Weekly Letters to the Parish
Most weeks, Jay writes a letter to the Parish as part of the notice called "This Week at St. John's" or,
affectionately, as the "Saturday email."
Dolly and Don - August 30 - September 5
Dolly Parton was part of the backdrop of my life, going back to when I was a little kid. My parents and grandparents, heck, everyone I knew had Dolly Parton albums in their collection, and I remember her appearing on the many variety shows that flooded the airwaves back in the 70s and 80s. Even when I was young, I understood her to be a “good” person, even a Christian, which, of course, she was. Dolly was the bright counterpart to the Man in Black, Johnny Cash, who loomed similarly large in our lives.
There was another musician perhaps even more prominent in our house growing up, the gospel-folk singer Don Francisco. His song “I Don’t Care Where You’ve Been Sleeping” was catchy and theologically profound for a questioning teenager like me, and his thunderous Easter anthem “He’s Alive” was played year-round on our big console stereo.
I was in seminary when Covid hit, so our classes were all moved online, and our small Anglican cohort met four days a week for morning prayer. We took turns leading the prayers, sometimes showing YouTube videos of hymns or chants as part of our devotions. One morning, the week after Easter 2020, one of my classmates, a former Roman Catholic and member of a contemplative order, said she had something special to show us, something that had made her cry when she first watched it.
It turned out to be Dolly Parton singing “He’s Alive,” a special performance from her home, just her and her guitar, and within a minute, we were all crying. In that moment, so many threads of my own spiritual journey came together. I’ve watched that performance countless times, especially after my father died of Covid, and I imagine it will be something I return to when I need to remember that after death comes resurrection. I don’t think we need to pray for the peace of Dolly Parton’s soul; she found it long before she left us.
In gratitude,
Jay+
Dolly Parton was part of the backdrop of my life, going back to when I was a little kid. My parents and grandparents, heck, everyone I knew had Dolly Parton albums in their collection, and I remember her appearing on the many variety shows that flooded the airwaves back in the 70s and 80s. Even when I was young, I understood her to be a “good” person, even a Christian, which, of course, she was. Dolly was the bright counterpart to the Man in Black, Johnny Cash, who loomed similarly large in our lives.
There was another musician perhaps even more prominent in our house growing up, the gospel-folk singer Don Francisco. His song “I Don’t Care Where You’ve Been Sleeping” was catchy and theologically profound for a questioning teenager like me, and his thunderous Easter anthem “He’s Alive” was played year-round on our big console stereo.
I was in seminary when Covid hit, so our classes were all moved online, and our small Anglican cohort met four days a week for morning prayer. We took turns leading the prayers, sometimes showing YouTube videos of hymns or chants as part of our devotions. One morning, the week after Easter 2020, one of my classmates, a former Roman Catholic and member of a contemplative order, said she had something special to show us, something that had made her cry when she first watched it.
It turned out to be Dolly Parton singing “He’s Alive,” a special performance from her home, just her and her guitar, and within a minute, we were all crying. In that moment, so many threads of my own spiritual journey came together. I’ve watched that performance countless times, especially after my father died of Covid, and I imagine it will be something I return to when I need to remember that after death comes resurrection. I don’t think we need to pray for the peace of Dolly Parton’s soul; she found it long before she left us.
In gratitude,
Jay+
Sometimes it gets a little messy - August 23-29
Last Sunday, when I arrived early for our 8am service, there was a small commotion due to the fact that our shelter guests had slept through the alarm, and were scrambling to pack up and exit the church. Plastic bins were stacked up near the open front door, the indoor showers were running, and folks were hanging out in the kitchen. All the while, our altar guild was busy setting Christ’s table, Brian and I were rushing to get into our extra-tall albs, and congregants filed in, right up to (and a little past) the opening chime.
It was all a little messy . . . and I loved it. I believe this is how we can aspire to do church—right alongside the people we’re ministering with, recognizing that sometimes it gets a little messy. The more we repent—that is, change our trajectory, as Jesus did in last week’s Gospel—the more our ministry grows. When we let go of the idea that ministry is only happening somewhere “out there,” and reorient ourselves to seeing our brothers and sisters in Christ standing (and sleeping, and eating) in the places we worship, we live out being “the church” which Jesus announces in this coming Sunday’s Gospel.
In coming months and years, we’re going to have lots of practice getting messy in our following of Jesus. As our outreach extends further into our neighborhood—including St. John’s Commons—we’ll be living alongside those we’re ministering with, allowing them to change our lives as much as we change theirs. I invite all of us to gather at Christ's table, hang out in kitchens, and get messy together.
Faithfully,
Jay+
Last Sunday, when I arrived early for our 8am service, there was a small commotion due to the fact that our shelter guests had slept through the alarm, and were scrambling to pack up and exit the church. Plastic bins were stacked up near the open front door, the indoor showers were running, and folks were hanging out in the kitchen. All the while, our altar guild was busy setting Christ’s table, Brian and I were rushing to get into our extra-tall albs, and congregants filed in, right up to (and a little past) the opening chime.
It was all a little messy . . . and I loved it. I believe this is how we can aspire to do church—right alongside the people we’re ministering with, recognizing that sometimes it gets a little messy. The more we repent—that is, change our trajectory, as Jesus did in last week’s Gospel—the more our ministry grows. When we let go of the idea that ministry is only happening somewhere “out there,” and reorient ourselves to seeing our brothers and sisters in Christ standing (and sleeping, and eating) in the places we worship, we live out being “the church” which Jesus announces in this coming Sunday’s Gospel.
In coming months and years, we’re going to have lots of practice getting messy in our following of Jesus. As our outreach extends further into our neighborhood—including St. John’s Commons—we’ll be living alongside those we’re ministering with, allowing them to change our lives as much as we change theirs. I invite all of us to gather at Christ's table, hang out in kitchens, and get messy together.
Faithfully,
Jay+
What Comes Out of the Mouth - August 9-15
This Sunday’s Gospel starts with a paragraph that our Lectionary deems “optional,” the aftermath of a confrontation between Jesus and the Pharisees in which he tells them that “for the sake of tradition [washing one’s hands before one eats], you nullify the word of God.” At the heart of Jesus’s words is a profound argument about the interpretation of scripture, which we’ll touch upon in this coming Sunday’s sermon.
Jesus goes on to tell his disciples that it isn’t what goes into the mouth that defiles, but what comes out, giving, for example, a long list of sins that proceed from the heart: evil intentions, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. What Jesus doesn’t say explicitly, but which the rest of his teachings make clear is that what comes out of the mouth also has the power to lift up and give life: good intentions, sacred relationships, generosity, truth, building each other up through our speech.
What came to mind while reading this Gospel is something a few of us practiced recently at the College for Congregational Development. It was a simple practice: every time we wanted to give someone feedback, we asked them, “May I give you some feedback?” On the one hand, this respected the boundaries of who we were talking to, but, even more importantly, it slowed us down and made us more conscious of what was coming out of our mouths. It provided a brief moment to let us double-check whether what was coming out of our mouths had good intentions, was generous, truthful, and loving.
Thank you for all you do to make St. John the Baptist more generous, truthful, and loving.
Gratefully,
Jay+
This Sunday’s Gospel starts with a paragraph that our Lectionary deems “optional,” the aftermath of a confrontation between Jesus and the Pharisees in which he tells them that “for the sake of tradition [washing one’s hands before one eats], you nullify the word of God.” At the heart of Jesus’s words is a profound argument about the interpretation of scripture, which we’ll touch upon in this coming Sunday’s sermon.
Jesus goes on to tell his disciples that it isn’t what goes into the mouth that defiles, but what comes out, giving, for example, a long list of sins that proceed from the heart: evil intentions, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. What Jesus doesn’t say explicitly, but which the rest of his teachings make clear is that what comes out of the mouth also has the power to lift up and give life: good intentions, sacred relationships, generosity, truth, building each other up through our speech.
What came to mind while reading this Gospel is something a few of us practiced recently at the College for Congregational Development. It was a simple practice: every time we wanted to give someone feedback, we asked them, “May I give you some feedback?” On the one hand, this respected the boundaries of who we were talking to, but, even more importantly, it slowed us down and made us more conscious of what was coming out of our mouths. It provided a brief moment to let us double-check whether what was coming out of our mouths had good intentions, was generous, truthful, and loving.
Thank you for all you do to make St. John the Baptist more generous, truthful, and loving.
Gratefully,
Jay+
Summertime, parable time - July 26 to August 1
This year, we’re in Lectionary Year A, which means Matthew and his many parables. We’ve had a couple of weeks where Jesus explains a couple of parables in ways that scholars—and we—find challenging. Like I mentioned in last Sunday's sermon, there are lots of reasons why it’s possible that some of these interpretations were added later, but I think it’s still appropriate to think about them seriously, from a perspective we hadn’t seen before.
Really, that’s the purpose of parables: not to provide neatly analogous metaphors, but to help us see the world, and each other, from a perspective we hadn’t considered before. I think often of Dr. Kenneth Bailey, a New Testament scholar living in the Middle East. Dr. Bailey offers that a parable is like a room that we live in, and the longer we live in it, the more things we see, and the more it shapes how we see the world and the Kingdom of Heaven.
At any rate, I often imagine this coming Sunday’s many, rapid-fire parables, as coming from Jesus on a warm summer’s day, inviting the disciples and other listeners to enter those rooms along with him in the brightness of God’s creation. Sometimes I see him and the disciples lying back in a wheat field, musing on the wheat and the tares and the mustard seed (another weed!), pondering the Kingdom of Heaven on earth, which Jesus says is already among us. Let us ponder along with them, questioning, learning, and living into that Kingdom.
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
This year, we’re in Lectionary Year A, which means Matthew and his many parables. We’ve had a couple of weeks where Jesus explains a couple of parables in ways that scholars—and we—find challenging. Like I mentioned in last Sunday's sermon, there are lots of reasons why it’s possible that some of these interpretations were added later, but I think it’s still appropriate to think about them seriously, from a perspective we hadn’t seen before.
Really, that’s the purpose of parables: not to provide neatly analogous metaphors, but to help us see the world, and each other, from a perspective we hadn’t considered before. I think often of Dr. Kenneth Bailey, a New Testament scholar living in the Middle East. Dr. Bailey offers that a parable is like a room that we live in, and the longer we live in it, the more things we see, and the more it shapes how we see the world and the Kingdom of Heaven.
At any rate, I often imagine this coming Sunday’s many, rapid-fire parables, as coming from Jesus on a warm summer’s day, inviting the disciples and other listeners to enter those rooms along with him in the brightness of God’s creation. Sometimes I see him and the disciples lying back in a wheat field, musing on the wheat and the tares and the mustard seed (another weed!), pondering the Kingdom of Heaven on earth, which Jesus says is already among us. Let us ponder along with them, questioning, learning, and living into that Kingdom.
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Prayer Changes Us - July 19-25
I’ve been thinking a lot about prayer lately, partly because I’ve also been thinking about both a Newcomers Class and Confirmation Class for the upcoming Fall and Winter. If there’s one thing that’s arguably the most distinctive feature about our denomination, it’s our Book of Common Prayer (BCP). The BCP itself can be easy to forget, as we present most of its contents in our weekly service bulletin, so I hope we can cover the role of the BCP in upcoming formation opportunities.
But I’ve also been thinking about the purpose of prayer, why we pray. Most of us think of prayers of intercession for ourselves and the world—this is the shape of our Prayers of the People we read (or sing) each Sunday. We mostly think of effecting change—with God’s help—through our prayers, and, when we remember, we might also offer prayers of thanksgiving and praise.
Last week, while driving up to St. Columba’s Retreat Center in Inverness, I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts, This Jungian Life, and the week’s subject was “Prayer and the Psyche.” At one point, one of the co-hosts quoted a line from the play Shadowlands by William Nicholson, which is about C.S. Lewis’s life during the period of his wife’s dying. Nicholson attributes this to C.S. Lewis:
“I pray because I can’t help myself. I pray because I’m helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. It doesn’t change God—it changes me.”
