Servants

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 26, 2023

Year A: The First Sunday in Lent

Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7

Psalm 32

Romans 5:12-19

Matthew 4:1-11

Servants

We had a most beautiful Ash Wednesday here at St. Thomas’.

At the noon and 7:00 PM services, Wanda played and the choir sang, and, well, once again, they just outdid themselves.

We had good attendance, which was great, of course. But it always surprises me that so many people come to church on what really is a very peculiar day. We hear Jesus warn us against showing our piety in public. And then we have ash smeared on our foreheads where everyone can see it. And then we get reminded that, someday, we are going to die.

Of course, just like Good Friday, Ash Wednesday only makes sense because it’s not the end of the story.

The ashes were a powerful reminder of our dependence of God, but just temporary, easily washed off.

But the bond that God makes with us in the water of baptism – we can never wipe that away, no matter how hard we may sometimes try. 

The bond that God makes with us in the water of baptism is permanent, sustaining us throughout the trials and temptations of life, holding us tight even when it sure seems like suffering is gaining the upper hand, never letting us go, even when it seems like death is getting the last word.

Today, on the First Sunday in Lent, we always hear the story of Jesus in the wilderness – forty days of prayer and fasting – and near the end of that wilderness time, a famished and exhausted Jesus is tempted by Satan.

Satan here is not so much the embodiment of evil that we usually think of. No, he’s simply the tempter – the one who probes and tests us, revealing our weaknesses and failures, revealing our faith and strength – not to God, who already knows – but to ourselves.

It’s essential to note that Jesus’ forty wilderness days take place immediately following his Baptism – right after Jesus came out of the River Jordan and saw the Spirit of God descend on him like a dove – right after a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

That unbreakable bond with God the Father secured Jesus as he faced his wilderness time, as he endured his temptations.

And, in this case, you may have noticed that Satan’s temptations don’t actually seem so bad.

Jesus, you’re so hungry. And you have the power to make bread out of these stones. What harm is there in a loaf or two?

Jesus, you’re the Son of God so, really, there’s nothing to worry about, right? Why not throw yourself from the Temple and let the angels save you? Then everyone will see and know who you are.

Jesus, you’re the King of Kings. All you have to do is bow down before me and you will truly reign as king of the world.

No, the temptations really don’t seem so bad - except that they would have diverted Jesus from his mission.

Jesus was not sent to fill up on bread but to be bread for the world.

Jesus didn’t come into the world to make a showy leap of faith but to give away his life on the cross, revealing the wideness of God’s love and mercy.

Jesus is a king without gold or worldly glory, his only crown is made of thorns and his power is revealed when he washes the feet of his friends, when he forgives those who persecute him.

And so, in his wilderness time, secured by his baptismal bond, Jesus is able to successfully resist temptation – Jesus remembers his identity, remembers his mission:

Jesus is a servant.

And, just like the first disciples with their freshly washed feet, Jesus calls us to be servants, too.

In addition to being the First Sunday in Lent, today is our Annual Meeting day, a time to take stock of where we’ve been and what we’ve done over the past year, and to look ahead to the future as best we can.

Coincidentally, I had lunch the other day with another priest in the diocese, someone I had previously only met briefly.

As we were eating, he asked me what brought me here – what led Sue and me to quite literally leave home and join all of you.

Between bites of food, I answered as best I could, but for the rest of the day I thought back to that discernment, and I circled back to something I’ve mentioned before, back to one of the very first things I learned about St. Thomas’.

During the earliest and scariest days of the pandemic, when the church and everything else was all closed up and we feared for our survival, what did this church do? Some of you – I think I can now guess who – made masks and hung them on the parish hall doors, free for the taking, given away to we’ll never know who - a simple but beautiful act of love and hope and service during a wilderness time.

Servants.

And, I have to say, you had me right then.

And now, for the past year and a half, over and over I have seen you living out our vocation as servants – I have seen this church truly be a servant church.

You have given of yourselves in countless ways – given money and expertise and, the most valuable commodity of all, your time:

Welcoming new friends from Afghanistan, guiding them through government bureaucracy, giving them daily rides to school and work, offering driving lessons, welcoming them into your homes.

Spending many hours designing a new church website, thoughtfully weighing every word and photo, determined to find the best way to tell our story to the many hungry people out there.

Bringing (or having delivered) mountains of clothes and food and hygiene products and cleaning supplies for the people who line up each week at the Community Crisis Center.

Having the courage to lead a Zoom Bible Study session, providing the opportunity for fellow parishioners to learn more about God’s Word.

