by Archdeacon Claire Phelps
Dear Family of St John’s
As we arrive at Maundy Thursday, we find ourselves standing at a sacred threshold.
For weeks now, through Lent, we have been journeying intentionally – walking the long road through the wilderness, guided in part by the Lectio 365: Wisdom in the Desert series. We’ve been invited into the quiet, often uncomfortable spaces where distractions fall away and deeper truths begin to surface. The desert, as we’ve discovered, isn’t simply a place of emptiness, but a place of encounter.
The Desert Fathers and Mothers understood this well. Abba Moses once said, “Sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” In other words, it’s in stillness, in silence, in the stripping away of noise, that we come to see both ourselves and God more clearly.
Lent has been, for many of us, exactly that kind of space.
Perhaps it has felt dry at times. Perhaps it has been confronting. Perhaps it has revealed things within us we would rather not face. But this is the quiet work of God – the gentle uncovering that prepares us for something deeper, something fuller.
And now, Holy Week gathers all of that journey into a single, sacred movement.
On this Maundy Thursday, we are drawn from the wilderness into the Upper Room. From solitude into community. From silence into the shared meal. Jesus, who has walked the dusty roads, who has faced temptation in the desert, now kneels to wash the feet of His friends and offers them bread and wine with these words:
“I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” (John 13:15)
This is the movement of the Christian life: from encounter with God in the hidden places, into humble, self-giving love in the world.
The desert was never the destination. It was preparation.
St Antony the Great, one of the early desert fathers, reminds us: “Whoever has not experienced temptation cannot enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.” The wilderness shapes us-not to remain there, but to emerge transformed, ready to love more deeply, to serve more freely, and to follow Christ more faithfully.
As we continue through the Triduum – from the table of Maundy Thursday, to the darkness of Good Friday, and ultimately to the light of Easter morning – we carry with us all that this Lenten desert has formed within us.
But we are also invited to continue creating space.
In the midst of Holy Week, with its intensity and its emotion, it can be tempting to move too quickly – to rush from one service to the next, from one moment to another. Yet the invitation of the desert remains: to pause, to be still, to listen.
Here at St John’s, we are deeply blessed to have two prayer rooms – our Poustinia – set aside for exactly this purpose. They are small, simple rooms, a place for withdrawal, prayer, and encounter with God. It’s a physical reminder that even in the midst of our busy lives, we can step aside into stillness.
If you find yourself longing for quiet – if you need space to pray, to reflect, to sit with Scripture, or simply to be – you are encouraged to make use of these rooms.
There’s no expectation. No pressure to have the “right” words. You might sit in silence. You might read a psalm. You might bring before God the burdens you are carrying.
As the Psalmist writes: “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)
Or perhaps you simply sit – and allow God to meet you there.
One of the Desert Mothers, Amma Syncletica, said: “In the beginning there are a great many battles and a good deal of suffering for those who are advancing toward God… but after that, ineffable joy.”
The journey isn’t always easy. But it’s always worthwhile, because it leads us into deeper communion with Christ.
And this is where Holy Week is leading us.
From the stillness of the desert…
To the humility of the table…
To the sorrow of the cross…
And finally, to the joy of the empty tomb.
So, as we move through these sacred days, may we not rush past them.
May we allow the desert to continue its quiet work within us.
May we receive the gift of Christ’s love at the table.
May we stand, even in the darkness of Good Friday, trusting that God is at work.
And may we arrive at Easter not as spectators, but as people who have truly journeyed.
If you are able, I encourage you to set aside even a small amount of time to be in your “desert place” – a space where you can be still, and where God can speak.
You don’t walk this journey alone.
And as we gather, pray, and wait together, may we discover anew the grace of the One who meets us in the wilderness – and leads us into life.
“The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places… and you shall be like a watered garden.” (Isaiah 58:11)
May it be so for each of us this Holy Week.
With love
Your friend and rector,
Claire