As we begin to explore our prayer lives more deeply, I can think of no better question for our corporate reflection: how does prayer change us? I look forward to discovering the answer together.
Prayerfully,
Jay+
I’ve been thinking a lot about prayer lately, partly because I’ve also been thinking about both a Newcomers Class and Confirmation Class for the upcoming Fall and Winter. If there’s one thing that’s arguably the most distinctive feature about our denomination, it’s our Book of Common Prayer (BCP). The BCP itself can be easy to forget, as we present most of its contents in our weekly service bulletin, so I hope we can cover the role of the BCP in upcoming formation opportunities.
But I’ve also been thinking about the purpose of prayer, why we pray. Most of us think of prayers of intercession for ourselves and the world—this is the shape of our Prayers of the People we read (or sing) each Sunday. We mostly think of effecting change—with God’s help—through our prayers, and, when we remember, we might also offer prayers of thanksgiving and praise.
Last week, while driving up to St. Columba’s Retreat Center in Inverness, I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts, This Jungian Life, and the week’s subject was “Prayer and the Psyche.” At one point, one of the co-hosts quoted a line from the play Shadowlands by William Nicholson, which is about C.S. Lewis’s life during the period of his wife’s dying. Nicholson attributes this to C.S. Lewis:
“I pray because I can’t help myself. I pray because I’m helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. It doesn’t change God—it changes me.”
As we begin to explore our prayer lives more deeply, I can think of no better question for our corporate reflection: how does prayer change us? I look forward to discovering the answer together.
Prayerfully,
Jay+
Discernment every day - July 12-18
Back in my first year of seminary, we had a lunchtime visit by then-Bishop of New York, The Rt. Rev. Andrew Dietsche. He said two things I’ll always remember. The first was this: “The first thing I say to a potential candidate for the priesthood is, ‘Tell me about your prayer life.’” The second was this: “Every day I wake up and have to discern my ministry all over again.” Even as a Bishop—who was a freelance graphic designer and cartoonist before his ordination—he was never sure what God might be calling him to on any given day.
Churches are no different. Even healthy, active churches like ours are invited to continuously reflect on what they are being called to. They might ask themselves, “What forms us as a community?” “How does a church become the kind of place it hopes to be?” “Can a parish intentionally cultivate its culture?” Every church, through constant discernment, can ask itself what kind of community God is calling it to become.
Tomorrow, when we read the Parable of the Sower, we’ll be joined by my mentor and friend The Rev. Mike Kinman, who has been a trusted guide in my own discernment. Mike joined the Vestry at our last retreat to help us ask the kinds of questions that will shape our life together here at St. John the Baptist, including what kinds of values we hope to live into. Join us between services for a conversation about how we might sow the seeds of love through the ways we speak to one another, treat one another, and discern together.
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Back in my first year of seminary, we had a lunchtime visit by then-Bishop of New York, The Rt. Rev. Andrew Dietsche. He said two things I’ll always remember. The first was this: “The first thing I say to a potential candidate for the priesthood is, ‘Tell me about your prayer life.’” The second was this: “Every day I wake up and have to discern my ministry all over again.” Even as a Bishop—who was a freelance graphic designer and cartoonist before his ordination—he was never sure what God might be calling him to on any given day.
Churches are no different. Even healthy, active churches like ours are invited to continuously reflect on what they are being called to. They might ask themselves, “What forms us as a community?” “How does a church become the kind of place it hopes to be?” “Can a parish intentionally cultivate its culture?” Every church, through constant discernment, can ask itself what kind of community God is calling it to become.
Tomorrow, when we read the Parable of the Sower, we’ll be joined by my mentor and friend The Rev. Mike Kinman, who has been a trusted guide in my own discernment. Mike joined the Vestry at our last retreat to help us ask the kinds of questions that will shape our life together here at St. John the Baptist, including what kinds of values we hope to live into. Join us between services for a conversation about how we might sow the seeds of love through the ways we speak to one another, treat one another, and discern together.
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Isn't That What Churches Do? - July 5-11
Over the past several weeks, we’ve been conducting Listening Circles about St. John’s Commons. On Zoom calls and within in-person gatherings, we’ve been sharing with each other our hopes, dreams, and concerns about our proposed ultra-low-income housing project. Among the questions we’ve asked is this one: “what do you think about starting a project that will live on far past the current membership of this church?” There are, after all, practical questions of management and governance that future vestries and lay leaders will have to contend with.
One of the things someone said in response to this question—which I think about almost every day—was, “Isn’t that what churches do? Don’t they always build a place, or start a ministry, that will last far beyond their founders?” It’s what the earliest Christians did, in the face of persecution and enmity: they built the foundation of a church they might never see flourish; they sowed seeds of love that would bloom long after they were gone. The bishop of my last diocese used to remind us, “We are building something we cannot see or know.”
Whether it's building a major new ministry like St. John’s Commons, or making significant choices in our personal and family lives, we are constantly stepping forward more in faith than certainty, believing that the fruits of our decisions will always outlast us. Let us hold each other in love as we walk forward into spaces and places we don’t fully understand, yet we know we are called to go. Isn’t that what churches do?
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Over the past several weeks, we’ve been conducting Listening Circles about St. John’s Commons. On Zoom calls and within in-person gatherings, we’ve been sharing with each other our hopes, dreams, and concerns about our proposed ultra-low-income housing project. Among the questions we’ve asked is this one: “what do you think about starting a project that will live on far past the current membership of this church?” There are, after all, practical questions of management and governance that future vestries and lay leaders will have to contend with.
One of the things someone said in response to this question—which I think about almost every day—was, “Isn’t that what churches do? Don’t they always build a place, or start a ministry, that will last far beyond their founders?” It’s what the earliest Christians did, in the face of persecution and enmity: they built the foundation of a church they might never see flourish; they sowed seeds of love that would bloom long after they were gone. The bishop of my last diocese used to remind us, “We are building something we cannot see or know.”
Whether it's building a major new ministry like St. John’s Commons, or making significant choices in our personal and family lives, we are constantly stepping forward more in faith than certainty, believing that the fruits of our decisions will always outlast us. Let us hold each other in love as we walk forward into spaces and places we don’t fully understand, yet we know we are called to go. Isn’t that what churches do?
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Thinning - June 28 - July 4
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
I and a team of our lay leaders have been at the College for Congregational Development (CCD) this week. The days are packed, with Morning Prayer, Evening Prayer, and classes taking up every available minute in between. It’s perhaps ironic, then, that in his Sunset Seminar last night, Bishop Phil LaBelle of the Diocese of Olympia chose to talk to us about “thinning,” the gardening concept of removing excess plants or seeds, leaving plenty of space for the healthiest plants to grow. He gave us two questions to reflect on: what takes up the most time in your calendar? And what are the things you give up first?
For almost all of us attending CCD, work, being productive in countless ways, and church responsibilities take up most of our time. We all agreed that staying busy—even for those of us who are retired—can swallow up most of our days if we let it. Most of us agreed that what we give up first are actually the things most important for our spiritual well-being: creative endeavors, time spent with the ones we love the most, and enjoying God’s creation.
Bishop Phil left us with one more question: what are the things we can “thin” in our own lives in order to allow what’s most healthy to flourish? I wonder whether these long Summer and Fall months of Ordinary Time aren’t the perfect opportunity for our own thinning. What can we subtract in order for the healthiest things in our lives to grow? I also wonder whether it’s a time for us to practice what another CCD participant called “the ministry of saying no,” which not only thins our own gardens, but also allows others to come help us with the things we think we have to carry alone.
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
I and a team of our lay leaders have been at the College for Congregational Development (CCD) this week. The days are packed, with Morning Prayer, Evening Prayer, and classes taking up every available minute in between. It’s perhaps ironic, then, that in his Sunset Seminar last night, Bishop Phil LaBelle of the Diocese of Olympia chose to talk to us about “thinning,” the gardening concept of removing excess plants or seeds, leaving plenty of space for the healthiest plants to grow. He gave us two questions to reflect on: what takes up the most time in your calendar? And what are the things you give up first?
For almost all of us attending CCD, work, being productive in countless ways, and church responsibilities take up most of our time. We all agreed that staying busy—even for those of us who are retired—can swallow up most of our days if we let it. Most of us agreed that what we give up first are actually the things most important for our spiritual well-being: creative endeavors, time spent with the ones we love the most, and enjoying God’s creation.
Bishop Phil left us with one more question: what are the things we can “thin” in our own lives in order to allow what’s most healthy to flourish? I wonder whether these long Summer and Fall months of Ordinary Time aren’t the perfect opportunity for our own thinning. What can we subtract in order for the healthiest things in our lives to grow? I also wonder whether it’s a time for us to practice what another CCD participant called “the ministry of saying no,” which not only thins our own gardens, but also allows others to come help us with the things we think we have to carry alone.
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Our Fathers, here on earth - June 21-27
I’ve been thinking about the father figures in my life a lot lately, including my father and grandfather on my mother’s side, whom I talked about in my sermon last Sunday. They were complicated men, each imperfect reflections of being created in the image of God, as we all are. They are no longer physically here, on earth, but there are times when they might as well be. Sometimes, I sense their presence almost externally, when I’m about to make an important decision, and it’s as if they’re looking on, cheering for me to do the right thing. Other times, I have a thought or make a physical gesture that makes me think, “wow, I inherited that directly from him.”
We—especially as Episcopalians—have a complicated relationship with the idea of God the Father. For some of us, the idea that there is a “good Father” in the person of God is comforting. For some of us, the words “who art in Heaven” makes God feel impossibly distant. For some of us, calling God “Father” evokes an uncomfortable version of patriarchy, especially if our own fathers were cruel or abusive. And yet, every week, we pray the Lord’s Prayer, which starts with an assertion that we believe in a Father who’s name should be hallowed.
One of the reasons I love our tradition is that we can hold competing—even opposite—ideas in tension, including the notion that Jesus can be both fully human and fully divine. Along those lines, I like to think of my earthly father figures as both flawed and loving, both “gone” and very much with me. Similarly, I believe that God “art in heaven,” but God is also on earth, moving among us and through us, opening our hearts to the fatherly love we can show to each other, including to those whose earthly fathers were especially imperfect. This Father’s Day, when we say the Lord’s Prayer, let us remember that God—and our own fathers, if they are no longer physically here—are in heaven, but on earth also, whether that’s in our memories and gestures, or in the acts of love and generosity that the Divine Father calls us to.
In God the Father,
Jay+
I’ve been thinking about the father figures in my life a lot lately, including my father and grandfather on my mother’s side, whom I talked about in my sermon last Sunday. They were complicated men, each imperfect reflections of being created in the image of God, as we all are. They are no longer physically here, on earth, but there are times when they might as well be. Sometimes, I sense their presence almost externally, when I’m about to make an important decision, and it’s as if they’re looking on, cheering for me to do the right thing. Other times, I have a thought or make a physical gesture that makes me think, “wow, I inherited that directly from him.”
We—especially as Episcopalians—have a complicated relationship with the idea of God the Father. For some of us, the idea that there is a “good Father” in the person of God is comforting. For some of us, the words “who art in Heaven” makes God feel impossibly distant. For some of us, calling God “Father” evokes an uncomfortable version of patriarchy, especially if our own fathers were cruel or abusive. And yet, every week, we pray the Lord’s Prayer, which starts with an assertion that we believe in a Father who’s name should be hallowed.
One of the reasons I love our tradition is that we can hold competing—even opposite—ideas in tension, including the notion that Jesus can be both fully human and fully divine. Along those lines, I like to think of my earthly father figures as both flawed and loving, both “gone” and very much with me. Similarly, I believe that God “art in heaven,” but God is also on earth, moving among us and through us, opening our hearts to the fatherly love we can show to each other, including to those whose earthly fathers were especially imperfect. This Father’s Day, when we say the Lord’s Prayer, let us remember that God—and our own fathers, if they are no longer physically here—are in heaven, but on earth also, whether that’s in our memories and gestures, or in the acts of love and generosity that the Divine Father calls us to.
