Anointing Jesus

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

April 6, 2025

Year C: The Fifth Sunday in Lent

Isaiah 43:16-21

Psalm 126

Philippians 3:4b-14

John 12:1-8

Anointing Jesus

Let us pray.

Loving God, in a time of fear and uncertainty, help us to be as generous and loving as Mary of Bethany.

Inspire us today to anoint and love Jesus by abundantly serving and loving our poor brothers and sisters.

Amen.

        Well, our recent big announcement that Amelia will be staying on with us as our Assistant Rector has got me thinking about my first “call,” my first job as a priest.

I served as the curate (pretty much the same thing as assistant rector) at Grace Church in Madison, New Jersey – a really wonderful church, a church that’s like St. Thomas’ in some important ways.

It’s vibrant church with lots of great ministries, including a heart for outreach.

There’s an excellent choir and music program.

And Grace Church is in the suburbs, but not too far from the city.

It was the perfect place to begin my ordained ministry, working as a “partner in ministry” with the church’s rector and my mentor and friend, the Rev. Lauren Ackland.

And now my hope is to offer that same gift of a great start to Amelia.

Anyway, as curate, one of my responsibilities was organizing the Youth Mission Trip.

Back then, the youth and their adult leaders would go on a mission trip, usually to a foreign country, every other summer. During the alternating summers they went on a pilgrimage that was more focused on spirituality.

It was a great combination – and, hopefully, as we continue our rebuild and renewal here, we’ll get to the point when we here at St. Thomas’ can sponsor a mission trip again, and, who knows, maybe a pilgrimage, too.

So, one year (it was 2009, actually), when I started thinking about the mission trip, I came up with something different.

Instead of flying to a foreign country, I said how about we drive an hour or so down the New Jersey Turnpike and have our mission trip in…Camden?

You may know that Camden is an old industrial port city just across the Delaware River from Philadelphia.

Camden is a city that has been burdened by the closing of factories, the flight of people to the suburbs, racism, a poisoned environment, corruption, crime, the scourge of drugs…you know the story.

I suggested that we spend a week at the Romero Center, a retreat center named for Oscar Romero, the El Salvadoran archbishop who had defended the poor and advocated for peace.

Archbishop Romero was assassinated in 1980, martyred by a right-wing death squad as he celebrated Mass.

In Camden, the Romero Center offers what it calls the Urban Challenge.

During the day, the participants, usually students and church members, fan out to different service providers in the city – volunteering at schools, soup kitchens, homeless shelters, day care centers for children and for adults – and then, and this is crucial, everybody gathers together again at the end of the day to share and reflect on what they had seen and done, what they had experienced.

In one particularly memorable exercise, we were divided up into “families” and we all went to what was Camden’s lone supermarket to purchase food for our “family,” but we were limited to the amount of money a family received through food stamps. 

There was a lot of white bread and mac ‘n cheese that night.

As you might guess, some of the church parents and kids were disappointed by, and frankly unhappy about, my Camden idea – too different from the foreign adventures that older kids had experienced and just too dangerous.

But others were excited about it and jumped right in.

It wasn’t a perfect week, but it’s still one of the most memorable events of my priesthood – and I know that at least some of the kids and adults who participated were deeply affected by what they saw and did during those days in Camden.

At the Romero Center, in the common room where we would pray together and reflect on our experiences, there’s a phrase painted in bold letters on the wall.

It’s a quote from the Peruvian priest and liberation theologian, Gustavo Gutierrez:

“So you say you love the poor…NAME THEM.”

“So you say you love the poor…NAME THEM.”

Well, it has been a very difficult week, a time of much fear and uncertainty, but I still remember last Sunday, our joyful and rose-colored Laetare Sunday.

        In her excellent sermon, Amelia offered us a profound reflection on the Parable of the Prodigal Son – or, rather, excuse me, the Parable of the Misunderstood Father. 

        And now in today’s gospel lesson, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem and all that awaits him there.

        For his friends at least, it was a time of much fear and uncertainty.

        Along the way, Jesus and his disciples stop in Bethany, at the home of Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead.

Lazarus’ sisters are there, acting very much in character. Martha busily serves dinner to the guests while her sister Mary, in an extraordinarily tender act, anoints Jesus’ feet with very expensive perfume and dries them with her hair.

We’re told that the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

Even now, Mary’s intimate act of love and devotion – preparing Jesus for his death -unsettles us, so we can imagine how shocking it must have been for Jesus’ disciples.

Judas, of course, objects to the great expense.

He says, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?”

A denarius, by the way, was about a day’s wage – so three hundred denarii would have been a lot of money.

John tells us that Judas was a thief and didn’t really care about the poor. 

        OK, fine. 

        But I’m pretty sure that if I had been there in Bethany that night and seen and smelled all that expensive perfume poured out onto Jesus’ feet, I may have kept my mouth shut but I would’ve thought the exact same thing: what a waste!

And I’ve gotten to know you well enough to know that many of you would be right there with Judas and me!

Well, Jesus responds to Judas with words that have been often misunderstood: 

Jesus says, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

These are problematic words.

