Christmas Lights, All Year Long

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

December 31, 2023

The First Sunday after Christmas

Isaiah 61:10-62:3

Psalm 147

Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7

John 1:1-18

Christmas Lights, All Year Long

So, as I’m sure you remember, last Sunday we had a kind of holy mash-up: it was both the Fourth Sunday of Advent and also Christmas Eve.

And now this Sunday we have yet another unusual blend of the calendar: it’s the First Sunday after Christmas and it’s also New Year’s Eve.

I will come back to that in a minute. 

But first I want to say, want to celebrate, that we had a most joyful Christmas Eve and Christmas Day here at St. Thomas’.

A few highlights:

Thanks to careful preparation and some skillful work, on Sunday between around 11:00 and noon, the church was quickly transformed from Advent simplicity to Christmas lavishness.

At the 4:00 service, the children did a great job reenacting the Christmas story.

Throughout our Advent / Christmas mash-up, the choir sang as beautifully as ever, of course.

And, thankfully, lots of people came to church – folks we see all the time, others we see less often but we’re always glad when they’re here, and some newcomers who picked a particularly good weekend to go church shopping.

On Sunday evening and Monday morning, a number of people asked if I was tired but the truth is that I was energized by the whole experience. In fact, on Christmas afternoon – which, you may remember, was unseasonably warm – I took a wonderful long walk on the NCR Trail, reflecting on it all and thanking God for my many blessings.

In most ways, this year’s Christmas was similar to the last couple of Christmases here.

But there were a couple of differences.

One was the schedule change. Not having a late service on Christmas Eve was a big change – one that I definitely worried about – but it seems to have worked out OK.

And another difference is our Christmas tree that stands right outside in the circle.

Thanks to the generosity of a couple of our parishioners, this year our Christmas tree is firmly planted in the earth – a wise environmental choice, for sure, but that firmly planted tree also sends an important symbolic or even spiritual message.

Just like today, on Christmas morning our gospel lesson was from the Prologue of the Gospel of John.

Rather than starting with Mary and Joseph and the angels and shepherds, John takes us all the way back to “in the beginning.”

And John also introduces one of the key themes of his gospel: that in and through Jesus, God’s light has entered the world in a new way – and it’s a light that simply can’t be overcome by the shadows of the world.

So, in my homily on Christmas morning, I talked about how dark it gets around here at night – much darker than this almost life-long city dweller is used to – so dark that I avoid driving at night as much as possible.

But when I am out at night, when I approach the tricky intersection of Garrison Forest Road and St. Thomas Lane, I love seeing the light shining out from our cupola – the light shining out from our bell tower into the darkness – a sign of Christ’s Light shining into our shadowy world – reassuring me, and I hope others, that this holy light will never, ever be extinguished, no matter what.

And in the days leading up to Christmas, there was even more light shining into the shadows.

For the past few weeks, after I’ve survived that tricky intersection, as I pass the church driveway on my way back to the rectory, I’ve tried to cast a quick glance into our campus where all the lights that cover our firmly-planted Christmas tree have been shining with a surprising and beautiful brightness.

It’s so beautiful, in fact, that the thought crossed my mind that maybe we should just leave the lights on all year long.

Which is probably a bad idea, I know. 

So, we’re not going to do that. 

In fact, the lights have already been removed from the tree, earlier than I would have liked.

So, you know, now it’s up to us.

Maybe, together and individually, we can be those Christmas lights.

Maybe this can be our New Year’s Resolution – to stay firmly planted here at St. Thomas’ and shine the Light of Christ into our shadowy world.

To be Christmas lights, all year long.

And what might that look like?

Well, in addition to celebrating the First Sunday after Christmas and New Year’s Eve, we are also overjoyed to have one last Baptism of the old year.

In just a few moments, I’ll have the privilege of baptizing beautiful little Aitana. 

Right here in front of all of us – with all of us - she will begin her life in Christ.

And as we always do before every Baptism, we will renew our Baptismal Covenant – promising once again to gather here as often as we can, staying firmly rooted in this holy soil – vowing to turn away from evil and, when we mess up, repent and ask forgiveness.

We’ll pledge to proclaim the Good News by what we say and do – and affirm that we’ll seek and serve Christ in absolutely everyone and strive for justice and peace, respecting the dignity of all.

As always, only with God’s help.

And at the conclusion of the Baptism, I’ll present Aitana with her candle – which she will probably reach for because we are naturally drawn to the light – and I’ll tell her the great truth that she is the light of the world and that she should let her light shine so the world – our often shadowy world – will see her good works and give glory to God. 

An old year is drawing to a close.

I think we can all agree that, while many of us have had joyful experiences – look at Aitana here – overall, it has been a hard year.

We’ve had a joyful Christmas at St. Thomas’, but there are some among us who are mourning heartbreaking losses and lots of us are fearful about the future – our own futures and also what the new year may hold for our country and the world.

But, just like the light from our cupola, the light of Christ shines into the shadows.

