Serious Business, Abundant Mercy

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

October 6, 2024

Year B, Proper 22: The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

Job 1:1; 2:1-10

Psalm 26

Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12

Mark 10:2-16

Serious Business, Abundant Mercy

Since I started serving here, a little more than three years ago, one of the biggest surprises has been the weddings.

We’ve had quite a few weddings these last few years, and there are already a few on the calendar for 2025!

In a time when so many people have either flat out rejected the church, or have simply drifted away, I think that this is a very encouraging sign.

Now, I’m sure that some of the couples have chosen to have their weddings here, in part, for the beauty of this place, or to maintain family tradition, or, maybe to keep the peace with parents and grandparents.

But, overall, I’ve found these couples to be quite serious in their preparation and quite sincere in wanting God’s blessing upon their union.

I always have several meetings with the couples, getting to know them, learning about their relationship and talking about challenges or difficulties they may have faced.

And, at our last meeting, we always talk about the service itself, reading through the words that they and I will say, reflecting on why we say these things, and what it all means.

During these conversations, the couples are often surprised when we reach the part of the service when the officiant asks the congregation – usually a lot of happy, fancily dressed people who are looking ahead to a great party – when the officiant asks the congregation a most serious question:

“If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else for ever hold your peace.”

During the wedding, this often elicits a few awkward giggles or the clearing of some throats.

And then, after waiting a beat, the officiant asks the couple the same question:

“…if either of you know any reason why you may not be united in marriage lawfully, and in accordance with God’s Word, you do now confess it.”

After another moment of awkward silence, we proceed.

Maybe these questions seem archaic or even humorous, but they’re important – not because this is an ideal time to reveal some impediment  to marriage – but because they underline the importance of the promises these two people are about to make to each other – they remind us of how their relationship is about to change forever – and they point to the fact that marriage is serious business.

In today’s gospel lesson, we pick up almost exactly where we left off last week.

Last week, we heard a very common theme in the gospels: the disciples just not getting it.

You may remember that the disciples complained to Jesus that other people, not part of the “inner circle,” were casting out demons in the name of Jesus and they wanted Jesus to put a stop to that right away.

Jesus declined to do that, and he went on to highlight that our relationship with God is serious business – so serious that we should remove whatever causes to stumble, whatever causes us to sin.

Jesus says, “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off.”

And now today, we heard another recurring gospel theme: the religious authorities playing a game of “Gotcha” with Jesus.

In this case, the Pharisees ask Jesus, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”

Now, we should try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but this is a very suspicious question.

I mean, as Jesus points out, the Law of Moses is quite clear that, yes, a man could divorce his wife. The only debate was about under what conditions could he do so.

But the fact that the Pharisees ask Jesus this question would seem to indicate that they’ve heard that Jesus has been teaching something different – something more restrictive than the Law – and they want to hear him say it for themselves – they want to get Jesus on the record.

And Jesus gives them what they want.

He skips right over the Law and looks all the way back to the beginning – back to God’s original intention for marriage – that the two become one, and that this union should be permanent.

“Let no man put asunder,” in the thunderous language of the King James Bible.

And then, when he was alone with his disciples, Jesus goes even further and says that any divorced person who remarries is committing adultery.

Obviously, for many reasons, this is a very challenging, even painful, teaching and I’d rather talk about almost anything else - even the Orioles getting swept in the post-season yet again – I’d rather talk about almost anything else than talk about this.

But, let’s begin with some context. 

First of all, much like the amputations Jesus had just talked about, Jesus’ hard teaching is a clear reminder that marriage is serious business.

In the words of the Prayer Book, “…marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance for the purposes for which it was instituted by God.”

Second, back in the first century, divorce was often very bad news for women. Men could cruelly use very trivial reasons to divorce their wives, leaving them quite vulnerable in a very harsh world.

Even with the safeguards that are in place now, that can still happen, unfortunately.

So, we can certainly hear Jesus’ teaching as a way to protect women from being discarded and abandoned. 

Finally, any time we read short excerpts of Scripture, like we do in church every week, it’s important to remember that these are just little slivers of the great sweep of God’s message to us.