I mean, yes, Jesus is not present for us the same way he was for everyone gathered around the table in Bethany two thousand years ago.

But Jesus’ declaration that we will always have the poor with us sounds kind of fatalistic, doesn’t it?         

        It’s certainly been interpreted that way.

        Faced with so much poverty and suffering, many Christians have sort of shrugged:

        “What are you going to do? After all, Jesus said, there will always be poor people. That’s just how it is.”

But we know Jesus better than that.

So, I think that Jesus really means that if we’re going to be his disciples, if we’re going to be his church, if we’re going to take up our cross and follow him, then, just as Jesus was always close to the poor, we must always be close to the poor.

If we’re really Christians, then the poor will always be with us.

We are meant to be so close to the poor that we know them – that we know their names.

“So you say you love the poor…NAME THEM.”

        And when we know and serve and love the poor, we are anointing Jesus himself as surely as Mary anointed Jesus with her expensive perfume two thousand years ago.

This was the lesson that we learned at the Romero Center all those years ago.

And this is why our abundantly generous ministries like Owls First and our hospitality for Afghan refugees are so important and beautiful.

This work brings us, keeps us, close to the children at Owings Mills Elementary School, close to our Afghan friends.

Close enough that we know each other’s names.

Close enough that we truly love one another.

Two thousand years ago, in a time of fear and uncertainty, Mary of Bethany anointed Jesus with expensive perfume.

Today, in our time of fear and uncertainty, may we anoint Jesus with overflowing and costly love.

May we anoint and love Jesus by abundantly serving and loving  and knowing our poor sisters and brothers.

Amen.

There’s Still Time to Move Forward Differently

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

March 23, 2025

Year C: The Third Sunday in Lent

Exodus 3:1-15

Psalm 68:1-8

1 Corinthians 10:1-13

Luke 13:1-9

There’s Still Time to Move Forward Differently

Let us pray,

Liberating God,

Just as you freed the people of Israel long ago, break the chains of sin that enslave us today.

Give us a sense of urgency, helping us to repent and keep our promises of love and service.

Amen.

        Just about every day, I think about my friend Dave.

I’ve mentioned him to you a few times.

He was the Rector of our church in Jersey City back when Sue and I first started attending, about twenty-five years ago now.

        He was the priest who, during the Exchange of Peace on our very first Sunday, came bounding down the aisle, extended his hand to us and said, “I’m Dave. Welcome to St. Paul’s.”

And so began one of the most important friendships of our lives.

During our first few Sundays at St. Paul’s, back when we would slip out of church right after the service ended, too shy and uncertain to attend coffee hour, back then I quickly recognized and appreciated Dave’s authenticity in the pulpit.

Behind a kind of gruff exterior, I sensed a certain woundedness - this was a man who had been through a few things.

Because he was very open about it, we soon learned that Dave was a recovering alcoholic.

And later, I learned that he had once been rector of a large and thriving church in the suburbs.

He had seen himself (and I think was viewed by others) as a “rising star” in the church, a future bishop, perhaps.

But, because of his worsening alcoholism, Dave lost that big suburban church, lost members of his family, lost just about everything.

But he didn’t lose God.

He didn’t lose our liberating God.

And so, thanks to God, and thanks to the Twelve Steps of AA, Dave was able to return to ministry, eventually landing in Jersey City, where his welcome, friendship, and mentoring changed my life forever.

Later, after I was ordained and would occasionally get frustrated with the church, I would sometimes say to him. “You’re the one who got me into this mess!”

He would just laugh, denying all responsibility.

But it’s true – not the mess part (well, sometimes), but I’m sure that if some other priest was at St. Paul’s that first Sunday, I’d still be a history teacher today.

You and I would have never met.

And so, it’s always felt kind of providential that I landed here at St. Thomas’, the home parish of Sam Shoemaker, the man who provided much of the spiritual foundation of AA, the man who in an indirect but real way, set my life off in a radically different direction.

That’s why I’ve tried to honor Shoemaker, tried to draw attention to his work and legacy.

Some of you may remember that our first Shoemaker speaker was the Rev. Erin Jean Warde, an Episcopal priest and fellow Shoemaker admirer who works in recovery.

When she was here three years ago, she was working on her book, which has since been published. 

It’s called Sober Spirituality.

I read and liked it very much, learned a lot from it. Maybe one of these days we’ll get a group together to read her book and talk with her about it.

         Anyway, there’s one phrase that she uses in Sober Spirituality that has especially stuck with me, a phrase that I frequently re-write in my own personal journal, during those times when I think about my mistakes, the times when I’ve fallen short.

“I cannot go back, but I can move forward differently.”

“I cannot go back, but I can move forward differently.”

To which I would add, “With God’s help.”

Today is the Third Sunday in Lent.

As always, this holy season is flying by.

Next Sunday, we’ll switch the liturgical color from purple to rose, signaling that our season of repentance is drawing to a close, that soon it will be Easter!

I have no idea how your Lent has been going, don’t know if you’ve made any sacrifices, taken on any new practices or ministries.

I don’t know if you’ve been moving differently at all.

