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Welcome to St. Alban’s Church! Every Sunday, and most days in between, people gather in this place to worship, to learn, to grow, to share the joys and struggles of our lives, and to seek God’s grace in the midst of our lives. We do not come because we have it all figured out, but because we are seeking light on the way. We come as we are and welcome one another.

On this website, you can find information about our worship, our classes for people of all ages, membership at St. Alban's, and about how we seek to make a difference in this world. We warmly encourage you to join us for a Sunday service or for some of the many other events that happen here. You belong at St. Alban’s.

Please fill out this welcome form to connect with us.

Contact us with any questions. Call (202) 363-8286 or email the church office.


Service Times

Beginning on Trinity Sunday, May 30, 2021, worship will be open to anyone without pre-registration or distancing requirements. We will continue requiring that worshippers be masked for now. 

Our schedule of services will remain the same throughout the summer:

 - 9:00 a.m. (English) in the church

 - 10:30 a.m. (English) in the church

 - Noon (Spanish) in Nourse Hall

Communion in one kind (i.e. wafers) will be offered at the main altar, although we will happily bring communion to those for whom steps are challenging. 

Masked hymn singing both indoors and outdoors will be permitted, and music will be supported by a soloist and organ. 

On-line worship services in English and Spanish are available on Sundays beginning at 8:00 a.m. on our YouTube channel.




St. Alban’s Episcopal Church is located next to the Washington National Cathedral at the corner of Massachusetts and Wisconsin Avenues in the northwest section of the District of Columbia.

From either direction on the north loop of the Capital Beltway/I-495 follow signs for Route 355/Wisconsin Ave south toward DC. St. Alban’s is located on the left just before the intersection of Massachusetts and Wisconsin Avenues NW. Make a left onto Lych Gate Rd before you reach Massachusetts Ave. As you enter the drive, the church will be on your left and Satterlee Hall and the Rectory on the right. Stay on Lych Gate until it becomes Pilgrim Rd.

From any Virginia main in-bound thoroughfare (George Washington Memorial Parkway, I-395, Route 50, I-66), follow signs to Rosslyn and take the Key Bridge from Rosslyn north across the Potomac River into Georgetown. Go right on M St, left on Wisconsin Ave. St. Alban’s is located on the right just after the intersection of Massachusetts and Wisconsin Avenues NW. Make a right onto Lych Gate Rd after passing Massachusetts. As you enter the drive, the church will be on your left and Satterlee Hall and the Rectory on the right. Stay on Lych Gate until it becomes Pilgrim Rd.

Parking is available on Pilgrim Road Monday-Friday after 3:30 pm and all day Saturday and Sunday. Parking is also available in the Cathedral’s underground garage for a fee Monday- Saturday and for free on Sunday.  You may also park on neighborhood streets according to DC parking signs.

What to Expect

Visiting a church for the first time can be a bit daunting. So we have tried to put together the answers to some of the questions you’re likely to have and to ensure that you find a warm welcome here. Click on the questions to learn more.)

How do you worship?

What time are services on Sunday morning?

How long do services last?

Where can I park?

Do you offer programs for children?

What should I wear?

Do you have provisions for the differently-abled?

For Your Kids

Children’s Ministry

At St. Alban’s Parish the formation of our children is a high priority.  While we know that a significant amount of a child’s faith comes from the home, we aim to provide excellent children’s formation throughout the year to complement the formation that is ongoing in a child’s life.  Our goal is to help children easily point to the love of God in their lives.

Worship: Children’s Chapel meets at the start of the 9:00 a.m. service in Nourse Hall. Children join the congregation in "big church" at the Peace, in time for Eucharist.

Education: All church school classes resume the Sunday after Labor Day with our annual Open House. Instruction starts the following Sunday. 

Nursery care: Child care is available from 9:00 to 11:05 a.m. during the program year (September to May) for infants and children under 3 who aren’t quite ready for our 2s & 3s class.

Learn more about Children's Ministries

Youth Ministry

Four teen groups participate in formation classes at St. Alban’s on Sunday mornings.  We use the nationally recognized Episcopal curriculum “Journey to Adulthood," or J2A.  J2A has two guiding principles: 1) Manhood and womanhood are gifts of God; and 2) Adulthood must be earned. This is a strong program with over 50 youth participating, many of whom engage in a wide variety of ministries at St. Alban’s. Two or three adults mentor each of the groups for two years, sharing their own faith journeys and forming strong bonds of fellowship with the participants. 

Worship:  St. Alban’s Teen Service Fellowship starts at 9:00 a.m. and is a separate service just for our teens held in the Little Sanctuary at St. Albans School. This interactive service offers teens time to talk about life, the Gospel, and to celebrate Eucharist together.  The teens return to "big church," before heading to their classes at the conclusion of the 9:00 a.m. worship service.  Friends are always welcome.

Learn more about Youth Ministries

The Episcopal Church

As Episcopalians, we follow Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. We believe in the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. We believe God is active in our everyday lives through the power of the Holy Spirit.  

The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and with each other in Christ. The Church pursues its mission as it prays and worships, proclaims the gospel, and promotes justice, peace and love. The Church carries out its mission through the ministry of all of its members.