In an uncertain and inflationary time, continuing, and, in many cases, even increasing your financial support – and new parishioners making a pledge for the first time.

Showing up early on Saturday morning to set up and beautify the church – coming out on Thursday evenings to rehearse the beautiful music we hear every Sunday – inviting and training and thanking (yes, with chocolate) the youth acolytes, reminding them that they have much to offer their church.

I could go on.

But you do all this and more, never to glorify yourselves but to offer loving service to people in need – loving service to this church – loving service to the God who makes an unbreakable bond with us.

I hope you will read the Annual Report. It’s the product of lots of hard work. It tells an exciting story of renewal here at St. Thomas’. Most of all, it tells the beautiful story of one year in the life of a servant church.

You know, when I first sat with today’s gospel lesson, I thought about the temptations that we face today.

Of course, Satan is quite good at coming up with temptations that match our individual vulnerabilities.

But, together, as a country, as a world, I think the most dangerous temptation we face is despair.

We are in a wilderness time, buried in a deepening avalanche of problems and challenges. That’s bad enough. But, even worse, we seem to lack the will to set aside our differences and get to work, digging ourselves out.

It would be so easy to give into the temptation to despair.

But, as always, the way to resist is to follow Jesus’ example.

In his wilderness time, secured by his baptismal bond, Jesus successfully resisted temptation because he remembered his identity, remembered his mission. 

Jesus is a servant.

And we are a servant church.

Amen.

"Heart Work"

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 22, 2023

Ash Wednesday

Joel 2:1-2, 12-17

Psalm 103

2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

“Heart Work”

I think it’s safe to say that Ash Wednesday is one of the more peculiar days on the Christian calendar.

Each year, on the first day of Lent, we interrupt our usual midweek routines to gather together.

Each year, we hear Jesus warn us against showing our piety in public…and then we have ash smudged on our foreheads…where everyone can see it.

And we get reminded that someday we are going to die.

By now, I know many of you well enough to know that you are not here because you want to show off how religious you are – that’s not how you operate, not at all.

And, besides, these days no one cares, anyway.

And I doubt that many of us need a reminder that someday we will die.

One of the gifts of St. Thomas’ is that each time we come here we can’t help but see the graves of people who were once like us.

They, too, had fears and hopes, setbacks and triumphs.

They, too, loved and were loved. 

And, in most cases, just like us, they gathered right here, bathing these old walls in prayer, receiving the Body and Blood of Christ, placing their trust in the God would not let go of them, no matter what.

So, today is certainly not about showing off and it’s not even so much about getting a reminder of our deaths.

No, today and all the Lenten days ahead, are really about our hearts.

In today’s collect, our opening prayer, we asked God to “create and make in us new and contrite hearts.”

That’s what today - and the forty days ahead - are all about.

Ash Wednesday and Lent are about asking God to open our hearts – allowing God to work in and through our hearts.

Our Lenten “heart work” begins with the ashes, which, more than a death notice are really a reminder of our total dependence on God.

Our Lenten “heart work” continues by setting aside, even just a little, whatever might be getting in the way of God and us – too much drinking or too much busyness or too much cable news or too much internet, or just too much. 

Our Lenten “heart work” might mean trying to heal a broken relationship or finally asking forgiveness for something wrong we have done.

Our Lenten “heart work” is making even just a little bit of time for God and us, maybe getting up a few minutes early to say a prayer or to jot down thoughts in a journal or just to look out the window and breathe.

Our Lenten “heart work” might include giving a little more than usual, or coming here more regularly than usual, or maybe getting involved in some good work we’ve been feeling called to do.

But, all we really have to do is take our “heart work” seriously, and God will take it from there – opening our hearts – making in us new and contrite hearts – and then working in and through our beautiful new hearts.

What could be better than that?

I wish you all a holy and heart-felt Lent.

Amen.

Coming Down the Mountain

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 19, 2023

Year A: The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

Exodus 24:12-18

Psalm 2

2 Peter 1:16-21

Matthew 17:1-9

Coming Down the Mountain

Well, I know that it really may feel like we just took down the Christmas decorations, but today we have reached the Last Sunday after the Epiphany.

And, as we do every year on this Sunday before Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent, in today’s gospel lesson we heard the story of the Transfiguration.

Six days after Peter correctly – and maybe surprisingly – identified Jesus as the Christ – the Messiah – Jesus brings Peter and the brothers James and John up a high mountain.

There, the three fishermen disciples receive quite a sight, as Jesus is transfigured before their eyes – his face radiant and his clothes dazzling white.

