Encountering God in Places High and Low

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 27, 2022

Year C: The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

Exodus 34:29-35

Psalm 99

2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2

Luke 9:28-43a

Encountering God in Places High and Low

It feels like about three months ago now, but last Monday – Presidents’ Day – was an extraordinarily beautiful day.

In the afternoon I finally did something I’ve been meaning to do since I arrived here in July: I explored the quieter, more remote areas of our expansive church grounds.

Since it was a holiday, there was not another soul around as I made my way from the parking lot into the woods, finding the little trail that I had heard about.

It was still and quiet, except for a few startled chipmunks darting around and birds fluttering and chirping, maybe warning others that an unexpected visitor was in the area.

At one point I walked to the northern edge of our property and looked down at what was Rosewood and is now being redeveloped by Stevenson University.

I should have realized this before – I mean I drive up and down Garrison Forest Road all the time – but it was only when I stood there looking way down at the vast construction site far below– it was only then that I fully appreciated that St. Thomas’ is a high place.

That’s not an accident, of course.

About 280 years ago, the founders of our church deliberately chose this high place, because of its prominence and maybe also for ease of defense in case of war.

But, I’m sure they also chose this land because, for as long as we can remember, people have encountered God in high places.

We heard about two of those encounters in today’s lessons.

It was up on Mount Sinai that God presented Moses with the Ten Commandments. For Moses, it was an encounter so intense that his face continued to shine bright – a sight so terrifying to his fellow Israelites that Moses chose to wear a veil.

And then, in today’s gospel lesson we were back up on the mountain with Jesus and three of his disciples disciples: Peter, James and John.

Before their eyes, Jesus is transformed – transfigured – his face changed and his clothes now dazzlingly white.

Then Jesus is joined by Moses and another key figure from Israel’s history, Elijah.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, suddenly a cloud overshadowed and enveloped them, and a voice announced, “This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him!”

And just as suddenly as this mountaintop experience began, it was over, leaving only Jesus and his three friends, who were so overwhelmed by it all that they wisely chose to keep it to themselves, at least for a while.

And then there is our own story: for the better part of three centuries, people have encountered God right here at St. Thomas’, right here at this high place.

For all these years, people have gathered here, stepping over that now worn-down threshold, walking on these very bricks, bringing their deepest hopes, their worst fears, their profoundest sorrows, bringing all that and more to God, bathing these old walls in prayer.

For the better part of three centuries, people have encountered God right here in this high place, in word and sacrament, through music, through the genuine care shown to one another, and the simple joy of breaking bread, of sipping coffee, of digging into a stack of pancakes, together.

In the short time I have been here, I have already encountered God here more times than I can count.

From our first Sunday together when I saw so many of you making your way up the front walk, your faces glowing – maybe not requiring a veil, but still awfully bright.

And in the half year or so since, I have encountered God each time we have gathered to pray, to sing, to receive Communion, to wrestle with Scripture – each time I’ve heard our preschool children laughing and learning - each time we’ve said farewell to cherished parishioners, each time we have dared to dream about our future, together.

Yes, just like so many of our spiritual ancestors, we encounter God right here, in a high place.

Although Peter had the totally reasonable idea of building shrines for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, trying to hold onto that mountaintop experience for as long as he could, in the end Jesus and his friends had to come back down the mountain and wade back into the world, with all of its suffering and fears.

No surprise, there’s a crowd waiting for Jesus, eager to hear the good news, hoping against hope for healing and new life.

A voice cuts through the din of the crowd, a desperate father crying out to Jesus, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child.”

The father goes on to describe his ailment, something that sounds like epilepsy. And the father goes on to tell Jesus that he had asked the disciples to heal the poor boy but they couldn’t do it.

This is not an unfamiliar situation. The gospels include several stories of frantic parents begging Jesus to heal their children. But this time, Jesus does not offer words of compassion.

Instead, Jesus sounds angry and frustrated.

He sounds like he’s just about had it.

He says, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you?”

Maybe Jesus is disappointed in his disciples, or maybe Jesus is having some trouble shifting from his high place encounter down to the mess of the world, down to the troubles of the low place.

Nevertheless, Jesus casts out the spirit and heals the boy – the boy, who, thanks to Jesus, has his own transfiguration – no longer foaming at the mouth and thrashing around but restored to peace and health.

Luke tells us, “all were astounded at the greatness of God.”

Yes, we can and do encounter God in high places like here at St. Thomas’.

But, like suffering boy and his desperate father, like all the people in the crowd that day, we can also encounter God in the low places, too.