In God the Father,
Jay+
Congregational Vitality and Values - June 7-14 2026
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
In just a couple of weeks, Bishop Lucinda is sending a small team from our church to the College for Congregational Development (CCD) in the Diocese of Olympia. One of my colleagues, the Rev. Phil Brochard from All Souls Berkeley, was one of the founders of the CCD, and promises this will be an important moment for our common life, as we start to live more fully into our mission as a church.
When we return, we hope to share our learnings and start a new phase of congregational vitality—not just growth, but increased depth, especially around worship, formation, and outreach. Soon, we will also introduce a set of Community Values that help ensure our church is a place where everyone is not only welcomed, but feels loved, safe, and respected. Look for more on those from Senior Warden Elaine Chapman during the summer.
I suggested a couple of weeks ago that we’re hopefully entering a “not-so-ordinary” time, and that the Holy Spirit will be with us as we are led into what comes next. Let us pray without ceasing while we move into a new breadth of vision, depth of mission, and greater care for one another.
In Christ,
Jay+
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
In just a couple of weeks, Bishop Lucinda is sending a small team from our church to the College for Congregational Development (CCD) in the Diocese of Olympia. One of my colleagues, the Rev. Phil Brochard from All Souls Berkeley, was one of the founders of the CCD, and promises this will be an important moment for our common life, as we start to live more fully into our mission as a church.
When we return, we hope to share our learnings and start a new phase of congregational vitality—not just growth, but increased depth, especially around worship, formation, and outreach. Soon, we will also introduce a set of Community Values that help ensure our church is a place where everyone is not only welcomed, but feels loved, safe, and respected. Look for more on those from Senior Warden Elaine Chapman during the summer.
I suggested a couple of weeks ago that we’re hopefully entering a “not-so-ordinary” time, and that the Holy Spirit will be with us as we are led into what comes next. Let us pray without ceasing while we move into a new breadth of vision, depth of mission, and greater care for one another.
In Christ,
Jay+
Church Tomorrow?, May 31 - June 6, 2026
Dear Friends and Family of St. John the Baptist,
In my Pentecost sermon last week, I referred to the latest book by The Rev. Stephanie Spellers, Church Tomorrow? In it, she presents conversations with several dozen Millennials and Gen Zers who either grew up with no faith or left the religion of their upbringing. What they describe is a longing for spiritual connection that sometimes happens within, but often without, church walls. Near the end, Spellers offers a few visions for the future of “tomorrow’s church,” ending with this one:
“Our churches can acknowledge all that we know and then discern a faithful way forward in partnership with emerging generations who harbor a deep instinct for spirituality, desperately yearn for community, and may welcome churches to walk alongside them as we figure out how to advance the loving dream of God.”
Beloveds, we’re seeing more and more of these emerging generations both visit and stay at St. John the Baptist. In coming days, I look forward to us partnering with them to make a place where the church of tomorrow advances the loving dream of God.
In Christ,
Jay+
Dear Friends and Family of St. John the Baptist,
In my Pentecost sermon last week, I referred to the latest book by The Rev. Stephanie Spellers, Church Tomorrow? In it, she presents conversations with several dozen Millennials and Gen Zers who either grew up with no faith or left the religion of their upbringing. What they describe is a longing for spiritual connection that sometimes happens within, but often without, church walls. Near the end, Spellers offers a few visions for the future of “tomorrow’s church,” ending with this one:
“Our churches can acknowledge all that we know and then discern a faithful way forward in partnership with emerging generations who harbor a deep instinct for spirituality, desperately yearn for community, and may welcome churches to walk alongside them as we figure out how to advance the loving dream of God.”
Beloveds, we’re seeing more and more of these emerging generations both visit and stay at St. John the Baptist. In coming days, I look forward to us partnering with them to make a place where the church of tomorrow advances the loving dream of God.
In Christ,
Jay+
Not-so-ordinary time?, May 24-30 2026
Dear Friends and Family of St. John the Baptist,
Tomorrow is the Day of Pentecost, the last day of the Easter Season and our doorway into “ordinary time.” As many of you know, I grew up Pentecostal, and I’m sure some of my experience will find its way into this Sunday's sermon. Honestly, there’s much of that upbringing that I look upon warmly—ecstatic worship experiences, late-night revivals, and an often-direct experience of the Holy Spirit. And . . . because we worshipped that way all the time, the Day of Pentecost wasn’t really celebrated separately. We didn’t think of “ordinary time” because life in the Holy Spirit was always extraordinary.
I wonder if we might look ahead to the next six months or so less as “ordinary time” than a time where we, like the disciples in the Upper Room, carry out our experience of the Holy Spirit out into the world faithfully, even sometimes ecstatically, no matter where we are or what month we’re in. Where might we find the extraordinary in all things, including each other?
Please join us—wearing red if possible—tomorrow!
Jay+
Dear Friends and Family of St. John the Baptist,
Tomorrow is the Day of Pentecost, the last day of the Easter Season and our doorway into “ordinary time.” As many of you know, I grew up Pentecostal, and I’m sure some of my experience will find its way into this Sunday's sermon. Honestly, there’s much of that upbringing that I look upon warmly—ecstatic worship experiences, late-night revivals, and an often-direct experience of the Holy Spirit. And . . . because we worshipped that way all the time, the Day of Pentecost wasn’t really celebrated separately. We didn’t think of “ordinary time” because life in the Holy Spirit was always extraordinary.
I wonder if we might look ahead to the next six months or so less as “ordinary time” than a time where we, like the disciples in the Upper Room, carry out our experience of the Holy Spirit out into the world faithfully, even sometimes ecstatically, no matter where we are or what month we’re in. Where might we find the extraordinary in all things, including each other?
Please join us—wearing red if possible—tomorrow!
Jay+
He (or She) Who Has Ears..., May 17-23 2026
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
In coming weeks, we’ll initiate a series of Listening Circles around St. John’s Commons, our proposed affordable housing project. The Diocese has asked us to engage in a season of congregational discernment, especially listening carefully to hopes, concerns, questions, and long-term stewardship considerations.
These won’t be “presentations” so much as conversations. My hope is that they create space for honest reflection, thoughtful questions, and deeper shared understanding about both the promise and responsibilities of this project.
Senior Warden Elaine Chapman, Junior Warden Tom Butler, and I will be organizing and facilitating the sessions, with opportunities for participation across the congregation, including younger parishioners whose leadership will shape the future of this ministry for many years to come.
More details soon. I hope many of you will take part!
Blessings, Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
In coming weeks, we’ll initiate a series of Listening Circles around St. John’s Commons, our proposed affordable housing project. The Diocese has asked us to engage in a season of congregational discernment, especially listening carefully to hopes, concerns, questions, and long-term stewardship considerations.
These won’t be “presentations” so much as conversations. My hope is that they create space for honest reflection, thoughtful questions, and deeper shared understanding about both the promise and responsibilities of this project.
Senior Warden Elaine Chapman, Junior Warden Tom Butler, and I will be organizing and facilitating the sessions, with opportunities for participation across the congregation, including younger parishioners whose leadership will shape the future of this ministry for many years to come.
More details soon. I hope many of you will take part!
Blessings, Jay+
The Spirit of Truth, May 10-16 2026
If you’ve spent any time using ChatGPT or other GenAI tools, you know that they often offer falsehoods very confidently, as if they were the truth. Sometimes, the stakes are low—I asked ChatGPT for several restaurant recommendations on our recent vacation, and almost every time it gave glowing reviews of at least one restaurant that had long been closed. I’ve found these technologies to be helpful in varying degrees, but at least for now, I can’t really rely on them to tell “the truth.”
In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus tells us that he will send us “the Spirit of truth,” that is, the Holy Spirit. I think many of us, myself included, think of the Holy Spirit as the comforter, or the one who provides the “gifts of the Spirit,” but I’m finding it hopeful to know that the Holy Spirit can help us discern the truth, especially when the stakes are much higher than restaurant recommendations. Knowing how to react to the circumstances in the world, our lives, and even the life of our church means seeing the truth clearly. It’s sometimes hard, perhaps too hard, to do it without help.
Jesus never meant us to discern the truth on our own. It’s one of the reasons he promised us the Spirit of truth, “whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him.” In these times, when falsehoods are offered far too confidently, by machine and man, let us turn to the Spirit over and over again, in our corporate worship, private prayer, and common life to know the truth.
In Christ, Jay+
If you’ve spent any time using ChatGPT or other GenAI tools, you know that they often offer falsehoods very confidently, as if they were the truth. Sometimes, the stakes are low—I asked ChatGPT for several restaurant recommendations on our recent vacation, and almost every time it gave glowing reviews of at least one restaurant that had long been closed. I’ve found these technologies to be helpful in varying degrees, but at least for now, I can’t really rely on them to tell “the truth.”
In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus tells us that he will send us “the Spirit of truth,” that is, the Holy Spirit. I think many of us, myself included, think of the Holy Spirit as the comforter, or the one who provides the “gifts of the Spirit,” but I’m finding it hopeful to know that the Holy Spirit can help us discern the truth, especially when the stakes are much higher than restaurant recommendations. Knowing how to react to the circumstances in the world, our lives, and even the life of our church means seeing the truth clearly. It’s sometimes hard, perhaps too hard, to do it without help.
Jesus never meant us to discern the truth on our own. It’s one of the reasons he promised us the Spirit of truth, “whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him.” In these times, when falsehoods are offered far too confidently, by machine and man, let us turn to the Spirit over and over again, in our corporate worship, private prayer, and common life to know the truth.
In Christ, Jay+
A Holy Surprise, May 3-9 2026
Many times, when one takes a long trip, there comes a moment in the last few days where one wonders whether it’s been too long. Even when it’s been more or less spectacular, the comforts of home—with a familiar bed, language, and food—can be tempting. When Robin and I were in Italy last week, that thought presented itself around day 10. We had a brief moment where we thought about coming home a few days early, but we rejected the notion pretty quickly. There were several things we still wanted to do, including attending church at St. Paul’s in the Walls in Rome, the second oldest Episcopal church in Europe.
It’s always a pleasure to participate in worship from the pews, but this service was extra-special, with gorgeous choral music under a beautifully mosaiced dome. It wasn’t until announcements that we learned the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Sarah Mullally, would be there that night for Evensong, her first visit to an Episcopal Church since being installed. You can read about that service including a link to her sermon here. It was an amazing moment to be a part of, one we would have missed if we had come home early.
There was much to reflect on from the Archbishop’s sermon, but what has really stuck with me is the possibility of what can happen when we stay with something that seems, at first glance, to be going on a little too long. Our swipe-and-click culture encourages us to move along to the next thing, but as Easter people living in a Good Friday world, we are sometimes called to stay put, wait, and see what new thing God has in store for us. Even when the familiar calls to us, we can reject the notion of the comfortable in favor of holy surprises. As we journey through this Easter season, may we stay open to the new, which might be just around the corner.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Many times, when one takes a long trip, there comes a moment in the last few days where one wonders whether it’s been too long. Even when it’s been more or less spectacular, the comforts of home—with a familiar bed, language, and food—can be tempting. When Robin and I were in Italy last week, that thought presented itself around day 10. We had a brief moment where we thought about coming home a few days early, but we rejected the notion pretty quickly. There were several things we still wanted to do, including attending church at St. Paul’s in the Walls in Rome, the second oldest Episcopal church in Europe.
It’s always a pleasure to participate in worship from the pews, but this service was extra-special, with gorgeous choral music under a beautifully mosaiced dome. It wasn’t until announcements that we learned the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Sarah Mullally, would be there that night for Evensong, her first visit to an Episcopal Church since being installed. You can read about that service including a link to her sermon here. It was an amazing moment to be a part of, one we would have missed if we had come home early.
