreed to assume a leadership role. I’m grateful to her for leading the remainder of the search process with such grace and aplomb. Robert auditioned and interviewed like the other two candidates who interviewed in person, and the committee unanimously recommended to the vestry that Robert be called as our next Organist & Director of Music.

I realize that I am in a somewhat biased position, but I also believe that the music advisory committee and vestry have called the right person to this position. Robert has done tremendous work in his current position at Saint Mark’s Church, Locust Street, in Philadelphia, one of our sister Anglo-Catholic parishes in the diocese. This included expanding an already strong music ministry, working with a parish choir of staff singers and auditioned volunteers, and nearly doubling the number of child choristers. The expansion of that chorister program has been an engine of growth for Saint Mark’s, to which I can testify from my time there as an assistant rector overseeing children and family ministries.

Prior to serving at Saint Mark’s, Robert served as Director of Music at two other Anglo-Catholic parishes: The Church of Saint Mary the Virgin, New York City, and St. Paul’s Church, K Street, in Washington, DC. There he built excellent programs and ministries as well. Robert is an exceptional organist and well-known for his ability in improvisation. Above all, he brings a commitment to the Gospel as expressed in the Anglo-Catholic tradition and always seeks to foster a spirit of community within the choral programs that he directs. So, Robert brings ideal experience to his future work at Good Shepherd.

In our previous experience working together at Saint Mark’s, Robert and I found it to be a wonderful time of mutual ministry. We intend to continue that at Good Shepherd. I believe this is a moment of great excitement for this parish. We are looking towards possibilities that will expand our parish choir to include capable volunteers and also begin to build a chorister program, within the reasonable limits of a 25-hour a week position. I am hopeful that this will lead to growth in our children’s ministry. Additionally, Robert is excited about integrating some of his work with our retreat house, and indeed, this is the second year that he is leading a retreat on hymn-playing and liturgical improvisation.

I am most grateful to the parish vestry (Don McCown, Ellen Charry, Sarah Austen, Jenny Dee, and Brett Hart) for their support in this entire music transition period, as well as that of the music advisory committee (Anne Hallmark, John Burrows, Mitos Hart, Sarah Austen, Don McCown, and Ellen Charry). One of the most remarkable things about Good Shepherd, Rosemont, is its sheer openness to being bold for the sake of ministry, and the discernment during this music transition has been no exception. This willingness to be open to new possibilities has allowed us, I believe, to respond faithfully to the Holy Spirit’s surprising direction in the past few months.

Robert’s first Sunday with us will be on January 14, 2024. In the meantime, I am sincerely grateful for all that Jack Burnam is doing to lead us confidently through the next few months. Let’s pray for Saint Mark’s Church as it navigates its own time of transition, and please pray for Good Shepherd as we continue to strive to respond courageously to God’s call.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of September 17, 2023

When I first became an Episcopalian, the concept of pledging was new to me. I had grown up in the Roman Catholic tradition, and I remember (and I’m still grateful for this!) watching my parents put an envelope of money in the collection basket each weekend at church. But at some point, I came to learn that the Episcopal Church (and many other denominations as well) base much of their ministry and operations on pledges, which are different from plate contributions.

For the past three years, we have been talking a lot about pledging and why it’s important for the sustenance of Good Shepherd. A pledge is a financial commitment to the life of the parish for a year. A pledge can be any amount: $50 or $5,000. But pledges are the most helpful means of sustaining ministry in a parish because they are predictable sources of income. Other sources, such as special gifts and plate income (which has its own budget line item) are less predictable. In short, if we at Good Shepherd want to build a responsible budget for each fiscal year, we need to know what amount of pledged income we can hope to receive in any given year. As I’ve mentioned, plate and pledge income are distinct. Ideally, people will contribute to plate income at various services and also make a pledge for the year. Our budget planning assumes this will be the case.