Maybe you gave it a shot a couple of weeks ago, but quickly slipped up or just forgot, drifted back into the usual routine.

Well, in today’s gospel lesson, Jesus gives us a loving but pointed kick in the pants.

Jesus calls us to urgency, warning us that we don’t have all the time in the world:

        Bad things happen to good people, bad things happen to people who aren’t much better or worse than most other people.

        Cruel dictators do terrible things, buildings sometimes fall.

        Life can go wrong in a million different ways, all we have for sure is right this second and our life can end in a moment – so, with the help of the God of liberation, we must repent, must change our ways now, while there is still time.

The choice is up to us.

Before I go any further, I want to be very clear that addiction is not sin.

That wrong idea has done, and continues to do, a lot of damage.

Addiction is not sin.

But sin is often addictive.

I think of St. Paul’s lament in his letter to the Romans:

“I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (Romans 7:15).

Sin is often addictive. 

        The Bible sometimes describes us as enslaved by sin.

        We may know this from our own lives, and we certainly know it from just turning on the news any day of the week.

And that’s why recovery and repentance are so similar.

We can’t go back, but repentance is asking for forgiveness for the times we’ve fallen short, the times we’ve given into greed or hate or cruelty or indifference, the times we’ve divided the world into “us” and “them.”

We can’t go back, but repentance is asking for God’s help to move forward differently – to get closer to keeping those big baptismal promises to love one another, to seek and serve Christ in all people, to respect the dignity of every human being.

Both recovery and repentance are hard work.

And, in some ways, it is easier to just continue as we always have.

But moving forward in our same old ways carries a very high cost – a high cost to our physical and spiritual wellbeing. 

Both recovery and repentance are hard work but, with God’s help, new life – Easter life - awaits us on the other side.

That’s a lesson my friend Dave learned.

        A lesson that he shared with others, changing lives, including mine.

        Today is the Third Sunday in Lent.

        Already.

        This holy season is flying by.

        Fortunately, with the help of our liberating God, there’s still time for us to repent.

        There’s still time to move forward differently.

        May it be so.

        Amen.

Mission-Focused

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

March 16, 2025

Year C: The Second Sunday in Lent

Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18

Psalm 27

Philippians 3:17-4:1

Luke 13:31-35

Mission-Focused

Let us pray.

God of the Seemingly Impossible,

Help us to resist the temptations of fear, distraction, and division.

Keep us focused on our mission of serving you by serving others.

Amen.

        Well, we had yet another action-packed week here at St. Thomas’ Church!

I’ll have more to say about that in a few minutes.

But, one thing I’ll mention now is that, behind the scenes, a few of us worked on the Letter of Agreement with our hopefully-soon-to be-hired-and-announced Assistant Rector.

As you probably know, the Church loves to come up with its own vocabulary.

So, it’s not the vestibule, it’s the narthex.

And it’s not a contract, it’s a Letter of Agreement.

But it’s basically the same thing. We the employer pledge to do a, b, and c and you the employee will be responsible for doing x, y, z. And this is how we will keep both parties accountable. 

Pretty straightforward. You don’t have to be a lawyer to know how this works.

But you may not have realized that in today’s Old Testament lesson from Genesis, we heard about another contract, another “letter of agreement,” a covenant, a covenant between God and Abram (the future Abraham) and Abram’s descendants.

As we heard, the story begins with Abram feeling kind of sorry for himself, sorry that he and his wife Sarai (the future Sarah) have no descendants.

But then, in very God-like fashion, God promises the seemingly impossible – a homeland, yes, but more than that, God promises that childless Abram’s descendants will be as numerous as the stars in the sky.

And, against all available evidence, Abram believed God’s seemingly impossible promises.

And then we have this strange ritual.

In the ancient world, to finalize a contract, the parties would sometimes slaughter animals and then divide their carcasses in half. And then both parties would walk between those divided carcasses, symbolizing that if they violated the deal, well, they would suffer the same fate as the animals.

Some people say that this is the origin of the expression “cut a deal.” That’s probably not true, but I’m guessing that this rather crude and bloody way of cutting a deal was effective.

But notice how God cuts this deal with Abram and his descendants.

Yes, the animals have been killed and the carcasses cut in half.

But it’s only God, represented by the smoking fire pot and torch, who “walks” between both halves.

God knows that Abram’s descendants will give into temptation.

God knows that we will not always keep our end of the deal.

And so, God spares us the worst consequences of our unfaithfulness. 

But no matter how many times we mess up, no matter how many times we fall short, God is faithful.

God keeps God’s end of the deal.

        God keeps God’s promises.

        If you were here last week, you’ll remember that we heard the story of Jesus’ forty days and nights in the wilderness, Jesus’ time of temptation.

        After failing to tempt Jesus, we’re told that the devil departs “until an opportune time.”

        And maybe we hear about one of those “opportune times” in today’s gospel lesson.

        Today we catch up with Jesus as he is making his way to his fate in Jerusalem.

        As he’s passed through villages and towns, he’s been healing illnesses and exorcising demons. No doubt the word about this most unusual teacher, this most powerful healer, has been spreading.

        No doubt some people were excited while others felt threatened.