And so today, I want to point to the words of our collect, our opening prayer, especially this:

“Pour upon us the abundance of your mercy.”

God is abundantly merciful.

Marriage is serious business, but God is abundantly merciful

And since God is abundantly merciful, I am sure that our merciful God does not want people to stay in marriages that are physically or emotionally abusive.

And since God is abundantly merciful, forgiveness is offered when we mess up and fall short of the very high standards that have been set for us – which is very good news since, whether we’re married or not, we all mess up on a regular basis.

So, a tough lesson today, but here’s the good news:

Yes, marriage is serious business, but God is abundantly merciful.

Amen.

Life or Death

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

September 29, 2024

Year B, Proper 21: The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22

Psalm 124

James 5:13-20

Mark 9:38-50

Life or Death

The other day, I visited with a couple of parishioners who had attended one of our Newcomers Receptions over at the Rectory.

They commented on how beautiful the house is, which is certainly true, and it’s something that Sue and I never take for granted.

At our church back in Jersey City, the rectory was also beautiful, but, unlike here, it was located right beside the church, on a fairly busy city street.

As you’d guess, that proximity and visibility had advantages and disadvantages, but one upside was that I was able to become sort of the priest of the block, minister to the neighborhood.

And that flock beyond our congregation included some of the people who attended the Twelve Step meetings in our Parish Hall.

One thing that I’ll never forget is how these people were incredibly faithful to their meetings – no matter the weather, no matter if our furnace was on the fritz, no matter how hard it was to find a parking spot, no matter what, each week they made their way from the sidewalk and into the hall, where they admitted their addiction and used well-practiced words and stories.

        Each week, they performed a kind of liturgy – a service of recovery and hope.

Attending those meetings was, and is, serious business, the difference between sobriety and destruction, a matter of life or death.

Over the years, I’ve often wondered if we might capture some of that same urgency in our Christian lives, how we might recreate some of that same urgency here in church.

Because, as we heard in today’s gospel lesson, Jesus’ message is serious business, it’s the difference between heaven and hell, a matter of life and death.

        In his usual pithy way, Mark packs a lot into today’s gospel lesson.

        First, in the latest installment of our long-running series, “The Disciples Just Don’t Get It,” Jesus’ closest followers complain that other people – people outside the inner circle - are using Jesus’ name to cast out demons.

       What’s left unsaid is that these “outsiders” are probably having more success than the disciples themselves!

       The disciples want Jesus to put a stop to this, but instead, Jesus tells his friends that they don’t have some kind of monopoly on him – that others should be allowed and even encouraged to call upon Jesus’ power.

       And then things get more serious, when Jesus warns of dire consequences for anyone who is a “stumbling block,” anyone gets in the way of someone who wants to follow Jesus.

       That should be sobering for any of us who have not been as welcoming or as encouraging as we should be when someone arrives here.

        It should be worrying to those of us who have been hypocrites – saying beautiful words in here but then living in a very different way out there.

        And then Jesus turns his attention to all of us – and uses graphic language to say that we need to remove from our lives whatever causes us to stumble – we need to remove from our lives whatever separates us from God - insisting that this is serious business, a matter of heaven or hell, life or death.

        And, finally, Jesus riffs on salt, and gives us the kind of cryptic warning that we’d better not lose our saltiness.

        Whew.

        That’s a lot to deal with, so I’m especially glad that, in just a few minutes, I’ll have the joy and privilege of baptizing young Graham, who will become our newest Christian.

        I think I’ve probably mentioned that I love Baptism. I love baptizing people.

       And there are lots of reasons:

       Baptism is a celebration of new life – new life for te person getting bathed in Holy Water – new life for all of us, as our circle grows a little wider.

       Witnessing Baptism is a reminder that, once upon a time, that was us – we made those big promises, or, more likely, those big promises were made on our behalf.

       And, it’s a reminder that God has made a big promise to us, promising that God’s bond with us is indissoluble – that God will not let go of us, no matter what.

       Today, though, I’m particularly aware that Baptism reminds us that our Christian life is serious business, a matter of heaven or hell, life or death.

       In a moment, I’m going to ask Graham’s parents and godparents if they renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God – do they renounce the evil powers of this world that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God – do they renounce all sinful desires that draw them from the love of God.