Just like the lights from our firmly planted Christmas tree, lots of little lights, together, make a great light.

And so, as we begin a new year together, with God’s help, let’s resolve to shine our little lights into the shadows.

Let’s be Christmas lights, all year long.

Amen.

God's Light Shines

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

December 25, 2023

Christmas Day

Isaiah 52:7-10

Psalm 98

Hebrews 1:1-4

John 1:1-14

God’s Light Shines

Merry Christmas!

It’s a little hard to believe but this is actually my third Christmas at St. Thomas’.

Sue and I have been here with you for about two and a half years now. And, while I do try to be mindful and practice gratitude, the truth is that I have gotten kind of used to the many blessings of this place.

There’s the remarkable natural beauty that is all around us, of course.

There are our wonderful parishioners – you - who love this place so much and generously share your time, talents, and treasure to keep our church vital and vibrant.

There’s our amazing church staff. They are so highly skilled and so devoted to caring for all of us. They got me through the crunch time of the Fourth Sunday of Advent and Christmas Eve – got me through so well that, honestly, I really didn’t worry about a thing!

(Well, I did worry about people showing up here for a late service last night. But that’s it, really!)

But there’s at least one thing about this place that I have not gotten used to, and no matter how long I live here, I don’t think I ever will.

It gets really dark here at night.

As an almost-lifelong city dweller, I am used to a lot of artificial night light, so this deep darkness has been a big and unsettling change.

And, probably like at least some of you, because it’s so dark, I try to avoid driving around here at night.

In the dark, it’s easy to run into an obstacle - like one of our many deer, which would be catastrophic for the poor animal and, I have to say, also not great for my vintage Honda Fit.

And nowadays many people drive rather large vehicles, much bigger and taller than my Fit, with those super-bright headlights that shine right into my eyes, distracting me for a few precious and dangerous seconds.

So, yes, I try to avoid driving around here at night as much as possible.

But, when I am out at night, I’m often on Garrison Forest Road. 

And, when I’m almost home, there’s one last challenge: making that dangerous and tricky turn onto St. Thomas Lane. 

As I hope you know, it’s a three-way intersection but only a two-way stop.

I always wonder, are the other drivers paying attention? Do they know the rules? Are they going to follow the rules? Am I going to get home without crashing?

But, as I approach that one last challenge, I always love to see the light shining out from our church cupola – our bell tower - the light shining into the shadows – showing me the way, reminding me of God’s love and presence, no matter how many obstacles I face, no matter how dangerous the road, no matter how shadowy the world may be.

The light shines out.

Today, on Christmas Day, we always hear the Christmas story according to the Gospel of John.

John is that last of the four gospels to be written, probably around the year 100.

It’s the product of decades of divinely-inspired reflection on the meaning of Jesus – his life, death, resurrection, and, yes, his birth.

So, in John’s Christmas story, he doesn’t give us the details found in Matthew and Luke – the tale of angels and shepherds and wise men and Mary and Joseph and a helpless and vulnerable newborn king – the story so beautifully reenacted by our children in last night’s Tableau.

No, in his Christmas story, John goes wide – offering us the biggest picture of all – taking us way back, all the way back to, “in the beginning.”

I love the Christmas stories in Matthew and Luke, but John tells us what we most need to hear, especially during these difficult days of sadness, fear, anger, and hate.

In his Christmas story and throughout his gospel, John insists that in and through Jesus, God’s light shines.

And, he insists, there is simply no force powerful enough to extinguish God’s light, never, ever.

Each night, the light shining out from our church reminds us of God’s light shining in and through Jesus.

The light reminds us of what Christmas is all about.

No matter how many obstacles we face, no matter how frightened we may be, no matter how dangerous the road, God’s light shines, showing us the way home.

God’s light shines.

Merry Christmas to you all!

Amen.

Christmas Reenactors

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

December 24, 2023

Christmas Eve 

Isaiah 9:2-7

Psalm 96

Titus 2:11-14

Luke 2:1-20

Christmas Reenactors 

Merry Christmas!

Now, I admit to being biased, but I think that there is nothing better than Christmas here at St. Thomas’.

Of course, this doesn’t just happen.

Just like every year in the run-up to Christmas, it has been crunch time around here. But this year, because of the calendar – when the Fourth Sunday of Advent and Christmas Eve are the same day – well, this year, crunch time has been more crunched than ever.

But, as usual, so many people have been incredibly generous and have worked so hard:

The parishioners who stuck around today’s 10:00 service and beautifully – and amazingly quickly - transformed our church from Advent to Christmas.

The choir members who were here singing Advent hymns this morning and are back with us to sing much-loved Christmas carols and hymns this afternoon.

The altar guild members who’ve been shining and washing and pressing like crazy.

Members of the church staff who designed and cranked out hundreds and hundreds of bulletins, who got our campus looking its best, and did a whole lot of other, mostly behind the scenes, prep work.