In the Episcopal Church, each parish is more or less self-sustaining. Episcopal parishes don’t typically receive outside support for operations. So each parish must pay the salaries of clergy and staff from their own generated revenue. Good Shepherd is fortunate to have some financial support for my salary from our diocese because of the campus ministry in which I’m engaged. That is a rare gift, and although we are deeply grateful for diocesan support of my salary, we must gradually wean ourselves off this support in order to be fully sustainable. Our five-year plan for fiscal sustainability includes such planning. In short, the money that is given to Good Shepherd stays here to support operations and ministry, with the small exception of our annual required gift to the diocese.

So, what is a reasonable pledge? The 67th General Convention of the Episcopal Church passed a resolution affirming the tithe to be the “minimum standard” of giving for Episcopalians. A tithe is 10% of one’s income. It’s not clear whether that’s gross or net, but I would suggest that 10% of one’s net income is certainly in keeping with tithing principles. Undeniably, this requires great sacrifice. It requires giving to God first. In other words, we determine, based on our net income, what we give to God, and then we make everything else work out. Yes, I know this sounds foolish in the view of the world, but after all (as St. Paul reminds us), we are fool’s for Christ’s sake.

As your priest, if I’m going to encourage you to consider tithing (or intentionally building towards a tithe), I must lead by example. So, I’m asking you to join me in tithing on your net income in 2024. I have already made my pledge for 2024. And as you probably know, our Advancement Committee has just kicked off our 2024 pledge (stewardship) campaign. In fact, we’ve already received pledges in addition to mine! You can pledge online now. (Please note that pledging online does not mean you have to pay your pledge online.)

I will be honest that it has taken me many years to get to the point where I can tithe. I first pledged when I was working on my doctorate and accruing student loan debt. It wasn’t a large pledge, but it was a pledge nevertheless. Over the years, I would try to increase my pledge commitment, but I was usually only parting with what I had to spare. In recent years, as I have served as a priest in the church, I have realized the spiritual importance of sacrificial giving. I have also come to appreciate more fully how crucial sacrificial giving is to the sustenance of the Church’s ministry. I now do the following: I calculate what 10% of my net income is, and I make my pledge. Then, I have to pay bills and make student loan payments. I put money into retirement savings to plan for the future, and then if there’s money left over, I can buy things for myself. Recently, my husband, Robert, and I sat down with our financial planner, and we were very clear that our retirement plans must be contingent on giving sacrificially to the parishes we serve. So far, we have not had any problems making ends meet.

I share this only because I want you to know that it wouldn’t be fair or right for me to ask you to consider tithing if I didn’t practice it myself. I also know that we all have different demands on our money, and we are all in different situations. Sacrificial giving is a matter of conscience; it is also an invaluable spiritual practice. If you are not yet ready to tithe, do not feel guilty. Prayerfully consider how you might get to a tithe over the course of several years. God’s favor is, of course, not dependent on what we give, but from a spiritual perspective, I will say that I think my own spirituality has changed through giving to God first. Giving really is a spiritual practice, like saying one’s prayers or going to Mass. The more we can be grateful for all God has given us, the more sacrificial giving will become a joy for us.

This Sunday, I strongly urge you to stay after either the 8 a.m. or 10:30 a.m. Masses to hear a presentation by our Advancement Committee. Breakfast will be provided after 8 a.m., and lunch after 10:30 a.m. We are experiencing an incredibly exciting time in the life of this parish church. I hope we can celebrate all that is happening (and has happened) and then imagine and envision what can happen in the future. To make that happen, we rely, first and foremost, on God’s grace, but we also need your support: your time, talents, and financial contributions. Everyone makes a difference at Good Shepherd.

I give to Good Shepherd, not only because it’s good for my soul but because I believe that in this place, God is changing lives. We are proclaiming the Gospel vigorously in an age that desperately needs to hear it. Pledging to this parish is no small thing. It enables Christ to be known and made known in this community and beyond. Will you join me in supporting God’s mission in this parish?