We uphold the Bible and worship with the Book of Common Prayer. We believe the Holy Scriptures are the revealed Word of God. In worship we unite ourselves with one another to acknowledge the holiness of God, to hear God's Word, to offer prayer and praise, and to celebrate the Sacraments. The Celebration of Holy Eucharist is the central act of worship in accordance with Jesus' command to His disciples. Holy Communion may be received by all baptized Christians, not only members of the Episcopal Church.

The Episcopal Church is part of the worldwide Anglican Communion with 70 million members in 165 countries.  The word "Episcopal" refers to government by bishops. The historic episcopate continues the work of the first apostles in the Church, guarding the faith, unity and discipline of the Church. Both men and women, including those who are married, are eligible for ordination as deacons, priests and bishops. 

We strive to love our neighbors as ourselves and respect the dignity of every person. We welcome all to find a spiritual home in the Episcopal Church.

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The Rest of the Story

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The Rest of the Story

The Rest of the Story

Series: Lent

Speaker: The Rev'd Emily Griffin

Sermon – The Rest of the Story
St. Alban’s, DC – 2/28/21
Psalm 22:22-30 (BCP), Mark 8:31-38

He knows how it ends. Jesus, that is. Judging from the portion of Psalm 22 we just heard, with its call to praise reaching across space and time, from the dust of the grave to children yet unborn, you’d never guess how it starts. But Jesus knew. He knew the psalms like Christians know the Lord’s Prayer or the lyrics to “Amazing Grace.” After a lifetime in the synagogue as a faithful Jew, he likely could quote the psalms like we quote our favorite movies. Lines showed up in his conversations. They came unbidden – like the sayings of our grandmothers, with a wisdom we perhaps haven’t fully realized yet. So, in the moment when suffering had taken away everything else and the well had run dry, he used the words he had. In this Gospel anyway, Jesus quotes the opening line of today’s psalm on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” They’re his last words, in fact. So how can a psalm that starts with loneliness, grief and pain turn like this with the words we have today, with a chorus of praise that rings through eternity? Maybe Jesus can get from here to there, but can we?

If there is a legitimate path from suffering to joy, from the seemingly endless body count of today to new life tomorrow, who better to help us find it than Jesus? And what better time than Lent? In today’s Gospel, Jesus finally speaks plainly about what’s going to happen to him. No secrets, no parables this time. For once, he’s clear. In just a few weeks, he is going to suffer, be rejected and killed by people who should know better. Only after that will he rise. 

Peter and the others are no more prepared for this buzzkill than we would be. So far, they’ve only seen their ideal, their superhero Jesus – the one who heals diseases and stills storms and outwits everybody. He’s been smart and tough and powerful. Who wouldn’t want to follow him? They thought they were backing a winner who’d help them get their country back and gain the world, and yet here he turns and all but guarantees suffering and loss as the path to new life. 

There are different kinds of loss, of course. Sometimes a short-term loss is just good strategy. We’re willing to forfeit a game when we have the rest of the season to make it up. We might even throw a fight or lose a battle as long as we know we can still win the war. That’s not what Jesus is talking about here. Human life is too precious to play with like that. Besides, he knows that the kingdom he’s bringing turns everything upside down. When he takes violence and greed and shame off the table from being used as weapons, what do the religious and political authorities have left? If health and wealth and education really don’t make us better than our neighbors, then how do we justify the disparities between us? If admission to the kingdom of God isn’t merit-based, then how do we prove our worth? When we can’t measure our success against others’ failures, the value of our achievements, our existence, comes into question. Jesus knew that removing our goalposts of value and strength and insisting on the equal value of every human life would eventually get him killed, but he stayed on the path anyway. Why? Because once we realize what doesn’t matter, we have a chance of living into what does. 

It’s a scary invitation, to lose what we think of as our life and identity for the sake of unconditional love, to deny ourselves center stage, but at least in this case we know what we’re losing. The alternative is even more frightening. Or as Jesus puts it in the King James Version: “For what shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” The version we have talks about “forfeiting” our lives, but that implies that we know what we’re giving up. 

In our focus on gaining the world and proving our value, in measuring our worth by the suffering we’ve avoided, we could lose our souls and not even know it. And what kind of life is that? 

We’ll have plenty of time in the next several weeks to think about a life that is worth living, even in the face of death. We’ll consider the costs of living with integrity, of taking up our cross and being willing to suffer and grieve and love in solidarity with fellow children of God. But in the meantime, my original questions remain: Is there a path from suffering to joy that we can actually follow? If so, how do we get from here to there? I’m not sure we can answer these questions fully on this side of Easter. We may need to lose what we think of as our lives for a while in order to find them, and the only way I know how to do that is to follow Jesus.

Perhaps a clue can be found in the psalm we started with. In it we hear, “For God does not despise or abhor the poor in their poverty; neither does he hide his face from them; but when they cry to him, he hears them.” Perhaps that is how Jesus was able to cry “My God, my God” when every indication was that there was no God to cry to. A lifetime of praying this psalm in its fullness gave him hope that the truth was bigger than his feelings, that even his most hopeless cries could be heard. After all, he knows how this psalm ends – even if he can’t say it or even see it from the cross. When there’s not a way out, there is a way through – and because of the cross, we don’t have to face a single moment of it alone. In the Name of the One whose love reaches across space and time, from the dust of the grave to children yet unborn, Amen.