There was much to reflect on from the Archbishop’s sermon, but what has really stuck with me is the possibility of what can happen when we stay with something that seems, at first glance, to be going on a little too long. Our swipe-and-click culture encourages us to move along to the next thing, but as Easter people living in a Good Friday world, we are sometimes called to stay put, wait, and see what new thing God has in store for us. Even when the familiar calls to us, we can reject the notion of the comfortable in favor of holy surprises. As we journey through this Easter season, may we stay open to the new, which might be just around the corner.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Easter is a Season, April 12-18 2026
This past Holy Week and Easter were among the most moving I’ve been a part of. I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit in all of the services we shared, through moments of fellowship, and underneath the words of Good Friday testimonies. We can be tempted to hold onto moments, even sacred moments, tightly, hoping the memory of them can sustain us. That’s when I like to remind myself that Easter isn’t just a day, but a 50-day season of celebrating the resurrection of Jesus. One of my favorite preachers, Mark Chase of All Saints Pasadena, wrote this yesterday in his Substack:
“Beloved it is still Easter which is good news, because for most of us and for most of this world the distance between Good Friday and a resurrection type miracle is a lot longer than 3 days. Easter is a season. Easter is an inner posture and way of navigating our lives. Easter is a longing for a world where all has been made well that doesn’t end after everyone’s eaten on Easter Sunday.”
I love the line, “an inner posture and way of navigating our lives.” This means we bring the loving reconciliation we experience on Maundy Thursday into our everyday relationships. We bring the vulnerability we share on Good Friday into our one-on-one conversations. And we shout, “Alleluia, Christ is Risen!” to those who need to hear it, especially those whose lives are still awaiting resurrection.
In Christ, Jay+
This past Holy Week and Easter were among the most moving I’ve been a part of. I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit in all of the services we shared, through moments of fellowship, and underneath the words of Good Friday testimonies. We can be tempted to hold onto moments, even sacred moments, tightly, hoping the memory of them can sustain us. That’s when I like to remind myself that Easter isn’t just a day, but a 50-day season of celebrating the resurrection of Jesus. One of my favorite preachers, Mark Chase of All Saints Pasadena, wrote this yesterday in his Substack:
“Beloved it is still Easter which is good news, because for most of us and for most of this world the distance between Good Friday and a resurrection type miracle is a lot longer than 3 days. Easter is a season. Easter is an inner posture and way of navigating our lives. Easter is a longing for a world where all has been made well that doesn’t end after everyone’s eaten on Easter Sunday.”
I love the line, “an inner posture and way of navigating our lives.” This means we bring the loving reconciliation we experience on Maundy Thursday into our everyday relationships. We bring the vulnerability we share on Good Friday into our one-on-one conversations. And we shout, “Alleluia, Christ is Risen!” to those who need to hear it, especially those whose lives are still awaiting resurrection.
In Christ, Jay+
Light in the Shadows, April 5-11 2026
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
I’ve heard more from people, privately and otherwise, about this past Sunday’s Tenebrae service than any other in my short time here. It was a beautiful and moving “service of shadows,” full of light and darkness, gorgeous music and sorrowful readings, and plenty of silence to sit in prayerful lament with God. For me, one of the great lights in the darkness was seeing nearly 100 people coming together to sit and reflect together, in community. Taking the time to recognize—not solve—the darkness of our lives, and these times, showed that we are hungry for new ways of worship and contemplation.
Another great light was the fact that at least three other churches were represented in our worship space. I believe this ecumenical gathering represents the future of the Church: more blended gatherings where different traditions mingle, inspire, and learn from each other. Andy and I are already talking about how we can facilitate and program similar experiences, both at our church and neighboring places of worship.
By the time you’re reading this, much of Holy Week will have passed. I hope you can join us for at least one of our Easter services tomorrow, where the light of the resurrected Christ shines in the midst of any darkness.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
I’ve heard more from people, privately and otherwise, about this past Sunday’s Tenebrae service than any other in my short time here. It was a beautiful and moving “service of shadows,” full of light and darkness, gorgeous music and sorrowful readings, and plenty of silence to sit in prayerful lament with God. For me, one of the great lights in the darkness was seeing nearly 100 people coming together to sit and reflect together, in community. Taking the time to recognize—not solve—the darkness of our lives, and these times, showed that we are hungry for new ways of worship and contemplation.
Another great light was the fact that at least three other churches were represented in our worship space. I believe this ecumenical gathering represents the future of the Church: more blended gatherings where different traditions mingle, inspire, and learn from each other. Andy and I are already talking about how we can facilitate and program similar experiences, both at our church and neighboring places of worship.
By the time you’re reading this, much of Holy Week will have passed. I hope you can join us for at least one of our Easter services tomorrow, where the light of the resurrected Christ shines in the midst of any darkness.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Lots of scams lately, March 29- April 4 2026
Please be on the lookout for email and text scams that sometimes circulate in the name of clergy, which seem to be proliferating right now. I will never ask you by email or text to buy gift cards, send money, or share sensitive financial information. If you receive a message that seems urgent, unusual, or out of character, please do not reply or click any links. Also, please check the return address of the email. It will generally not be my email.
Second, please do not respond to anyone asking for our parish email list or directory. This has happened three times in the last two days; this is how scammers get your email address in the first place.
With love, Jay+
Please be on the lookout for email and text scams that sometimes circulate in the name of clergy, which seem to be proliferating right now. I will never ask you by email or text to buy gift cards, send money, or share sensitive financial information. If you receive a message that seems urgent, unusual, or out of character, please do not reply or click any links. Also, please check the return address of the email. It will generally not be my email.
Second, please do not respond to anyone asking for our parish email list or directory. This has happened three times in the last two days; this is how scammers get your email address in the first place.
With love, Jay+
St. John's Commons, March 22-28 2026
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
Many of you were able to join us last month for our conversation about our affordable housing community that the parish collectively discerned to build. In recent weeks, as the design evolved into a set of tiny homes (rather than a single building), we decided that “St. John’s House” wasn’t really representative. Going forward, we’re working with the name “St. John’s Commons” for the project, a name that we believe points to our aspiration for a place of intentional community. Here’s an excerpt from a ministerial description I wrote for our diocese’s Standing Committee, one of our key approvers for the project:
“St. John’s Commons will consist of eight small homes (six studios and two one-bedroom units), arranged around a shared courtyard on church property. Intentionally designed as a small residential community, it will bring together people emerging from homelessness in a setting of mutual support. The parish understands this work not only as providing shelter, but as cultivating community. We hope to share meals with residents, offer practical support and life-skills formation, and create opportunities for friendship and mutual care. In this way, the Commons reflects a conviction deeply rooted in the Gospel: that the works of God are revealed when we draw near to one another, when the lines that separate us are erased, and when we learn to see in our neighbors the dignity and new life God is already bringing forth.”
We’re currently in the stage of preparing lease paperwork for Diocesan review, finalizing design work, and seeking about 600K in additional funds through various fundraising efforts. Please let me or Vestry members know if you feel the Holy Spirit leading you to contribute, either monetarily or with the Gospel work of building community with our future neighbors.
In Christ, Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
Many of you were able to join us last month for our conversation about our affordable housing community that the parish collectively discerned to build. In recent weeks, as the design evolved into a set of tiny homes (rather than a single building), we decided that “St. John’s House” wasn’t really representative. Going forward, we’re working with the name “St. John’s Commons” for the project, a name that we believe points to our aspiration for a place of intentional community. Here’s an excerpt from a ministerial description I wrote for our diocese’s Standing Committee, one of our key approvers for the project:
“St. John’s Commons will consist of eight small homes (six studios and two one-bedroom units), arranged around a shared courtyard on church property. Intentionally designed as a small residential community, it will bring together people emerging from homelessness in a setting of mutual support. The parish understands this work not only as providing shelter, but as cultivating community. We hope to share meals with residents, offer practical support and life-skills formation, and create opportunities for friendship and mutual care. In this way, the Commons reflects a conviction deeply rooted in the Gospel: that the works of God are revealed when we draw near to one another, when the lines that separate us are erased, and when we learn to see in our neighbors the dignity and new life God is already bringing forth.”
We’re currently in the stage of preparing lease paperwork for Diocesan review, finalizing design work, and seeking about 600K in additional funds through various fundraising efforts. Please let me or Vestry members know if you feel the Holy Spirit leading you to contribute, either monetarily or with the Gospel work of building community with our future neighbors.
In Christ, Jay+
Celebrate Good Times, Come On!, March 15-21 2026
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
One of the odd things I noticed while studying this week’s Gospel reading, about the man with blindness, is that none of his neighbors celebrate when Jesus heals him. Instead, they start arguing about whether he is who he says he is, and then about various theological matters, like the nature of sin, and competing religious identities. We’ll explore some of this in our sermon this week, but the fact the man’s neighbors can’t bring themselves to simply experience joy for him is a sad undertone to the story. Sometimes we’re not great at celebrating healing when it arrives among us.
Even though we’re still in Lent, as resurrection people we are called to experience all of life’s rich pageant, including moments of celebration. This Sunday afternoon, we’ll have a chance to celebrate at my formal installation, held at 4pm, with good food and live music to follow. On the one hand, it’s a celebration of my coming to walk alongside you, but on another level, it’s about the start of our mutual, healing ministry together, in community. Please join us as we sing, pray, laugh, and come to the table on this special day.
Let’s celebrate—it’s all right! Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
One of the odd things I noticed while studying this week’s Gospel reading, about the man with blindness, is that none of his neighbors celebrate when Jesus heals him. Instead, they start arguing about whether he is who he says he is, and then about various theological matters, like the nature of sin, and competing religious identities. We’ll explore some of this in our sermon this week, but the fact the man’s neighbors can’t bring themselves to simply experience joy for him is a sad undertone to the story. Sometimes we’re not great at celebrating healing when it arrives among us.
Even though we’re still in Lent, as resurrection people we are called to experience all of life’s rich pageant, including moments of celebration. This Sunday afternoon, we’ll have a chance to celebrate at my formal installation, held at 4pm, with good food and live music to follow. On the one hand, it’s a celebration of my coming to walk alongside you, but on another level, it’s about the start of our mutual, healing ministry together, in community. Please join us as we sing, pray, laugh, and come to the table on this special day.
Let’s celebrate—it’s all right! Jay+
Finding Words for Prayer, March 8-14 2026
Those of us reading our book for communal Lenten study, Practicing the Way by John Mark Comer, have been reading about developing a regular prayer practice. As Comer says, depending on our upbringing, prayer can seem intimidating. If we grew up around people who prayed elaborate, spontaneous prayers, we might get hung up on finding the “right words.” Comer makes a good case for silent, contemplative prayer, which is probably the majority of my own prayer practice. And yet, sometimes we want the words of our mouths to express the meditations of our heart.
As Episcopalians, we have access to a powerful repository of prayer words: the Book of Common Prayer (BCP). We pray many of its prayers on Sunday, but praying its prayers regularly, especially as part of the Daily Office, trains us to absorb words of prayer that can end up being part of our own silent and spoken prayers. I’m often surprised when a phrase of intercession or thanksgiving from the BCP comes to mind that perfectly expresses the unspoken words in my heart.
Another go-to set of prayer words, that I sometimes pray almost like a mantra, is The Jesus Prayer from the Easter Orthodox tradition: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” I recognize this can be challenging for those of us who have struggled with the word “sin”; I have a complicated history with it myself. But if I keep in mind the definition of sin that it means to “miss the mark,” and that by doing so we turn away from our closeness to God, I’m more likely to accept it. What I do know is that it’s one of the most powerful prayers I know, especially good for those nighttime thoughts we talked about last Sunday.
Prayerfully, Jay+
Those of us reading our book for communal Lenten study, Practicing the Way by John Mark Comer, have been reading about developing a regular prayer practice. As Comer says, depending on our upbringing, prayer can seem intimidating. If we grew up around people who prayed elaborate, spontaneous prayers, we might get hung up on finding the “right words.” Comer makes a good case for silent, contemplative prayer, which is probably the majority of my own prayer practice. And yet, sometimes we want the words of our mouths to express the meditations of our heart.