Over the past half-year or so, I’ve heard so many of you talk about encounters with God in the low places: the mission trips and Habitat for Humanity builds; bringing delicious food and many other gifts to the folks at Paul’s Place and the Community Crisis Center; working together to meet the endless challenges that arise as we care for so much property and some very old old buildings. 

And, most of all, I know you have encountered God in the low places of illness, fear, and loss - when you’ve been supported by Malcolm Ellis or Bill Baxter or the other clergy who have come before me – when you’ve been held by other parishioners, transforming low places into moments of grace.

The great truth is that we encounter God in places both high and low.

Today is the day of our annual parish meeting when we will hear and read reports about the business and ministries of the church.

The details are important but if we listen and read between the lines we will discover stories of encountering God in places both high and low.

And today is also the last Sunday after the Epiphany, the final Sunday before Lent.

Soon, our alleluias will be silenced and most of the shiny things here in church will either be put away or veiled, some of the language and the order of our services will be adjusted, too – all of these changes meant not to confuse or annoy us, but to get us to pay attention – to ponder what’s been going on in our hearts and our lives - to help us keep an eye out God.

And, finally, the world today has been brought low by the lingering effects of the pandemic, economic uncertainty, bitter partisan divisions, the ongoing Afghan refugee crisis, and, of course, the heartbreakingly tragic and highly dangerous war in Ukraine.

I wonder what Jesus says about this generation!

So, thank God, thank God, that we have this high place, right?

But we can’t just stay here.

As members of a servant church, we are called to come down the mountain and go into the low places, sharing God’s love and mercy, offering small but essential gifts of peace and healing where there is so much hurt and suffering.

All with God’s help, of course.

So, as we look to an uncertain and even frightening future, we can be sure of at least this:

Just like our spiritual ancestors, we will go on encountering God, in places high and low.

Amen.

A Radically Different Way

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 20, 2022

Year C: The Seventh 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

A Radically Different Way

For about as long as I can remember, I have been a careful follower of the news.

When I was a little kid, every weeknight my family and I watched the local news and then Walter Cronkite, who, at the end of each broadcast, told us, “And that’s the way it is.”

We always had our local newspaper delivered, and later I began to read other papers and newsmagazines, eager to learn as much as I could about what was happening in the world.

For a while I watched cable news but eventually decided that might not be such a good thing.

Like a lot of us, today I look at news websites and I get alerts on my phone, though, honestly, a lot of those don’t seem to merit the interruption.

And, I still subscribe to a couple of physical newspapers. Each morning I make my way down our driveway to pick up the little bag of papers that I read as I drink coffee and eat breakfast.

But, I confess that in recent years, I’ve been spending less time with the news sections of the paper. I mostly just skim those pages and move on to the crossword.

I guess that’s partly that’s because much of the newspaper is already stale – reporting news that I’ve already heard about online.

But, mostly I just quickly scan those pages because so much of the news from our own neck of the woods, and from across our country, and from around the world – so much of the news is grim and depressing. Reading about what’s going on just leaves me feeling mostly angry, frustrated, and sad.

For example, there is the crisis in Ukraine.

It’s such a familiar and discouraging story, isn’t it?

We live in a world with real problems and challenges that are too numerous to count: a virus still killing many thousands of people every day, people uprooted from their homelands desperately looking for safety and a new life, melting ice and thawing permafrost, an ever-widening gap between rich and poor.

I could go on.

And yet, some would choose war. In a world with so many real problems and challenges, some would choose to send servicemen and servicewomen and innocent civilians to injury and deaths. 

And for what? 

Oh, the usual: power, prestige, and a false sense of security.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I despair.

Are we stuck?

Is this how it will always be?

There has to be a different way, right?

In last Sunday’s lesson from the Gospel of Luke, we heard the beginning of what’s called the Sermon on the Plain.

Jesus comes down the mountain with the apostles, and he is surrounded by lots of people – the disciples and people eager for healing and hungry for good news – people who had come to Jesus from all over the place.

And Jesus begins by unveiling his vision of the Kingdom of God – it’s a downside-up kingdom where it’s the poor and the hungry who are blessed – a downside-up kingdom where the rich and the full and the laughing – well, they’ve already received their reward.

Now, before we continue with the story, let’s remember what life was like for those people gathered around Jesus on the plain.

Without the technology and medicine that we usually take for granted, and without the freedoms that we still enjoy, life in the first century was unimaginably hard. And, the Romans and their local puppet leaders made life even harder, draining the people’s wealth and always quick to brutally defend their power and prestige.