        As we heard today, some Pharisees warn Jesus that Herod (the same ruler who had ordered the execution of John the Baptist) wants to kill him.

        It’s hard to know exactly what’s going on here.

        In the gospels, the Pharisees are almost always presented as opposing Jesus, so why would they care if Herod killed Jesus?

        Well, it could be that these Pharisees really did want to save Jesus’ life.

        Or maybe the Pharisees are hoping to trip up Jesus. If Jesus turns away from his mission to save his own skin, then the Pharisees can say, see, we told you he wasn’t a real prophet. A real prophet would trust God. A real prophet would never run away in fear.

        Well, the motives of the Pharisees don’t really matter because, as always, Jesus resists temptation – resists whatever temptation he might have felt to save his life.

        Jesus dismisses any concern about that fox Herod and remains mission focused.

        Jesus remains focused on his mission, knowing that it’s going to cost him a lot, knowing that it will cost him everything, trusting that God is faithful.

        Jesus knows that his Father and ours keeps his end of the deal.

        Like all of Abram’s descendants, we face many temptations.

And in this especially challenging time, we face particular temptations – the temptations of fear, distraction, and division.

Our temptations vary a bit depending on our station in life and our political views – but I think that right now all of us are sorely tempted to divide everyone into “us” and “them.”

But since our God of the Seemingly Impossible is faithful, we can resist the temptations of our lives, the temptations of our time, and we can remain mission focused, faithful to our mission of loving our neighbors, seeking and serving Christ in all persons, respecting the dignity of every human being.

Since our God of the Seemingly Impossible is faithful, we can be a servant church.

So, getting back to our action-packed week here at St. Thomas’…

After several years of discussion and discernment, last week work began on creating a new home for refugees from Afghanistan.

As most of you know, several of our parishioners have given countless hours to helping and guiding our friends from Afghanistan – navigating bureaucracy, making appointments, giving rides all over the place.

That generosity and hospitality has been just amazing. 

And now we’re taking the next big step. And I can’t tell you how proud I am to serve as Rector of a church that would make this kind of commitment, offering a home to people who have fled horrors to come to a faraway and no doubt strange land.

As it happens, during Morning Prayer, we’ve been reading Deuteronomy – and on Friday we read this:

“For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the strangers, providing them with food and clothing. You shall also love the stranger…”

Since our God of the Seemingly Impossible is faithful, we can be mission focused.

In addition to starting work on a new home for our Afghan friends, last week also marked the return of Owls First, our afterschool enrichment program at Owings Mills Elementary School.

For Math Club, there were 14 tutors from St. Thomas’, some returning from last semester, others getting involved for the first time.

Our parishioners are working beside six student coaches from Owings Mills High School.

And for the sports component, John Xanders is working with two Owings Mills High School students, providing recreation and fun for about 20 kids.

Owls First brings together volunteers of different backgrounds and spanning a pretty wide age range, all committed to working with school children, helping them improve their skills, yes, but also offering genuine care – genuine care for kids who aren’t part of our family or part of our church, but who are known and loved by God and are now known and loved by us.

This is our end of the deal.

        This is our mission.

With the help of our God of the Seemingly Impossible, we can resist the temptations of fear, distraction, and division, the temptation of “us” and them.”

With the help of our faithful God, we can follow the way of Jesus.

We can remain mission-focused.

Amen.

Remember Our Baptism

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

March 9, 2025

Year C: The First Sunday in Lent

Deuteronomy 26:1-11

Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16

Romans 10:8b-13

Luke 4:1-13

Remember Our Baptism

    Let us pray.

    Loving God,

    When we are tempted, help us to remember our baptism.

    Help us to remember your bond of love with us.

    Help us to remember our call to loving service.

    Amen.

    Today is the First Sunday in Lent and you may have noticed that there have been a few changes around here since last Sunday.

    Most of our shiny things have been put away or veiled.

    We began the service with what’s called the Penitential Order, which includes the Ten Commandments, the Confession and Absolution.

    We will refrain from saying the “A” word until the great feast of Easter.

    And we entered and will leave in silence.

    We make all these changes to shake us from our usual church routine, to help us get into the solemn spirit of Lent, this holy time when we prepare for Easter by taking stock of the ways that we have fallen short, when we ask forgiveness, and, with God’s help, strive to live more faithfully and lovingly.

    And on the First Sunday in Lent, we always hear the story of Jesus’ forty days and nights in the wilderness – Jesus’ time of hunger and thirst – Jesus’ time of temptation.

    The Gospels of Mark, Matthew, and Luke all tell the story of Jesus’ wilderness time. And they all note that Jesus went – or was led by the Spirit – into the wilderness right after his baptism.

    You’ll remember that at his baptism, the Spirit descended upon Jesus like a dove and the Voice from heaven said, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

    And then to the wilderness for Jesus’ time of testing and temptation.

    I don’t think that this is simply historical chronology.

    No, the Evangelists are making the point that baptism is not magic.

Baptism does not exempt us from wilderness times – maybe quite the opposite, actually.

    And baptism doesn’t excuse us from hunger and thirst, doesn’t protect us from suffering.