As Episcopalians, we have access to a powerful repository of prayer words: the Book of Common Prayer (BCP). We pray many of its prayers on Sunday, but praying its prayers regularly, especially as part of the Daily Office, trains us to absorb words of prayer that can end up being part of our own silent and spoken prayers. I’m often surprised when a phrase of intercession or thanksgiving from the BCP comes to mind that perfectly expresses the unspoken words in my heart.
Another go-to set of prayer words, that I sometimes pray almost like a mantra, is The Jesus Prayer from the Easter Orthodox tradition: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” I recognize this can be challenging for those of us who have struggled with the word “sin”; I have a complicated history with it myself. But if I keep in mind the definition of sin that it means to “miss the mark,” and that by doing so we turn away from our closeness to God, I’m more likely to accept it. What I do know is that it’s one of the most powerful prayers I know, especially good for those nighttime thoughts we talked about last Sunday.
Prayerfully, Jay+
Abounding in Steadfast Love, March 1-7 2026
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends,
I know we’re already a week into Lent, but I find myself still in an Ash Wednesday frame of mind. I feel very much in the wilderness, with both loss and impending loss all around. Just when I think it’s only me who’s wandering through the wilderness, I talk to someone—either in my role as a pastor, or family member, or friend—and realize that I’m not alone. Nearly everyone I know is having a struggle of some kind or another these days. Adding some kind of Lenten discipline—whether adding or subtracting something—can feel like just another thing to endure.
In this dry place, I have been returning to one of our “alternate” Lectionary readings for Ash Wednesday, from Joel 2. Here are verses 12-13:
12 Yet even now, says the Lord,
return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
13 rend your hearts and not your clothing.
Return to the Lord your God,
for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love,
and relenting from punishment.
These verses follow the description of a “day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness,” which sounds like a way we might describe our wilderness moments. And yet (!) I find so much hope in that “yet” of Joel’s, that reminder that when we return to God, we find grace, mercy, and steadfast love. Not just a little steadfast love, but abounding in it.
Let us remember, as we move through these Lenten days, that God is all of these things, right now—gracious, merciful, and abounding in steadfast love—ready for us to make our return.
Blessings, Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends,
I know we’re already a week into Lent, but I find myself still in an Ash Wednesday frame of mind. I feel very much in the wilderness, with both loss and impending loss all around. Just when I think it’s only me who’s wandering through the wilderness, I talk to someone—either in my role as a pastor, or family member, or friend—and realize that I’m not alone. Nearly everyone I know is having a struggle of some kind or another these days. Adding some kind of Lenten discipline—whether adding or subtracting something—can feel like just another thing to endure.
In this dry place, I have been returning to one of our “alternate” Lectionary readings for Ash Wednesday, from Joel 2. Here are verses 12-13:
12 Yet even now, says the Lord,
return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
13 rend your hearts and not your clothing.
Return to the Lord your God,
for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love,
and relenting from punishment.
These verses follow the description of a “day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness,” which sounds like a way we might describe our wilderness moments. And yet (!) I find so much hope in that “yet” of Joel’s, that reminder that when we return to God, we find grace, mercy, and steadfast love. Not just a little steadfast love, but abounding in it.
Let us remember, as we move through these Lenten days, that God is all of these things, right now—gracious, merciful, and abounding in steadfast love—ready for us to make our return.
Blessings, Jay+
Wednesday, Ashy Wednesday, February 22-28 2026
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
The first U2 song I ever heard was “Sunday, Bloody Sunday.” A youth group leader passed it around on his Walkman to us during a mission trip to Mexico when I was 15 years old, and I couldn’t believe my Jesus-hungry ears—clanging guitars, political protest, and straight-up Gospel: “the real battle just begun/to claim the victory Jesus won.” I was changed forever by that moment over 40 years ago.
Over the years, U2 has been an important part of my spiritual life to varying degrees. Certain albums have come out just when I needed them the most, and I’ve had transcendent moments of Spirit at several concerts. It’s been quite a while since I connected with the band that way, but yesterday, Ash Wednesday (I’m writing this Thursday), it happened. They surprise-released a 6-song EP, “Days of Ash,” that speaks to my more mature—but still Jesus-hungry—ears.
It’s an album full of protest and lament, and my favorite song, no surprise, is “The Tears of Things,” directly inspired by the Richard Rohr book of the same name, which my former parish read for Lent last year. The song is a conversation between Michelangelo's David and his creator, in which David refuses the idea that he has to become like Goliath in order to defeat him: “I’m David not Goliath, I was born in Bethlehem/And there is no us if there is no them.”
I know many of us have read Rohr’s book; I suspect many of us once-young and now-older U2 listeners will find sustenance, succor, and inspiration in this song, and this album, released on Wednesday, Ashy Wednesday. Check it out., Jay+
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
The first U2 song I ever heard was “Sunday, Bloody Sunday.” A youth group leader passed it around on his Walkman to us during a mission trip to Mexico when I was 15 years old, and I couldn’t believe my Jesus-hungry ears—clanging guitars, political protest, and straight-up Gospel: “the real battle just begun/to claim the victory Jesus won.” I was changed forever by that moment over 40 years ago.
Over the years, U2 has been an important part of my spiritual life to varying degrees. Certain albums have come out just when I needed them the most, and I’ve had transcendent moments of Spirit at several concerts. It’s been quite a while since I connected with the band that way, but yesterday, Ash Wednesday (I’m writing this Thursday), it happened. They surprise-released a 6-song EP, “Days of Ash,” that speaks to my more mature—but still Jesus-hungry—ears.
It’s an album full of protest and lament, and my favorite song, no surprise, is “The Tears of Things,” directly inspired by the Richard Rohr book of the same name, which my former parish read for Lent last year. The song is a conversation between Michelangelo's David and his creator, in which David refuses the idea that he has to become like Goliath in order to defeat him: “I’m David not Goliath, I was born in Bethlehem/And there is no us if there is no them.”
I know many of us have read Rohr’s book; I suspect many of us once-young and now-older U2 listeners will find sustenance, succor, and inspiration in this song, and this album, released on Wednesday, Ashy Wednesday. Check it out., Jay+
Entering Lent Together, February 15-21 2026
Dear St. John Family and Friends--
It seems almost impossible that Lent is almost upon us. Even though I know that it comes early this year, it feels like we’ve just come down from Advent and Christmastide. Moving from the joyful celebration of our Christmas services (including a runaway baby Jesus at the Christmas pageant!) to the penitential season of Lent is a big shift.
As a relative latecomer to Lent, I have found it a beautiful tradition. Giving up—or taking on—things for spiritual renewal can be deeply meaningful. And . . . its focus on self-examination can feel lonely. Especially this year, as our Lectionary (as I read it) keeps pointing us to being in closer community, I wonder: what if Lent were less of an individual discipline and more of an opportunity for communal healing?
We experience this some in Sunday worship, yes, but also—and maybe more profoundly—in our smaller gatherings, like our Lenten book groups (see below), Bible studies, and even fun gatherings with no specifically “spiritual” agenda. In the coming year, we’ll see more opportunities for this kind of healing in community, including times and places for our young families to gather.
This year, I invite us to give up or take on things for Lent together. Thank you all for everything you do for this community, but even more for all you are.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Dear St. John Family and Friends--
It seems almost impossible that Lent is almost upon us. Even though I know that it comes early this year, it feels like we’ve just come down from Advent and Christmastide. Moving from the joyful celebration of our Christmas services (including a runaway baby Jesus at the Christmas pageant!) to the penitential season of Lent is a big shift.
As a relative latecomer to Lent, I have found it a beautiful tradition. Giving up—or taking on—things for spiritual renewal can be deeply meaningful. And . . . its focus on self-examination can feel lonely. Especially this year, as our Lectionary (as I read it) keeps pointing us to being in closer community, I wonder: what if Lent were less of an individual discipline and more of an opportunity for communal healing?
We experience this some in Sunday worship, yes, but also—and maybe more profoundly—in our smaller gatherings, like our Lenten book groups (see below), Bible studies, and even fun gatherings with no specifically “spiritual” agenda. In the coming year, we’ll see more opportunities for this kind of healing in community, including times and places for our young families to gather.
This year, I invite us to give up or take on things for Lent together. Thank you all for everything you do for this community, but even more for all you are.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Cherishing Together, January 11-17 2026
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
This past week, we met again via Zoom to discuss Greg Boyle’s Cherished Belonging. Many of us talked about the invitation to love each other across difference, with the radical idea that all of us are inherently good and worthy of love. We also talked about the deep desire many of us have to make St. John the Baptist a place of cherished belonging, a place where healing in community can flourish. We talked about the many shared moments of grace we’ve experienced in our worship services and small groups, and talked about ways we might foster the practice of unconditional love towards each other.
Soon, you’ll be receiving an invitation to join Lenten book discussion groups where we can share even more cherished belonging with each other. A few years ago, The Episcopal Bishop of Minnesota, Greg Loya, visited a clergy conference I was attending and introduced us to Practicing the Way: Be with Jesus, Become Like Him, Do as He Did, by John Mark Comer. It’s a contemporary, easy-to-read, and provocative guide to discipleship. Robin and I read it together last year, and it really shaped our own ideas of discipleship individually and as a couple. The Formation committee is working on locations and leaders for groups now and hope to send out invitations sometime next week.
I want to leave you with two quotes I shared with our book read participants earlier this week. They have both been important to me as we pursue cherished belonging together:
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
This past week, we met again via Zoom to discuss Greg Boyle’s Cherished Belonging. Many of us talked about the invitation to love each other across difference, with the radical idea that all of us are inherently good and worthy of love. We also talked about the deep desire many of us have to make St. John the Baptist a place of cherished belonging, a place where healing in community can flourish. We talked about the many shared moments of grace we’ve experienced in our worship services and small groups, and talked about ways we might foster the practice of unconditional love towards each other.
Soon, you’ll be receiving an invitation to join Lenten book discussion groups where we can share even more cherished belonging with each other. A few years ago, The Episcopal Bishop of Minnesota, Greg Loya, visited a clergy conference I was attending and introduced us to Practicing the Way: Be with Jesus, Become Like Him, Do as He Did, by John Mark Comer. It’s a contemporary, easy-to-read, and provocative guide to discipleship. Robin and I read it together last year, and it really shaped our own ideas of discipleship individually and as a couple. The Formation committee is working on locations and leaders for groups now and hope to send out invitations sometime next week.
I want to leave you with two quotes I shared with our book read participants earlier this week. They have both been important to me as we pursue cherished belonging together:
- "The Gospel takes away forever our right to discriminate between the deserving and the undeserving." (Dorothy Day)
- "Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy." (Thomas Merton)
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Now it begins . . ., December 21-27, 2025
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
Knowing that attendance on Christmas Day is probably going to be light, and, also knowing that you’ll be reading this just a couple of days after Christmas, I thought I would share with you one of my favorite poems that I plan to share on Christmas Day. It’s by one of my favorite 20th Century mystics, the Black theologian Howard Thurman. I’ve returned to Thurman’s Jesus and the Disinherited countless times over the last ten years or so, and I recommend it to anyone looking to deepen their contemplative understanding of Jesus. As we walk towards a new year together—a year in which the Sermon on the Mount will provide a blueprint for our common life together—Thurman’s poem, written in 1948, feels more relevant than ever:
The Work of Christmas
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among others,
To make music in the heart.
Blessings, Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
Knowing that attendance on Christmas Day is probably going to be light, and, also knowing that you’ll be reading this just a couple of days after Christmas, I thought I would share with you one of my favorite poems that I plan to share on Christmas Day. It’s by one of my favorite 20th Century mystics, the Black theologian Howard Thurman. I’ve returned to Thurman’s Jesus and the Disinherited countless times over the last ten years or so, and I recommend it to anyone looking to deepen their contemplative understanding of Jesus. As we walk towards a new year together—a year in which the Sermon on the Mount will provide a blueprint for our common life together—Thurman’s poem, written in 1948, feels more relevant than ever:
The Work of Christmas
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among others,
To make music in the heart.