Thanks to all these wonderful people and the many others I haven’t mentioned – thanks to all of you who have brought your joy and excitement - it is yet another beautiful Christmas here at St. Thomas’.

Merry Christmas!

In just a few minutes, we will all get to experience the Christmas Tableau, presented by some of the children of our church.

Way better than any sermon, each year our kids make the old and familiar Christmas story new and fresh again.

On the one hand, each year the story is the same – each year there are children dressed as angels and as Mary and Joseph and shepherds and lambs and wise visitors from the East bearing gifts.

But, on other hand, well, you know how it is.

Just like all of us, just like life itself, kids can sometimes be…unpredictable.

So, if you were here last year, you may remember that one of our little lambs apparently decided he would rather be an airplane, happily circling the Nativity scene with outstretched arms.

Well, why not?

In a way, our children are kind of like historical reenactors – Christmas Reenactors - dressing up and acting out the holy events in Bethlehem, two thousand years ago.

And, all of us Christians – each in our own unique and sometimes unpredictable way – we are called to be Christmas reenactors, too.

Fortunately, costumes are not required – we don’t need to wear tinsel halos or fluffy wings – we don’t have to carry a shepherd’s crook – and we definitely don’t have to be a flying lamb.

Though, again, if that’s what you’re called to do, I say go for it!

In our own unique and sometimes unpredictable way, are all called to be Christmas Reenactors.

So, like the angels, we are meant to give glory to God. 

Like the shepherds, we Christmas Reenactors are meant to look for God in unlikely places – especially among families like the Holy Family, swept up by world events, forced to travel far from home, seeking safety for their children.

Like the visitors from the East, we are meant to share our gifts. 

Like Joseph, we Christmas Reenactors are called to stand by the people we love, even when we may not fully understand what’s going on with them, even when our loyalty may cost us a whole lot.

Like Mary, we Christmas Reenactors are called to carry Jesus into the world – into a world that is often cold and inhospitable – a world so hungry for love and peace.

And like the newborn Jesus, we Christmas Reenactors are called to accept our vulnerability, placing our hope in the God who never lets go of us, and placing our trust in the many people all around us who are kind and brave and generous.

So, I admit my bias, but I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than Christmas at St. Thomas’.

Thanks to the hard work of so many – thanks to your joy and excitement – it is Christmas once again.

And thanks to our children, we are reminded that we are all meant to be Christmas Reenactors, sharing God’s love, like the angels and the shepherds and the wise men, like Joseph and Mary, and like Jesus, our newborn Savior, Messiah, and Lord.

Merry Christmas to you all.

Amen. 

The Faith and Courage to Carry Jesus Into the World

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

December 24, 2023

Year B: The Fourth Sunday of Advent

2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16

Psalm 89: 1-4, 19-26

Romans 16:25-27

Luke 1:26-38

The Faith and Courage to Carry Jesus Into the World

For the past two Advent Sundays we’ve been hearing about John the Baptist, that powerful and uncompromising prophet who called people to repent, to change their ways, to be dunked in the River Jordan and begin anew.

John prepared the way for Jesus, declaring that the Kingdom of God was drawing near.

And now this morning, on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, which, you may have noticed, also happens to be December 24th, as close as we can get to Christmas without it actually being Christmas, this morning we go back in time a couple of decades and turn our attention at last to the other central character of Advent: the Virgin Mary.

The passage that Deacon Les just read from the Gospel of Luke is a familiar one.

The story of the Annunciation is a key part of every church Christmas pageant when a child wearing a tinsel halo and fluffy wings stands before a blue-veiled girl playing Mary and says, “Greetings, favored one!”

But although this passage is very familiar, it was only recently that I realized that we’re not really told why Mary is so favored by God.

In fact, we’re told almost nothing about Mary – we don’t know how old she was, or what she looked like, or what kinds of things she was good at or what she enjoyed.

We do know that she was a virgin who lived in Nazareth, an unimportant town in Galilee.

We know that she was engaged to Joseph, who was of the house of David. That certainly sounds impressive, yes, but King David had lived a long time ago and by now his descendants were numerous and really just ordinary people.

Joseph was definitely not a prince living in a royal palace.

And we know that Mary had a cousin Elizabeth, who in her old age was miraculously pregnant, carrying the future John the Baptist.

That’s all good and important to know, but we’re still not told why Mary is the favored one, why God chose her to take on the unprecedented, mind-blowing, terrifying responsibility of carrying the Son of God into a cold and inhospitable world.

I always want to know more about the people we meet in the Bible – to learn their backstories and what happened to them next. That can be fun and interesting to imagine but the truth is that Scripture tells us everything we really need to know.

And that’s certainly true of Mary.

Why is Mary the favored one?

Well, when the angel appeared to her and greeted her, our English translation says she was “perplexed.” 

But a better translation of the original Greek would be that she was “terrified.”

And who could blame her, right?

Mary was terrified. 