       And, answering on Graham’s behalf, they will answer, “I renounce them.”

       Whatever we might think of Satan, there’s no doubt that the “spiritual forces of wickedness “ are very powerful.

       There’s no doubt about “the evil forces of this world that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God.

       There’s no doubt about “sinful desires” that draw us away from God.”

       Just turn on the news, any day of the week.

       The people getting to Twelve Step meetings no matter what, they know all about those evil forces – and, let’s be honest, we do, too.

       So, for us, the first step is renouncing evil, wanting nothing to do with it.

       And, second, Baptism reminds us how to keep our “saltiness” – how to keep our faithfulness – how to live in ways different from the ways of the world.

       With God’s help, we admit when we mess up and ask for forgiveness.

       With God’s help, we gather here – not as a nice thing to do occasionally – but as a matter of life and death.

       With God’s help, we share the Good News by what we say and do.

       With God’s help, we seek Christ in everyone and love our neighbors as ourselves. 

       With God’s help, we work for justice and peace, and respect everyone’s dignity, especially the people we don’t like or trust one bit.

       With God’s help, this is how we keep our saltiness.

        I don’t know if we can ever really duplicate the urgency of recovering addicts, getting themselves to their meetings, no matter what.

But the message of Jesus is urgent.

        Jesus urgently calls Graham and all of us to a life very different from the ways of the world.

        Jesus calls us to a life of love and service.

        And this is serious business, as serious as it gets: a matter of heaven or hell, a matter of life or death.

        Amen.

The Lowerarchy

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

September 22, 2024

Year B, Proper 20: The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proverbs 31:10-31

Psalm 1

James 3:13-4:3; 7-8a

Mark 9:30-37

The Lowerarchy

A few months ago, someone I know from Jersey City posted on social media that her cousin – Samantha, a 32-year-old mother of three – is missing.

Samantha had been scheduled to check into a rehab for drug addiction, but she never arrived, and, even worse, it took weeks before her family found out.

Since so much time had passed, the trail was already very cold, but her cousin and others have been using every tool they can think of to get the word out, and to let Sam know that she’s loved and missed and will be welcomed back home, with no questions and no blame.

A few weeks ago, there was a lead that Sam had been spotted in Kensington, the

Philadelphia neighborhood known as the largest open air illegal drug market on the East Coast.

While following up on this lead, the family discovered that so many people are looking for loved ones who get lured to, and then trapped in, Kensington, that there are several video cameras posted around the neighborhood, with their feeds accessible through YouTube.

I had never heard of anything like this, but after a quick Google search, I found them.

These cameras capture grim scenes of people – so many people, men and women, all different ages and races – stumbling around, sprawled out on the sidewalk, dazed by drugs, many of them bearing ugly sores, some bandaged and some not.

The police come by regularly, getting everyone to move along, but everybody’s back once the coast is clear.

I’ve noticed a couple of other things.

Of course, most passersby ignore these poor people, looking straight ahead, hoping to avoid any contact. And who can blame them? It must be awful to live or work in that neighborhood and witness so much suffering and despair, every single day.

But there are others, maybe from church groups, who stop by to distribute food and water. And rather than just dropping off supplies, they seem to actually engage with the people living on the streets, treating them like people, like brothers and sisters.

And online, there’s a steady stream of comments in the chat – some are unkind and mocking while others are kind and compassionate, noticing when regulars are missing, and hoping and praying for healing and recovery.

And, of course, even if there aren’t video cameras to live-stream the suffering, these same scenes could be easily found in Baltimore and every city, and this same suffering occurs, usually more hidden, in every community across our country.

Seeing all of this reminded me of a guy from my church back in Jersey City, Carmine.

Carmine was about my age and more or less homeless himself – and, I have to say, he was often very difficult.

But one year, he wrote on his pledge card – yes, he pledged – he wrote on his pledge card that his ministry was to seek out the lost and bring them to church.

And, often to our great discomfort, that’s exactly what Carmine did. He brought people in even worse shape than he was, people who were not capable at all, people who were the opposite of the capable woman described in today’s lesson from Proverbs. 

