Jay (she/her) has been an Episcopalian since birth, in love with theology since she discovered footnotes, and, like many of you, has had a complicated, sometimes frustrating, sometimes life-giving relationship with clergy and Scripture.

In the span of a few days, the Vatican received Archbishop of Canterbury Sarah Mullally and U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio. What it chose to publish—and what it chose to enact—tells its own story. The Anglican archbishop, whose orders Rome considers invalid, was invited to pray midday prayer with the pope and called a sister in Christ. The Catholic Secretary of State, representing an administration at war with Pope Leo, got a press bulletin, the word “cordial,” and an olive wood pen. One visit was framed by prayer. The other by protocol. The Vatican didn’t explain the difference. It simply enacted it. This is a theological close reading of diplomatic texts—and a quiet meditation on where Rome locates genuine communion.

The National Day of Prayer didn’t grow out of ancient Christian practice but out of Cold War politics and later the culture‑war activism of the Religious Right. The Episcopal Church doesn’t formally observe it—not because we don’t pray, but because our life is already shaped by the Daily Office, Forward Day by Day, and the quiet rhythm of the lectionary. Today’s readings offer a very different vision of prayer: not performance, but trust, justice, and covenant. The full Tradition Remixed post explores why that difference matters and what it reveals about how we pray.

Week 4 of the Good Lord, Deliver Us: The Great Litany as Survival Kit for the Via Media in Exile series, stretches us beyond our certainties. Intercession becomes exile’s discipline: praying for everyone, especially those we resist. Scripture reveals how God sees the heart, prepares a table in the presence of enemies, and opens the eyes of those the center overlooks. The Litany’s suffrages train us in humility, widening our prayer until it includes the whole world—those who wound us, those we blame, and those we fail to see. In praying for our enemies, our own hearts are changed, and we learn again to live as children of light.

Harriet Monsell’s life offers a countercultural freedom: the courage to love without needing results. A widowed woman who rebuilt her life at Clewer, she created sanctuary for those Victorian society discarded—not through programs or metrics, but through holy indifference, the spiritual practice of releasing outcomes to God. Her community loved without tiring, stayed without demanding transformation, and trusted God with what they could not fix. In an age obsessed with saving, measuring, and proving effectiveness, Monsell reminds us that faithfulness—not success—is the work. Love now; let God hold the rest.

Week 3 in the Good Lord Deliver Us series about the Great Litany as Survival Guide for the Via Media in Exile. Lent eventually stops being symbolic and becomes real. By Week Three, the wilderness strips away our illusions of control and leaves us facing the ancient question rising from every displaced people: Is the Lord among us or not? This week’s movement in the Great Litany—the obsecrations—teaches the via media how to survive exile by letting go of outcomes and grounding hope in what God has already done. Through water from the rock, the warning of Psalm 95, Paul’s stubborn logic of hope, and the Samaritan woman’s encounter with living water, we learn the discipline of holy indifference: releasing our grip on the future and trusting the One who meets us in the wilderness. Lent invites us to loosen our buckets, relinquish our strategies, and pray with honesty: Good Lord, deliver us.

Migration in America has always been a sacred act of survival — from the Great Migration to today’s border crossings to the quiet exodus of LGBTQ+ people fleeing hostile states. This piece traces how the Episcopal Church moved from standing over Black migrants to learning how to stand with those on the move today, including the Motahari sisters and others detained in the past year. It asks what memory demands of us now: whether we will let the stories of women who carried these movements become maps for justice, or whether we will confuse naming the damage with repairing it. Three migrations, one longing — to live, to be safe, to be welcomed. Tradition Remixed invites us to remember differently and move with the people still on the road.

The second installment in my Lenten series: Good Lord Deliver Us, The Great Litany as Exile Survival Kit. We have given voice to our grief. Now it’s time to look in the mirror and see how we came to be here. Based upon the Scripture readings for the Second Sunday in Lent (Year A)

A Theological Reflection on Grief, Formation and the Dignity We Lose Together When the Center is Pushed Out and Extremes Take Center Stage.

The first in my Lenten series “Good Lord Deliver Us: The Great Litany as Exile Survival Kit.” In a moment when the center has collapsed and the church finds itself wandering in a wilderness not of its choosing, the Great Litany and the First Sunday in Lent meet us with the same invitation: honesty. This reflection explores what it means for the via media to live as a people in exile and to rediscover lament as the first act of faithfulness. hrough Scripture—Jesus in the wilderness, Adam and Eve hiding, the psalmist confessing, Paul proclaiming grace—we learn that deliverance begins not with solutions but with truth-telling. Lament is the language of exiles, the prayer that refuses to hide, the cry from the depths to the God who still hears.