    And even if we’re baptized, we’ll still face temptations, especially when we’re tired or hungry or frightened.

    But the bond that God makes with us in baptism gives us the strength to resist temptation – or, when we mess up, baptism gives us the confidence to ask for pardon and begin again.

    I want to say a couple of things about Jesus’ experience in the wilderness.

    First, note that the Tempter caters his temptations for Jesus – tempting Jesus to use his unique identity and power not to serve and save others but to serve and save himself.

    I imagine the Tempter saying, “Go ahead, turn those stones into bread. We both know you can do it. And won’t that bread be so delicious?”

    But Jesus is bread for the world, not bread for himself.

    I imagine the Tempter saying, “We both know you’re the King, but most people aren’t catching on. Just worship me and the whole world will bow down before you. Everybody wins!”

    But Jesus isn’t a worldly king. He’s a servant king, a king who washes feet.

    And finally, the Tempter tempts Jesus to take the leap, trusting that the angels will rescue him from falling.

    “You are the Son of God, aren’t you?”

    But when Jesus takes the leap, he will stretch out his arms on the cross, and no angels will come to his rescue.

    The second thing I want to mention is that the Tempter quotes scripture – a warning for us that the Bible can be, and often is, distorted and misused to mislead and harm.

    And finally, let’s not miss the ominous conclusion of this story:

    “When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.”

    We know other “opportune times” when Jesus was tempted, maybe even more sorely tempted than he was in the wilderness.

    Remember when Peter got so upset at the thought of Jesus suffering and dying, so upset that he “rebuked” Jesus? And probably because he really was tempted to turn away from his path, an agitated Jesus “rebuked” Peter right back, “Get behind me, Satan!”

    And, of course, near the end – or what seemed like the end – we have the deeply moving image of Jesus in agony, praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, asking the Father to spare him this fate.

    But I confess that when I hear that ominous note of the Tempter returning to Jesus at an opportune time, I always think of a work of fiction, The Last Temptation of Christ.

    The novel by Nikos Kazantzakis was published in 1955 and Martin Scorsese’s movie adaptation came out in 1988. Although, by today’s standards, they’re both pretty tame, the novel and movie were quite controversial in their times.

    What seems to have upset people most was the depiction of a real flesh and blood Jesus – Jesus our brother, who faced real and earthy temptations, just like us.

    But it seems to me, that’s the point – and that’s been the teaching of the church all along – that Jesus the Son of God is a human being just like us, tempted as we are but did not sin.

    What I find most moving about both the book and the movie is the last temptation itself. 

    While Jesus is suffering and dying on the cross, the Tempter finds the opportune time to tempt Jesus with – not some supernatural act like making the nails disappear – but an ordinary life – to be married, to have children, to spend his days earning a living in the carpentry shop.

    Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with any of that.

    Except it wasn’t Jesus’ path.

    It wasn’t his mission. 

    It wasn’t his call.

    The Last Temptation of Christ is a work of fiction, but that last temptation feels very real.

    And maybe it feels real because the Tempter tries to lure us in similar ways.

    The Tempter tempts us to forget our baptism and just live pretty much like everybody else out there – not bad necessarily, but not what we’re called to.

    The Tempter tempts us to forget our special mission to seek and serve Christ in absolutely everyone. 

    “Everyone! That’s just too hard,” the Tempter says.

    The Tempter tempts us to forget our calling to love our neighbor as our self. 

    “C’mon, let’s be realistic here,” the Tempter says.

    And if we give into the temptation to forget our baptism, well, you know the Tempter won’t stop there.

    Maybe the Tempter then tempts us to treat certain people as “less than,” to judge other people based on how they look or speak or believe or vote or love.

    And maybe the Tempter then tempts us to get swept up in the fury of these days, adding our fuel to the fire, further dividing our community, our country, and our world into “us” and “them,” forgetting that for Christ, in Christ, there is no “them.” 

    There is no “them.”

    Just “us.”

    All of us.

    We won’t have any baptisms during Lent – yet another Lenten sacrifice - but this holy season is a very good time to remember our baptism.

    Baptism isn’t magic.

    But God’s baptismal bond of love with us is indissoluble – giving us the strength to resist temptation and the courage to ask forgiveness when we falter.

    We may be tempted to just live like everybody else, but our baptismal promises call us to a different way, the costly way of Jesus, the way of loving service, the way to Easter and new life.

    With God’s help, in our moments of temptation, may we remember our baptism. 

    Amen.

Returning to God with All Our Heart

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

March 5, 2025

Ash Wednesday

Joel 2:1-2, 12-17

Psalm 103:8-14

2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Returning to God with All Our Heart

Let us pray.

God of Life,

May today’s ashes remind us that each day is precious.

May today’s ashes invite us to prayer and sacrifice and good works.

May today’s ashes inspire us to return to you with all our heart.

Amen.

        When I was a young, it seemed that Ash Wednesday was mostly about getting told that someday I was going to die.

        “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

        To be honest, I’m not sure I believed it.

But now… I’m not so young, and every day the increasing number of gray hairs on my head remind me that time is passing. 

