May 30, 2026

ONE OF MY FAVORITE THOMAS CRAMNER COLLECTS

California Dreamin

This collect has been one of my favorites for as long as I can remember. Cranmer’s cadence—hear, read, mark, learn, inwardly digest—has a way of settling into the bones.


Every time I pray it, something in me wants to reach for a Bible and sit with the words again, not to master them but to let them work on me.


“Blessed Lord, you caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ.”


What I love about this collect is that it refuses to treat Scripture as an object to defend or a puzzle to solve. It points toward a way of life. The written word is a conduit, not a destination. It leads us toward the Living Word, toward Christ himself. We study the text—its languages, its history, its context—but we also read it for strength, for healing, for encouragement, for the quiet work of being changed from the inside out.


Cramnerer wrote this in a moment when Scripture was being rediscovered in a fresh way during the English Reformation. You can feel that energy in the collect: Scripture not as a burden, but as a gift. Not as a rulebook, but as a companion. Not something to wield, but something to absorb.



Kierkegaard once said that the real challenge of Scripture is not understanding it but obeying it—letting it shape the liturgy of our lives. You haven’t really “grasped” Scripture, he said, until it becomes part of your patterns, your habits, your way of being in the world. That rings true. Reading is good. Absorbing is different. Absorbing takes time, silence, repetition, and a willingness to be changed.


And strangely enough, this is where the Mamas and the Papas wander into the picture. Every time I think about stepping into a church for the first time—the way the air shifts, the way something in you recognizes the Presence before you can name it—I hear that line from “California Dreamin’”: “Stopped into a church I passed along the way.” There’s something about that moment in the song, that unexpected pause, that feels like the moment Scripture becomes real. You step inside, and something in you says, “Stay. This is where you belong.”


I’ve seen that happen in churches I’ve served, including here in Borrego Springs. Someone walks in, sits down, and something settles in them. They know. They may not have the words for it, but they know. That’s what it feels like when Scripture moves from the page into the heart. When it becomes part of you. When you inwardly digest it.


That’s why this collect matters to me. It’s not about information. It’s about formation. It’s about the slow, steady work of letting Scripture become home—like stepping into a church on a winter’s day and realizing you’re going to stay.


California Dreamin’.



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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