In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus predicts that he is going to be betrayed, killed, and rise again on the third day.

This is the second time in the Gospel of Mark that Jesus makes what’s called a Passion Prediction.

We heard the first prediction last Sunday. You may remember that didn’t end well because Peter got so upset at the idea of Jesus suffering and denying that Peter “rebuked” Jesus – and Jesus rebuked Peter right back, calling him Satan, criticizing him for focusing on human things and not on God.

Well, as we heard today, the second Passion Prediction didn’t go much better.

We’re told that the disciples didn’t understand what Jesus saying.

And I’m sure that’s true. I mean, no one expected, or wanted, a suffering messiah.

And what would this suffering mean for the messiah’s followers?

Better not to know – best not to ask any questions.

Instead, let’s talk about something else…like, oh I don’t know, which one of us is the greatest?!?

I love the moment when Jesus very knowingly asks the disciples, um, what were you guys talking about back there on the road?

Can’t you imagine them all gazing down at the ground and shuffling their feet, with sideway glances, and maybe with a nervous clearing of their throats?

Well, an exceedingly patient Jesus uses this as a teachable moment.

The first lesson is familiar: if you want to be first then you must be last, you must be the servant of all.

But the second lesson is maybe less familiar.

Jesus places a child in their midst, in the center of the group.

And holding the child, Jesus says:

“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

It’s a very tender and appealing image.

But it doesn’t sound very challenging, does it?

I mean, let’s be honest. Here at St. Thomas’, we’d be overjoyed to welcome a whole lot more children in Jesus’ name. Happy to do it.

But there’s more going on in this scene than meets our 21st century eyes.

Back in the first century, I’m sure parents loved their children.

But society viewed children not as symbols of innocence, but as useless, not capable at all, non-persons who just didn’t count – they just didn’t matter until they could contribute to the household, to society.

I mean, you wouldn’t get anything for being kind or generous to a child, unless maybe you were playing a very long game.

And yet this is who Jesus places right in the center of his disciples who were so concerned with their place in the hierarchy, with worldly honor.

Jesus places at the center a child, a person with no status at all, and says when we welcome and serve this powerless person, we welcome and serve Jesus himself.

As one commentator wrote, Jesus replaces a hierarchy with a “lowerarchy.”

I’d like to think that children do have status in our society but, frankly, the horrors that take place in so many schools across our country year after year – horrors that we know how to prevent but simply choose not to, well, it makes me wonder.

But, no question, there are plenty of grown-up people who are often dismissed and despised as non-people, like those poor people addicted and suffering on the streets of Kensington, and in so many other places.

If we want to follow Jesus, we can’t ignore them, and we certainly can’t mock or hate them.

We’re called to serve people in need and this servant church definitely does that so beautifully – we’ll do that this morning as we pack another batch of bags for the Community Crisis Center.

But Jesus calls us to even more than that – calls us to invite people in need closer to the center of our life together, just as Jesus held that child while surrounded by his disciples.

We need to remember that Jesus is most easily found among the lowerarchy, out there on the streets, out there with Samantha and Carmine, out there in line at the Crisis Center, out there hungry for a sandwich at Paul’s Place, out there, waiting to be loved and served, out there, waiting to be welcomed.

Amen.

The Risky and Costly Work of Renewal

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

September 8, 2024

Year B, Proper 18: The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost – Renewal Sunday

Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23

Psalm 125

James 2:1-10; 14-17

Mark 7:24-37

The Risky and Costly Work of Renewal 

A couple of times a year, I have lunch with one of my best friends, Jim.

We’ve been friends since high school. We were best man at each other’s weddings. We even taught together at our alma mater for a while and have managed to maintain and renew our friendship through all the twists and turns of more than 40 years.

He still lives in New Jersey and I’m here, of course, and so we meet for lunch in Philadelphia, roughly the halfway point for us.

This means that for the last three years, a couple of times a year, I’ve passed through Baltimore Penn Station.

And, as many of you probably know, during most of that time Penn Station has been undergoing a major rehabilitation.

For many months, scaffolding covered the station’s façade and, inside, the sound of drilling and hammering and sawing echoed through the waiting room.