So, Luke doesn’t tell us, but I’m guessing that at first Jesus’ downside-up vision must have sounded pretty good to a crowd filled with poor, hungry, and sorrowful people.

I imagine some of them nodding their approval and some calling out, “That’s right, Jesus, you tell ‘em.”

And now today we pick up right where we left off last week.

Jesus goes on to describe how we are to behave in this downside-up Kingdom of God.

We are to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, pray for those who abuse us.

If anyone strikes us, we are to turn the other cheek.

If someone takes our coat, we are to give our shirt.

We are to give to everyone who begs of us.

We are not to judge and condemn, but forgive.

We are to do to others as we would have them do to us.

At this point, I imagine the crowd that had first been so excited about Jesus’ vision now begins to have serious doubts. I imagine confused looks and angry whispers.

“Wait a second, we’re supposed to love the Romans and their cronies?”

“You want us to just let them take advantage of us?”

“And then you want us to forgive them?”

And, I imagine that at least some people began to drift away, began to turn away from Jesus, shocked, disappointed, discouraged by the radically different – even, let’s admit it, extreme – way of Jesus.

You can see why at the start the Jesus Movement was pretty small – and you can see why over the centuries the Church has tended to water down much of this very challenging message.

So what about us?

Well, before I get into the heart of what I want to say, I want to mention that Jesus’ call to turn the other cheek does not mean that people who are being abused should just keep taking it. The gospel is a message of love and there is nothing loving about abuse or enduring abuse.

That came up during our Wednesday Bible Study and since there is an epidemic of abuse in our country, I want to be clear about that.

So what about this radical way of Jesus?

Well, not to repeat myself, but first of all, none of what Jesus requires of us is remotely possible without God’s help.

So that’s where we begin.

And second, Jesus does indeed present us with a radical way – it’s a radical way of extreme love, extreme forgiveness, and extreme generosity.

But, stop and think about it: is the way of Jesus any more radical than the way of the world?

Is Jesus’ way of extreme love any more radical than the way of the world – the way of fearing or even hating people because of how they look or where they come from – the way of sacrificing men and women in uniform and innocent civilians, all so leaders can boost their power and prestige and false sense of security?

Is Jesus’ way of extreme forgiveness any more radical than the way of the world – the way of judging people based solely on the worst thing that they’ve ever done, the way of carrying grievances for years or even generations, the way of settling scores with gunfire, leaving bloodstained streets in places like Baltimore?

Is Jesus’ way of extreme generosity any more radical than the way of the world – the way of piling up wealth and possessions, more than could ever be needed or used or maybe even enjoyed in a lifetime, while so many others go without – and, in the process, destroying our fragile planet?

We are so used reading about it in newspapers and seeing it on the news that maybe we don’t see just how radical the way of the world really is.

Echoing Cronkite, we think, “That’s the way it is.” 

But that’s not the way it has to be.

In the downside-up kingdom of God, Jesus offers us a radically different, and infinitely more life-giving, way.

Now, let’s face it - we’re not going to get to perfect love, forgiveness, and generosity – not in this life, anyway.

No, as someone said in our Bible Study, the way of Jesus is a journey – a journey we take together.

So, with God’s help, let’s continue journeying on the radical way of Jesus, together.

Amen.

With God's Help

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills

February 13, 2022

Year C: The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany

Jeremiah 17:5-10

Psalm 1

1 Corinthians 15:12-20

Luke 6:17-26

With God’s Help 

Have I mentioned to you that I really love baptizing people?

I know, it’s only been six months and I’m already repeating myself!

But it’s true.

And not only do I love baptizing people, I also appreciate the opportunity to prepare people for Baptism, or, more often, to prepare parents for the Baptism of their children.

During our prep sessions, I always point out that in Baptism we make some big promises.

We promise to keep gathering together for prayer and Communion – to resist evil and to repent and ask forgiveness when we mess up – to proclaim the Good News by word and example - to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self – to strive for justice and peace among all people.

Sometimes, after we go through these pretty heavy promises, the parents look at me with kind of strange expressions – maybe a little embarrassed or uncertain, maybe for the first time realizing just what they got signed up for when they were baptized, and maybe now realizing just what they are getting their child signed up for!

It’s then that I point out that there’s no way that we can keep these promises on our own.

The promise is always, “I will, with God’s help.”

We can only dare to make make these big promises because we rely on God’s help.

Since, in the words of today’s opening prayer “In our weakness we can do nothing good without” God, the promise is always, “I will, with God’s help.”

