Everyone Is Invited

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

January 18, 2026

Year A: The Second Sunday after the Epiphany

Isaiah 49:1-7

Psalm 40:1-12

1 Corinthians 1:1-9

John 1: 29-42

Everyone Is Invited

As I hope you all know by now, we have begun holding Focus Group Meetings, on Sundays after the two morning services and also during the week on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

The Sunday meetings are in person, over in the Parish Hall, and the weekday meetings are on Zoom, which we hope will give everyone who loves St. Thomas’ an opportunity to attend and participate.

I have found the first four meetings to be very moving experiences.

It’s been inspiring to hear our wardens and other leaders present a vision of how we can continue to build on the firm foundation that we’ve inherited from our spiritual ancestors – how we can care for our organ so that it can ring out with God’s praises for many years to come – how we can appropriately remember our brothers and sisters buried in the North Cemetery – how we can live even more deeply into our vocation as a servant church.

Our leaders have been presenting a lot of information, plenty of facts and figures, but, most of all, they’ve been speaking from the heart.

The love that our leaders have for this place and our ministries has been shining forth so beautifully.

And it’s not just our leaders.

What I like most about how we’re doing these Focus Group Meetings is that, not only is everyone invited to attend, but everyone is invited to share their thoughts, to share what they – you – see as our greatest needs.

Everyone is invited to reflect on what God might be calling us to do.

Everyone is invited to dream.

Everyone is invited.

It hadn’t really occurred to me until a couple of days ago, that we are undertaking these conversations and reflections – we are extending these invitations – during the season of Epiphany – which, some of you will remember, was the name of our last capital campaign, twenty-five years ago.

Epiphany means “manifestation.”

And during these weeks between Christmas and Lent, we celebrate the manifestation of Christ to the people of the world.

Epiphany begins with the arrival of the stargazing, gift-bearing Magi – the mysterious visitors from the East.

Although they’re not Jews, they travel far to honor the newborn king, to pay him homage.

And then last Sunday, we heard the story of Jesus’ baptism – when anyone who happened to be listening would have heard the voice of God declare:

“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Epiphany.

The manifestation of Christ to the people of the world.

And now, in today’s lesson from the Gospel of John, we hear John the Baptist remember baptizing Jesus.

And then John points to Jesus.

John points to Jesus and says, “Look! Here is the Lamb of God.”

Another epiphany – an epiphany that draws Andrew and the other disciple to follow Jesus, to find out what this “Lamb of God” is all about.

And there are more epiphanies: Jesus gently invites Andrew and the other disciple to “Come and see.”

And then Andrew passes on the invitation to his brother Simon and before we know it, Jesus has begun gathering his little band of followers, the little band that will eventually grow into the church all around the world, including right here at St. Thomas’.

Right here at St. Thomas’, where everyone is invited to participate, not only in our Focus Group meetings, but everyone is invited to participate in everything.

St. Thomas’, where everyone is invited.

I really like the words of today’s opening prayer, what’s called the collect:

“Grant that your people, illumined by your Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ’s glory.”

Isn’t that beautiful?

And, you know, one of the privileges of my job is that I get to see so many of you shining with the radiance of Christ’s glory all the time.

I see the radiance of Christ’s glory shining through our Focus Group presenters, people who care so much about the mission of the church, people who devote an extraordinary amount of time and talent to strengthen our church so we can be even more faithful, more effective in sharing the Good News in word and deed.

I see the radiance of Christ’s glory shining through so many of you who have already attended our meetings, wanting the best for this holy place, sharing your experiences and insights.

And, of course, I see the radiance of Christ’s glory shining through you any day of the week as you tutor children at Owings Mills Elementary School, make sandwiches for the hungry, make sure our church is ready and beautiful for worship, sing God’s praises, welcome people as they arrive at church, teach our children, care for our cemetery, puzzle over The Screwtape Letters, and on and on.

And I see the radiance of Christ’s glory shining through you each time you invite someone into our community, each time you pass along Jesus’ holy invitation to “come and see.”

These holy invitations – these holy invitations to people who may not even know what they’re looking for – these holy invitations are so important.

