TSPC Newsletter Summer 2026
The St. Paul Center for Theology and Prayer exists to form disciples of Jesus in every congregation. It seeks to do this by equipping and resourcing local congregations for the tasks and joys of faith formation, teaching and learning, catechesis, and the life of prayer.
We are continuing our theme of Joy in an age of despair, and in this newsletter are considering ‘Joy in the midst of happiness’. During the Summer, there are often many fun, busy activities happening. This year, with the soccer World Cup, a special 250th Independence Day, family cook outs, school holidays, and so many other things going on, there may be a risk that it feels like a kind of forced merriment. Can we find quiet peace and contentment in the hurly-burly of a celebrating crowd? We’re delighted to have a guest writer share an opening thought on this subject for us: Jayleigh Lewis is a member of The Crossing, one of the faith communities at the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, TSPC’s central region hub.
We hope you’ll join us for our Big Question day in August, when we ponder ‘What is the Cross?’ - and then for an important talk from Sarah Augustine, early in Sept. All details below!
Don’t forget, you can find our previous newsletters online. If you’re reading this because someone shared it with you, and you’re not yet on our newsletter mailing list, please do sign up here, so you’ll be sure to receive all future news from TSPC!
A THOUGHT FROM TSPC
On a recent Saturday in June, while Boston celebrated Pride for the People, I sat inside the cool interior of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, watching and listening. I was there as a volunteer, for the second year in a row, to help hold space for the “Quiet Queers,” the sensory-friendly zone for those who, like me, want to be present for Pride but find the celebratory crowds in the Common, Copley Square, and along the parade route overstimulating. The Cathedral sanctuary offered a variety of quiet activities, including clay meditations, poetry writing, coloring, and paper crane making, each set up at tables with a respectable amount of distance between them, an architectural breathing room ideal for introverts and for those who just wanted a break from the heat and noise outside. There was also a prayer station on the floor in one corner, with cushions to sit on and images of queer saints and ancestors in faith to ponder and pray with. I spent most of my time here, praying silently with my body.
‘Quiet Queers’ - and allies - were welcomed at the Cathedral during Boston Pride for the People
I had volunteered to serve as a “chaplain” rather than as one of the welcoming faces at the table to the right of the entrance, although really I think I was serving as chaplain to the space as a whole rather than to any specific individuals. Most folks who walked in from the street were grateful for the respite provided by the air conditioning, and went directly to either the bathrooms or to the large container of ice water along one wall. I watched as a small group of friends practiced physical self-care in the corner across from the welcome table, stretching their bodies and lying flat for a time on the refreshingly cool floor, absorbing some of that ambient prayer even if they might not have called it that.
As I sat there, watching and listening, people drifted in and out, some spending more time in the space than others. Every time the doors opened, the sounds of the celebrations outside temporarily became louder, a flowing and ebbing wave of cheers that piqued my curiosity but also made me grateful for the dampening effect that returned when the doors closed again. Hearing those cheers made me curious about what the revelers and paraders were experiencing, about what joy felt like for them. The things that give us life are so individual. Costumes, flags, and face paint are, for many who celebrate Pride, essential expressions of self-love and community love. My form of self-love and community love is to allow myself to become larger on the inside rather than on the outside, to expand my heart so much that I can feel more than I can directly perceive, and so join in with what is often too much for my body to bear.
This is also a form of joy. I wonder if this is similar to what Jesus experienced when he took a break from the crowds and went away alone to pray. When he said, “But when you pray, go to your room, shut the door, and pray to God who is in that secret place,” perhaps he had in mind his own experiences of quietly holding space in his heart for all the variety of humans he had loved and would love, the shy and the vulnerable as well as the bold and brave. His body was often being touched by others; perhaps his prayer was a form of respite, of physical self-care that allowed his outward self to be silent for a time while his heart expanded. Pride is, in large part, about how we show up in our bodies, including the wide range of identities and experiences that emerge from our God-blessed incarnational selves, with so many variations and multiplicities. Experiencing Pride from the Quiet Queers vantage point has helped me to realize that I, too, belong to the joy, even and especially as I am honoring my sensory needs, both alone and in the midst of others.
Jayleigh Lewis, member of The Crossing
WHAT’S ON AT TSPC - and beyond!