But this young woman from the sticks didn’t try to run away from the angel.

She didn’t cry out for help.

She didn’t squeeze her eyes shut, desperately hoping that it was all a dream.

No, Mary stayed right where she was.

And when she heard the most amazing message from the angel, she must have known that she was being asked to do something very hard and dangerous, something that would be awfully difficult to explain to Joseph and everybody else, something that would cost her - and her fiancée – dearly.

But Mary didn’t suggest that the angel should try someone else – you know, maybe ask the girl who lives across the road.

No. Mary says, yes.

“Let it be with me according to your word.”

And in that moment we learn everything we need to know about Mary.

God favors her because she is a person of the greatest faith and courage – and she’ll need every bit of that faith and courage to carry Jesus into a world that already had enough kings, thank you very much, the powers that be who will want to get rid of this king of the Jews, right from the start.

And eventually, those powers that be will get rid him, all right. 

Or, so it seemed. 

And Mary, the favored woman of faith and courage, she will have to summon the strength to watch her son die in a horrible and shameful way, still trusting in the long-ago promise of the angel, believing that somehow her son would reign forever.

Mary was favored for her faith and courage.

You’ve probably seen on the news or read in the paper that, because of the horrific war between Israel and Hamas, the Christian leaders of Bethlehem decided to cancel this year’s Christmas festivities.

There will be no huge crowds of pilgrims and tourists flocking to the place of Jesus’ birth.

You may have also seen that this year the Lutheran church in Bethlehem created a very different, painfully stark, nativity scene.

Instead of resting peacefully in a charming straw-lined manger, the Baby Jesus lies amid smashed concrete, just like children lie among the rubble in Gaza and in so many war-torn places around the world, just like many children live in poverty and hopelessness right here in our own country.

Frankly, you know things are pretty bad when the Christians of Bethlehem feel like they have to essentially cancel Christmas.

And during these hard days – hard days for the world and for many of us - we may feel perplexed, or terrified, or angry, or sad, or maybe just exhausted by it all.

Yet, Mary’s faith and courage is available to us, too.

God gives us the faith and courage to carry Jesus into our cold and inhospitable world, right here and right now.

For example, we carried Jesus into the world with each gift we donated to the Christmas Extravaganza – each gift that we shared, sorted, wrapped, and delivered.

Our Afghan friends have endured so much rubble, survived so much suffering. They’re not Christians, of course, and nobody is trying to convert them – but we carried Jesus right into their lives with the many bags of clothing and other gifts they received from us – people they will probably never meet, people they’ll never really be able to thank.

And our friends at St. Mark’s On The Hill in Pikesville, during a time of transition and uncertainty, are boldly carrying Jesus into the world by restarting their food pantry – carrying Jesus right into the rubble of poverty and hunger, offering food to fill the belly, sharing hope to fill the soul.

Well, we are now as close as we can get to Christmas without it actually being Christmas.

At last, we’ve turned our attention to the Virgin Mary.

We may not know very much about her but we know all that we need to know.

Mary was favored because she had the faith and courage to carry Jesus into a cold and inhospitable world.

And in our own time and place, God gives us that same faith and courage, too.

Amen.

Making An Old Way New Again

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

December 17, 2023

Year B: The Third Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

Canticle 15: The Song of Mary

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24

John 1:6-8, 19-28

Making An Old Way New Again

Last Monday evening, after getting over Covid, I attended a very impressive event at Greater Harvest Baptist Church on Saratoga Street, in West Baltimore.

It was an action hosted by BUILD (“Baltimoreans United in Leadership Development”), which has been doing the hard and good work of community organizing in Baltimore for decades.

As you may have seen in the paper or on the news, BUILD has partnered with the City and with the Greater Baltimore Committee on a bold plan to address the thousands of vacant properties in Baltimore City – buildings that are dangerous and drag down entire neighborhoods.  

I’m really not knowledgeable enough to evaluate the merits of the plan, but it was inspiring to be with well over 500 people – Christians, Muslims, Jews, other people of goodwill – who remain committed to a city that has suffered so much for so long.

Now, it just so happens that BUILD is a sister organization of Jersey City Together, which I was involved with back home.

And so on Monday, I was once again reminded of the similarities between Baltimore and my hometown. 

Just like there are two Baltimores – some prosperous and beautiful neighborhoods and also areas of near-total devastation and despair – there are two Jersey Citys – there’s the impossibly expensive real estate along the Hudson River – the Gold Coast, it’s sometimes called - and an inner city that continues to struggle with familiar and persistent and heartbreaking problems.

Both Baltimore and Jersey City were once industrial powerhouses, providing reliable, if often dangerous and tedious, blue collar employment to many thousands of people.

And both cities were once great railroad towns.

Just a few decades ago, what is now the Gold Coast was occupied by half-abandoned rail yards and warehouses. And a few decades before that, every day many thousands of people poured into Jersey City on the Jersey Central, the B & O, the Pennsylvania, and other once mighty railroads – and then hopped on a ferry over to New York.