In fact, a holy invitation once changed my life.

I’ve told you this story at least once before, but it’s a good one, and, besides, not everyone’s heard it.

So, about twenty-five years ago, I was teaching history at St. Peter’s Prep in Jersey City, my high school alma mater.

Sue and I had been married for a couple of years and things were good. But at some point, I realized that, although I was sort of getting church through my job, it wasn’t something that Sue and I shared.

So, I suggested that we go to Mass at our local Catholic church.

I won’t get into details but, in short, it was not a good experience.

The following week, I was telling this story in the faculty room, probably exaggerating how uninspiring the service was to get cheap laughs. After the room settled down, one of my colleagues, Patty Nickerson, said quietly, “You should come to my church sometime.”

And the following Sunday, Sue and I accepted Patty’s invitation and worshiped at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, just a few blocks from our house in Jersey City.

And not unlike Andrew and the other disciple and Peter, that invitation changed our lives – sending us down a path that I could not have imagined, opening us to experiences we could not have dreamed, eventually leading us here with all of you.

After I talked about that long-ago holy invitation during our Wednesday Bible Study, a few others who were there told their stories of invitation – simple, quiet invitations that changed them, invitations that led them to St. Thomas’, invitations that were indeed epiphanies, manifestations of Christ.

So, it’s the Season of Epiphany and Christ is being manifested to our weary and hurting world.

It’s the Season of Epiphany, and as always, our church is jumping with plenty of activity – opportunities for worship and learning, chances to dream big about our future, ways to care for one another and to tend to our community.

It’s the Season of Epiphany and the radiance of Christ’s glory is shining through St. Thomas’, shining through you.

It’s the Season of Epiphany and everyone – absolutely everyone – is invited.

Amen.

God’s Indissoluble Bond of Love

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

January 11, 2026

Year A: The First Sunday after the Epiphany

Isaiah 42:1-9

Psalm 29

Acts 10:34-43

Matthew 3:13-17

God’s Indissoluble Bond of Love

I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long time since Sue and I have attended a New Year’s Eve Party.

Instead, for us, New Year’s Eve is pretty much like any other night.

I’m an early riser, so I never stay up to watch the Times Square countdown.

I will say that this year my sleep was interrupted by the midnight fireworks – so I was drowsily and none too happily alerted that a new year had begun.

Didn’t these people know that January 1 is the Feast of the Holy Name and we had a service at 9:00 am!?!

I guess not.

Even though in reality it’s just another day, many of us invest at least some meaning in the end of one year and the start of another.

There are all those “Best of” lists: books, movies, music, ... sermons.

Of course, some of us make New Year’s resolutions.

And for a week or two, the gyms are a little more crowded, and the bars maybe a little less so.

But the truth is that, starting a new year doesn’t make much difference in our lives and certainly not in the world.

All the challenges and horrors of the old year are still very much with us.

This is always true, of course, but maybe it’s even more true this year.

Our divisions seem as deep as ever.

We can watch the same videos of the tragic killing of Renee Nicole Good in Minneapolis – we can see the same images and draw wildly different conclusions.

Maybe that’s always been true. 

What’s definitely true is that our world is clearly entering a new era. 

      Old norms of speech and behavior have been discarded.

      Old alliances are being strained, even dismantled.

      The postwar order – the only order most have us have ever known – is ending.

And something new, or perhaps something very old, is beginning.

Some of us think this change is long overdue and welcome.

While others of us worry, what kind of world awaits us when so much that we have known and trusted and even taken for granted is passing away?

So, maybe it’s more important than ever for us to remember the one bond that can never be broken, no matter the change of year, no matter the change of season, no matter war or peace.

Maybe it’s more important than ever for us to remember that, in baptism, God makes an indissoluble bond of love with us.

No matter what we do or don’t do, no matter what happens in the world around us, God just won’t ever let go of us.

In baptism, God makes an indissoluble bond of love with us.

Today, on the First Sunday after the Epiphany, we always hear the story of Jesus’ baptism.

In somewhat different ways, all four gospels tell us about Jesus’ baptism.