Blessings, Jay+
Fear Not, Invite Joy, December 14-20, 2025
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
This past Wednesday night, almost twenty of us gathered for our Blue Christmas service, where those of us feeling grief, sadness, or other Wintry emotions during this season gathered to sing, listen to scripture and poetry, and open our hearts to each other. Like the disciples in Luke, we prayed, “Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.” For me, the death of Robin’s and my dog several months ago was a grief I could offer to God in reverence. In the still, candlelit sanctuary, the Holy Spirit hovered over the assembly.
Many of us also shared about our great love for this church family: the community, consolation, and joy we have found at St. John the Baptist. As we turn towards the coming of Christmas, we are invited to experience the transforming salvation that has come to the world through the incarnation of Christ. We are also invited, along with the shepherds, to “fear not,” for we are being brought good tidings of great joy.
Beloveds, this week, as we welcome whatever emotions we might have during this season, let us, with God’s help, fear not and invite great joy to abide with us. And let us share that joy, which has truly come with the Lord, with everyone we meet.
May God bless you and keep you,
Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
This past Wednesday night, almost twenty of us gathered for our Blue Christmas service, where those of us feeling grief, sadness, or other Wintry emotions during this season gathered to sing, listen to scripture and poetry, and open our hearts to each other. Like the disciples in Luke, we prayed, “Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.” For me, the death of Robin’s and my dog several months ago was a grief I could offer to God in reverence. In the still, candlelit sanctuary, the Holy Spirit hovered over the assembly.
Many of us also shared about our great love for this church family: the community, consolation, and joy we have found at St. John the Baptist. As we turn towards the coming of Christmas, we are invited to experience the transforming salvation that has come to the world through the incarnation of Christ. We are also invited, along with the shepherds, to “fear not,” for we are being brought good tidings of great joy.
Beloveds, this week, as we welcome whatever emotions we might have during this season, let us, with God’s help, fear not and invite great joy to abide with us. And let us share that joy, which has truly come with the Lord, with everyone we meet.
May God bless you and keep you,
Jay+
Expecting the unexpected, December 7-13, 2025
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
Several parishioners have approached me recently to tell me about their experience with taking a "holy pause” during Advent. Most have found it healing and settling; some (including me, at times) have found themselves somewhat anxious. It can be challenging to stop and reflect in these busy weeks of parties, events, and often-conspicuous consumption. More than one person has told me of the experience of setting aside the way “things always have been” in order to make way for something new. They have told me of finding the unexpected: ways in which family connections, and Advent joys, find new expressions when longstanding habits that no longer give life are set aside.
It makes me think of John the Baptist, who, in this coming Sunday’s reading, asks this of Jesus from prison: “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” The Baptizer, and many others, were expecting something different from a Messiah: someone who might overthrow the Roman Empire, start a revolution. And, of course, Jesus did start a revolution, but a wholly unexpected one—a revolution of love, where the poor and marginalized were centered, and the Kingdom of God appeared on the Earth.
As we move into these latter weeks of Advent, let us ask to see the world, and each other, through the eyes of the incarnate Jesus, who always sees the unexpected. James Finley writes: “What if we close our eyes right now and are interiorly awakened so that when we opened our eyes, we would see through our own awakened eyes what Jesus saw in all that he saw. What would we see? We would see God. Because Jesus saw God in all that he saw.”
Blessings, Jay+
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
Several parishioners have approached me recently to tell me about their experience with taking a "holy pause” during Advent. Most have found it healing and settling; some (including me, at times) have found themselves somewhat anxious. It can be challenging to stop and reflect in these busy weeks of parties, events, and often-conspicuous consumption. More than one person has told me of the experience of setting aside the way “things always have been” in order to make way for something new. They have told me of finding the unexpected: ways in which family connections, and Advent joys, find new expressions when longstanding habits that no longer give life are set aside.
It makes me think of John the Baptist, who, in this coming Sunday’s reading, asks this of Jesus from prison: “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” The Baptizer, and many others, were expecting something different from a Messiah: someone who might overthrow the Roman Empire, start a revolution. And, of course, Jesus did start a revolution, but a wholly unexpected one—a revolution of love, where the poor and marginalized were centered, and the Kingdom of God appeared on the Earth.
As we move into these latter weeks of Advent, let us ask to see the world, and each other, through the eyes of the incarnate Jesus, who always sees the unexpected. James Finley writes: “What if we close our eyes right now and are interiorly awakened so that when we opened our eyes, we would see through our own awakened eyes what Jesus saw in all that he saw. What would we see? We would see God. Because Jesus saw God in all that he saw.”
Blessings, Jay+
This Room is Filled with God, November 30- December 5, 2025
Dear St. John the Baptist Friends and Family,
As we enter this Advent season, taking together a “holy pause” for reflection and discernment, it strikes me just how counter-cultural, even revolutionary, it is for us to observe this time in this way. It’s as revolutionary as what Fr. Greg Boyle writes about in the book we’re reading together, Cherished Belonging. Fr. Boyle writes that we are all unshakably good, no exceptions. If you were unable to join us for our discussion this past week, due to technical difficulties or otherwise, you can find a recording at this link, using the passcode j9R!rVEr.
As I was reading the book, I was reminded of a video I saw some time ago of the actor Jim Carrey visiting Homeboy Industries. Many of us know that in recent years, Mr. Carrey has become something of a mystic (hard to believe, I know!), and his reflections on Christ’s life, and how suffering leads to liberation, are wonderful reminders that any room can be filled with God. You can find a link to the video here.
One of our siblings in Christ, on our Zoom call Tuesday, pointed out that forgiveness is the bridge to mercy, almost exactly mirroring what Mr. Carrey says, that forgiveness is the doorway to grace. Let us walk with love together through Advent, toward Christmas, crossing that bridge and opening that door for all of God’s cherished children.
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Friends and Family,
As we enter this Advent season, taking together a “holy pause” for reflection and discernment, it strikes me just how counter-cultural, even revolutionary, it is for us to observe this time in this way. It’s as revolutionary as what Fr. Greg Boyle writes about in the book we’re reading together, Cherished Belonging. Fr. Boyle writes that we are all unshakably good, no exceptions. If you were unable to join us for our discussion this past week, due to technical difficulties or otherwise, you can find a recording at this link, using the passcode j9R!rVEr.
As I was reading the book, I was reminded of a video I saw some time ago of the actor Jim Carrey visiting Homeboy Industries. Many of us know that in recent years, Mr. Carrey has become something of a mystic (hard to believe, I know!), and his reflections on Christ’s life, and how suffering leads to liberation, are wonderful reminders that any room can be filled with God. You can find a link to the video here.
One of our siblings in Christ, on our Zoom call Tuesday, pointed out that forgiveness is the bridge to mercy, almost exactly mirroring what Mr. Carrey says, that forgiveness is the doorway to grace. Let us walk with love together through Advent, toward Christmas, crossing that bridge and opening that door for all of God’s cherished children.
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Ready . . . set . . . stop., November 23-29, 2025
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends,
When you receive this email, you will likely be recovering from at least two days of feasting, family, and hopefully fun, depending on how those Thanksgiving dinner conversations went! If you’re like me, the idea of entering our Holy Pause together might seem more inviting than ever. Turns out, we’re not the only ones. Everywhere I turn, another priest or spiritual teacher is writing about the need for Advent rest. The Rev. Phil Brochard writes, “We’re invited to slow down, to listen, to make space. At a time when these prices won’t last, and things can feel full to bursting, we are invited to find refuge in something that can be not bought nor sold, only offered and received, the presence of God.”
Elsewhere, the literary agent Anna Sproul-Latimer wrote this in her most recent blog: “Sacred silence is certainly what I crave right now as I wrap up a season that’s left me burnt out, tense, drawn. I’m not going to lie, guys: I’m wobbling. I need some time to deepen alone.” Sproul-Latimer is writing to authors here, but I think her words speak to us as well, as we enter a time of Advent reflection.
Beloveds, there’s no amount of holiday busyness, or productivity, that makes us more worthy of the love of God or each other. Spending time alone, or with a close friend, or with a good book can help us re-deepen, re-discover what we are being called to, and re-enter God’s refuge of grace, love, and peace. Speaking of good books, you’re invited to join us in our “pop-up” Advent book read of Greg Boyle’s Cherished Belonging—details below. However you choose to observe our Holy Pause, know that you are surrounded by love.
May the peace of the Lord be always with us,
Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends,
When you receive this email, you will likely be recovering from at least two days of feasting, family, and hopefully fun, depending on how those Thanksgiving dinner conversations went! If you’re like me, the idea of entering our Holy Pause together might seem more inviting than ever. Turns out, we’re not the only ones. Everywhere I turn, another priest or spiritual teacher is writing about the need for Advent rest. The Rev. Phil Brochard writes, “We’re invited to slow down, to listen, to make space. At a time when these prices won’t last, and things can feel full to bursting, we are invited to find refuge in something that can be not bought nor sold, only offered and received, the presence of God.”
Elsewhere, the literary agent Anna Sproul-Latimer wrote this in her most recent blog: “Sacred silence is certainly what I crave right now as I wrap up a season that’s left me burnt out, tense, drawn. I’m not going to lie, guys: I’m wobbling. I need some time to deepen alone.” Sproul-Latimer is writing to authors here, but I think her words speak to us as well, as we enter a time of Advent reflection.
Beloveds, there’s no amount of holiday busyness, or productivity, that makes us more worthy of the love of God or each other. Spending time alone, or with a close friend, or with a good book can help us re-deepen, re-discover what we are being called to, and re-enter God’s refuge of grace, love, and peace. Speaking of good books, you’re invited to join us in our “pop-up” Advent book read of Greg Boyle’s Cherished Belonging—details below. However you choose to observe our Holy Pause, know that you are surrounded by love.
May the peace of the Lord be always with us,
Jay+
Consoled and challenged by movies, November 16-22, 2025
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends,
Yesterday, at the ECW luncheon, Robin and others talked about how much movies have meant to them. I’ve mentioned movies many times in my sermons and writings; I believe they can be more than just entertainment, but also modern revelations and teachers. Also at the luncheon, someone referred to Pope Leo’s remarkable speech given to a group of filmmakers and actors just a few days ago. It’s worth reading in its entirely, but I was struck by this paragraph in particular:
The logic of algorithms tends to repeat what “works,” but art opens up what is possible. Not everything has to be immediate or predictable. Defend slowness when it serves a purpose, silence when it speaks and difference when evocative. Beauty is not just a means of escape; it is, above all, an invocation. When cinema is authentic, it does not merely console but challenges. It articulates the questions that dwell within us and sometimes even provokes tears that we did not know we needed to express.
A couple of thoughts come to mind. First, the idea that “slowness serves a purpose,” which aligns well with the holy pause we are taking together this Advent season: “Not everything has to be immediate or predictable.” I also couldn’t help but think of the beauty of our liturgical tradition, which, like good cinema, is also not a means of escape: it’s an invocation leading us to the mysteries of Christ within us, and within the world, and within all of God’s children.
Robin and I almost always see a movie in the theater the day after Thanksgiving. It’s a special experience, not like watching movies at home. Pope Leo puts it this way: “Entering a cinema is like crossing a threshold. In the darkness and silence, vision becomes sharper, the heart opens up, and the mind becomes receptive to things not yet imagined.” Maybe this next week, you can also find time for the communal experience of being consoled and challenged, giving thanks with open hearts and minds.
In Christ, Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends,
Yesterday, at the ECW luncheon, Robin and others talked about how much movies have meant to them. I’ve mentioned movies many times in my sermons and writings; I believe they can be more than just entertainment, but also modern revelations and teachers. Also at the luncheon, someone referred to Pope Leo’s remarkable speech given to a group of filmmakers and actors just a few days ago. It’s worth reading in its entirely, but I was struck by this paragraph in particular:
The logic of algorithms tends to repeat what “works,” but art opens up what is possible. Not everything has to be immediate or predictable. Defend slowness when it serves a purpose, silence when it speaks and difference when evocative. Beauty is not just a means of escape; it is, above all, an invocation. When cinema is authentic, it does not merely console but challenges. It articulates the questions that dwell within us and sometimes even provokes tears that we did not know we needed to express.
