Hello Friends and members, Each year, close to the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, clergy from the churches of Borrego gather to bless animals people bring to the Christmas Circle. Many bring household pets, dogs, cats, sometimes tortoises and birds. Some even bring pictures of deceased beloved pets or of pets they cannot easily bring in. This year, Fr. David Madsen of St. Barnabas Episcopal, Pastor Mateo of Community United Methodist and Fr. Emilio Magana of St. Richard’s did prayers and blessings for 50-60 animals people brought in. Why do this? Decades ago, some larger churches, New York City’s Cathedral of St. John the Divine, began having blessings of animals on a day close to St. Francis’ feast on October 4. Francis, who died in 1226, was the founder of communities of brothers and sisters and lay people in Tuscany. These groups had a particular focus on assisting the poor, homeless, ill, in short, all people in need. The Borrego Ministers Association (BMA) has exactly the same focus. Francis had the extraordinary vision to see all of the world around us as united to us as family. He spoke of Sister Moon and Brother Sun for example. In his beautiful canticle or song of praise, he bursts into thanksgiving to God for all the wonders of nature around us. Francis also seems to have had an amazing ability to relate to animals. He talked a wolf in the town of Gubbio out of preying upon the shepherds and farmers. It’s reported that when Francis spoke to crowds that had gathered to hear about God’s love for them, that even the birds would sit quietly in the tree branches, seemingly listing to him. One Christmas, Francis got the townspeople to bring animals to a cave where he set up the first ever creche or nativity scene, complete with sheep, oxen and donkeys, there as in the cave and stable where the baby Jesus was born and put, wrapped up, into a feed trough or manger. Supposedly the domestic animals kept him warm with their breath. The UN, the EU and many other international organizations and religious leaders have recognized St. Francis as a holy man and made him a patron saint of the movement to save our environment, and reduce the damaging effects of climate change. People of all faiths and none at all respect Francis as a lover of all the natural world. So it is fitting that our pets are blessed on this day, following his example of love
by David Madsen When I was eighteen, I made a private commitment that has shaped my life for sixty six years: I would follow Jesus whether he “saved” me or not. After growing up in a Pentecostal fundamentalist church, especially as the “ornery” preacher’s kid who needed to get saved every time an evangelist came through town, I no longer trusted my own salvation. I could be saved on Sunday morning and convinced I was going to hell by Wednesday night. So I made a quiet promise: I will follow Jesus, even if it is one sided. A few months later I was living with my family in Dodge City, Kansas. My father pastored a small church on a single lane road shared only with the rectory, about 200 yards apart, tucked beside the city golf course. It was an ordinary place, but something extraordinary happened there. Most evenings, I slipped into the church alone. No music. No preaching. No altar call. Just silence. I didn’t go there to pray the way I had been taught. I went to listen. And in that quiet, something began to happen that I had no language for. I would lie on my back near the altar and wait. And God came. Not in words or visions, but in a presence so full I sometimes wondered if I could bear it. Night after night for nearly two weeks, the same overwhelming nearness returned. I had never been taught about anything like this. If I had tried to explain it to the Pentecostal world I grew up in, they would have looked at me like I was from another planet. Years later, I found writers who helped me understand what had happened. Rudolf Otto used the word numinous to describe the holy not as moral purity but as overpowering mystery, the “mysterium tremendum”, the experience that shakes a person to the core.¹ William James wrote that true religious experience begins with those who encounter the unseen world firsthand, distinguishing it from “second hand religion,” the beliefs people inherit through tradition.² What happened to me in Dodge City was firsthand. It was uninvited, unstructured, unearned. It was God finding me in the quiet when I had finally stopped trying to save myself. I have carried those nights with me for sixty six years. They did not make me perfect or certain or immune to doubt. But they gave me a center a quiet place inside where God still meets me, without requirements, without fear, without the need to prove anything. And if someone today finds themselves confused or overwhelmed by what they’re experiencing, I want them to know this: sometimes the deepest spiritual moments arrive without instruction, without permission, and without a name. Sometimes the holiest thing you can do is simply lie still and let God find you. Two things that have shaped my life through experience with the unknown: • God is everywhere. There is nowhere “outside” of God’s presence. • And the Spirit is always more; more than words, more than any attempts to define the Holy. So I don’t fear the unknown. It’s already filled with God. And I don’t limit my understanding of the Spirit. She’s already moving beyond my borders. Father Dave+
It’s been on my mind lately to not only prepare my heart and mind for Sunday morning worship but io carry that early morning tranquility into the preservice atmosphere of St. Barnabas. Every Sunday begins the same way for me: morning prayers with Naomi, followed by one of the quiet videos that helps us get settled into the day. The one example I will share with you today is just one way of practicing this use of time and space. My problem lately is getting to church and allowing all sorts of church business and problems to destroy the atmosphere. The distracted mind affects everything, worship, liturgy, sermon, Lords Table and Coffee hour. Our morning atmosphere sets the tone for the entire day. By intentionally bringing a peaceful temperament into our early hours, we create a sanctuary of restfulness, not just for ourselves, but for everyone we encounter. Reclaiming this quiet time beautifully prepares our hearts for worship. And sometimes we need to just drop in and see what condition our condition is in. Time to tune our hearts to be in tune with the Spirit. “God is Spirit and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth” (John 4:24). I will include one example of how I prepare my mind and spirit for Sunday morning worship. This is just one suggestion. You may have others to include. If so, please let me know. Try anchoring your morning with Gregorian chant. allow Illumination by Dan Gibson’s Solitudes blending historic Latin chants with calming sounds of God’s creation. While these chants carry rich scholastic history, my takeaway is pastoral, quieting my mind and turning my focus toward the divine. Here’s one option: This Sunday early morning light a candle, maybe a stick of incense, and let sacred sounds fill your home as you prepare for church. Arrive at St. Barnabas already tuned into God’s peace by opening the peaceful Gregorian Chants album on YouTube. Father Dave+