Today we heard Matthew’s version, which presents the story as both a personal experience for Jesus – he sees God’s Spirit descending upon him like a dove – and also as a public event – God announces to anyone listening:

“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

At our Wednesday Bible Study, we talked about a couple of interesting questions:

When did Jesus fully grasp who he was?

When did he fully understand his mission?

It could be that, in some sense, Jesus knew all along.

Or maybe there came a time when Mary sat him down and told him the story of his miraculous birth, the angel, the shepherds, the Magi.

“Son, there are some things I need to tell you.”

Or maybe it was a gradual awakening and understanding.

Or maybe it was not until the first Easter morning when he left the tomb.

We don’t really know, but if you and I have ever met, then you know that I think it’s at his baptism that Jesus learns who he really is, whose he is, and what he is meant to do.

And in the Gospels of Mark, Matthew, and Luke, right after Jesus’ baptism, he is sent into the wilderness to undergo forty days and nights of testing.

And then Jesus begins his work of love, healing, teaching, sacrifice.

And I would suggest that it’s at our baptism that we learn who we really are, whose we are, and what we are meant to do.

We are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.

And knowing that God has made an indissoluble bond of love with us, we can, with God’s help, do the ongoing work of love, healing, teaching, sacrifice.

I would also say that in this most uncertain time, the church is more important than ever – this church is more important than ever for us.

Yes, of course, we can pray anywhere and discover God at Wegmans or Royal Farms, or out on the NCR Trail.

And, yes, you could certainly be baptized elsewhere, maybe in the Chesapeake or even the kitchen sink.

But it’s here that we that we gather around the font and pray with and for the newly baptized.

It’s here that we gather with people, all different kinds of people, yes, people who watch the same video and see things we don’t see – all different kinds of people and we pray together, serve together, love one another.

The church is more important than ever – this church is more important than ever.

And it needs our support.

I’m always reluctant to talk about pledging because, obviously, I have some self-interest. But there are a still some very faithful parishioners – people who I know love this place – who have not yet pledged.

The money is important, but it’s the commitment – our commitment to this place – that matters most.

In this uncertain time, our church is more important than ever – and there’s nobody else to take care of this beautiful community, this beautiful place – just us – so we really need everyone “all in.”

And today we hold our first focus group meetings, to look more deeply at the needs of our church, to dream a bit about our future, and to reflect on what God might be calling us to do.

In religious language, the process we’re beginning today is called discernment – and prayerful discernment is always worthwhile, always good, no matter the outcome.

So, I hope that you’ll participate in at least one of these sessions and share your thoughts on our plans, on our future.

So, by nature, I am a somewhat anxious person.

I try to keep a lid on it, but it’s true.

Of course, I worry about lots of things, but I am not frightened of the future.

I’m not frightened because we have one another. We have this amazing community of love, healing, teaching, sacrifice.

I’m not frightened because just as Jesus was baptized, I was baptized – we were baptized.

And in the water of baptism, God has made an indissoluble bond of love with me, an indissoluble bond of love with us all.

God just won’t let go of us.

No matter the year, no matter the season, no matter what.

Amen.

The Unsentimental Story of God With Us

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

January 4, 2026

The Second Sunday after Christmas (5:00 pm)

Jeremiah 31:7-14

Psalm 84

Ephesians 1:3-6, 15-19a

Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23

The Unsentimental Story of God With Us

I know that I keep going on about how wonderful this Christmas has been here at St. Thomas’ – and that’s because it really has been wonderful!

The Christmas flowers and greenery looked great, and Jon has led the choir to make extraordinarily beautiful music.

For me, seeing and hearing the Junior Choir was one of the best Christmas gifts. The other day, I went on YouTube and pulled up the video of the 4:00 service. When the kids began to sing “Away in a Manger,” Sue, who was sitting across from me, said, “They sound so good!”

They sure did.

And, of course, there were lots of people in church, including many people we may only see once or twice a year.

But they were here, thank God!

Yes, thanks to the hard work of many, our Christmas celebrations were beautiful.

And let’s admit it, our Christmas celebrations were also sentimental – the carols, the Christmas Pageant, the candlelight singing of “Silent Night,” all of that and more is quite sentimental.