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of September 10, 2023

In 1543, Nicholas Copernicus published his earth-shattering work On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres, which posited a heliocentric model of the universe as opposed to a geocentric one. Despite its inaccuracies, we now know Copernicus to have been correct. The earth orbits around the sun. The earth is not the center of the universe. According to this “new” model, the sun is. If the sun isn’t exactly at the geometric center of the universe, we know the earth moves around the sun. In its day, this was a revolutionary shift in thinking. The Church certainly didn’t want to hear that the earth wasn’t at the center of things; remember how Galileo would later suffer at the hands of the Church. To accept that the sun was the center of the universe required a completely radical shift in orientation for the Renaissance mind.

When we enter into a relationship with God, and especially one where we know God in Christ, the priorities of our own personal universes are changed. We frequently fail to recognize this, but to be a Christian—and in 2023, no less—means putting God at the center of our lives, instead of ourselves, our work, our extracurricular activities, our money, and our possessions. Do you see how wild this is? Do you see how utterly confounding it may be? Isn’t this one of the most difficult things to do?

This is what we profess: our lives are not our own, they are God’s. Our acquired wealth is not our money, it’s God’s. Our talents are not of our own achieving, they are gifts from God. No matter how much our lives are vocational, and no matter how much our “work” may be fulfilling and a response to God’s call to us, the truth is that God is at the center of it all, and God invites us to see this and accept it in love. And so our week is centered not on Friday or on the day the big project is due or on the day of the soccer match; our week revolves around Sunday, the Lord’s Day. This is the day on which Jesus broke the bonds of death and gave us life and freedom. It is the day that shapes every second of our lives.

I’m writing about this now because we are entering into a new season. It’s not Advent, and we are not yet beginning a new Church year. It’s not a new calendar year. We are starting a new program year. A program year is hardly a theological construction, but it is, for better or for worse, the time in which we leave summer behind and commit ourselves anew to “life as usual.” But I want to suggest that this program year, you consider making God the center of all that is usual. Can you make what is ordinary extraordinary by letting God inform all of it? Here are some gentle suggestions.

• Make the Lord’s Day primary for you and your family. Come to church every Sunday. Let it be the norm rather than the exception. Attend adult formation. Bring your children to Sunday School/children’s formation. It may seem like a chore at times, but I don’t think you will regret it.

• Make time for prayer each and every day. Maybe your prayers are brief ones at key moments in the day, but invite God into your life so that it becomes unceasing prayer. Come to Morning or Evening Prayer at the church if you can, or pray with us online. Attend Masses on Major Holy Days to let the sacred rhythm of the Church’s calendar break into our other calendars.

• Consider doing something at church (or engaging in a spiritual practice) during the week. Make time for that and then fit everything else in. Maybe it’s the Wednesday evening contemplative prayer/mindfulness group or Pilgrims in Christ. Maybe it’s one of our online offerings through the retreat house or a Saturday day retreat. It could be helping with our retreat house ministry. We have many ways to grow in faith, hope, and love at Good Shepherd.

These are only a few suggestions, but I hope you get the point. At first, restructuring one’s life in this drastically different way might seem like a chore, a duty, or even contrived. Don’t worry about that; it will only feel as such because our lives have become so misshapen by the world in which we live. Spiritual practice is like athletic training or musical practice; it takes time and intention. And with time and intention, we will find the Holy Spirit drawing us into freedom and joy. The Holy Spirit will be more in control, and we will step aside. Our Christian calling is to put God at the center of all we do, and because God became incarnate in Jesus Christ, it means that even the ordinary can be imbued with the holiness of God.

I’m very excited for the beginning of this new program year. If you are a student or the parent of a student, bring your (or your children’s) backpacks to be blessed at coffee hour after Sung Mass. We will welcome back our choir at Sung Mass and have an official welcome to Jack Burnam (our Interim Organist & Choirmaster) and his wife, Jeannette, at coffee hour. I hope to see you in church this Sunday!

