February 22, 2026

Lent-Encounters with Jesus, Part One

By Fr. Michael Plekon


We have passed Ash Wednesday and are on our way through the season of Lent, heading toward holy week and Easter. Lent is many things, a time for doing good things, thinking the good thoughts God thinks, of forgiveness, sharing, love. It is also a school and this year we will be learning from a series of encounters Jesus has with individuals, all recorded in the gospel of John. Each of these is an intense meeting and exchange from which we have much to learn. We will look at three of these here and the rest in another article.


First, Jesus confronts the Evil One, Satan, the devil. Well, of course, we would think that Jesus has to take on the public enemy number one! What is important to note is that the Evil One comes looking for Jesus, not the other way round. Isn’t that the case for us too? When we least expect it, there is the pull toward lashing out, wanting to hurt another, wanting to take care only of ourselves, perhaps even hoping to destroy someone we detest. Jesus is confronted with three temptations—turn stones into bread, throw yourself off the temple roof and hope the angels will save you, and finally, bow down to the Evil One and admit evil is stronger than good. Jesus says no to all of these. He’s not a magician, hoping to attract followers with his miracles. So stones are not turned into bread nor is there an effort to fly off the temple. And Jesus knows evil is no match for what is good, kindness trumps hate, we care for the stranger and those in need. We don’t just love our own little world of family and friends. Doing what is good, what God does, is a miracle, and we give others a new hope and life in this. By the way, the account of Jesus’ encounter with the Evil One is from Matthew’s gospel, from which we will hear all the rest of this year, later on.

The second encounter is from John’s gospel. It describes when a leading member of the Temple clergy comes to visit Jesus, under the cover of darkness. This was for fear of what his colleagues might think, so there’s some cowardly behavior here on the part of a religious leader, a teacher, who should be able to show greater integrity. No problem on Jesus’ part. Nicodemus is welcomed. For someone with great learning. Nicodemus seems at first clueless at to what Jesus tells him in response to his questions. He should know better that the spirit blows where it wills, and that God certainly can be present in this teacher, Jesus, as God spoke through Elijah, Moses, Isaiah and the rest of the prophets. Whether Nicodemus was playing dumb or really could not get it, Jesus’ patience persists. In one of the most famous lines in the gospels, Jesus assures Nicodemus that God is all about love. God so loved the world that he sent his only Son, so that all would be drawn closer to God. God condemns no one—something many cannot accept even today.  Jesus emphasizes God’s abundant love to Nicodemus, with patience and compassion. There’s a lesson here, not only for Nicodemus but for ourselves.


A third encounter, again from John’s gospel, is the beautiful story of Jesus’ long conversation with the Samaritan woman from the village of Sychar. The Eastern Church preserved her name as Photini, the one who brings light to all around her. Tired out from travel on foot and preaching, Jesus finds himself at the town well in Sychar, one that went all the way back to the patriarch Jacob. He asks Photini for a drink. She’s come to fetch water for her household. She’s astonished that a rabbi, a teacher like Jesus, a Jew, has asked her for this as Jews despise Samaritans. 


The two of them drift into an amazing conversation, first not about water from Jacob’s well but the living water, which stands for God’s presence and love. Water is huge in a desert, don’t we know! The conversation turns to who is Photini’s husband—she has been married before. Jesus isn’t judging her. He respects her, allows her to be honest about herself and her life. His honesty meets hers. She sees the light.  She begs him for the living water, which she now knows is his teaching, his friendship.


They talk further and she hears that from now on the Spirit will be present everywhere, for all people. God has no favorites, only beloved children. And back into the town she runs, telling everyone that she’s met a teacher like no other, the Chosen one of God, the Messiah. She has become an apostle or messenger and her neighbors come to welcome Jesus. They ask him to stay and teach. They exclaim that after her bringing the news they too have come to see him as the Promised one.


What do we learn here? An honest, thoughtful woman risks talking to someone she likely fears, only to find great friendship and acceptance, love. Is there a lesson for us here? I think so.


The rest of our Lenten encounters will follow in Part two.