And then Jesus is joined by Moses and Elijah, two giants of Israel’s past, who, it was believed, had not died in the usual way of all people.

I’m sure Peter, James, and John could hardly begin to understand what was happening – that the veil between heaven and earth had been opened – but, to his credit, Peter knows that is good to be there. Peter knows that he is on sacred ground and quickly proposes a building project – he offers to construct dwellings for Jesus and Moses and Elijah.

I mean, who wouldn’t want to stay up there forever, right?

But before Peter can even start gathering materials for his “capital campaign,” there comes the voice from heaven, “This is my Son the Beloved; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!”

And very understandably, the disciples fell to the ground, terrified.

And what is the first thing Jesus says to his friends, as they held on for dear life, as they clung to that holy ground?

“Get up and do not be afraid.”

And, probably with their heads spinning and their hearts thumping, Jesus and his friends come down the mountain.

Together they begin the journey to Jerusalem – on their way to the palm parade - to betrayal and rejection - to three denials by Peter who knew better – to suffering and death – and, finally, to the shock of an empty tomb and the unimaginable joy of new life on the first Easter morning.

But, in order to reach Jerusalem, it was first necessary to overcome fear, and come down the mountain.

Probably like a lot of you, Sue and I keep track of important milestones in our lives by noting them in our calendars.

A few weeks ago, she mentioned to me that it was the two-year anniversary of “Bishop’s Sutton’s call.”

That was the day the bishop phoned to let me know that the wardens and vestry had called me to be the next rector of St. Thomas’.

Bishop Sutton called quite early that day – January 29, in case you’re wondering – so early that, while I was awake and up, I think I was only about halfway through my first cup of coffee, so maybe not quite as alert as I would have liked.

I think I said something profound like, “Oh, wow.” And I was about to say that I’d like just a little bit of time to talk it over again with Sue and I’d get back to him shortly. But, before I could formulate those words, he said, “I trust you are receiving this as good news?”

And I said, “Oh, yes” – which he heard as “Yes, I accept” – which I was going to do anyway. But, without any further conversation with Sue, we were off and running.

Thinking about that memorable call, got me thinking back to my first conversation with Bishop Sutton, on a date I won’t forget: January 6, 2021. 

As the Republic seemed to wobble, he and I spent about an hour on Zoom, getting to know each other and talking about my ministry and my hopes for the future at St. Thomas’.

I talked about my interest in bridging the gap between the suburbs and the city, and the work I had done in community organizing in Jersey City, focused especially on affordable housing.

I guess that sounded good enough to the bishop and, actually, it sounded pretty good to me, too.

But then I got here, and it has taken a lot of time to get to know the parish – to get to know many of you – to learn my way around the neighborhood.

And we’ve certainly done a lot together over the past year and a half, but I’ve done none of the stuff that Bishop Sutton and I talked about.

Instead, the truth is, the city just down the road from us seems daunting to me, its problems overwhelming. So, I’ve spent most of my time up here on the holy mountain, where it is certainly beautiful and I feel God’s presence all the time.

But, lately, I’ve been feeling a holy nudge.

“Get up and do not be afraid.”

Since even before I arrived here, I’ve heard about the amazing work of the Community Crisis Center in Reisterstown.

And I’ve tried to support our partnership efforts, all the different collections, including our “Bottoms Up” campaign.

But, although I had driven by many times, I had never stopped in, had never seen the center in operation, and had certainly never volunteered.

Well, about a month and a half ago, before the 8:00 service, Margaret Green and I were talking in the narthex and then, in her usual direct way, she said to me, “You should volunteer at the Center.”

I felt a little convicted, to be honest.

Yes, of course, I should volunteer at this place that is such an important partner of our church.

So, a few weeks ago, on a chilly Saturday morning, I showed up, glad to see that a couple of other parishioners there, too.

I got a tour of the center from Eileen the director.

I sensed the joyful dedication of the longtime volunteers.

I saw the long line of cars begin to form along Resisterstown Road.

And then I was put to work, distributing a small number of personal hygiene products – a roll of toilet paper, a bar of soap - only three per family – as people drove through the center’s driveway.

I wondered about all the time that they had spent waiting, only to receive what seemed to me to be so little. But, most of the clients seemed cheerful and quite grateful, though it must get old to say thank you so much.

Coming down the mountain.

And then, last week, I got a text from another priest in the diocese asking if I was planning to attend the BUILD action in Baltimore City on Thursday morning.