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
by David Madsen According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building on it. Each builder must choose with care how to build on it For no one can lay any foundation other than the one that has been laid; that foundation is Jesus Christ. Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw— the work of each builder will become visible, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each has done. If what has been built on the foundation survives, the builder will receive a reward. Paul says that we build on a foundation laid by grace, and we should choose with care how we add our part. That truth feels close to home for many of us. Many of you have retired from one career or moved through several, becoming skilled builders in your own fields, leaving your work in better hands than when you found it, or at least hoping to. Before I was ordained, I spent my days in sales and marketing, always building, always shaping something that could be handed on. When I left that work to go to General Seminary, I passed along what I had built to the company I worked for. They kept some of it, changed some of it, and went their own way with some of it. I imagine many of you know that feeling when you try to pass along your best efforts, and the next person takes it in a direction you didn’t expect. Or particularly like. When I became a priest, I took Paul’s words seriously. Every ministry in this parish, vestry, altar guild, buildings and grounds, ushers, every quiet act of service is part of the same foundation. Sometimes we start something new. Sometimes we step into the work someone else began. Either way, we should build with care because this is God’s house, not ours. St. Barnabas has more than fifty years of faithful hands shaping its life. We are building on the ministries of those who came before us, and others will one day build on ours. So let’s keep tending our work with gratitude and responsibility, trusting that whatever is built on Christ’s foundation, whether straw or gold, simple or shining, will endure when it is done in love. Father Dave+
A Community Concert Marking 60 Years of a Holiday Classic
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.
The way I write and think today is different than it was years ago. I don’t claim it is better — only more seasoned, shaped by experience and tempered by time. Yet one thing has remained constant: my appreciation for the unknown. Chronos time — the measurable, scheduled flow of days — has shaped my views of the church, community, and world. Seminary and ongoing study have given me a quantitative framework for ministry. But when Chronos becomes our only lens, it can drown out Kairos: those opportune, grace-filled moments when God breaks through in ways that cannot be planned or measured. God speaks in both kinds of time — in the steady rhythm of our days and in the sudden moments of significance. But I have always felt drawn to the God who teaches through surprise, the God who invites us to live into questions rather than cling to answers. I consider myself a Christian mystic, even though my life does not always reflect that claim as faithfully as I wish. Still, I recognize those Kairos moments when God reveals something beyond my comprehension — moments that remind me of the beauty of mystery and the joy of resting in a presence that exceeds understanding. If I can say one thing with confidence, it is this: God loves you — fully, fiercely, and without condition. Not because of what you have done, not because of how you feel about yourself, and not because of who you may become. God loves you in this present moment, exactly as you are. May we learn to trust the God who meets us in both Chronos and Kairos — and may we find peace in the holy unknown, where God continues to speak. I will close this short message with a song by John Michael Talbot, T he Spirit of God is Upon Me Father Dave+
by Fr. David Madsen Spiritual habits rarely begin easily. Wisdom has said this for centuries; the beginning of discipline is always the hardest step (cf. Proverbs 1:5 ). And anyone who has tried to build a spiritual practice knows the truth of another old insight: habits are fragile at first, but the longer you keep them, the harder they are to break (cf. Meister Eckhart thoughts about starting and keeping spiritual practice ) We live in a world overflowing with books, blogs, and guides on prayer, meditation, and spiritual rhythms. But where does someone actually begin? I’ve learned that the best place is not a book, it’s a person. Think of someone whose life carries the quiet weight of prayer. If you have a spiritual director, or a trusted guide, ask them. If there is a pastor or spiritual leader whose rule of life seems rooted in practice, ask for a conversation. In my humble opinion, there is no “right” or “wrong” way to pray. Prayer is communion with God, sometimes with words, sometimes without. Jesus himself makes this clear in the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector ( Luke 18:9–14 ). One man stands tall, proud of his religious performance. The other sits in the corner, beating his chest, whispering, “God, be merciful to me.” And Jesus says it plainly: that man, the one crying out for help, is the prayer God listens to. Over the last thirty years, I’ve tried many practices. Some stayed with me, some faded, but one has carried me since before seminary. Yes, there are days I miss, but I try to keep those to a minimum. Experience has taught me that the longer you keep a spiritual practice, the more it keeps you. So if you feel a desire rising in you to begin a spiritual practice, don’t dismiss it. You didn’t invent that longing. I believe the Holy Spirit is already stirring in your heart. That stirring itself is prayer, God’s own prayer in you, drawing you toward communion. And that is where every spiritual habit begins. I will close with a song by Mary Chapin Carpenter, I have a need for solitude.
