Author: Mary Schoppmeyer

The folks at St. John’s Church raised money, supplemented by contributions from the United Congregational Church, to send care packages to soldiers on the eastern front of Ukraine.

The project originated with a request from a local Ukrainian woman, Sophia Sushailo, to provide needed items specified by her physician father living in western Ukraine. The items requested and sent were Mylar aluminum blankets (to protect from cold and rain), wool socks, specialized corded ear plugs (to deaden sound), as well as vitamins and pain medications.

Sophia gave a presentation about Ukraine with current pictures of her homeland. She introduced us to Petrykivka decorative painting, a Ukrainian folk art form native to a region in southeast Ukraine. All children from this area are trained in this art form. This style of painting is on the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage List. The congregation spent a coffee hour stuffing socks with compact blankets, ear buds, energy bars, replicas of the Ukrainian flag and handwritten notes. Several folks went home with genuine Petrykivka art, providing some cash for the civilians living in the southwest.

The two large boxes filled with the 100 pairs of stuffed socks and bottles of medicine had a long journey by ship, arriving several weeks later. We received photos of the soldiers in return. We plan to send more supplies with remaining funds.

Thanks for all the folks from St. John’s who walked and donated to this year’s Crop Walk!

Earlier this fall Bishop Rob came to St. John’s for his annual visit. Two highlights were 1) the vestry gifting him a pair of purple overalls as a token of thanks for his leading the Catechism for Joy class and 2) the baptism of Charles Peter Hilton during the service. As the weather cools it may be the last time that we worship outdoors in 2021.

I look forward to worshiping with you this Sunday! It’s been a delightful whirlwind of a few weeks since I worshiped with you last, including the birth of Charlie on June 27 and learning to be a dad. Aside from the birth defect which will require surgery in Boston at the end of August, Charlie is happy and healthy. I also know that there have been lots of changes at St. John’s: the return to the sanctuary, wine at communion, new developments with the apartment.

Regarding this Sunday, the current forecast is for a likelihood of rain, so please plan for worship in the sanctuary. The Vestry decided that if the weather is clement, we will continue to worship outdoors until further notice. However, if the weather is rainy we will venture back inside. If you have not been vaccinated, please wear a face mask and keep socially distant. These guidelines will continue to evolve. As the bishop wrote when lifting diocesan-wide restrictions in late June, “Church leaders will continue to monitor local virus rates and make decisions based on the needs of your community. Clergy and church leaders who conclude that practices such as masking, distancing, outdoor worship, or communion in one kind will better serve their local context have the full support of the Diocese.”

We’ll start worshiping again on the lawn behind the church on Sunday May 9th at 10:00 am. If it is raining that morning we’ll worship on Zoom. Check the website that morning if the weather looks uncertain.

Dear St. John’s,

Earlier in the winter I had hoped that this Easter Sunday would be the day when we would gather again to worship in person. I imagined a sanctuary bursting with flowers and resounding with trumpets and Alleluias. I imagined celebrating after the service in the parish hall with coffee and cake, and gazing up at the new, life-size, wooden cross hanging on the wall above us. How wonderful would that be!

Earlier this month it became clear that for Easter this year the pandemic restrictions would still in place for indoor worship. It also became clear that the temperatures would still be too cold, and the yard too snow-covered, for outdoor worship. I was feeling disappointed about the prospect of another Holy Week on Zoom. Sitting in front of a computer screen can’t compare to sitting in front of the altar, and singing alone can’t compare to singing with others.

Yesterday my attitude shifted when a clergy friend asked on the phone, “So many people have spoken about this pandemic as a time of being in the wilderness, and now it’s seemingly close to over. What were the lessons of the wilderness for the Jewish people escaping Egypt? And what are the lessons for us?” We brainstormed some of the lessons for our spiritual ancestors during the Exodus: the temptation to return to safety, even if it’s slavery; and how problems so often follow victories.  And we began to brainstorm some of the things we have learned as church communities during the pandemic: how to connect and collaborate across parishes in the diocese through Zoom; and how to ground ourselves in the rhythm of morning and evening prayer during times of uncertainty. However, my colleague’s question, more than any particular answer we discussed, shifted my attitude from disappointment to curiosity. I found myself less impatient to be out of the wilderness and more intent to make sure that we let God transform us – individually and collectively – while we are still in it. The wilderness is a hard but blessed place to be!

And so I ask the same of you, in case you, too, find yourself disappointed that we won’t’ be celebrating a “normal” Easter. “What are the lessons for us during this remaining time in the wilderness?” And I will add, “How can this Holy Week be a time to learn them?” Some Easter morning we will again hear trumpets and sing Alleluia in unison. In the meantime, I hope that this quieter and socially-distant Holy Week brings new life and new learning that we can carry with us into whatever new beginnings await.