A couple of thoughts come to mind. First, the idea that “slowness serves a purpose,” which aligns well with the holy pause we are taking together this Advent season: “Not everything has to be immediate or predictable.” I also couldn’t help but think of the beauty of our liturgical tradition, which, like good cinema, is also not a means of escape: it’s an invocation leading us to the mysteries of Christ within us, and within the world, and within all of God’s children.
Robin and I almost always see a movie in the theater the day after Thanksgiving. It’s a special experience, not like watching movies at home. Pope Leo puts it this way: “Entering a cinema is like crossing a threshold. In the darkness and silence, vision becomes sharper, the heart opens up, and the mind becomes receptive to things not yet imagined.” Maybe this next week, you can also find time for the communal experience of being consoled and challenged, giving thanks with open hearts and minds.
In Christ, Jay+
A Return to the Common Cup, November 9-15, 2025
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
This week brings an important announcement for our life together. At the direction of Bishop Lucinda, we will soon be returning to our long-standing practice in the Episcopal Church of receiving Eucharistic wine from the Common Cup. I know this will be a change for many of us who grew accustomed to using individual cups during and after Covid, but this practice expresses something central to our faith, the unity we share in the Body of Christ.
This Sunday, Nov. 16th, we will offer pouring into individual cups (including those brought from home) for the last time. Starting Nov. 23rd, when Bishop Lucinda makes her visitation, we will have the choice of either receiving communion from the Common Cup or taking Eucharist in “one kind,” meaning the bread only. This remains a full and valid way of taking the Eucharist. If you choose to take the Eucharist in one kind, simply cross your hands over your chest when the cup comes by.
Making this shift during the Bishop’s visit allows us to celebrate this return together, with practice and care. As we do, please know we are attentive of health and safety. For anyone who remains uncomfortable or whose health advises caution, receiving the bread alone remains a full and valid participation in the Eucharist.
Thank you for joining us in this next step of our common journey in faith.
May the peace of the Lord be always with us, Jay+
Dear St. John the Baptist Family and Friends--
This week brings an important announcement for our life together. At the direction of Bishop Lucinda, we will soon be returning to our long-standing practice in the Episcopal Church of receiving Eucharistic wine from the Common Cup. I know this will be a change for many of us who grew accustomed to using individual cups during and after Covid, but this practice expresses something central to our faith, the unity we share in the Body of Christ.
This Sunday, Nov. 16th, we will offer pouring into individual cups (including those brought from home) for the last time. Starting Nov. 23rd, when Bishop Lucinda makes her visitation, we will have the choice of either receiving communion from the Common Cup or taking Eucharist in “one kind,” meaning the bread only. This remains a full and valid way of taking the Eucharist. If you choose to take the Eucharist in one kind, simply cross your hands over your chest when the cup comes by.
Making this shift during the Bishop’s visit allows us to celebrate this return together, with practice and care. As we do, please know we are attentive of health and safety. For anyone who remains uncomfortable or whose health advises caution, receiving the bread alone remains a full and valid participation in the Eucharist.
Thank you for joining us in this next step of our common journey in faith.
May the peace of the Lord be always with us, Jay+
”. . . until Christ is formed in you.” , November 2-8, 2025
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist--
The title above is taken from Paul’s letter to the Galatians (chapter 4, verse 19), and I’ve been thinking about it a lot this past week. Our Formation Committee met this week (before taking our holy pause through Advent), and in a Diocesan clergy meeting yesterday, much of our time was spent talking about formation. It’s a word we can throw around without thinking deeply about what it means, even though Paul gives us a beautifully succinct way to think about it. Put simply, formation is everything we do that helps us become more like Christ. As I’ve said more than once recently, Jesus didn’t ask us to worship him; he asked us to follow him. To become more like him. To become his disciple.
I wonder, as we’re entering a time of discernment about what comes next, whether this might be a touchstone for our reflections: How are we becoming, individually and as a body, more like Christ? What are the activities and contemplations we pursue until Christ is formed in us? How do we become more loving, joyful, peaceful, patient, kind? Good, faithful, gentle, and self-disciplined? These, of course, are the fruits of the Spirit, also outlined in Galatians.
If we want Jesus to be formed within us, it means we go out into the world and build a Beloved Community where, as Fr. Greg Boyle says, we all “gather at the margins until the margins disappear under our feet.” But it also means that we, like Jesus, spend a lot of time in prayer, silence, and listening for God’s direction—sometimes alone, apart from the crowds. Soon, I’ll announce a “pop-up” book read for those of us who would like something to help us consider our formation during those times when we’re alone, apart from the crowds.
Brothers and sisters, let us follow Jesus, loving each other until Christ is formed in us.
Blessings, Jay+
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist--
The title above is taken from Paul’s letter to the Galatians (chapter 4, verse 19), and I’ve been thinking about it a lot this past week. Our Formation Committee met this week (before taking our holy pause through Advent), and in a Diocesan clergy meeting yesterday, much of our time was spent talking about formation. It’s a word we can throw around without thinking deeply about what it means, even though Paul gives us a beautifully succinct way to think about it. Put simply, formation is everything we do that helps us become more like Christ. As I’ve said more than once recently, Jesus didn’t ask us to worship him; he asked us to follow him. To become more like him. To become his disciple.
I wonder, as we’re entering a time of discernment about what comes next, whether this might be a touchstone for our reflections: How are we becoming, individually and as a body, more like Christ? What are the activities and contemplations we pursue until Christ is formed in us? How do we become more loving, joyful, peaceful, patient, kind? Good, faithful, gentle, and self-disciplined? These, of course, are the fruits of the Spirit, also outlined in Galatians.
If we want Jesus to be formed within us, it means we go out into the world and build a Beloved Community where, as Fr. Greg Boyle says, we all “gather at the margins until the margins disappear under our feet.” But it also means that we, like Jesus, spend a lot of time in prayer, silence, and listening for God’s direction—sometimes alone, apart from the crowds. Soon, I’ll announce a “pop-up” book read for those of us who would like something to help us consider our formation during those times when we’re alone, apart from the crowds.
Brothers and sisters, let us follow Jesus, loving each other until Christ is formed in us.
Blessings, Jay+
A Holy Pause, October 26- November 1, 2025
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist--
As I come to the end my seventh week here, I’m awed by the stories of resilience coming from the last few years of your common life. During a protracted time of having no permanent Rector, you came together and kept so much going. I’ve also heard many stories of weariness; the effort spent in calling me to be your new Rector was a lot. When I have suggested the idea of pausing for a short while, almost everyone has responded with a deep sigh of relief.
I am suggesting that we, as a body, take at least the time of Advent to observe a holy pause, a time of deliberate stillness, reflection, and discernment. This kind of discernment requires chance to breathe. To listen. To ask what’s bearing fruit and what’s just keeping us busy. This pause isn’t about stopping our life together but about slowing down to listen for what the Spirit might be saying next.
During this holy pause, I encourage committees to take a break from starting new projects or seeking out new members. In Advent proper, I’d suggest that we trade the time we might spend in meetings for time in private prayer and discernment, listening for where the Holy Spirit might be leading us next.
These are questions we might consider:
I’m still quite new here, and don’t know how the Spirit will lead us into the next chapter of our common life. But I believe the work of imagining that chapter will begin in prayer. Thank you for walking this path with such grace and faith. Let us hold this time gently.
In Jesus’s name, Jay+
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist--
As I come to the end my seventh week here, I’m awed by the stories of resilience coming from the last few years of your common life. During a protracted time of having no permanent Rector, you came together and kept so much going. I’ve also heard many stories of weariness; the effort spent in calling me to be your new Rector was a lot. When I have suggested the idea of pausing for a short while, almost everyone has responded with a deep sigh of relief.
I am suggesting that we, as a body, take at least the time of Advent to observe a holy pause, a time of deliberate stillness, reflection, and discernment. This kind of discernment requires chance to breathe. To listen. To ask what’s bearing fruit and what’s just keeping us busy. This pause isn’t about stopping our life together but about slowing down to listen for what the Spirit might be saying next.
During this holy pause, I encourage committees to take a break from starting new projects or seeking out new members. In Advent proper, I’d suggest that we trade the time we might spend in meetings for time in private prayer and discernment, listening for where the Holy Spirit might be leading us next.
These are questions we might consider:
- What is giving life right now?
- What may have run its faithful course?
- How can we structure our shared ministry in ways that feel simpler, clearer, and more sustainable for all of us?
I’m still quite new here, and don’t know how the Spirit will lead us into the next chapter of our common life. But I believe the work of imagining that chapter will begin in prayer. Thank you for walking this path with such grace and faith. Let us hold this time gently.
In Jesus’s name, Jay+
Wired up. Ready to go! October 19-25, 2025
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
As much as I feel cautious about technology (see last week’s letter), I realize that so much of our common life, and church life, depends on having reliable, secure access to the Internet. That’s why I’m very happy to announce that we now have safe, secure, high-speed Internet across our campus. In our Sanctuary, Café, and other common areas, you will now find a network named “Guest” that requires no password. Other dedicated networks will help us upgrade our sound system and, ultimately, allow us to do more robust livestreaming. A huge thanks to Vestry member Phil Jackson for the installation of this system!
Phil’s work on this project highlights the need for all of our collective gifts as we enter this Stewardship season. Many of us have specialized skills and gifts that can help our church move forward into our next chapter, which we will author together. It’s often the very gifts that we can’t predict, or capture on a pledge card, that move us creatively into new ministries and ways of being church. As you consider stretching your monetary pledge—which I hope you do!—also consider stretching your time and talents. In just six weeks of being with you, I feel a swell of new, Spirit-filled energy here at St. John the Baptist, and I invite all of us to contribute and follow where it leads.
Onwards! Jay+
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
As much as I feel cautious about technology (see last week’s letter), I realize that so much of our common life, and church life, depends on having reliable, secure access to the Internet. That’s why I’m very happy to announce that we now have safe, secure, high-speed Internet across our campus. In our Sanctuary, Café, and other common areas, you will now find a network named “Guest” that requires no password. Other dedicated networks will help us upgrade our sound system and, ultimately, allow us to do more robust livestreaming. A huge thanks to Vestry member Phil Jackson for the installation of this system!
Phil’s work on this project highlights the need for all of our collective gifts as we enter this Stewardship season. Many of us have specialized skills and gifts that can help our church move forward into our next chapter, which we will author together. It’s often the very gifts that we can’t predict, or capture on a pledge card, that move us creatively into new ministries and ways of being church. As you consider stretching your monetary pledge—which I hope you do!—also consider stretching your time and talents. In just six weeks of being with you, I feel a swell of new, Spirit-filled energy here at St. John the Baptist, and I invite all of us to contribute and follow where it leads.
Onwards! Jay+
Sacred Data, October 12-18, 2025
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
Many of you know that my former career was in high-tech. As a brand consultant and writer, I helped companies tell stories about how their products and services could be used to impact society. Over two decades, I came to believe that our real moral challenge isn’t so much technology itself, but how it uses data to either help or harm us, especially the most vulnerable among us. Data can be used to create powerful medical advances, but it can also be used to feed divisive social media bubbles that turn our differences into hate. As we start to wrestle with the implications of generative A.I., followers of Jesus have multiplying opportunities to discern how we interact with technology and the data underlying it.
I say all of that because some of the most helpful, even sacred, uses of data happen at the local level. And you can’t get more local than the data that underlies so much of what happens here at St. John the Baptist. Data about our church and our brothers and sisters in Christ can help us better communicate, plan, and live into our mission. I’ve been talking to leaders among us about new ways to utilize our data, while protecting privacy, to make sure people with all levels of tech engagement know what’s going on here at our church. We have so many opportunities to connect with each other and the broader community, so many ways to make our data sacred.