By now, lots of people I’ve loved have died and I’ve presided at many funerals, including during my time here at St. Thomas’.

And every time we enter or leave this church, reminders of mortality are all around us.

But, sure, if any of you happen to still need it, Ash Wednesday is certainly a vivid reminder that we don’t have all the time in the world - that this life is short and precious, and we do not know that day nor the hour.

But Ash Wednesday is more than just a reminder of mortality.

Ash Wednesday is a call from God – a call from God who will not let go of us no matter what, God who will not let go of us even when our bodies are merely dust.

Long ago, God spoke through the Prophet Joel:

“Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning, rend your hearts and not your clothing.”

Ash Wednesday and the holy season of Lent are calls to repent, to return to God with all our heart.

And we return to God with all our heart by asking forgiveness for when we have messed up, setting aside attitudes and habits that we know aren’t good for us, shedding the sins that divide us from God and one another.

        We return to God with all our heart by spending even just a little bit of time in prayer – could be only a few quiet moments, or simply a word or two, like “Help” or “Thank you.”

Those will work just fine.

We return to God with all our heart by striving to live with patience, kindness, mercy, understanding, and, most of all, love. 

We return to God with all our heart by being here, even when we don’t feel like it, even when life gets busy and stressful, especially then.

Today we are called to return to God with all our heart.

And, with God’s help, if we answer this call, then in just a few weeks what a joyful Easter we will have, what a celebration of new life we will have, right here, with Mary Magdalene and all of Jesus’ friends.

        But first, it’s Lent.

And especially during Lent, 

        God calls us

        to return.

        To return with all our heart.

Amen. 

Every Season is a Season of Celebration

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

March 2, 2025

Year C: The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

Exodus 34:29-35

Psalm 99

2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2

Luke 9:28-36

Every Season is a Season of Celebration

Let us pray.

O God, whether we are up on the mountaintop or down in the valley, give us the gift of awe, help us to recognize and celebrate your love and your healing at work in and among us.

Amen.

        Well, last weekend, we had a couple of really great days here at St. Thomas’.

On Saturday afternoon, of course, we had our magnificent recital: “A Journey of Song: A Celebration of Heritage and Hope.”

David Marshall dreamed up a beautiful program for us and the musicianship was extraordinary. No surprise there.

But, even more important than the amazing technical skill, there was so much heart – heart that we could all hear in the songs, heart that we could feel here in this old building among parishioners and friends and guests.

For Sue and me, the recital was extra-meaningful because it was a reunion with one of our all-time favorite people, Gail Blache-Gill, who had been the Minister of Music at our church in Jersey City. 

It’s hard to find exactly the right words to describe what it felt like to see and hear Gail sing at St. Thomas’ – it was kind of like weaving together different threads of my life, of our lives, creating something unexpected and new, something that felt just right.

As if that weren’t enough, three of our Jersey City parishioners surprised us by making the trip down to Maryland, transforming the recital into a real family reunion.

So that was amazing.

And then on Sunday we gathered in the Parish Hall for our Annual Meeting.

Meetings can be a drag, believe me I know, but our meeting felt like a celebration – a celebration of your extraordinary generosity, a celebration of all the life-giving ministries that happen here all the time, and a celebration of some big plans in the years ahead:

        We’re going to transform what was formerly the assistant’s house into a home for Afghan refugees.

        We’re going to enclose and memorialize the North Cemetery.

        We’re going to fully rehabilitate the organ, which should continue to serve our church for many decades.

        We’re going to connect to the sewer system (that may not sound glamorous but it’s a big deal!).

        And, lest we forget, we will hire a full-time Assistant Rector so we can do and support even more ministries and help keep me going, too!

        All with God’s help, of course.

        Yes, last weekend was really something – it was a celebration of song and ministry.

        You might even say that, for us, for St. Thomas’, last weekend was a mountaintop experience. 

        And now here we are today.

        It’s the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday and the start of the holy season of Lent.

        And every year on this day in our gospel lesson we hear the story of another mountaintop experience: the Transfiguration.

        As we just heard, Jesus is transformed before their eyes, giving a glimpse of Easter, when Jesus is still himself but also different – a preview of Easter, when Jesus journeys from death to new life.

        In this mountaintop experience, Jesus and his closest disciples, Peter, James, and John, encounter two key figures from Israel’s past, Moses and Elijah.

        On the mountain, Jesus and his friends hear the voice of God: “This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him.”

        And as suddenly as the mountaintop experience began, it was over.

        It was time to come down the mountain, back into our broken and suffering world.

        Who could blame Peter for wanting to build mountaintop dwellings for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah?

        Who could blame Peter for wanting to stay “up there” forever?

        And then, in the second part of today’s gospel lesson, we get a snapshot of the world’s suffering:

        A father desperately seeking help for his son, for his only child.

        The well-meaning disciples trying to help, trying to fix the situation, but they fail.

        In Luke’s version of this story, Jesus doesn’t explain why the disciples can’t cast out this demon, but in Mark he says that this kind of demon can only be defeated by prayer and in Matthew he says that the disciples just didn’t have enough faith.

        But, far from the mountaintop, in this valley of suffering, Jesus casts out the demon and restores the boy to health.