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of September 3, 2023

There was a sign on the door of the Anglo-Catholic parish of which I was a member when I lived in Washington, DC. It said in all capital letters, “THE MISSION FIELD BEGINS HERE, NOW.” This sign was a not-so-subtle caution against thinking we can go to Mass, receive the Sacrament, and then go on living our lives for the rest of the week as if nothing had happened. Believe me: plenty of people do this! But it is in leaving the Mass, having been fed with the Body and Blood of our Lord, that we are to go into the world to live as people changed by the Gospel and to live as if we are changed. In the words of Frank Weston, a former Anglo-Catholic Bishop of Zanzibar, in a sermon to a gathering of Anglo-Catholics in 1923, “you have got to come out from before your Tabernacle and walk, with Christ mystically present in you, out into the streets of this country, and find the same Jesus in the people of your cities and your villages. You cannot claim to worship Jesus in the Tabernacle, if you do not pity Jesus in the slum.” (http://anglicanhistory.org/weston/weston2.html)

And so it may be that the Dismissal of the Mass is at times the most neglected part of the Mass, when indeed, the Dismissal is the moment where the rubber hits the road, where what we profess with our lips must take shape in our lives. Beginning on Sunday, September 10, we will begin standing for the Dismissal of the Mass. We typically kneel for the Blessing, which is appropriate, but it seems most logical and fitting as we use our bodies in worship to stand and be sent into the world for the Dismissal. This is a seemingly small change (and reflects what most Episcopal parishes tend to practice), but it says everything about what we are being asked to do in the Dismissal.

There is one other ceremonial change that we will see on September 10 when we begin our new program year, and it also has to do with the Dismissal. (I do not call it a liturgical change because it is extra-liturgical in nature.) For the past several years, it has been the custom to recite or sing the Angelus at the end of the 10:30 a.m. Sung Mass, but this has not been a long-standing practice at Good Shepherd. The Angelus is a traditional prayer of the Incarnation recited at 9 a.m., noon, and 6 p.m. At Good Shepherd, on weekdays, the Angelus is prayed as Morning Prayer begins and at 5:30 p.m. as Evening Prayer begins. When our Tower bells are once again able to ring in a timely fashion, the Angelus will also ring at noon. I love the Angelus, because like the rhythm of the liturgical year, it is a powerful sign of the sacred breaking into our quotidian lives, summoning us to pray. However, the Angelus placed at the end of Sung Mass has tended to obscure the liturgical thrust of what the Dismissal is intended to do. (Its addition at the end of Mass is a remnant of pre-liturgical reform tendencies to add more and more accretions to the Mass, when in fact, the Sunday Mass is primarily about the celebration of the Lord’s Day. The 1979 Book of Common Prayer emphasizes that the Lord’s Day and its focus on our Lord’s saving actions are of primary importance for the Sunday Mass.) When the Angelus is used to end Mass, we are sent ceremonially and ritually from the Altar not into the world but to a side shrine for an extra-liturgical devotion. So, it seems most fitting to move from the Dismissal at the Altar to the Tower doors, where we are visually being sent into the world. True, we may go to coffee hour more directly, but you get the point! Beginning on Sunday, September 10, we will no longer end Sung Mass with the Angelus but with a hymn and procession to the Tower doors as a visible sign of the heart of the Dismissal. This also allows me to be present at the church entrance to greet those leaving the church in a more timely fashion.

A few more thoughts: the Angelus will continue to be prayed publicly eleven times on weekdays at Good Shepherd. I realize that praying the Angelus is dear to many of your hearts; it is to mine as well. This change at Sung Mass does not mean that we are dispensing with a devotion but rather restoring it to its customary time of 12 noon and allowing it to have its own place, quite appropriately, apart from the Mass. Devotion to Our Lady is a major characteristic of the piety of Good Shepherd and of Anglo-Catholic parishes. We have an entire Lady Chapel dedicated to her, and I encourage you to ask for the Blessed Mother’s intercession in both that chapel and at the Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham. And when our Tower bells are once again ringing correctly and as the Angelus bells sound at noon on Sunday, I would encourage us all to pause and say the Angelus together. Historically, this has been the custom at Good Shepherd on Sundays.