In the immediate future, we’re looking for help on an updated visual directory, as well as someone who might be interested in learning our databases for the long term. This will be an essential part of improved communications here at St. John the Baptist, which is easily the number one thing I hear about as I’m getting to know all of you better. If you are interested in helping us with this important ministry of making our data sacred, please reach out to me or Sherrie DeWitt for more information.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
Many of you know that my former career was in high-tech. As a brand consultant and writer, I helped companies tell stories about how their products and services could be used to impact society. Over two decades, I came to believe that our real moral challenge isn’t so much technology itself, but how it uses data to either help or harm us, especially the most vulnerable among us. Data can be used to create powerful medical advances, but it can also be used to feed divisive social media bubbles that turn our differences into hate. As we start to wrestle with the implications of generative A.I., followers of Jesus have multiplying opportunities to discern how we interact with technology and the data underlying it.
I say all of that because some of the most helpful, even sacred, uses of data happen at the local level. And you can’t get more local than the data that underlies so much of what happens here at St. John the Baptist. Data about our church and our brothers and sisters in Christ can help us better communicate, plan, and live into our mission. I’ve been talking to leaders among us about new ways to utilize our data, while protecting privacy, to make sure people with all levels of tech engagement know what’s going on here at our church. We have so many opportunities to connect with each other and the broader community, so many ways to make our data sacred.
In the immediate future, we’re looking for help on an updated visual directory, as well as someone who might be interested in learning our databases for the long term. This will be an essential part of improved communications here at St. John the Baptist, which is easily the number one thing I hear about as I’m getting to know all of you better. If you are interested in helping us with this important ministry of making our data sacred, please reach out to me or Sherrie DeWitt for more information.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Stewardship as Holy Imagination, October 5-11, 2025
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
I’ve been with you only a short time and have already witnessed the incredible generosity of our church in money, time, and expertise. As I said this past Sunday, it’s easy to think of our giving in terms of “meeting the budget,” or “keeping the lights on,” or “paying the new Rector’s salary.” But when we grow to think of our stewardship as a spiritual practice, giving becomes something more joyful and profound. For one thing, giving to our church helps us develop the habit of giving as Jesus gave, which never made financial sense. Jesus never asked anyone to justify their need. Jesus never withheld gifts because he thought the recipient would use them unwisely. Jesus didn’t ask them for their religious affiliation, or political party. He just gave.
Giving irrationally and absurdly—as the “Unjust Steward” did—also exercises our imagination for a new vision of what St. John the Baptist might be. Imagine a place where a newly built sanctuary provides new breathing room for the Holy Spirit to move. Imagine a place where we where can pause, settle into God’s presence, and become rejuvenated for the work God has called us to do. Imagine a place where our broader community joins for shared ministry, enjoying the arts, and welcoming everyone, no exception.
Please join us this stewardship season in giving joyfully as an act of holy imagination. You will be receiving pledge cards and phone calls from your sisters and brothers in Christ soon.
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
I’ve been with you only a short time and have already witnessed the incredible generosity of our church in money, time, and expertise. As I said this past Sunday, it’s easy to think of our giving in terms of “meeting the budget,” or “keeping the lights on,” or “paying the new Rector’s salary.” But when we grow to think of our stewardship as a spiritual practice, giving becomes something more joyful and profound. For one thing, giving to our church helps us develop the habit of giving as Jesus gave, which never made financial sense. Jesus never asked anyone to justify their need. Jesus never withheld gifts because he thought the recipient would use them unwisely. Jesus didn’t ask them for their religious affiliation, or political party. He just gave.
Giving irrationally and absurdly—as the “Unjust Steward” did—also exercises our imagination for a new vision of what St. John the Baptist might be. Imagine a place where a newly built sanctuary provides new breathing room for the Holy Spirit to move. Imagine a place where we where can pause, settle into God’s presence, and become rejuvenated for the work God has called us to do. Imagine a place where our broader community joins for shared ministry, enjoying the arts, and welcoming everyone, no exception.
Please join us this stewardship season in giving joyfully as an act of holy imagination. You will be receiving pledge cards and phone calls from your sisters and brothers in Christ soon.
In Jesus’s love,
Jay+
Locusts and Wild Honey, September 28- October 4, 2025
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
I’m still thinking about our friend the Baptizer, and about his diet, which we’re told consisted of “locusts and wild honey,” which was pretty far outside the mainstream even in his time. Along with his camel-hair clothing, John the Baptist stood in rebuke to the over-civilized, temple-bound religiosity that Jesus would also later critique.
I try to maintain my own diet of “locusts and wild honey” when it comes to the sources of spiritual teaching where I find nourishment. I’m a subscriber to the Red Hand Files, an occasional newsletter written by the English rock legend Nick Cave. With a career spanning decades, Cave is a devout Anglican (!) who writes movingly to readers who ask him all manner of questions. In his latest letter, Cave responds to a reader who asks him “where he stands” on social issues. Here’s a portion of his response:
I have a devotional nature, and I see the world as broken but beautiful, believing that it is our urgent and moral duty to repair it where we can and not to cause further harm, or worse, willfully usher in its destruction. I think we consist of more than mere atoms crashing into each other, and that we are, instead, beings of vast potential, placed on this earth for a reason - to magnify, as best we can, that which is beautiful and true. I believe we have an obligation to assist those who are genuinely marginalized, oppressed, or sorrowful in a way that is helpful and constructive and not to exploit their suffering for our own professional advancement or personal survival.
This will be one of many “locusts” that I print out and keep near my desk. You can read and subscribe to the newsletter here.
Please join us this Sunday when we talk, in part, about the “wild honey” that is the provocative new film, One Battle After Another.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Dear Family and Friends of St. John the Baptist,
I’m still thinking about our friend the Baptizer, and about his diet, which we’re told consisted of “locusts and wild honey,” which was pretty far outside the mainstream even in his time. Along with his camel-hair clothing, John the Baptist stood in rebuke to the over-civilized, temple-bound religiosity that Jesus would also later critique.
I try to maintain my own diet of “locusts and wild honey” when it comes to the sources of spiritual teaching where I find nourishment. I’m a subscriber to the Red Hand Files, an occasional newsletter written by the English rock legend Nick Cave. With a career spanning decades, Cave is a devout Anglican (!) who writes movingly to readers who ask him all manner of questions. In his latest letter, Cave responds to a reader who asks him “where he stands” on social issues. Here’s a portion of his response:
I have a devotional nature, and I see the world as broken but beautiful, believing that it is our urgent and moral duty to repair it where we can and not to cause further harm, or worse, willfully usher in its destruction. I think we consist of more than mere atoms crashing into each other, and that we are, instead, beings of vast potential, placed on this earth for a reason - to magnify, as best we can, that which is beautiful and true. I believe we have an obligation to assist those who are genuinely marginalized, oppressed, or sorrowful in a way that is helpful and constructive and not to exploit their suffering for our own professional advancement or personal survival.
This will be one of many “locusts” that I print out and keep near my desk. You can read and subscribe to the newsletter here.
Please join us this Sunday when we talk, in part, about the “wild honey” that is the provocative new film, One Battle After Another.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
The First Letter, September 18, 2025
Dear St. John’s Family and Friends,
Robin and I have been here just a few short days, and we’ve already felt the overwhelming support of the St. John’s community. Mixed among our unpacked belongings and scattered furniture are your cards, gifts, and other housewarmings that have helped settle our nerves and made us feel loved. We are so grateful for your welcome and look forward to the opening pages of a new chapter we will walk into together.
Going forward, I plan to write a short letter for our weekly e-newsletter. Sometimes it may be a reflection on something I’ve been reading and/or studying; sometimes thoughts on how the Gospel can help us think about current events; sometimes lifting up people and ministries of St. John’s. Hopefully, this can open up new lines of communication that nourish our life together and encourage our discipleship of Jesus. We’ve set up a new email, [email protected], where you can reach out to me directly. In these early days, it may take me a little while to get back to you, but we will get to know each other in the Spirit’s good timing.
Thanks again for all your welcoming embrace. Hopefully we’ll see you this Sunday, where we’ll take a look at one of Jesus’s most perplexing parables, The Unjust Steward.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Dear St. John’s Family and Friends,
Robin and I have been here just a few short days, and we’ve already felt the overwhelming support of the St. John’s community. Mixed among our unpacked belongings and scattered furniture are your cards, gifts, and other housewarmings that have helped settle our nerves and made us feel loved. We are so grateful for your welcome and look forward to the opening pages of a new chapter we will walk into together.
Going forward, I plan to write a short letter for our weekly e-newsletter. Sometimes it may be a reflection on something I’ve been reading and/or studying; sometimes thoughts on how the Gospel can help us think about current events; sometimes lifting up people and ministries of St. John’s. Hopefully, this can open up new lines of communication that nourish our life together and encourage our discipleship of Jesus. We’ve set up a new email, [email protected], where you can reach out to me directly. In these early days, it may take me a little while to get back to you, but we will get to know each other in the Spirit’s good timing.
Thanks again for all your welcoming embrace. Hopefully we’ll see you this Sunday, where we’ll take a look at one of Jesus’s most perplexing parables, The Unjust Steward.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Reverend Jay's Introduction to the Parish, August 2025
Hello, St. John’s!
Now that formal announcements have been made, I wanted to reach out and tell you personally how much I’m looking forward to joining you as your new Rector this September. As many of you know, I’m a San Jose native who spent many childhood summers in Aptos, Santa Cruz, and Felton. Later, I fell in love with Big Sur. The Santa Cruz and Monterey areas are incredibly special to me, and I feel blessed beyond measure to be returning to my physical and spiritual home. The opportunity to do that in a community like St. John’s is a real gift.
From my earliest conversations with St. John’s, I felt the Spirit’s tangible presence. It was clear to me that your community is rooted in prayer, service, and spiritual depth. I look forward to joining you in the next chapter of St. John’s story, and I trust that God is calling us into something new together. I hope to hear your stories, walk alongside you in the joys and struggles of life, and explore what it means for us to be a faithful and imaginative church in these complex times.
I’m currently wrapping up my time at Grace Episcopal Church in Honesdale, Pennsylvania, where I’ve served the past three years. The transition is bittersweet—filled with the grief of goodbye, but also the joy of possibility. At the same time, my wife Robin and I are preparing for our big cross-country move. As I’ve mentioned to your Vestry, we are seeking suggestions for short-term rentals while we settle and scout out a more permanent home.
Thank you all for your prayers and your welcome. I’ll be holding you in mine until we meet in person soon.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+
Hello, St. John’s!
Now that formal announcements have been made, I wanted to reach out and tell you personally how much I’m looking forward to joining you as your new Rector this September. As many of you know, I’m a San Jose native who spent many childhood summers in Aptos, Santa Cruz, and Felton. Later, I fell in love with Big Sur. The Santa Cruz and Monterey areas are incredibly special to me, and I feel blessed beyond measure to be returning to my physical and spiritual home. The opportunity to do that in a community like St. John’s is a real gift.
From my earliest conversations with St. John’s, I felt the Spirit’s tangible presence. It was clear to me that your community is rooted in prayer, service, and spiritual depth. I look forward to joining you in the next chapter of St. John’s story, and I trust that God is calling us into something new together. I hope to hear your stories, walk alongside you in the joys and struggles of life, and explore what it means for us to be a faithful and imaginative church in these complex times.
I’m currently wrapping up my time at Grace Episcopal Church in Honesdale, Pennsylvania, where I’ve served the past three years. The transition is bittersweet—filled with the grief of goodbye, but also the joy of possibility. At the same time, my wife Robin and I are preparing for our big cross-country move. As I’ve mentioned to your Vestry, we are seeking suggestions for short-term rentals while we settle and scout out a more permanent home.
Thank you all for your prayers and your welcome. I’ll be holding you in mine until we meet in person soon.
In Jesus’s love, Jay+