If you’ve been down there over the last few months, you’ve seen that the exterior work is mostly done, and the old station looks shiny and bright, restored to its original grandeur.

But restoration is only part of the story.

        Yes, the stonework has been cleaned and the mortar repointed – the station has been restored – but it’s also been renewed.

        Penn Station was state of the art when it was built back in 1911 and now it’s going to be state of the art again with a new high speed rail platform and office space upstairs that will meet the high-tech needs of today’s workers.

        The old station is not just being restored; it’s being renewed for today and tomorrow.

        Now, this work of renewal is risky – will enough people use the old station or want to work there? 

        And this work of renewal is costly.

        So costly, in fact, that you may know the work has been halted as Amtrak negotiates with the contractor over the price tag.   

        But I’m sure they’ll figure something out. Because while renewal is risky and costly, renewal is really the only way forward.

        It’s the only way forward for Penn Station.

        And it’s also the only way for the followers of Jesus.  

        In today’s gospel lesson we’re told that Jesus has left Jewish territory and entered the Gentile land of Tyre, in what would be today southern Lebanon.

        Just entering a foreign land was risky but, in this case, there was a long history of bad blood between the people Tyre and the people of Galilee, Jesus’ homeland.

        But Jesus’ mission is all about renewal.

        And renewal is only possible if we overcome our old fears and hatreds.

        Renewal is only possible if we heal old wounds.

        Renewal is only possible if we move forward together.

        With God’s help.

        We’re told that Jesus tried to keep a low profile in Tyre but that never really seems to work for him, does it?

        Sure enough, a woman comes to Jesus – she’s not Jewish but she shows great respect, bowing at his feet.

        She’s obviously heard about Jesus and his healing power and she’s so desperate for her daughter to be healed that, at great risk, she crosses all sorts of boundaries – religious, gender, ethnic, historical – and boldly asks him to heal her little girl.

        Jesus replies to this mother’s pleas by saying “Let the children be fed first for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

        Jesus’ response sounds most un-Jesus-like. And there’s been a lot of discussion and debate about why he said what he said. 

        Maybe we’re getting a rare glimpse of Jesus learning – learning that his mission of renewal was even bigger than he had realized – learning that his mission was big enough to include this woman and her daughter, big enough to include all of us.

        Or maybe, Jesus was calling this woman to take an even greater risk.

        Maybe Jesus was calling this woman to an even deeper and more persistent faith – the deeper and even more persistent faith needed if healing and true renewal can occur.

        And sure enough, this woman, this loving and desperate and courageous and fierce mother, she takes her chance.

        With one of the all-time great come-backs, the woman says to Jesus:

        “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

        And because of her words – because of her risk – because of her faith – Jesus renews the health of the woman’s little daughter.

        Renewal is risky and costly but it’s the only way forward.

        Two years ago, on our first Renewal Sunday, we were all still a bit battered by the pandemic.

        Many people had gotten out of the practice of coming to church. Maybe they were watching online. Or maybe they had found other ways of spending their Sunday mornings.

        As always, the future was uncertain and the way forward unclear.

        I had arrived here a year earlier, with lots of questions about how all of this was going to go.

        Part of the work was reassembling the pieces, reactivating some of the ministries that had been set aside during our time apart.

        But, like the architects and workers of Penn Station, we were called to more than just restoration – and, besides, even if we tried, we couldn’t restore the church to exactly what it was ten, twenty, fifty years ago.

        No, restoration and remembering are part of the story but not the whole story. 

        We are called to Jesus’ risky and costly work of renewal.

            As you know, today we’re celebrating a whole lot as you know, very much including Barb Parks and Wanda Waller – giving thanks to God for these two extraordinary people as they begin well-deserved retirements.

        You know, in different ways, both Barb and Wanda have been the voice of St. Thomas’.

        Think of the thousands of people who have called the office over the last three decades and Barb’s caring and compassionate voice was the first they heard. Sometimes the call was just routine business but other times it was someone eager to share joyful news or calling the church in a moment of suffering and pain.

        And Barb’s caring and compassionate voice was the voice many of you expected to hear when your phone rang, and St. Thomas’ popped up on your Caller ID.