This Sunday change is not a change in devotional practice but an intentional shift to allow the Mass to be the Mass and to let our ritual action reflect the Eucharistic theology behind it. May we remember the crucial words at the door of the church as we leave: the mission field begins here, now. May our lives be the Dismissal in action.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of August 27, 2023

Some of the most comforting words in Scripture are from the mouth of Jesus: “[E]ven the hairs of your head are all counted” (Luke 12:7; see also Matthew 10:30). God does not simply love us; God loves us with a personal love, so personal that God counts the hairs on our heads. We, in essence, are more than just a number.

We live, of course, in an age of statistics. In society, in our jobs, and in our schools, we are reduced to percentages and numbers of people, and even with the Church, we can become so obsessed with numbers that we forget about the faces and hearts behind them. But with God, we are always more than just a number.

So, while we may be part of numbers that are counted (e.g., one of x number of people living in the state of Pennsylvania, or one of x number of Episcopalians, or one of x number of people in the parish’s list of active baptized members, we are more than just x. But being counted also matters. Being counted means both that we are more than a number and also that being an acknowledged part of a greater whole has profound meaning.

As Christians, we find our ultimate membership in our baptism into the Body of Christ. We are certainly “counted” before baptism, but baptism is the visible, sacramental expression of our adoption into the family of God, where we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and are bound to one another. This binding extends far beyond our biological families. We become members of a new family. I am often asked what being a member of Good Shepherd entails. In the Episcopal Church, membership is defined as follows: “All persons who have received the Sacrament of Holy Baptism with water in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, whether in this Church or in another Christian Church, and whose Baptisms have been duly recorded in this Church, are members thereof.” This is why Holy Communion is open to all baptized persons, regardless of denomination or age.

But more specifically, our accountability as members of Christ’s larger Body happens most acutely in our parishes of membership. In these little microcosms of the Body of Christ, we come to know one another, sharing in our joys and sorrows, and it is in the parish that we most vividly find support when we’re in need and the encouragement to seek reconciliation when it is necessary. The rites of Baptism and Marriage in the prayer book demand vows from those present to support the candidates for baptism and the couple being married. This is accountability. And so, it is important, both from a statistical perspective but more importantly from a spiritual perspective that we acknowledge our responsibility to one another in the Church.

The canons of the Episcopal Church define aspects of our common life together, and these are supplemented by diocesan bylaws and parish bylaws. Each year, every parish in the Episcopal Church reports membership. “‘All persons who have received the Sacrament of Holy Baptism with water in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, whether in this Church or in another Christian Church, and whose Baptisms have been duly recorded in this Church,’ are members thereof. (Canon I.17.1) Note: A person’s baptism, when duly recorded in the Register of Church Membership and Rites (also known as the Parish Register or Church Register) of the recording congregation, is his/her record of membership in the Episcopal Church.”  Our parish bylaws state that active baptized members who have contributed financially to the life of the parish are eligible to vote in parish elections. This is important: here we are accountable to one another. Those of us who are deeply involved in the life of this parish delegate great responsibilities for the well-being of this parish to others.

How does one go about becoming an official member of Good Shepherd?

• If you have previously been a member of another Episcopal parish, please ask that parish to transfer your "letter of membership" to Good Shepherd.

• If you were baptized in another denomination, you can simply let us know that you want your baptism recorded here at Good Shepherd, and we can record that. If you have a copy of a baptismal certificate, we would like to have that on file, too. Please contact Father Kyle if you have any questions.

But I also believe that our membership is more than just paperwork and numerical accountability. I encourage any of you who are new to the Episcopal Church (even within the past few years) to consider formation in the Episcopal and wider Anglican tradition. If you were baptized, especially at a young age, the Church expects that you will make a mature, public affirmation of that faith, which is called Confirmation. And if you are new to the Episcopal Church (from say the Roman Catholic, Orthodox, or another tradition in which you were confirmed), it is appropriate to be officially received by a bishop into the Episcopal Church (called Reception into the Episcopal Church). Our Pilgrims in Christ class is appropriate and encouraged for those of you who may want to mark this particular year as an opportunity to deepen your faith and become a member of Good Shepherd. You can register here. Pilgrims is also intended for those who have been Episcopalians for years, too! This year’s class meets on the first three Thursdays of each month, from 7 to 8:30 p.m., and our format is hybrid in-person/Zoom. The first six meetings will be specifically an introduction to the Anglican tradition, and anyone is welcome to participate in just these first six classes.