THIS SUMMER
BIG QUESTION DAY - ‘What is the Cross?’ Saturday August 29, 10am - 2.30pm, in Newburyport, Taunton and Boston
Each Summer The St. Paul Center for Theology and Prayer hosts an in-person day to tackle a ‘Big Question’. This year we’re asking ‘What is the Cross?’
Jesus died on a cross. That much we can agree on. But beyond that, things get complicated and emotions get strong. “The Cross” is revered in devotions, lifted high in hymns, and sometimes wielded like a weapon. How we understand this central symbol of our tradition impacts how we live, how we love, and how we hope.
Join us for a day of learning, reflection, and prayer on the Big Question of “What is the Cross?” Bring your questions, your hopes, your fears, and your heart to a space where they will all be held with care. Seekers, doubters, wonderers, and wanderers are most welcome.
‘What is the Cross?’ days will be hosted at St. Paul’s Newburyport, St. Thomas’ Taunton, and the Cathedral Church of St. Paul Boston, August 29th, 10am to 2.30pm. You are warmly invited to join us at whichever location works for you! Tea and coffee will be served at the start of the day, and you are invited to bring a packed lunch.
You can find all details and sign up to attend, here. As we prepare for the event, please let us know: what does the question ‘What is the Cross?’ mean to you? How would you approach that question? Where is there incompleteness in answers you have already received? We’d love to read your thoughts! tspc@diomass.org
TRAINING OPPORTUNITIES coming up:
Preaching Among Friends Information Sessions - June 28 and July 26 from 7-8pm via Zoom
Preaching Among Friends, an online ecumenical ministry for lay and ordained preachers, will offer two information sessions this summer, so you can find out more about their course. The 11 session program runs September 20 - November 5, from 7-8:30pm via Zoom. Tuition is $475 per person, and the Diocese of Massachusetts offers a 50% scholarship to participants. Learn more here.
Lay Eucharistic Visitor Training - June 28 from 2-5pm, Grace Church, 160 High St., Medford
A summer training is being offered for parishioners from any churches in the Diocese, who are interested in becoming Lay Eucharistic Visitors. Read more about requirements and register to attend, here.
‘Dismantling the Doctrine of Discovery’ - an online talk with Sarah Augustine, September 10th
We are thrilled to have the opportunity to join with the ecumenical, regional Find a Way sacred journey project, to host distinguished guest Sarah Augustine.
Sarah Augustine
Join us online to hear Augustine, a Pueblo (Tewa) descendent, founder of The Coalition to Dismantle the Doctrine of Discoveryand author of The Land is Not Empty, discuss what is hidden in plain sight: how violence against Indigenous people is ongoing, and how we, as church, are uniquely called to dismantle the systems that continue to justify it.
The talk will be hosted on Zoom, and will include time for Q&A. How can we begin a new chapter? How can we dream of healing centuries of damage? Come join the sacred journey. Please sign up here to attend. (The Zoom link will be emailed to all who sign up.)
Ministry Discernment Day - September 26th
How Is God Calling Me? A Day of Resources for Vocations of All Kinds
All who are discerning God's call in their life - in the Church and in the world, lay and ordained - are invited to the Ministry Discernment Day.
The day includes a panel discussion with people serving in a variety of Christian vocations; a presentation by the Commission on Ministry about new features of our ordination process; and an introduction to resources for individual reflection, communal discernment in congregations, and Church-wide discernment programs. After lunch, participants will break into smaller groups to learn more about the programs that most interest them.
People who want to learn about our ordination process in the Diocese of Massachusetts are especially encouraged to attend, along with their sponsoring clergy, potential parish discernment committee members, and family members.
The cost is $25, and pre-registration online is required. Registration opens July 6. For more information, contact Edie Dolnikowski, Canon for Ordained Vocations, at edie@diomass.org.
There is a helpful list of Discernment resources available here.
CLOSING WITH … A POEM
GATE A-4
Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning
my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement:
“If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.”
Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. “Help,” said the flight agent. “Talk to her. What is her problem? We
told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.”
I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly.
“Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the next day. I said, “No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just later, who is picking you up? Let's call him.”
We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee,
answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool
cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and
nuts—from her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the
lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered
sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.
And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two
little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they
were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—
by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag,
some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradi-
tion. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This
is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that
gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about
any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too.
This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.
Naomi Shihab Nye
(with thanks to the Rev. Suzanne Wade for the suggestion)
Please share your thoughts - or your questions! - with us. Our email inbox is always open! tspc@diomass.org