        I can’t tell you how many times I’ve called parishioners, and they’ve answered, “Hi Barb!” or “Hey, Barbara Parks!”

        “No, it’s just Tom.”

          And through her extraordinarily beautiful music, Wanda has also been the voice of this church.

        Together with our amazing choir, she has expressed our deepest prayers in a language beyond words, offered with great sensitivity and profound love for God and the church.

        I could go on, but I’ll just say that, although they’ve both been here for a bit, part of what makes them both so wonderful is their openness – their openness to new ideas and new ways of doing things, none of the usual “we’ve always done it this way” even when they might have been skeptical – but, just like the rest of our remarkable staff, Barb and Wanda have been only ever interested in what would best serve the people of St. Thomas’.

        What incredible blessings – what great friends – they have been for us.

        And like Jesus crossing into Tyre long ago, our risky and costly work of renewal has meant building relationships with others outside our church community – with our friends from Afghanistan – with the administrators and teachers and students at Owings Mills Elementary School – and now with leaders of faith communities along the Reisterstown Road corridor.

        And the risky and costly work of renewal has meant welcoming absolutely everyone who walks through our doors, knowing that they bring their own gifts and ideas and traditions, knowing that it might not always be comfortable, but we will learn from each other, and we are stronger together.

        The risky and costly work of renewal has meant so many of you taking on new ministries – your generosity and openness, it’s just incredible – and, to name just one prominent example, today we celebrate John Lang accepting a new ministry – a new ministry for him and for us.

        It’s not easy to be the first, but we all know that the ministry of verger, this beautiful ministry of hospitality and service is meant for John.

        And now, the task of renewal continues.

        Yes, it’s risky and costly – and like with Penn Station, there may be some disagreements and delays along the way.

        But it’s really the only way forward.

        And while the risks and costs of renewal are real, and the future is always uncertain, we can be bold, because we are not alone.

        Here at St. Thomas’, we are blessed with friendships, both new and renewed.

        And, most of all, we have God.

        The God who seeks to renew the whole earth, from Tyre to Owings Mills.

        The God who will never let go of us, no matter what.

        Amen.

Holy Alignment

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

September 1, 2024

Year B, Proper 17: The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Song of Solomon 2:8-13

Psalm 45:1-2, 7-10

James 1:17-27

Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Holy Alignment

In my sermon last week, I talked about my recent – and very unpleasant – bout with vertigo.

And thank you to everybody who expressed concern, both in person and electronically. I really appreciate it.

As you’d guess, over the past month, I’ve learned a lot about vertigo, including that it’s surprisingly common and that it can have many different causes.

In my case, it turns out that the crystals in my inner ears somehow got out of alignment.

When the doctor first told me that this was the cause of my trouble, I laughed because it didn’t sound like a real thing – I had never heard of these inner ear crystals – and it all sounded so “new age-y” –

“My crystals were out of alignment.”

But it’s all too real. These inner ear crystals help our brains know where we are – and when they get out of alignment, well, as I learned, everything goes haywire.

I don’t want to go on and on about my vertigo – I’d like to forget all about it, to be honest – but when I reflected on today’s gospel lesson, I was reminded of the importance of alignment.

What’s true for our inner ears, is also true for our Christian lives.

When we fall out of alignment, everything goes haywire.

So, in today’s gospel lesson, we hear a controversy story – a conflict – between Jesus and the Pharisees.

        Back in the first century, just like today, Judaism was quite diverse – with lots of different groups who had various ideas about how to be a faithful Jew.

        And the Pharisees were one of those groups.

In the gospels, the Pharisees are almost always presented in a negative light. They’re almost always opposed to Jesus.

But we know from other sources that the Pharisees had a reputation for holiness, and they were respected by most people. 

The thing that I find most interesting about the Pharisees is that it seems that they wanted to make everyday life holy – and they did that by encouraging people to take temple practices – like, for example, how the priests ritually washed their hands before sacrificing animals – into their homes and into daily lives.

Now, I’m all for making everyday life holy and I think Jesus is, too.

The problem for Jesus is when our spiritual practices are not in alignment with how we live our lives.

        The problem for Jesus is when our spiritual practices are not in alignment with what’s in our heart.