        Just like for Jesus and his disciples and just like every mountaintop experience, our amazing weekend at St. Thomas’ eventually came to an end.

        We all went back down the mountain to our routines and responsibilities.

        We all went back home to face our challenges and fears.

        At some point, most of us probably turned on the news or doomscrolled through social media, filled with stories of cruelty and violence, suffering and loss. 

        Life is hard in the valley of suffering.

        This is why it is so important for us to be here week after week.

        Now, I’m not going to say that every Sunday is a mountaintop experience, although if our hearts are really open to what’s happening here, then maybe.

        But I will say that, when we’re here together, every season is a season of celebration.

        I came across an interesting quote from Abraham Joshua Heschel, the great 20th century Jewish theologian, philosopher and civil rights activist.

Heschel draws a distinction between entertainment and celebration.

        Entertainment, he says, is a passive state, “it is to receive pleasure afforded by an amusing act or spectacle.”

         But “celebration is an active state, an act of expressing reverence or appreciation.”  

        So, every time we gather here, it’s a celebration – a celebration of God’s love for us, a celebration of our love of God and our love for one another.

        Every time we gather here – when we hear God’s Word, when we receive Christ’s Body and Blood, when we exchange a sign of peace especially when there’s not much peace “out there” in the world, it’s a celebration.

        Every time we welcome a new Christian in the water of Baptism, that’s a celebration. Obviously. Everybody knows that!

        But every time we gather here after a beloved sister or brother has died, as hard as that is, it’s also a celebration – it’s a celebration because we remember the person we’ve loved and why we loved them and now miss them so much – it’s a celebration because we hold each other up – it’s a celebration because we know that the Transfiguration is a glimpse of Jesus’ future and our own – God will not let go of us, no matter what.

        Even Lent, which maybe doesn’t seem so celebratory, and, considering the grim state of the world, we might even be tempted to skip this year, even Lent is a celebration.

        It’s a celebration to remember that we are dust, totally dependent on our loving God.

        It’s a celebration to repent, to turn around, to be even more loving, more faithful, more generous.

        It’s a celebration to prepare for the biggest celebration of them all – to prepare for Easter.

        It’s at Easter when we learn, when we know, that evil and death do not get the last word – that, even when things look as hopeless as a sealed tomb, even when shadows seem to be blocking all the light, love and life will triumph.

        So, last week we had quite a weekend here at St. Thomas’, days that I know I won’t forget anytime soon.

        And maybe we can’t promise a mountaintop experience quite like that every week.

        But, whether we’re up on the mountain or down in the valley, when we gather here with Jesus and his friends, every season is a season of celebration.

        Amen.

Less Woeful, More Blessed

Less Woeful, More Blessed

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 23, 2025

Year C: The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany

Genesis 45:3-11, 15

Psalm 37:1-12, 41-42

1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50

Luke 6:27-38

Let us pray. 

Loving God, help us to follow the way of Jesus.

Help us to follow the way of love, generosity, and mercy.

Help us to make this world less woeful and more blessed.

Amen.

So, as you know, each week we hear various excerpts from Holy Scripture. 

And, by the way, we follow a schedule of Bible readings. So, I don’t choose the scripture that we hear – and, sometimes, maybe like today, for example, I might have made a different choice!

One problem with this system is that it’s easy to get so focused on these individual passages that we miss the big picture, the context, we don’t pay any attention to what was happening in the background of the biblical world, we don’t know or forget what life was like for Jesus and for all of the other people we read about in the Bible.

It’s important for us to remember that life in biblical times was almost unimaginably difficult.

Of course, there were none of our modern conveniences – none of the gadgets that make our lives so comfortable – no electricity which Sue and I sorely missed last week when the high winds brought down trees and knocked out our power – the house got cold really fast.

I know lots of you were in the same boat.

Back in biblical times, people were completely dependent on the harvest and the catch – a drought or an empty net meant hunger or even worse.

And while there were folk remedies and maybe some of them even worked, there was, of course, no modern medicine – no vaccines or antibiotics or scans or surgery – none of the marvels that have restored so many of us to health, none of the discoveries and innovations that have kept so many of us alive.

Yes, life in biblical times was almost unimaginably difficult.

And, in the first century, during the days of Jesus’ earthly life, on top of the usual challenges, the people of Israel lived under Roman occupation.

Now, the Romans were great builders. In fact, some of their roads, and aqueducts, and buildings are still in use today – which, let’s give them credit, is amazing.

But those impressive achievements were built on the backs of poor people throughout the empire – the people who were forced to send so much of their wealth to Rome.

And, of course, if any of those subjugated people ever dared to resist Rome, the punishment was swift and brutal.

Crucifixion, which was really death by suffocation, was common. And, unlike in the case of Jesus, usually the bodies of the crucified were left on the cross to decay, a horrifying sight, a stark reminder of the price of challenging the powers that be. 

So, it’s in a land of suffering, that Jesus offers what we heard last week, what’s often called the Sermon on the Plain.

It’s in a land of suffering that Jesus presents his downside-up vision, “Blessed are the poor, the hungry, the weeping, and the hated.”