by Fr. Michael Plekon You probably know that July 4 was NOT the actual day of the birth of America as an independent nation. The Declaration of Independence was presented on July 1, 1776 and signed the next day. President John Adams always held either of those two dates should be celebrated as the founding date. Be that as it may, July 4 became the birth date and here we are, 250 years later. You have heard many thoughts about the 250th anniversary happening at this moment in our history. The presidentially supported “official” celebrations on the Mall in Washington have been underwhelming. Some have chosen to talk more about their special issues, and grievances. Complaining has become part of the regular public discourse in the US. “God bless the USA” is taken as kind of national anthem for its glorification of our land without the slightest reservation or notice of what’s been done poorly. You can only patriotically praise the country, though the loudest promotors have a list of things about which they are very angry. In the more distant past, parades, tall ships, speeches and music made for upbeat celebrations. With flags and red, white and blue bunting on the streets and buildings, there was a clear positive, patriotic feeling to the Fourth. Most of us remember barbecues and picnics, gatherings of families and neighbors, and of course the fireworks. A few have urged us to take a moment to reflect on what an amazing experiment this America has been. In the spring, PBS broadcast Ken Burns’ excellent documentary series on the Revolution, where it came from, how it led to a deadly war, and finished with the Continental Congress at last agreeing to a Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights for a new nation. Burns’ series was a revelation, even for those of us who thought we knew the history. For me, the isolation and insulation of the colonies from each other, their ignorance of even their nearest neighboring colony, the sheer diversity of religious, political and economic ways of life made it exceedingly difficult for the lot of them to come together and take action. Many in the colonies were loyalists to the King and could not imagine not being His Majesty’s subjects, citizens of a great nation with great history of law, culture and belief in human rights (for some, mainly white males). Yet, convinced there could be a future as a free land, they overcame suspicions, prejudice, and sheer ignorance of each other to start behaving as a community, a nation united “in the pursuit of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” as the Declaration puts it. The ability to live free of distant rulers, and to be able to determine their own laws and form of government were central but not the only truths that they found self-evident. They would be appalled at some of what is said and done in America now. As former British citizens they put a great value on being a nation of laws, not political factions dominated by a leader or grievances and issues. They owned slaves, had profound religious and cultural prejudices, this cannot be forgotten. There was little space for you in 1776 America if you were Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, indigenous people or persons of color, or women for that matter. Despite settlers from Sweden, France, Germany, the Netherlands, and the presence of Spaniards in New Spain, those who represented the colonies were all male, white, and mostly Protestant. But even here, while most came from Anglican/Episcopal Congregational, Presbyterian and Quaker churches, some were outside traditional Christianity, like Jefferson, Franklin and Adams. A few were identified with churches but rarely if ever attended. So much for the claim that America was founded as a Christian nation. The 56 delegates who signed would have said no to this. The closer one looks at those who took the step to declare independence and start a new government and country, the more one sees discernment and commitment to change. Yet even after this groundbreaking start, there would be deep disagreements, as the arguments among them—Jefferson, Hamilton, Madison, Franklin-- and the demands of fighting a war ensued. Put simply, the founders were a mix of great ideals, contentious disagreement, and sometimes petty prejudices. This would prove true later when the country split in the Civil War. It continues to this day, even though we have come together and done the seemingly impossible, as in opposed the Axis of Germany and Japan in WWII. Going forward, we can be encouraged by the founders, for even in their often messy humanity, more often the good, the beautiful and the true won out. They were able to identify the protections, rights and necessary checks and balances for a national government as well as find the local state versions of the same. So, in our brief moment of celebration now, we should be grateful for what they were able to accomplish, but as we move forward, we need to hold on to the best of what they stood for, no matter how other voices may drone these out. We have always been a diverse people, a nation of immigrants, a community that displays many religious, cultural and social differences. But there is something that can hold us together as Americans, something more than apple pie and, baseball both of which I dearly love. Happy 250th birthday America, happy Fourth.