        And so, it’s great that the Pharisees encouraged people to live holy everyday lives.

        But it’s not so great that the Pharisees gave Jesus a hard time about his disciples not ritually washing their hands before meals.

        (And just for the record, we’re talking about ritual washing. Yes, we should wash our hands before preparing or eating food!)

        And really, what we see happening here is that the Pharisees seem to be a bit out of alignment, practicing their sacred rituals, yes, but also minding other people’s business, apparently quick to judge.

The problem is when our spiritual practices are not in alignment with how we live our lives.

        The problem is when our spiritual practices are not in alignment with what’s in our heart.

        And we know that these aren’t just Pharisee problems.

        All of us Christians are susceptible to these problems, always in danger of getting out of alignment and going haywire.

        This is one reason why I love baptism so much.

        This morning I’ll have the joy and privilege of baptizing little Charlie, soon to be our newest Christian.

        And at this baptism just like all our baptisms, we will renew our Baptismal Covenant.

        (Actually, we’ll all renew our Baptismal Covenant next week at Renewal Sunday, too.)

        And, really, renewing the big promises of the Baptismal Covenant – to love our neighbors as ourselves, to seek and serve Christ in all persons, to respect the dignity of every human being – all with God’s help, of course – renewing those big promises helps to keep us in alignment, reminding us that how we live out there in the world should align with the beautiful words we say in here.

        And another way that we can maintain holy alignment is through our outreach work, by really being a servant church, by being “doers of the word,” sharing our blessings with the hungry world all around us.

        You may have noticed that the “St. Thomas’ Magazine” has returned this Sunday.

        I love it.

        And, if you take the time to read our little magazine, which I hope you will, you’ll see that we have a ton of good stuff coming up, and you’ll see that much of it outreach-related.

        So many of you have already contributed to our drive to buy gift cards for the teachers over at Owings Mills Elementary School and some have made an even bigger commitment to tutor OMES students in the “Owls First” afterschool enrichment program.

        And we continue to deepen our relationships with the Community Crisis Center and Paul’s Place and our Afghan friends, and now with other communities of faith in our area.

        Outreach reminds us that how we live out there in the world should align with the beautiful words we say in here.

        So, for the moment, my inner ear crystals are back in alignment.

        But the doctors told me that, unfortunately, it could happen again and there’s not much I can do to prevent it.

        Fortunately, we have more control over our holy alignment.

        Our holy alignment may get out of whack and things may go haywire, but we know that the way back to alignment is Jesus – welcoming Jesus into our unruly hearts and following Jesus by loving and serving others.

        May we all be given the gift, the peace, of holy alignment.

        Amen.

 

To Whom Can We Go?

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

August 25, 2024

Year B, Proper 16: The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

1 Kings 8:1, 6, 10-11, 22-30, 41-43

Psalm 84

Ephesians 6:10-20

John 6:56-69

To Whom Can We Go?

I’ve mentioned to you before that one of the requirements to get ordained is something called Clinical Pastoral Education.

For most of us, Clinical Pastoral Education – CPE – means spending a summer working in a hospital as a chaplain trainee.

We do this work with others in the ordination process, usually with people from other denominations and faiths, all of us learning how best to support people in distress, while also facing some of our own issues – our own experiences and fears that can get in the way of ministering to others.

I was fortunate that my CPE program was actually in Jersey City, in a busy urban hospital, walking distance from our house – and, I have to tell you, those walks really helped me prepare for what I was going to face that day or night in the hospital - and to reflect and decompress after I was done.

More than any class I took, it was CPE that best prepared me for the work of being a priest.

Even after nearly twenty years, I draw on those experiences all the time – and many of the patients I met during that summer are seared into my memory – people I’ve often mentioned in sermons.

There was the woman named Paula, about my age, with a couple of teenage children. She had suffered with terrible cancer for several years.

She told me that when she first got sick, she asked, “Why me?” But then, after being in and out of the hospital and doctor’s offices so much and seeing so many other sick people, now she asked, “Why not me?”

And then there was the old woman, very sick, a feeding tube up her nose, mostly out of it. One day, when I was sitting with her, she suddenly snapped to attention, looked at me intently and said with great urgency, “I never knew I could love my children so much.”