And there’s definitely a place for sentimentality. (I’m sure it’s one of the big attractions for all those people who came to church on Christmas Eve!) But, if we’re not careful, sentimentality can easily smooth the hard edges of the Christmas story.

The sentimentality can hide the great Christmas truth that God is now with us in a new and unexpected way.

        Emmanuel means “God with us.”

        And, in and through Jesus, God is with us, right here in our messed-up world.

        So, on this Second Sunday after Christmas, let’s strip away some of the sentimentality from the Christmas story:

Mary gives birth far from home. There aren’t any older and experienced women present to see her through her first birth. She’s on her own, with Joseph by her side, which I’m sure was comforting but I don’t know how much help, how much expertise, he could offer.

And, of course, the Son of God isn’t born in a grand palace – there’s not even room for him at the Bethlehem inn. Mary and Joseph are forced to place the swaddled child in a manger, a sentimental word for a feeding trough meant for animals.

In and through Jesus, God is with us.

        God is especially with the people struggling to provide for their families.

It’s still Christmas, but just until Tuesday!

By now, the crowds at church have thinned out…just a bit! 

That’s too bad for lots of reasons, but especially because they miss out on the rest of the Christmas story, the parts of the story we say little about on Christmas Eve, the parts of the story much harder to sentimentalize.

We all know about the Magi, the mysterious stargazers from the East, who go searching for the newborn king. Logically enough, they first go to the capital city where Herod expresses, let’s say, “keen interest” in meeting his young rival, the newborn king of the Jews.

        So, Herod tells the Magi to report back after they’ve found him.

And, of course, the Magi do find the king and present their symbolic gifts of gold for a king, frankincense for a god, and myrrh, which was used to anoint a corpse.

But, warned in a dream not to return to Herod, the Magi bravely become fugitives, and return home by a different route.

An enraged Herod went on the warpath, slaughtering the children of Bethlehem, desperately and ruthlessly trying to kill the young king.

        The murder of those children was both an incomprehensible and heart-shattering tragedy for the families of Bethlehem, and also a powerful sign that the tyrants of the world are after Jesus right from the start – and we know that they will eventually get Jesus and nail him to a cross.

In and through Jesus, God is with us.

        God is especially with victims of violence; God is with all those who suffer at the hands of tyrants.

Finally, we come to today’s gospel passage.

In yet another dream, Joseph is warned about Herod’s murderous intentions, and so he and Mary take Jesus and flee for safety in Egypt, saving the Son of God’s life.

There are obvious Old Testament echoes in this story.

Think of Joseph with his famous coat of many colors. Joseph was sold by his brothers into slavery in Egypt and then, years later, welcoming his people during a time of famine.

And then, as we heard today, eventually the Holy Family will make their way back out of Egypt, a reminder of Moses leading his people from slavery to the promised land.

Yes, there are biblical echoes but there’s also the stark fact in this story that we often forget, a truth that seems to surprise even regular churchgoers:

         Mary, Joseph, and Jesus were refugees.

         Like so many people before and since, like so many people today, Mary, Joseph, and Jesus had to flee from oppression and violence, journeying from home to a foreign land, seeking a place of welcome and safety, hoping to survive.

        In and through Jesus, God is with us.

        God is especially with refugees.

        So, later this week, we’ll take down the Christmas wreaths and flowers.

        We’ll remove the lights from the Christmas tree out in the circle.

        Next week, the church may look a little bare.

        This can be a real let-down, a depressing time of year, even without the many troubles of the world.

        But I hope we can hold onto our memories of a really wonderful St. Thomas’ Christmas: the flowers, the music, the children, the crowds.

        More important than that, though, I hope that we can remain encouraged and inspired by this great and most unsentimental truth:

        In and through Jesus, God is with us.

        God is especially with people struggling to care for their families.

        God is especially with victims of violence, especially with victims of state-sponsored violence.

        God is especially with refugees.

        In and through Jesus, God is with us, all of us, right here, in our messed-up world.

        This is the unsentimental Christmas story, the story that should give us hope and courage.

        Amen.