Maybe some of you remember doing just that.

In the neighborhood where I grew up there was a little spur line, just a couple of blocks from our house.

As a kid, it was always exciting when the railroad crossing bells would ring and a freight train would rumble by.

Today that’s all gone – all that’s left is an irregularly-sized strip of land, a kind of no man’s land where I’m sure kids hang out, just like some kids hung out “on the tracks” when I was little.

So, this is a longwinded way of saying, maybe it was inevitable that I would be interested in trains.

Back in the 90’s I spent a lot of time traveling around different parts of New Jersey, photographing remnants of the Jersey Central Railroad.

And now thanks to the Internet, it’s possible to belong to different online groups of people with similar interests, abandoned rail lines, old train stations.

I recently find one group that’s a little different, though.

Rather than documenting railroad ruins, instead of discovering relics of long lost routes, this group is documenting the surprising rebirth of a line in New Jersey that has been out of service for decades – it’s called the Freehold Secondary.

And so for several months, from afar, I’ve been watching this amazing progress, as brush was cleared and old tracks and ties removed, as gravel ballast and new ties and tracks have been firmly planted, getting ready for the trains that will be rolling again soon.

The workers have been making a way – not a new way – but making an old way new again.

Making an old way new again.

Today, on the Third Sunday of Advent, we switch our liturgical color from blue to rose.

It’s a symbolic lightening up, signaling that the Advent days of preparation are drawing to a close.

Rejoice, because soon – very soon, actually – it will be Christmas!

This week we get to spend a little more time with John the Baptist, the powerful prophet who declared it was time to repent – time to turn around - because the Kingdom of God was drawing near.

John the Baptist fascinates me because then, as now, people really didn’t like being told they were on the wrong track. But John doesn’t sugarcoat his message – not at all – and yet the people still come in huge numbers.

Deep down, they know they’re heading the wrong direction – they know that they need a new start.

Well, no surprise, John’s big crowds drew the notice of the religious authorities in Jerusalem. And, as we heard in today’s gospel lesson, they send a fact-finding mission to learn just what John is up to.

And what they learn is that John is not Elijah and he’s also not the Messiah.

John declares his mission by quoting the Prophet Isaiah. John is the one crying out in the wilderness, “Make straight the way of the Lord.”

John prepares the way of Jesus by cutting down the weeds of sin and delusion.

John prepares the way of Jesus by calling people to repent – to change their ways – to be dunked in the River Jordan and begin anew.

John prepares the way of Jesus.

And the other main Advent character, the Virgin Mary, whose song we said today in place of a psalm, she prepares the way of Jesus by quite literally carrying him into the world - into a cold and inhospitable world, carrying the Son of God into a world where the powers that be are out to get him, right from the start.

And later, after the first Easter morning, the way of Jesus – the way of love and sacrifice - will be well traveled by the apostles and by Christians down through the ages, including the hearty and faithful band of “forest inhabitants” who built this beautiful church on the highest ground they could find.

But, you know, the way of Jesus – the way of love and sacrifice – is kind of like a railroad right-of-way. 

If the trains stop running, if maintenance is deferred, the weeds quickly take over, burying and hiding the tracks.

And it’s the same with the way of Jesus.

If we neglect the way, it too can be buried, lost, and forgotten.

Over the past couple of years, one of the key themes here at St. Thomas’ has been renewal.

We haven’t invented a new way.

Kind of like those workers laying track on the Freehold Secondary, we have made an old way new again.

With God’s help, of course.

We made an old way new again at the Christmas Extravaganza on Tuesday night, following a tradition that’s now more than two decades old, but which this year noticeably included quite a few new people, new to outreach, new to the parish, who brought their own gifts and ideas.

We made an old way new again by reimagining our Youth Confirmation program, making it less like school and more of an experience – giving our wonderful young people the opportunity to not just learn about the church but to be the church, to be who they really are.

And, I’d suggest the BUILD action on Monday night was making an old way new again – Christians and people of other faiths or maybe no faith but goodwill, gathering together to endorse a kind of complicated plan which may or may not work, we’ll see, but really we gathered to choose hope – choosing Advent hope even in the midst of so much fear and despair.

This is the way of Jesus.

This is the way of love and service.

It’s the way prepared by the Virgin Mary and John the Baptist.

It’s an old way that we are called to make new again.

Amen.

Putting On the Armor of Light

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

December 3, 2023

Year B: The First Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 64:1-9

Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18

1 Corinthians 1:3-9

Mark 13:24-37

Putting On the Armor of Light

I’ve mentioned to you before that I am a big believer in the value of weekday worship.

It’s a lesson that I learned way back at the first church I served as an assistant – a church that offered at least one service of public worship every single day of the year.

Frankly, when I first arrived there that devotion to weekday worship amazed me, and now, after being rector of a couple of churches, it still does.