And then there was another older woman, very bright and sophisticated, who carefully and in great detail explained to me the problems with her life. Essentially, she had trouble making connections with people and was very lonely.

I was listening as carefully as I could and nodding along sympathetically, asking open-ended questions, trying to use the chaplain skills I had been learning.

When she finished laying out her troubles, she looked at me expectantly and said, “And now you will tell me what I should do!”

Well, the very first lesson we learned is that we can’t fix other people’s problems, but she looked at me with such hope and confidence that I couldn’t resist making what I’m sure were not very helpful suggestions.

Sometimes when I would first enter a hospital room and introduce myself, the patient would wave me off – “No, no, I don’t need to talk to a chaplain” – but, almost always, if I persisted just a little and asked people to tell me their story, they would forget their reluctance and we’d be off and running.

A lesson I learned: it’s not very often that someone will just sit and listen – really listen – to us – and most people are eager to tell their story.

The saddest and most difficult patients to deal with were the people who had no particular beliefs - people who, in many cases, had never given much thought to ultimate things – often they didn’t really even have the words to talk about it - and now that they were in distress, it was very difficult to make up for lost time.

Over the past couple of decades, I have made countless visits with people in hospitals, nursing homes, and rehab facilities.

And, as best I could, I’ve drawn upon the lessons I learned during my long-ago summer of CPE.

I’ve also often wondered what kind of patient I would be.

What would it be like if I were the one lying the hospital bed?

For all those years, that was as purely hypothetical question – sometimes I even thought that maybe I would be spared any illness serious enough to land me in the hospital.

And, you know, I had a really long-running streak going until just a few weeks ago when my office began to spin around me and, eventually, I finally found myself lying in a hospital bed, answering lots of questions, undergoing several tests, including being slid into an MRI to have my brain examined.

And that will get you thinking, all right.

And I remember thinking, well, here it is, the day I’ve long wondered about has arrived.

But I also thought about all the support I was already receiving, how Sue was back in my room waiting for me – and I thought about all of you, the prayers that were already being offered, the texts of concern I had been getting, and the couple of you who let me know that you knew a good vertigo guy.

And, I thought about words that I have said to so many people over the years but had never really applied to myself.

God is not going to let go of us, no matter what.

And I believe that – I know that – because I’ve encountered Jesus here with all of you and with so many other people along the way.

For the past few weeks, in our lessons from the Gospel of John, we’ve been hearing Jesus talk about bread, describing himself as the Bread of Life – bread that satisfies us, bread that gives us the food we need for enteral life.

On one level, this is a reflection on the Eucharist – the Bread of Heaven that we feast on here each Sunday.

And on another level, this is a reflection on following Jesus so closely, eating him up, so we become one with him.

Elsewhere, Jesus famously says that his “yoke is easy” and his “burden is light.”

But, at the same time, we know that following Jesus is demanding – loving our neighbor as our self – loving our enemies – these are no easy tasks.

I remember one time in Jersey City after we had a Baptism and renewed our Baptismal Covenant – promising to seek and serve Christ in all persons and respecting the dignity of every human being – someone said to me, “It’s hard work to be an Episcopalian.”

It IS hard work to be an Episcopalian, hard work to be a Christian.

As we all know, it’s only possible with God’s help.

But, as hard and challenging as it is to walk the way of Jesus, the ways of the world – the ways of selfishness and distraction are so much harder and, ultimately, self-defeating.

At the conclusion of Jesus’ long teaching on bread, we’re told that many of his disciples found it all too hard. They left Jesus and looked elsewhere for answers.

And, in a very poignant moment, Jesus asked the Twelve, who seem to be the only ones left, “Do you also wish to go away?”

And it’s Peter – Peter who so often messed up, just like us – it’s Peter who gets it exactly right:

“Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

So, with God’s help, let’s continue following Jesus.

        Let’s continue breaking bread together, taking Jesus into our bodies and hearts.

        Let’s continue loving one another, loving more generously than we ever thought possible, being there for each other in our times of trouble. 

        Let’s continue listening – really listening – to each other’s stories.

        Let’s continue trusting the God who will never let go of us, no matter what.

Amen.