By Fr. Michael Plekon August 23, 2026
by Fr. Michael Plekon Finding Faith, Belonging and Purpose Beyond Sunday Services By: Fr Michael Plekon - St. Barnabas Episcopal Church , BMA Co-Chair I am not surprised that in 2026 there are those who ask such questions. My parents were in church with me and my brothers when we were growing up in the 1950s and after. (I am in my later 70s!) I have been involved in the institutional church since I was 13 and went to church prep school, looking toward being a priest. And now I have been a priest for almost 45 years, in several church bodies. Presently I am an assistant priest at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church here in Borrego Springs. When we are back East, I help out at St. James Church, an historic stone church in the old downtown of Danbury CT, once the hat making capital of the US. Years ago when I began ordained ministry alongside being a fulltime professor at The City University of New York, there were a lot of people in church on Sundays, families with kids, as well as older people. Nowadays, it’s mostly my peers, seniors, who I see on Sundays at the service, and also engaged in the community outreach work churches do, from food banks to soup kitchens, thrift shops, and support of safe housing for mothers and children. Many I encounter tell me they grew up in the church. And then grew out of it, for all kinds of reasons. Some found what they heard in sermons repulsive, a lot of negativity and condemnation and rules. In addition, they felt churches were constantly asking for your money, when not scaring you with threats of hell. And did any good come of all those contributions? Some of the most generous and engaged neighbors of mine here have said that they found little to attract them to church. Others simply were too busy, first when they worked and later when retired they were even busier with volunteering, hobbies, golf, travel and more. What’s fascinating is that for quite a few people in Borrego, the food banks, the Community Resource Center and its programs, volunteer work like tutoring and other great things they were doing had become “church” for them. I have published about this, Community as Church, Church as Community, Ministry Matters , and soon to be published Community and Communion. Those who know me even a little know I don’t chase people to church or judge them if they’re not interested. This is the case with the other fine pastors here such as Fr. David Madsen, Pastor Mateo Mamea and Fr. Emilio Mangana, all of whom work with me at the congregations on Church Lane and in the Borrego Ministers Association (BMA). Once, after listening to someone’s honest complaints about religious narrow mindedness and almost hateful intolerance, I replied that he would not find any of that on Church Lane. Rather, anyone will find welcome and acceptance and friendship there. Which brings me back to the question that’s the title here. Those who volunteer, for example, at the monthly St. Barnabas sponsored food bank or the BMA do not all attend services with St. Barnabas, Borrego United Methodist, St. Richard’s or the Lutheran churches or other ones. However, they do identify with the love for the neighbor that all of our food banks and the BMA monthly food coupons express. I can say that we have had people come and sing with our choir at St. Barnabas without joining the church. Same is true for those who come out to the choirs assembled for the BMA Thanksgiving and Easter Sunrise services and the Christmas Cantata when it’s performed. I know that people come to all of our Church Lane congregations because they find there real community and belonging, others who have compassion and are happy to share their resources for those who are in need. This especially happens through the BMA, but as well through the Community Resource Center, the Soroptimists, BASIC, Rotary, the BAI, Valley Endowment Fund and Art Guild, among our wonderful nonprofits. It’s true that when you meet someone who gives of themselves and their resources in any of these groups and the churches, you will see them again and again across the activities of these nonprofits. I hear someone reading this saying, “Ah, but don’t you have creeds and teachings, readings from the scripture and holy communion and other specifically religious activities in church?” Well of course the churches do. These are ancient ways of expressing faith, praying for those who are ill, in need, ways of celebrating births, marriages and deaths as well.” No one is interrogated however on their belief or on anything else in our communities of faith. Rather, everyone is a sister or brother to be loved and supported. Back during lockdown, zoom classes I offered were attended by people who otherwise had little if anything to do with church. What good are they, churches, what are they for? I believe if you’ve followed what I ‘ve said here, you could say they are for building up and sustaining community, for doing good, for the good of the entire town. And God, for whom these communities exist would agree. Authorial Interview: Fr. Michael Plekon Michael Plekon / Pastors, Their Life and Work Today Saints As They Really Are
August 21, 2026
A Community Concert Marking 60 Years of a Holiday Classic
By Fr. David Madsen August 11, 2026
God’s presence has always been more than an idea on a page. Scripture keeps pointing us back to that truth. In the wilderness, Israel learned to look toward the mercy seat, that small space between the wings of the cherubim, because that was where God chose to dwell. Not in the gold, not in the symbols, but in the living presence that met them there. The psalmists return to this image again and again. They cry out to the One who is “enthroned between the cherubim,” not because they believed God was trapped in a box, but because they trusted that God was real, near, and attentive. The mercy seat became a reminder: God is not far off. God leans toward us. That same presence moves even closer. Jesus becomes the meeting place, the mercy seat in flesh and blood. And after his resurrection, the Holy Spirit takes up residence not in a tent or a temple, but in human hearts. The presence that once rested between the cherubim now rests within us. We don’t always feel it. Some days we’re distracted, tired, or simply unaware. But the presence remains, steady, patient, near. Scripture doesn’t replace that presence; it points us toward it, the way the cherubim once did. It reminds us that God is not an idea to study but a presence to encounter. And so we live our days in the desert, in the quiet, in the ordinary, the same God who met Israel in the wilderness meets us still.  I leave you with a song called Deep Peace from Libera, the boys’ choir from South London. May its blessing rest lightly on your spirit and carry you gently into whatever this day holds.
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By Fr. Michael Plekon August 23, 2026