Lenten blessings,

Duncan+

Many thank to Lynne and Bill Reed for collecting the congregation’s Christmas letters. More than 50 were in the box when Lynne opened it last week.

Many thanks to everyone who has made a pledge in support of St. John’s ministry and mission for 2021. As of November 21, we have received 21 pledge cards for a total of $51,080. Twenty-four percent of pledgers have increased their pledges this year; ten percent of pledgers decreased their pledge this year.  We gained two new pledgers this year, and lost four.  Compared to last year:  In 2020, we received 24 pledge cards for a total of $54,244.

If you have not had a chance to pledge, we encourage you to do so soon.  Pledge cards may be returned in the mail to PO Box 179, Walpole, NH  03608.  If you have not received a pledge card, we can send one to you.  Just contact Patti Sparks at (802) 885-4329.  Many thanks for your amazing generosity and support!

Dear St. John’s, 

It’s been just over a month since I began as your Priest-in-Charge. Thank you for the warm welcome. The local artwork which you gave me has found a home by my kitchen window. The parish has found a home in my heart as you have persevered through technical challenges and cold mornings to come together online and outdoors. There have been many moments of joy in the ministry so far: heartfelt one-to-one conversations, hearing old familiar hymns in person after many months without music, and walking through Walpole with many of you on the CropWalk. The grief and hardship of the pandemic have also been ever present. Our one-to-one connections have happened through masks. We have listened to hymns together but not been able to sing. At every in-person gathering of the church I’m also aware of the absence of those who cannot physically risk attending.  

In the midst of these joys and challenges, a parishioner asked me recently, “So, what does leadership look like for you here?” It’s an excellent question. Knowing that others likely have the same question I wanted to put a few thoughts in writing for the whole parish. A clergy mentor offered me a phrase for thinking about the phases of beginning as a priest in a parish: learn, love, lead. For these first few months I’m focused on learning about this parish – the skills, gifts, and callings of individuals, as well as the history and identity of the parish. Out of these exchange I hope will grow the trust and love necessary for discerning together, “Who are we right now?” “Who is our neighbor now?” and “What difference do we believe God is calling us to make now?” 

“Learn, love, lead” is all-purpose guidance for clergy beginning in a parish, but of course this time is unlike any other time. In light of the pandemic I have been meeting regularly with a worship task force to shift to outdoor worship. Now, as the cold sets in, we are exploring with the vestry and the diocese about worshiping indoors or resuming Zoom worship. Whatever decision is made it will involve input from the parish, consultation with the diocese, and discussion with the vestry. Along with worship, we must also learn to do annual convention, stewardship, the Christmas fair, and other rituals of this season in a new way. 

The upcoming election also colors our start together. We can only guess at the outcome of the election and the fallout, but as Bishop Rob recently said, “It feels like a tinderbox.” The moment raises important questions for us about what faith in Jesus requires as citizens. How do we fulfill our baptismal vows to resist evil and to strive for justice and peace among all people? What does it mean to be political without being partisan? How can we collaborate with other churches in this work? 

A final factor influencing my leadership at St. John’s is my call to be the Priest-in-Charge. A rector serves a parish for an indefinite amount of time. As Priest-in-Charge I have been called to serve the parish for two years. After that, in mutual discernment with the vestry, I could be a candidate for rector. In these two years my job is to help the parish examine its history and spiritual identity, enable new leadership, connect with the diocese, and ready the parish to welcome a rector (whether that’s me or someone else).  

A colleague recommended an article recently entitled, “Transition is the new normal.” That title rings true for me for our beginning together. What will guide us through all the transition in the parish and the nation when even our worship varies with the season? Is it our baptismal vows? A parish mission statement? Prayer? Right now I’m finding comfort in the “cloud of witnesses”- both the local, living saints of this parish and those of our tradition whose lives are commemorated in A Great Cloud of Witnesses. On this day the Episcopal Church commemorates Francis of Assisi. Below is a prayer attributed to him. We can’t know what lies ahead, but may we can remind ourselves that a cloud of witnesses walks with us.  

Yours in Christ, 

Duncan+ 

A Prayer of St. Francis 

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace 
Where there is hatred, let me sow love 
Where there is injury, pardon 
Where there is doubt, faith 
Where there is despair, hope 
Where there is darkness, light 
And where there is sadness, joy 

O Divine Master, grant that I may 
Not so much seek to be consoled as to console 
To be understood, as to understand 
To be loved, as to love 
For it is in giving that we receive 
And it’s in pardoning that we are pardoned 
And it’s in dying that we are born to Eternal Life 
Amen