Although relatively few people attended most of those services – and sometimes it was just the officiant praying alone – I came to appreciate the spiritual value of that daily discipline – the way all of that prayer changes us, in ways both visible and invisible, known and unknown.

And daily worship has a symbolic value, too. 

It reminds us that the Christian life is more than something we do for an hour or so on Sundays.

No, following Jesus a 24/7 undertaking, the commitment and adventure of a lifetime.

And, finally, offering weekday services is just good stewardship.

We really should use our holy and beautiful and expensive to maintain buildings more than just once or twice a week.

So, one of my goals has been to reintroduce weekday worship to St. Thomas’, which we did first by adding the Service of Holy Communion and Anointing on Wednesdays at noon and then introducing Morning Prayer on Thursdays at 9:00.

I’ve hoped that eventually we might actually have one service every single day.

I’m playing kind of a long game here, so I’ve assumed that this would take a while.

But then, world events intervened.

As most of you know, when war broke out between Hamas and Israel, some of us felt the call to step up our prayer life.

While it’s true that armed conflicts are always raging in different places around the world, this particular war seemed extra dangerous, running the risk of sparking a wider war in the Middle East.

This horrible war also released – or maybe simply uncovered – the old demons of anti-Semitism and Islamophobia.

This brutal conflict and the suffering of so many innocent people tempted so some of us to dehumanize the “other side” – forgetting that we are all beloved children of God – our blood and our tears are made of the same stuff.

And so, we stepped up our prayer life by offering The Great Litany, Monday through Friday at noon in the Old School Building.

I chose the Litany because this is a prayer that people have prayed for centuries, especially in times of crisis.

It’s also an exceptionally comprehensive prayer. 

In the Litany, we ask God to deliver us “from all blindness of heart; from pride, vainglory, and hypocrisy; from envy, hatred, and malice; and from all want of charity.”

We ask God to “make wars to cease in all the world; to give to all nations unity, peace, and concord; and to bestow freedom upon all peoples.”

And we beseech God “to have mercy upon all mankind.”

I also chose the Litany because it’s easy: it was already right there in the Prayer Book – no creativity or bulletins were required - and it only takes about twelve minutes to pray aloud, which seemed manageable.

I wasn’t entirely sure if anyone would show up, but most days there has been at least one other person in the Old School Building and for the last few days a good friend of mine, Tina, has been joining us on Zoom all the way from Tallahassee.

Sam Shoemaker once wrote, “Prayer may not change things for you, but it sure changes you for things.”

“Prayer may not change things for you, but it sure changes you for things.”

And that’s been my experience of praying the Great Litany over these weeks.

I can’t say that the world is in any better shape because of our prayers, though you never know.

But, I can feel a difference in me – a renewed strength to face the future – a deepened confidence that God is present with us even when everything is a mess, even when the shadows grow very deep.

In the words of today’s collect, our opening prayer, praying the Great Litany each weekday has felt like putting on the “armor of light.”

Today, the First Sunday of Advent, is the first day of a new church year.

And today, and during many Sundays this year, we’ll be reading and hearing from the Gospel of Mark.

Although, it’s placed after Matthew in the Bible, in fact Mark is the oldest of the four gospels.

The Gospel of Mark was written about forty years after the earthly lifetime of Jesus, right around the Year 70, the year when the Romans brutally sacked Jerusalem, destroying much of the city, including the Temple.

The Temple was where, in a sense, God was believed to dwell – it was where the Jewish people made sacrifices in order to keep their end of the Covenant – it was simply the heart of Jewish life.

And so its destruction was a horrible blow.

In a way that we can’t quite grasp, for Jews of that time, the destruction of the Temple must have seemed like the end of the world.

And at least some Jesus followers thought that the destruction of the Temple was surely a sign that Jesus was about to return, that the Last Day, the Day of Judgment had arrived.

But in his gospel written during this time of turmoil, Mark quotes Jesus as saying that, yes, awful and terrifying things are going to happen, but we do not know when the Last Day will arrive.

So, we need to be alert, to be prepared, to keep awake.

We live in a time of deep shadows.

After an all-too-brief ceasefire, after the release of some hostages, the war between Hamas and Israel has resumed, and the risk of a wider conflict remains – and the old demons of anti-Semitism and Islamophobia are still on the loose.

Russia’s assault on Ukraine grinds on, causing so much suffering, and also threatening a larger and even more devastating conflict.

Meanwhile, many of us face our own personal challenges and sorrows.

And across our country, rightly or wrongly, so many have lost trust in our institutions and leaders.

We’ve lost trust in each other.

And I still haven’t met anyone who’s excited about the next presidential election.

It’s tempting to give into despair.

But, God does not let go of us, no matter what.

And, while we may not know the future, we do know Jesus.

So, during Advent and always, we keep awake.

We offer loving service to people in need, as we will next week at the Christmas Extravaganza.

And, most of all, we pray – trusting that our prayers will change us - not just here on Sundays but every day – praying the Litany or in whatever way helps us feel God’s closeness.

