St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD
January 15, 2023
Year A: The Second Sunday after the Epiphany
Isaiah 49:1-7
Psalm 40:1-12
1 Corinthians 1:1-9
John 1:29-42
Holy Invitations
If you were here last week, you may remember that I talked about how when I was a young man I felt certain that God was calling me to be a Franciscan friar.
And when that turned out not to be true, I became a teacher because I didn’t really know what else to do.
I thought that teaching would be a good job for me while I waited for my “real life” to begin.
And, yes, it’s true that I taught for 17 years.
Although I always had the feeling that teaching wasn’t my real vocation, the truth is I loved much of the work: helping my students to learn and grow, and working with colleagues and friends who were so committed to education.
And since I taught in Catholic schools, church was kind of built into my job – there were lots of prayer services, Masses, and retreats – in fact, the schools themselves were expressions of faith.
But, after Sue and I were married for a couple of years, it dawned on me that it might be good for us to go to church together.
So, in the year 2000, on the Saturday evening before the First Sunday of Advent, we walked from our house in Jersey City to attend Mass at one of our local Catholic churches.
The details don’t matter now, but, bottom line, it was not a good experience for us.
Though I think about that Mass all the time.
It’s a reminder for me that, while things here in church will sometimes go wrong, we should always give our best efforts to God and our fellow parishioners, and especially for newcomers who have made the not so easy effort to walk into our church and will probably and rightly not come back if they are not welcomed and fed.
Anyway, Sue and I going to church seemed like a failed experiment.
Sometime during the week I was in the faculty room telling the story of our not-so-great experience at mass. You may have noticed that I can be a bit of a ham, so I’m sure I made the story more entertaining than it was, trying to get a few laughs from my colleagues.
But when things settled down, one teacher, a woman named Patty, said quietly:
“You should come to my church sometime.”
That church was St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, just a few blocks from our house.
And so, a few days later, on the Second Sunday of Advent, Sue and I walked to St. Paul’s. I had said to her that, if nothing else, it would be nice to accept Patty’s kind invitation, and we’d also get to see the inside of this interesting looking church.
With some uncertainty, we walked through the front doors, where we were greeted warmly by the smiling ushers and handed bulletins.
We took our seats, in a pew not too close to the front.
We heard music that was very well done and appreciated a sermon that was smart and funny and meaningful.
We noticed the beautiful diversity of the congregation.
And when it came time for the Peace we were struck by how just about everybody was up and out in the aisle, greeting each other with smiles and laughter, as if reuniting with long lost friends.
To be honest, at this point we were feeling a little overwhelmed by it all when suddenly the priest came bounding down the aisle to us, stuck out his hand, and said,
“Hi. I’m Dave. Welcome to St. Paul’s.”
That day I somehow knew that I had found something that I hadn’t even known I was looking for.
What I also didn’t know – at least not yet - was that my life was about to take off in a wildly different direction.
Sue and I went back to St. Paul’s the following Sunday and for all the Sundays after that.
And Dave – the Rev. Canon David Hamilton – and I quickly became friends. It was one of the closest and most profound friendships of my life.
And, not long after becoming part of the St. Paul’s community, I felt a reawakening of an old call to priesthood, starting a journey that would lead me away from teaching and off to seminary – walking a twisting road that would eventually bring me back to St. Paul’s as its rector and, finally, to be here with all of you.
And, here’s the thing: none of this would have happened if that day in the faculty room my colleague Patty hadn’t taken a chance and said,
“You should come to my church sometime.”
Holy Invitations.
I was reminded of Patty and her holy invitation to me when I began to reflect on today’s gospel lesson.
We’re told that as Jesus walked by, John the Baptist exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” – and, when you think of it, “Look” is a kind of invitation.
Sure enough, Andrew and another unnamed disciple accept that invitation and they do more than look - they quite literally begin to follow Jesus.
When Jesus asks what they are looking for, maybe because they didn’t really know that were looking for anything or anyone, they just ask Jesus where he is staying.
And Jesus offers a beautiful and gentle invitation, “Come and see.”
Andrew surely doesn’t know how exactly his life will be transformed by this encounter, but after spending the day with Jesus, Andrew knows enough to go straight to his brother Simon and share the good news:
“We found the Messiah.”
At its best, Christianity is a story of holy invitation – God’s invitation offered through John the Baptist, Jesus, Andrew, and so many people down through the generations, people like my colleague Patty, and so many people here at St. Thomas’.
Before Sue and I made the big move from Jersey City to join you here, I wondered if you were serious about welcoming newcomers – everyone says they are – but I wondered if you were really up for the task of extending a holy invitation, taking the chance to say, “You should come to our church someday.”
But, the team that worked on our website was determined to put that holy invitation out there – insisting that all are welcome – that this is a place for all to belong - and sure enough people are accepting our invite.
And our ushers don’t just greet the people they’ve known for years but they welcome everybody, especially the people who seem a little uncertain about crossing that well-worn threshold, just like Sue and me all those years ago on our first Sunday at St. Paul’s.
And then there are our youth acolytes – this wonderfully renewed ministry that we are praying for today in our parish prayer cycle.
Since before I arrived here, I’ve heard and shared the concerns that children and youth have been mostly missing.
And we’ve been working on rebuilding our Christian education program.
We’ve made progress in that department, though, of course, there’s much more to come.
And a few months ago there was the question of trying to restart the acolyte program.
Frankly, I was skeptical – I just wasn’t sure if our youth were really interested in playing a role that, while important, might seem kind of old fashioned.
But we decided to try. So, Sara Hollands and I had the genius idea of inviting John Lang to lead the program and we extended an invitation to our youth to meet, to practice, and to begin.
To my great surprise and delight, the renewal of the acolyte program has been a joyful success – the youth have returned in a big way. Some of their families have been here forever while others are fairly new to the church.
I love seeing them fly through the front door before the 10:00 service is about to begin – cutting it a little close sometimes – then quickly vesting – taking up the cross and the torches and leading our parade up the aisle.
Why has this great renewal happened?
Well, I think it’s the power of holy invitation – John’s gentle invitation to these kids, his patient guidance during each service, and the kind thank you that follows each time they serve.
John the Baptist said, “Look.”
Jesus said, “Come and see.”
Patty said, “You should come to my church sometime.”
And John Lang and we invited our youth to once again play an important role in their church.
And these holy invitations made all the difference.
Amen.
Posts