And it’s in a land of suffering that Jesus warns the people who were living large, the people who were doing well while so many were suffering: “Woe to you who are rich and full and laughing and respected.”

If this all sounds bizarrely downside-up to us, which it does, imagine just how crazy Jesus’ words must have seemed to people living under Roman occupation!

And now, in today’s excerpt from the Gospel of Luke, we hear the continuation of the Sermon on the Plain, the continuation of Jesus’ downside-up vision of how we are to live together.

Jesus’ downside-up vision of how things were always meant to be.

We are meant to love our enemies, to turn the other cheek, to give away what we have, to do to others as we would have them do to us.

We are to be merciful, just as Joseph was merciful to his brothers who had sold him into slavery, just as God is merciful to all of us.

You won’t be surprised that Jesus’ most challenging vision got me thinking about baptism – got me thinking about the big promises we make in the Baptismal Covenant – to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self – to strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being.

With God’s help. Always and only with God’s help.

Finally, at the very end of today’s passage, Jesus says, “the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

That sounds like a quid pro quo with God – that if we’re good then God will be good to us.

But we know that’s not how God does things.

Instead, I think Jesus is simply stating a fact: when we are loving and generous and merciful, then, with God’s help, we create a church, a community, a world, that is more loving, generous, and merciful.

The measure we give will be the measure we get back, and, knowing God, we will always receive way more than we give.

So, I’m not sure if I would have chosen this most challenging gospel lesson for the day of our Annual Parish Meeting, but the more I’ve thought about it, I think it is exactly right for us today.

Out there, the ways of the world continue to be… the ways of the world.

A first century Jew brought to our time would be dazzled, shocked, and confused by many things, but the cruelty and oppression and suffering of so many people in so many places would be all too familiar.

But, here at St. Thomas’, while we are certainly not perfect, there is a sincere and honest attempt to follow the downside-up way of Jesus, the way of love, generosity, and mercy.

I hope that you will take the time to read our Annual Report – a lot of people worked really hard on it, most especially Jane Farnan, our dedicated Parish Administrator.

There’s a lot of data in the Annual Report but at its heart is a story of one Christian community here in the Baltimore suburbs doing its best to make Jesus’ downside-up vision a reality.

It’s a story of this church, with God’s help, trying to make the world a little less woeful and a little more blessed.

While the world teaches us to be selfish, while the world insists there’s just not enough so we better hold on to what we’ve got, here we give so much away.

Think of the thousands of sandwiches made for the guests at Paul’s Place and the hundreds of bags of supplies and all those Thanksgiving bags shared with the people at the Community Crisis Center.

And I was so touched that so many of you bought tickets for the Sutton Scholars event at Top Golf on Thursday night – some of you buying tickets even though you couldn’t be there, even though you missed the chance to see me make a fool of myself trying to swing a golf club.

While the world teaches us to fear and even despise strangers, we continue to welcome and support and love our Afghan friends, giving countless hours to make sure they have every chance to thrive here in their new home.

On Thursday evening, at that Sutton Scholars event, Betty Symington of ERICA pulled me aside to thank me for your generosity, your persistence, your steadfastness. I’ve had very little  to do with that but I was proud to accept her thanks on your behalf.

While the world pushes us apart, dividing us up, here at St. Thomas’ everyone is welcome – all kinds of people from lots of different places with all sorts of different ideas – everyone is welcome here.

And as I have preached many times and will continue to preach in the days ahead, this is one of the last places where lots of different people can come together, pray and serve together, love one another.

It’s a special vocation, and one that we must protect, cherish and nourish.

While the world insists that the church is in decline and the future looks bleak, God sent us two remarkably faithful women who have said “yes” to God’s call, and we have been so blessed by Amelia’s and Sue’s gifts – and I know that I can’t wait to see the next chapters of their ministries.

And God continues to send us so many wonderful new people who have gotten involved in our ministries and have even taken on leadership positions.

For example, our Stewardship chair Amy Sussman, Preschool Board chair Kathy Resnik, new Treasurer Brian Lyght, Vestry member Shyla Cadogan, and Green Team co-chair Leslie Steele – they are all newer to St. Thomas’ than me. Isn’t that amazing?

While the world often seems so ugly, and getting uglier by the minute, here at St. Thomas’ there is a commitment to beauty – caring for our buildings and grounds, polishing the silver and ironing the linens, arranging gorgeous flowers every week – and our choir sings with astonishing skill and faithfulness – what a place of beauty this is!

And speaking of beauty, yesterday’s Spirituals recital created by David Marshall (also newer than me!) was incredibly beautiful and moving, a real comfort during challenging days.

I could go on, but I won’t because I know you’ll read the Annual Report.

Seriously, please read the report because in words and numbers, it tells the story of St. Thomas’ Church as we follow the downside-up way of Jesus, the challenging way of love, generosity, and mercy.

As Deacon Amelia said in her wise and thoughtful sermon last week, we do this work together.

Here at St. Thomas’, with God’s help, together, we make the world a little less woeful and a little more blessed.

Thanks be to God.

And thanks be to you.

Amen.