In a time of deep shadows, we put on the armor of light.

Amen.

The King Who Serves and Begs

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

November 26, 2023

Year A, Proper 29: The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Christ the King

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24

Psalm 100

Ephesians 1:15-23

Matthew 25:31-46

The King Who Serves and Begs

I doubt that any of us who were here on Monday afternoon will ever forget Sandy Martin’s funeral.

This church was just packed with people – we could not have squeezed anyone else into this place – and the overflow seating in the Parish Hall was, well, overflowing.

That extraordinary turnout was an appropriate tribute to such a good man, someone whose life was devoted to family, friends, and community.

And the touching and often funny remembrances by family and friends honored Sandy, and the beautiful music by Wanda and the choir helped to comfort us in our sorrow.

The gospel lesson we chose was the one we almost always use at funerals.

The setting is the Last Supper as Jesus tries to reassure his friends that death is not the end for him, not the end for their friendship, not the end of their love.

Jesus tells the disciples that he is going on ahead to prepare a place for them – and that they know the way to that place of reunion.

I always love that out of all the disciples it’s only our friend the Apostle Thomas who is brave enough – honest enough - to admit, “Lord, we do not know the way to the place where you are going.”

And then Thomas asks, “How can we know the way?”

And Jesus responds, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

I doubt that cleared things up much for Thomas and the others. 

But later, after the first Easter, after they knew that Jesus had in fact defeated death, the disciples must have reflected back to the Last Supper, recalling and better understanding the lessons Jesus had taught them.

Jesus had blessed the bread and wine, promising to be with them – to be with us – each time we gather around the table and remember him.

Jesus had shocked them by getting up from the table and washing their dirty and smelly feet – teaching them that this is what it looks like to follow him – that this is loving service – and commanding us to follow his example.

The way of Jesus is the way of love and sacrifice.

Christ is a King who serves.

Today we arrive at the last Sunday of the Church Year, the Last Sunday after Pentecost, the last Sunday of the little Pre-Advent season that we’ve been reflecting on during the last few weeks.

Today is the Feast of Christ the King.

During our Pre-Advent we’ve been reminded of the Last Day, the Day of Judgment.

We’ve been nudged to get going because we don’t have all the time in the world, and we certainly don’t want to be like the bridesmaids who failed to plan ahead and ran out of oil for their lamps.

And we certainly don’t want to be like the slave who was given one talent and buried it out of an abundance of caution and fear.

During our Pre-Advent we’ve been reminded that we will be judged and held accountable for how we have lived our lives, how we have shared our zillion blessings.

And that theme crescendos in today’s lesson from the Gospel of Matthew, where Jesus teaches that the people in need – the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, and the imprisoned – they are Jesus himself.

The people in line early on a Saturday morning at the Community Crisis Center – the people who show up at Paul’s Place looking for a good meal and a fresh start – the children at Owings Mills Elementary School who don’t have their own bed or a kitchen table – they are in fact Christ the King himself.

At the Last Supper, Jesus dropped to his knees and washed the feet of his friends, doing the lowly, stinky work of a servant, teaching us that this is what love looks like.

Christ is the King who serves.

And today Jesus teaches us that he can be found in and among the people desperately looking for help.

Christ is the King who begs.

I’m not sure which image is more unsettling or more challenging.

For me, one of the highlights of the week is always our Wednesday service of Holy Communion and Anointing.

After the service, most of us stick around for Bible Study when we look at the upcoming Gospel lesson.

Because of Thanksgiving, last week our numbers were down a little but, as usual, we had a conversation that was thoughtful, lively, and challenging.

We talked about Jesus’ hard message of giving to people in need.

We wondered how to do that so we still had enough to sustain ourselves.

How can we give while also keeping ourselves safe in a world that is full of dangers?

I didn’t have any easy answers to those questions or concerns.

But, I did say that it’s not our place to decide who is deserving and undeserving of help – and that, at the very least, we should strive to really see the person who is asking for help – to see them as a person beloved by God – to see Christ present in and through them.

Big words, right?

Much easier to say than actually do.

So, my plan for after the Wednesday service was to make a few phone calls, catch up on a little paperwork, maybe try to straighten up my messy desk, and then head home early for a jump on Thanksgiving.

My office, as most of you know, gives me a good view of people making their way up to the office door.

And, on Wednesday afternoon as I was talking on the phone, I saw someone I didn’t recognize come along and ring the bell.

A minute or two later, our Parish Administrator Jane came to my door but saw that I was on the phone.

When I ended my conversation a couple of minutes later, Jane reappeared and said that the man I had seen coming up the walk was hoping to speak with me, looking for some help.

Jane said, he seems really nice and I hope you will help him.

So, I ushered the man into my office and we sat down across from each other.

I introduced myself and asked for his name.

He said, “Thomas,” which both made me smile… and also made me suspicious.

You’ve come to a church named for St. Thomas on a street named St. Thomas to talk to a priest named Thomas and your name is Thomas?