by Fr. Michael Plekon Finding Faith, Belonging and Purpose Beyond Sunday Services By: Fr Michael Plekon - St. Barnabas Episcopal Church , BMA Co-Chair I am not surprised that in 2026 there are those who ask such questions. My parents were in church with me and my brothers when we were growing up in the 1950s and after. (I am in my later 70s!) I have been involved in the institutional church since I was 13 and went to church prep school, looking toward being a priest. And now I have been a priest for almost 45 years, in several church bodies. Presently I am an assistant priest at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church here in Borrego Springs. When we are back East, I help out at St. James Church, an historic stone church in the old downtown of Danbury CT, once the hat making capital of the US. Years ago when I began ordained ministry alongside being a fulltime professor at The City University of New York, there were a lot of people in church on Sundays, families with kids, as well as older people. Nowadays, it’s mostly my peers, seniors, who I see on Sundays at the service, and also engaged in the community outreach work churches do, from food banks to soup kitchens, thrift shops, and support of safe housing for mothers and children. Many I encounter tell me they grew up in the church. And then grew out of it, for all kinds of reasons. Some found what they heard in sermons repulsive, a lot of negativity and condemnation and rules. In addition, they felt churches were constantly asking for your money, when not scaring you with threats of hell. And did any good come of all those contributions? Some of the most generous and engaged neighbors of mine here have said that they found little to attract them to church. Others simply were too busy, first when they worked and later when retired they were even busier with volunteering, hobbies, golf, travel and more. What’s fascinating is that for quite a few people in Borrego, the food banks, the Community Resource Center and its programs, volunteer work like tutoring and other great things they were doing had become “church” for them. I have published about this, Community as Church, Church as Community, Ministry Matters , and soon to be published Community and Communion. Those who know me even a little know I don’t chase people to church or judge them if they’re not interested. This is the case with the other fine pastors here such as Fr. David Madsen, Pastor Mateo Mamea and Fr. Emilio Mangana, all of whom work with me at the congregations on Church Lane and in the Borrego Ministers Association (BMA). Once, after listening to someone’s honest complaints about religious narrow mindedness and almost hateful intolerance, I replied that he would not find any of that on Church Lane. Rather, anyone will find welcome and acceptance and friendship there. Which brings me back to the question that’s the title here. Those who volunteer, for example, at the monthly St. Barnabas sponsored food bank or the BMA do not all attend services with St. Barnabas, Borrego United Methodist, St. Richard’s or the Lutheran churches or other ones. However, they do identify with the love for the neighbor that all of our food banks and the BMA monthly food coupons express. I can say that we have had people come and sing with our choir at St. Barnabas without joining the church. Same is true for those who come out to the choirs assembled for the BMA Thanksgiving and Easter Sunrise services and the Christmas Cantata when it’s performed. I know that people come to all of our Church Lane congregations because they find there real community and belonging, others who have compassion and are happy to share their resources for those who are in need. This especially happens through the BMA, but as well through the Community Resource Center, the Soroptimists, BASIC, Rotary, the BAI, Valley Endowment Fund and Art Guild, among our wonderful nonprofits. It’s true that when you meet someone who gives of themselves and their resources in any of these groups and the churches, you will see them again and again across the activities of these nonprofits. I hear someone reading this saying, “Ah, but don’t you have creeds and teachings, readings from the scripture and holy communion and other specifically religious activities in church?” Well of course the churches do. These are ancient ways of expressing faith, praying for those who are ill, in need, ways of celebrating births, marriages and deaths as well.” No one is interrogated however on their belief or on anything else in our communities of faith. Rather, everyone is a sister or brother to be loved and supported. Back during lockdown, zoom classes I offered were attended by people who otherwise had little if anything to do with church. What good are they, churches, what are they for? I believe if you’ve followed what I ‘ve said here, you could say they are for building up and sustaining community, for doing good, for the good of the entire town. And God, for whom these communities exist would agree. Authorial Interview: Fr. Michael Plekon Michael Plekon / Pastors, Their Life and Work Today Saints As They Really Are
August 21, 2026
A Community Concert Marking 60 Years of a Holiday Classic
By Fr. David Madsen August 11, 2026
God’s presence has always been more than an idea on a page. Scripture keeps pointing us back to that truth. In the wilderness, Israel learned to look toward the mercy seat, that small space between the wings of the cherubim, because that was where God chose to dwell. Not in the gold, not in the symbols, but in the living presence that met them there. The psalmists return to this image again and again. They cry out to the One who is “enthroned between the cherubim,” not because they believed God was trapped in a box, but because they trusted that God was real, near, and attentive. The mercy seat became a reminder: God is not far off. God leans toward us. That same presence moves even closer. Jesus becomes the meeting place, the mercy seat in flesh and blood. And after his resurrection, the Holy Spirit takes up residence not in a tent or a temple, but in human hearts. The presence that once rested between the cherubim now rests within us. We don’t always feel it. Some days we’re distracted, tired, or simply unaware. But the presence remains, steady, patient, near. Scripture doesn’t replace that presence; it points us toward it, the way the cherubim once did. It reminds us that God is not an idea to study but a presence to encounter. And so we live our days in the desert, in the quiet, in the ordinary, the same God who met Israel in the wilderness meets us still.  I leave you with a song called Deep Peace from Libera, the boys’ choir from South London. May its blessing rest lightly on your spirit and carry you gently into whatever this day holds.
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