From the Rector

Dear Friends in Christ,

As our annual meeting approaches, I’ve been pondering exactly what to say. It seems like we’re all still in this strange place where the pandemic is—but isn’t. The economy is back—but isn’t. Business are re-opened—except for those that didn’t make it. Kids are back to school—except those who never returned because parents realized they needed something different. People are able to travel but no one gets on a plane without wondering and worrying about every cough and cleared throat.

The signs of the pandemic are still somehow everywhere—but nowhere. It’s a very strange time.

I’ve been craving a fuller return to normalcy. This year has been one of both returning to normalcy but also shoring up things we learned during the pandemic closures. For example, not only did Saint Philip’s have the full battery of Christmas Eve services but they were also live-streamed with professional quality. We’re doing more of what we once knew but also trying to figure out the new, as well.

Some further signs of normalcy include Sunday forums returning along with parish breakfasts. Both are different. Some forums are with remote guests. The breakfasts are just on “First Sundays” until we establish a routine and have a solid group of volunteers signed up.

Some ministries have returned in full force while others that struggled during the pandemic haven’t quite recovered. Some have lost key leaders even as new ministries with new members have emerged.

Time still feels compressed somehow—like those couple of years just didn’t happen. Over those years, though, a lot did happen—but not all of it was readily seen or realized. In some ways, we are in a rebuilding phase. That means an odd mix of joy (as new things happen) and sadness (as things we knew are no longer so familiar). 

It feels as if there are two congregations at times. One is full of new members. The robustness of our parents’ group, the size of our confirmation class, and more point toward an excitement and energy that are special to see. That group is delighted by what they find at Saint Philip’s: a place that is both traditional and progressive, grounded in Christ, engaged with the city, and open to all. It’s a place where folks from all walks of life are in leadership and where we strive to care for one another.

Those who went into the pandemic without community or connection—or even faith—have discovered this place at a time when they desperately needed it. They’ve helped launch NightSong and Kitchen on a Mission, and sustained Mosaic. It’s a mix of new and long-time members who are thrilled to be together and excited by the possibilities.

That is one congregation.

It feels as if the other congregations is struggling more. We all went into the pandemic with a much clearer sense of how things work, how they should work, and who was doing them. We’re coming out with some real losses. Those losses include beloved members, long-time pillars of the place. It’s hard not to look at the pews and not see Joyce Schumann or Richard Kuns, among many others.

Ministries that were stable fixtures are in need of re-evaluation and re-visioning. Some ministries have had to change altogether. Staff changed dramatically, too. Processes and procedures were upended. Maintenance was deferred. All of those changes take a toll on people’s sense of place—their sense of home. So long-time members, at least those in this second congregation, find themselves not excited by change and possibility but, rather, exhausted by it.

This is all exacerbated by the already-not-yet state of things I mentioned earlier. We’re in a kind of mid-stream place. It’s not possible to swim back but we can’t quite see the other bank yet. We don’t know what it looks like or how sturdy it will be or even if we’ll all make it there.

Sometimes it feels like an Exodus moment. Even as those fleeing Egypt must have been excited about the possibilities, we still hear them—as the hard journey seems to never end—saying “were there no graves in Egypt that you’ve brought us here to die?”

All this seems like a bit of the life of the whole Church right now. We trust that God is guiding us but we’d sure like to get there already!

We’ve done strategic planning work which everyone will hear more about. We’re underway with a campus master plan, too. There are new programs and the like on the horizon. We’re looking at ways to bring back long-time ministries in new ways. We don’t quite know what it all will look like.

I’ve told the staff, on occasion, that I don’t necessarily care about the specifics of what we’re doing. In other words, I’m delighted if we’re doing Bible study but I’m not going to get caught up in whether we’re studying Mark or John this week. And while I don’t always care about the specifics of what we do, I care deeply about how we do it. The way we carry out ministry is a deeper reflection on our faith than any one thing or program.

The way we support, encourage, and pray for one another. The way we share our joys and lend each other courage is at the heart of these Exodus moments. I’m sure, on that journey, it felt like there were two groups: those focused on what could be and those focused on what wasn’t any longer. Both groups marched together, though. Both wandered side by side.

We need both to imagine a future grounded in our history. We need the stories of the past to give shape and support for whatever is to come. And we need passionate visions for the future, too. Even when it seems least like it, the Church is always changing. The Holy Spirit is always moving. That same Spirit spoke in and through and with all those who have been our long companions on the way. It moved through the ministries we knew and loved. It is moving through the new ones, too. It is inspiring the folks coming to our doors for the first time.

There may be two ways of viewing the present moment but they are two sides of the very same hope and love and longing. They are both expressions of love for Saint Philip’s and its possibilities. As we come to the Annual Meeting, it will be an “already-not-yet” space. We will look to what is to come, not quite sure what it will look like, but trusting in the Spirit to guide and strengthen us in all that we do and say. How we meet the future will be a testament to our faith and hope.

Yours in Christ,

—Fr Robert