If you feel that it is time for you to make Good Shepherd your “official” parish home, please contact me. Regardless of your decision in that regard, I am delighted that you are here. Both official members and others who are active in the life of the parish contribute significantly to God’s work here, and I am deeply appreciative of that. Each of you is counted as God’s beloved child. You are loved by God as more than just a number. Your gifts and presence at Good Shepherd are welcome, regardless of whether you vote in parish elections and are an active baptized member. And most of all, God has brought you here for a special reason, and for that, I am grateful.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle

The Week of August 20, 2023

On Sunday, September 10, we will begin a new “program year.” For those new to the Episcopal Church, “program year” might be an unfamiliar term. But the reality is that most Episcopal parishes function with a more robust schedule during the standard American academic year (roughly September through May). Accordingly, on September 10, our children’s formation program (i.e., Sunday School/children’s education) will begin on a weekly basis. We will resume other regular adult formation/education classes. More special events will be happening. Our choir will return to sing at Sunday Mass on a weekly basis.

“Program year” can sound a bit corporate or businesslike, but I would argue that a look at our 2023-2024 program year calendar will highlight the pillars of the community God is forming at Good Shepherd, Rosemont. These pillars reveal how we understand our relationship with God in fellowship with one another. Here are the pillars:

1 ) Worship: Worship is the most important pillar of our life together in Christ. In worship, we simply adore God with no ulterior motive, with no agenda, with no need to be productive. In worship, we respond to God’s first love for us, and worship forms us as the people God is calling us to be. Notice how much worship is on our calendar, not just Sunday worship, but Major Holy Day Masses, Choral Evensong and Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament, the Daily Office, and weekday Masses.

2) Formation: We use this word deliberately because it’s not mere education. Our minds are educated to some extent. We learn, but in doing so, mind is melded with heart, and an integration occurs, reminding us that, because of the Incarnation, what we do with our bodies is integrally related to what goes on in our minds. We are not simply people in our heads. We are people of body, heart, and soul.

3) Music and the arts: Our Main Line Early Music Concert series and music ministry are not supernumerary.They reflect our understanding of beauty in the world. Art echoes, to some extent, worship. Art is about the act of creating as our own fallible attempt to mirror God’s perfect creating. Art is not utilitarian. We are not a utilitarian parish or people. Art is worth making because it’s like our worship: we are not trying to get something out of it. It’s about reveling in the creative power of God.

4) Outreach: Our retreat house ministry is our primary means of outreach to the local community. We have just finished hosting a family through the Hosts for Hospitals program. Dozens of people from all over the country have stayed in our retreat house over the past year. The house is a place with open doors and a big heart. Outreach is the Dismissal of the Mass in action. Through our retreat house, Good Shepherd is extending its arms out into the world, moving from a closed to an open posture.

5) Fellowship: People new to the Episcopal Church often comment that our coffee hours remind them that we don’t just come to Mass to be fed and “get” something. Sunday worship is not a mere obligation. It’s about being in community with one another as we worship almighty God. Christianity is not for individualists. All of our fellowship opportunities flow from our worship of God. One can’t be a Christian in a bubble.

From looking at our program year calendar, you will see these pillars of our common life together. Worship is the most important, and indeed it connects all of them. And to some extent, participating in our calendar of events is akin to adopting a rule of life. If you choose a bit of something from each of the pillars, you will find your entire body being formed and shaped by God. That’s the intent. I strongly encourage you to take note of our calendar so that now you can begin to structure your own busy schedule around the pillars of our common life together. Being Christian is a full body experience. I pray that this coming “program year” will be a rich opportunity for you to submit yourself to the ongoing creative and dynamic life of the Trinity, of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, who is always inviting us into the divine life of love.

Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle