When inserted on the tabletop of the altar, known as the “mensa,” it gives continuity from the Church of the past to the Church of the present and the future. Often, the relics used in these stones are that of a martyr, someone who died for their faith. This is done to hold true to the belief that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church. This symbolized the martyr’s tomb, where the early Church celebrated the Eucharist. This was specially the case before Christianity became a publicly recognized religion by the emperor Constentine in 381. Underneath the stone is normally held the documentation concerning the consecration of the altar itself.

The first Good Friday that I went to Howley was 2022. When I approached the altar, to my surprise, there was an altar stone! People would not normally know that it is there because every day, with the exception of during the Easter Tridium when the altar is stripped, the altar stone is not visible to the worshipping community. This year (2026), going to Howley for the Celebration of the Lord’s Passion, before the arrival of the worshipping community, I took this photo of the altar stone, so that I could share it with you.

If anyone knows any of the history behind the current altar in the Church of the Ascension in Howley, I would certainly love to find out the story behind this beautiful piece of our faith.

The post Sacred Foundations: The Altar Stone in Howley appeared first on Anglican Life.

Over the past couple of years, I find myself questioning institutions that we have taken for granted, institutions who were “always in the right.” I find myself questioning the usefulness of such institutional processes. I find myself explaining things to people when they question me on such things, and as much as I am pulling the “party line,” as it were, I feel that as I am saying one thing, my heart and soul are feeling something else. Is this what some call a “mid-life crisis,” or is this just a reality check? I guess that is something for me to figure out.

Within the past season of Lent, the Gospel appointed for the Fourth Sunday in Lent is the account of Jesus and the man born blind. Looking at that account, and looking at the world around us, there are certainly those who may indeed have their physical sight but are certainly spiritually blind; equally, there are those who may not have their physical sight, but their spiritual sight is certainly 20/20 vision. Maybe what I am going through in my own personal journey at this point in time is the fact that the scales are falling off my spiritual eyes, and I am seeing things for what they really are, and I am questioning everything that I am seeing.

The one thing I need to remember is this: the Church of Jesus Christ is certainly bigger and far more important and any human-made institution. The institutional Church which I work through, has certainly made, and will in the future make, mistakes. It is bound to make mistakes because humanity is involved in its operations. The institutional Church, as much as it is divine, is operated by humans, and is bound to make mistakes. Yet with the humanity of the institution, we must look beyond, and see what it is that we are and should be about. When humanity is involved, mistakes are bound to happen, and hopefully we have the wisdom to learn from such mistakes.

Hopefully some day, I will be able to look back and say that I did certainly serve the Church that I was called to serve.

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Personally speaking, when I am with them, the cares of the world, parish ministry, and my life in general go out the window. In blessings, we often use these words: “May you see the face of the Lord Jesus in everyone you meet.” I can say with certainty—whether looking at individuals or the group as a whole—one cannot help but notice the face of Christ. Not only can one notice the face of Christ, but the love of God as well.

This is one event where I must confess to the deadly sin of pride. I am proud of the willingness of the people of the parish to come together and provide a meal, dessert, Easter treats, decorations, and even an appearance by the Easter Bunny to deliver the treats. Everyone beams with happiness to be part of this event. It is in moments like these that the Church opens wide not only its doors but also its arms, to receive the embrace of love from people who not only show love, but show us how to love, and how to see the image of God in each other. I look forward to being part of this event again next year.

The post A Heart For Community: Annual Easter Party in Deer Lake appeared first on Anglican Life.

As parishioners both past and present are quite aware, I LOVE EASTER. I love Easter because of the fact that it is the day in which Jesus rose from the dead and because of that fact there is hope in life that is on the other side of this thing that we call death. Easter Day is the one day in the year, I do not even need coffee as a pick-me-up. I can literally bounce off the walls with excitement. I will admit there are times when life is a struggle, and sometimes there is strife and it can certainly feel like a battle. Then again, this are also my CLB roots showing (I was in the CLB in Upper Gullies Company No. 1004 from 1990-2002). Yet because of this, because I deal with death on a regular basis, and knowing how in the past that I have dealt with the processes of grief in my personal life, there is something just beautiful knowing that that bad has ended, and there is something good, hopefully, that is awaiting each and every single one of us.

There is much to celebrate in the life of the Church in the Easter Season. It is why Easter is celebrated for 50 days. 50 days to focus on the most excellent gift that God has given to creation and to people; the hope in that there is something more exciting, more wonderful, more hopeful in the resurrection of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. In celebrating such an event in the history of our salvation, let us be exuberant, let us be joyful and let us celebrate it with every fibre of our being.

C.S. Lewis, in his book Miracles said it best: “A new Nature is being not merely made but made out of an old one. We live amid all the anomalies, inconveniences, hopes, and excitements of a house that is being rebuilt.” (Miracles, chapter 16, para. 21) The strife is indeed over, the battle is done and let us celebrate with joy the house that is being rebuilt, without human hands. The strife is over, the battle done: Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Amen.

The post The First Hymn At My Funeral appeared first on Anglican Life.

The joke went something like this:

Little Johnny and his younger brother, little Stevie, were up to their antics and then some for young boys. Their father, with his patience running thin, approached his parish priest and asked if he could talk to them to improve their behavior.

The parish priest obliged the father’s request and met with the boys at the church following worship on a Sunday morning. The priest looked at the boys and said, “Where is God?”

With that, little Johnny left the church, running as fast as he could, followed by little Stevie. When little Stevie finally caught up to little Johnny at home in his bedroom, little Stevie asked, “Why did you run away?”

Little Johnny replied, “They’ve lost God and they’re blaming us!”

No, God is not lost, but rather God is found. God is found in human form in the babe of Bethlehem, born in the poorest of places, yet the greatest of kings. The time from when the last of the prophets spoke to the time when Jesus was presented in the temple was 400 years. People may certainly have thought that God just might have been lost. Yet when we least expect God to show up in our lives, that is the very moment that not only does God show up but God acts, and in a very mighty and a very powerful way! God uses a child to get our attention: God has come into our presence. I like how biblical scholars transliterate the verse of John 1:14 when it is said that “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” The word that can be used is tabernacle or pitched a tent: taken up residence among us. God is far from lost: God is found.

If you think you cannot find God, I give to you the words of a contemporary Christian song, written by Michael W. Smith:

Open the eyes of my heart, Lord

Open the eyes of my heart

I want to see You

I want to see You

To see You high and lifted up

Shinin’ in the light of Your glory

Pour out Your power and love

As we sing holy, holy, holy.

This light of glory, shining out, is the very thing that the aged Simeon, holds in his arms in human form, the form of a baby. So may these lyrics, become our prayer to have our eyes opened, so that not only can we see God, but may we sing: “holy, holy, holy.” If you are looking for God, God is not lost, God is found, just open your eyes to see God with his tent pitched in our neighbourhood.

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In my time in parish ministry, when I preside on Christmas Day, The Book of Common Prayer is the liturgy of choice, and I do so in the early morning celebration version of no hymns and no sermon; just the straight-forward liturgy beginning on page 67 and ending on page 85. No matter the liturgy used on Christmas Day, the gospel reading appointed for the day is John 1. There is much richness in the words of Christmas Day. In reality, because people are caught up in the other things of Christmas and not in the worship of God, people do not get the beauty of what it is and get caught up in the story that they are used to hearing in the proclamation of Luke 2. Yet in John 1, we are given this: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5)

As much as Christmas is seen as a joyous time, it is not a joyous time for everyone. Hence the reason why I always offer the celebration of the Eucharist on Christmas Day because Christmas Eve is not for everyone because of their feelings and emotions. There are those who would rather not be in the noise and bustle of Christmas Eve worship but rather the quiet and contemplative atmosphere of Christmas Day. The thing about Christmas Day is that we do indeed celebrate the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.

Christmas this year will certainly be different for me, as this is the first Christmas since the passing of my mom earlier this year. Yet the one thing I know that will unite me to her, and to those who have gone before me in faith, is the Eucharist on Christmas Day. Just as it is the feeling at every celebration of the Eucharist, we join with those who have gone before us in faith in celebrating that which we call mystery. As much as it may seem dark for those this year who have not had an easy year, the light of Christ is a reality. The light of Christ, the birth of the child Jesus, born in the poorest of places, yet the greatest of Kings—is a reality of light shining in the darkness.

This Christmas, may you find the light that you are longing for in your heart and in your soul, and know that the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it.

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This year, in preparing to preach, I kept thinking about the patronage of St. Michael and All Angels in my life. I cannot think of a time in my life where I have not been influenced by St. Michael and All Angels. It goes back to the day of my baptism. I was baptized at St. Peter’s (Upper Gullies), Conception Bay South. Yet one of my godfathers was a parishioner of the former St. Michael and All Angels in St. John’s. For the benefit of the parishioners of that former parish in St. John’s; my godfather was the late Mr. Cecil Andrews, better known to me as Mr. Cec. He told me stories of how as a young boy he attended worship when the parish was located on Casey Street. He told me of how his mother, who being widowed at an early age and having to send some of her children to the “Church of England Orphanage,” did all she could do to provide for her young family. Mr. Cec’s mother would wash the surplices of the choir, servers, and clergy twice a year—Christmas and Easter—at the price paid to her by the parish, two cents per surplice. This, of course, was back in the day when washing was done in a galvanized wash tub, a bar of Sunlight soap, and a scrubbing board. I remember the stories of how Mr. Cec sang in the choir in the Casey Street location. When Mr. Cec passed from this life to the life everlasting, his requiem was held at St. Michael and All Angels, then on St. Claire Avenue, in 2008. The late Fr. Chris Snow gave me the privilege of being the Eucharistic Assistant at the funeral.

Fast forward to my own ordained ministry. In 2012, when I was appointed to the Parish of Southeast Labrador, one of the congregations under my care was the congregation in Charlottetown. The name of the congregation in Charlottetown was and still is St. Michael and All Angels. In 2014, I moved to the Parish of Rose Blanche. The congregation in Rose Blanche is St. Michael and All Angels. In coming to Deer Lake in 2021, the name of the congregation in Deer Lake is St. Michael and All Angels. It is certainly a lot to think about and, whether it was when I was writing my sermon for that day or writing this article, words cannot express the thoughts and feelings that I have in becoming aware of the fact that St. Michael and All Angels has had such an impact on my spiritual journey.

May we each think about the places and people that form us in our spiritual journey. I am certain that if we all think about such things, we will come to the realization that there are places and saints, in the past and in the present, which shape our spiritual journey. May St. Michael and All Angels protect each and every single one of us.

The post My Spiritual Journey with St. Michael and All Angels appeared first on Anglican Life.

From time to time, I have said that I do not say prayers. I do not think that we should be saying prayers. Now, before you think I am a heretic of the highest degree, it is not the fact that I do not say prayers but rather, it is the fact that I pray prayers. “Saying” prayers is one thing; we can say prayers just like we can say that the sun is shining and give no more thought to it. Yet, if we “pray” our prayers, the act of praying becomes part of our prayer just as much, if not more than prayer itself. If we do it right, we know that our actions speak louder than words, so too, then our praying is more than just the saying of words. Once we become accustomed to praying our prayers, then it will become second nature, just as natural as our breathing, which itself can be a form of prayer.

We often sing in the hymn “What A Friend We Have In Jesus,” the line “Take it to the Lord in prayer.” Prayer then becomes for us a place. As much as our church buildings are houses of prayer, prayer itself becomes the place where we find ourselves going when we want and, more especially, when we need to pray. It is in prayer that we can find shelter from the storms of life. It is in prayer that we can find comfort. It is in prayer that we can find the very things that we are looking for. Most of all, it is in prayer that we can find God. It is not that God leaves us but rather we leave God and it is in prayer that we find God right where we have left God.

We think in some ways that our prayers have to be polished and wrapped neatly with a pretty red bow placed on the top. Prayer is far from that. If anything, prayer is our conversation with God. Conversation, of course, involves at least two people in which one person speaks and another listens. There are times in which the one who speaks becomes the one who listens and the one who listens is the one who speaks. Thus, for prayer to be conversation, there are times in which we speak and God listens, but there are times in which we need to listen in order for God to speak to us. God speaks in various ways as the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us, but we need to listen because the Word of God is certainly “living and active” in our prayer.

So, if you are one who has trouble praying because you think it has to be a certain way, in certain posture, in certain words, be assured, treat prayer as action, as place and as conversation and prayer will become what you need it to be—time with God.

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With my arrival in the parish in September of 2021, I quickly fell in love with this building, but most of all with its people—the true Church. As I got to know the handful of people who attend worship, I was quick to discover that one could not only easily spiritually feed the people present, but that the people present also spiritually feed their priest! To put it in terms of employment: to go to Howley is literally taking a vacation in the middle of a workday. As the liturgical year began to change from Advent to Lent in that first year, and then to the best season of all—Easter—to be in the oldest church of the three churches under the patronage of the Ascension that I am aware of (Church of the Ascension, Wiltondale, and Church of the Ascension, Mount Pearl), I knew it just had to be celebrated all the more on the fortieth day after the Feast of the Resurrection. In my time of being a priest, I have always celebrated the Feast of the Ascension on the day on which it falls—a Thursday. The lectionary website of the Anglican Church of Canada states the following:

Of the seven Principal Feasts of our church, three occur on a Sunday: Easter, Pentecost, and Trinity Sunday. Further, the BAS provides for one to be anticipated—Epiphany—and one to be transferred—All Saints. Although many worshipers will no longer come to a weekday service, Christmas is an exception and so has been retained on the day of the week on which it falls. This leaves Ascension as the only Principal Feast that is no longer widely observed. Although many Anglicans and Roman Catholics were reluctant to “give up” on the expectation that the Ascension Thursday services would be well observed, most have now realised that the transfer to Sunday is inevitable. The Canadian Roman Catholic Conference of Bishops allowed Ascension to be observed on the Sunday over twenty years ago. Many Canadian Anglican parishes already observe Ascension Sunday instead of the Sunday after Ascension. This ordo makes provision for this. This day is always kept as Ascension Day and if it is also observed on Sunday then this is in addition to its observance today.

Well, in the Parish of Deer Lake, at the Church of the Ascension, we celebrate the Principal Feast of the Ascension on the day on which it falls. We do so with a celebratory and spirit-filled atmosphere, and a good number of people make the pilgrimage from Deer Lake to Howley (which is a return trip of 93 km) with the good possibility of seeing the offspring of those first moose that were introduced back in 1904. With the celebration of the Holy Eucharist using the propers for the Feast of Dedication, we worship and pray around the font, the lectern, the pulpit, and the altar. After the conclusion of the liturgy, we go to the Howley Community Center and continue our celebration with, in good Anglican fashion—TEA!

It is said that after doing something for two years, it becomes tradition. I am proud to say that the pilgrimage to the Church of the Ascension for the Feast of the Ascension, falling on a Thursday, is a highlight not only for the congregation of Howley but for the whole of the Parish of Deer Lake!

The post Celebrating the Ascension at The Church of the Ascension, Howley, NL appeared first on Anglican Life.

For whatever reason, we certainly know how to feast. I have never attended a function of the Church in which food was involved and there was nothing left over. I think that we certainly got the notice to feed five thousand and have twelve baskets of leftovers! Yet the thing that the world could certainly use a feast of in this moment, probably more so than any other time in history, is a feast of love. A feast of love could set aside a lot of the dull and morbid things we hear about in newscasts. A feast of love is something that we could all do with, and the best part about it is that we do not have to worry about calories or weight gain. A feast of love, once we take part in it, is something that is not only life-sustaining but also something that is life-giving. So, the question is, how do we love? We know it is easy to love the people we like, the people who make us happy to be around. But how do we love those that we do not like? How do we love those people who have done us harm? How do we love those people who know how to irritate us the most? The answer to that question is to love like Jesus. As the Emeritus Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, Michael Curry, stated: “God’s love is everywhere, in all things, and that includes you.”

As we have just celebrated the best event ever in the history of salvation, namely the resurrection of Jesus, Jesus shows the world how to love when he asked Peter three times the question, “Do you love me?” Three questions of love to cancel the three times of denial. Even in the moments when Jesus was deserted, lonely, imprisoned, hungry, thirsty, naked, sick on the cross, in a post-resurrection moment of tenderness and compassion, Jesus shows how to love those who have treated us wrongly. We are to feast in such love. Not saying that it is easy, because after all, in the love that Jesus shows, it is shown with wounds, and it is in such wounds that we see love at its finest. If Jesus can love with his wounds, then we can love with our wounds as well. Yet, it will take time; but once we take the time to adjust to the wounds, we too can, and will, feast in love.

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