Hmm.

I asked what was going on and he told me his troubles – he had been laid off from his accounting job and he and his wife were having trouble providing for his two young children.

They had fallen behind on some bills, most especially their BGE bill.

Was it possible for us to offer him some help?

I confess that I asked him if he happened to have his BGE bill with him. No doubt anticipating that request, he did and handed it to me.

And, sure enough, there was a rather large amount past due.

And, of course, the name on the bill was “Thomas.” 

Long ago, a different Thomas thought that he did not know the way.

But he knew.

Jesus had taught him, just like Jesus teaches us, that the way is to follow his example, washing as many feet as we can - offering loving service.

And Jesus also teaches us that when we offer loving service, we’re not just helping the man behind on his bills, we’re offering loving service to Jesus himself.

The end of one year and the start of another are reminders that we do not have all the time in the world.

So, as we prepare to begin again, may we remember that:

Christ is the King who serves and Christ is the King who begs.

Amen.

Easter For Sandy

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

November 20, 2023

The Funeral of Alexander “Sandy” Martin

John 14:1-6a

Easter For Sandy

Looking out at the church just before I read the gospel lesson, I thought, “This looks just like Easter!”

And that’s what today is: Easter for Sandy.

The setting of the Bible passage that I read is the Last Supper.

Jesus has gathered with his closest friends for one, final meal.

Jesus had been predicting his death for some time but his friends could not – or would not – accept that someone they loved so much was going to die.

We know only too well what that’s like.

But at the table one last time, the hard truth was beginning to sink in.

And so, with time running out, Jesus teaches his friends a few most important lessons.

He gets up from the table and washes their feet, shocking them, teaching them that this is how we are to love one another, by serving each other.

Jesus blesses the bread and wine and says that this is his body and blood and that he will be with us each time we are at the table and we remember him.

And, finally, as we heard today, Jesus tries to reassure his friends that he is going on ahead to prepare a place for them – a place for us – where we will all someday be reunited.

And, not only that, Jesus says we know the way to the place where he is going.

It’s only our friend St. Thomas who is honest enough, bold enough, to admit, “Lord, we do not know the way to the place where you are going.”

And then Thomas asks, “How can we know the way?”

And Jesus gives the answer, “I am the way.”

For us, Jesus is the way – and the way of Jesus is giving away our lives in love and service.

Jesus is the way but the way of Jesus is not a one-size-fits-all way.

Just like all the saints of God in the charming hymn that we sang today – each of us has to discover our own unique way along the way.

That’s the challenge and adventure of faith and life.

As we’ve heard so powerfully in today’s beautiful remembrances, our beloved brother Sandy walked the way of Jesus by being an amazingly loving husband, father, and grandfather.

And Sandy walked the way of Jesus by being a loyal and faithful friend.

I’m sorry that I knew Sandy for much less time than probably all of you, but he touched my life, too.

Sandy and Beaumont were two of the first St. Thomas’ people that my wife Sue and I met, even before we moved here.

Beaumont and Glen Cole were a two-person transition team, given the job to get us ready for our move to Maryland.

One time, we were having a Zoom meeting when suddenly Sandy leaned into the picture, beside Beaumont. He said,

“Hey, Tom! Do you play golf?”

I said, “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.” 

And immediately I thought, oh geez, I haven’t even gotten there yet and I’ve already disappointed this guy.

But, as you all know, Sandy was an excellent reader of people and he had a very quick wit.

And so without missing a beat, he said to me, “Good! You’re lucky. Golf’s an expensive hobby. You’re saving a lot of money!’

I immediately felt better.

And I also learned a lot about Sandy in that moment: his sensitivity, his kindness, and his sense of humor. 

Later, Sandy and Beaumont gave us a memorable tour of the neighborhood, driving us out into the country, pointing out where Sandy had grown up, taking pride in all the natural beauty, and, I think also having some fun with two city people who were a little stunned by a place that seemed to have way more horses than people.

Sandy and Beaumont embraced us as new friends – what a great gift.

Later, there were a couple of times when Sandy and I had some pretty serious conversations about faith – it’s safe to say that, probably like all of us, he had some questions to ask God about why things are the way they are.

The last time I saw Sandy – a couple of weeks ago - he was not feeling well at all.

But even then, he was still very much himself – asking me how I was doing, how things were going at the church, how was the fundraising going?

And, for him, the hardest part of all of this – much harder than illness itself – was the idea of leaving behind his beloved family – his family, which was truly the greatest gift he ever gave - the greatest gift he ever received.

That was how Sandy walked the way of Jesus.

And now, Sandy’s beautiful journey along the way has come to an end.

He has slipped into the safe and secure arms of the God who dreamed him up in the first place, shared him with all of us, and loved and supported him throughout his life.

But, for us, the journey continues until we are reunited.

Fortunately, thanks to Jesus, and thanks to Sandy, we know the way.

Amen.