Today’s Old Testament lesson comes from the Prophet Jeremiah.

Jeremiah lived back in the 600s and 500s BC, back when the Kingdom of Judah was defeated by the Babylonians, who destroyed the city of Jerusalem, including Solomon’s Temple, and sent many of the people into exile.

We talked a little about this history just a few weeks ago, when we heard about the homecoming, about Nehemiah rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem and Ezra reading the Word of God for six hours, as the people wept.

But, for Jeremiah and his contemporaries, that homecoming was still far in the future, just a hope or perhaps a matter of faith.

No, Jeremiah and his contemporaries lived in a time of defeat, destruction, and exile, and they wondered how and why this calamity could have befallen them.

How could God have allowed God’s people to be defeated and humiliated, to be dragged into exile?

Well, in today’s lesson we hear part of God’s answer, as God speaks through the Prophet Jeremiah: 

“Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals…whose hearts turn away from the Lord…They shall live in parched places of the wilderness, in an uninhabited salt land.”

But on the other hand:

“Blessed are those who trust in the Lord…they shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream…”

Speaking through Jeremiah, God warns us that calamity befalls us when we turn away from the Lord and put our trust in idols – and the biggest idol of all is self-reliance – our biggest woes come from thinking that we can accomplish anything good without God’s help.

In today’s lesson from the Gospel of Luke, we hear the beginning of what’s called the Sermon on the Plain.

Jesus has been up on the mountain with the apostles, and now he comes down to the plain.

The apostles and other disciples, along with others who had come for teaching and healing, they all gather around.

And, at the start of the Sermon on the Plain, Jesus unveils his vision of God’s kingdom – it’s a downside-up kingdom where the poor and the hungry and the mournful are blessed.

Jesus unveils his vision of God’s kingdom – it’s a downside-up kingdom where the rich and the full and the laughing and the highly regarded – well, bad news, they’ve already received their reward. 

So, a couple of things about this passage:

First, there is no question that Jesus cares about the poor and the hungry and the sorrowful – the people today who can’t pay their bills and face bankruptcy and eviction.

Jesus cares about the people without homes, the people who huddle over heating grates downtown to keep warm - the people who rely on places like Paul’s Place and the Community Crisis Center to stay fed.

And Jesus cares about the people who are overwhelmed with sorrow at life’s many losses, the people broken by so much fear and dread of the future.

Jesus cares about them all, and promises that they will be blessed, that they will be welcomed and fed and comforted in God’s kingdom – that, in fact, the blessing has already begun.

But, there’s something else about the poor, the hungry, and the sorrowful: 

They know from hard experience that self-reliance is not enough.

They know that they need more than bootstraps, that they need community – and, in my experience, they usually know that they need God most of all.

And, as for us rich people, well, don’t worry, Jesus cares about us, too, but Jesus also very much cares about how we care for the poor, the hungry, and the sorrowful - how we share our many blessings.

But, on a deeper, less obvious level, the rich keep themselves – we keep ourselves – out of the kingdom because too often we really do put our ultimate trust in idols – money, power, pedigree, education, and the biggest idol of them all: self-reliance.

We forget – or maybe don’t really want to believe – that we can only accomplish anything good with God’s help.

And, in case you’re wondering, I am pointing my finger right at me.

Most of you have heard enough of my sermons by now to know that I’m often pushing us to do stuff and, hopefully, also celebrating all that we do.

But, on more early Sunday mornings than I want to admit, I have gotten to the final edit of my sermons and realized that, yes, once again, I had forgotten to mention that it’s only with God’s help that we can do anything good.

More often than I want to admit, I’ve gone back through my sermons and added those three words that change everything:

With God’s help.

So, here is the wonderful truth, St. Thomas’:

With God’s help, we are once again preparing delicious casseroles for the hungry guests at Paul’s Place.

With God’s help, children are lovingly nurtured in our preschool.

With God’s help, Wanda and our quartet offer beautiful music.

With God’s help, we are extending help and hospitality to Afghan refugees.

With God’s help, we are having a homecoming here at St. Thomas’, welcoming back people returning from “exile” and greeting people who are finding a new spiritual home with us.

With God’s help, we are even more of a servant church.

So, all of us, whether we’re feeling poor or rich, whether we’re grieving or laughing, let’s remember our total dependence on God.

And, with God’s help, when we love and give and serve as generously as we can, then we are both blessed and blessing, right here and now in the downside-up kingdom of God.

May it be so.

Amen.