BUILD is Baltimoreans United in Leadership Development, and is a sister organization of Jersey City Together, which I had been involved with back home.

I had known about the BUILD action, and had thought about going, but felt kind of funny about it as someone living in the County and still kind of new.

At least those were the reasons I told myself for not going.

But, I felt the nudge from my colleague, and so Betsy Wilmerding and I took the ride down to West Saratoga Street where we joined nearly 300 other people – Black and white, clergy and lay – calling on the mayor to take action on the thousands of vacant houses across the city.

Maybe you heard about this on the news.

I have no idea if this is a wise or workable plan, but I have to say it was good to be there – to hear the stories of people whose neighborhoods have been neglected for so long – to hear the passionate faith and commitment of clergy who are challenged to pastor in pastures that are not green at all.

Coming down the mountain.

Lent is now just a few days away, so there’s still time to decide on what we might give up or what we might take on during this holy season – what we might do to open our hearts to God, to allow God to work through us.

I’ve resolved to get out of the office and off this beautiful campus a bit more – to go down the mountain.

It’s not easy down there – there’s plenty of suffering, for sure – but just like for Jesus and his fisherman friends – it’s the way to Jerusalem – it’s the way to new life.

Amen.

Spiritual Training

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 12, 2023

Year A: The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany

Sirach 15:15-20

Psalm 119:1-8

1 Corinthians 3:1-9

Matthew 5:21-37

Spiritual Training

I love this time of year. 

Although it can still be quite cold, and although the groundhog saw his shadow, right around now we start to see and feel the first hints that the seasons are beginning to change.

I’m sure that you gardeners, especially, have spotted the first sprouts poking through the soil – taking that as a sign of hope or maybe seeing it as a cause of concern that things are happening too quickly.

And even those of us who barely pay attention have surely noticed that the days are growing longer. Now, when I walk out the door after our Sunday evening service there are still a few lingering hints of daylight – and we know that ever-brighter days are ahead.

And, just as the seasons are beginning to change outside, the seasons are starting to change here in church, too.

I know it feels like we just took down the Christmas decorations, but Ash Wednesday is just a week from Wednesday – no, it’s true - so we are now deeply into what we might call “Pre-Lent.”

If you were here last week, you may remember that we heard God speaking through the Prophet Isaiah, describing the kind of sacrifice that is most pleasing to God, a kind of fasting that is way more costly and holy than giving up wine or chocolate.

God says, “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?”

Oh yes, it’s “Pre-Lent.”

And today’s lessons point even more clearly to a change of seasons here in church.

In today’s first lesson, from the Book of Sirach, we heard a heavy emphasis on choice – on our choices:

“If you choose, you can keep the commandments, and to act faithfully is a matter of your own choice.”

Those verses reminded me of a school disciplinarian I once worked with. When a student, or a teacher, messed up he always said, with a shrug,

“It’s all about choices.”

And the psalmist writes, “Happy are they whose way is blameless, who walk in the law of the Lord!”

But who exactly is blameless? And how could we ever even approach blamelessness?

I mean, even if we live our lives with as much integrity as we can, we all benefit from unjust practices – a system that makes life so hard for the poor, and a way of life that implicates all of us in the poisoning of the earth.

And then we have some hard teaching from Jesus in today’s gospel lesson.

Last week, Jesus insisted that he had come not to abolish the Jewish Law but to fulfill it.

And now, Jesus goes even further than that – intensifying the Law that is already quite demanding and strict.

Jesus teaches that anger and insult approach the seriousness of murder – that lust is adultery in our hearts – that divorce is wrong – that we should cut off parts of our body that cause us to sin - that we should not swear, ever.

Reading that challenging passage, I was reminded of another moment, later in the Gospel of Matthew, when Jesus offers a different hard teaching. The disciples are astounded and ask, “Then who can be saved?” And Jesus replies, “For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible.”

Listening to today’s lessons – the importance of our choices – the call to blamelessness – the teaching that what’s going on in our hearts is at least as important as what we actually do – we may feel just like those first disciples.

“Who can be saved?”

And Jesus’ answer is the same today as it was back then, “For God all things are possible.”

So, it seems to me that our most important task is to open our hearts to God – to allow God to work through us.

And, just like athletes striving for even greater excellence, opening our heart to God, allowing God to work through us, requires training – spiritual training.

Which is a good way to think of Lent, isn’t it?

During those forty days of preparation, we’re encouraged to hit the spiritual gym: to run – or walk – or maybe just crawl - the spiritual track – to lift some spiritual weights – it’s OK to start with the lightest ones.

During those forty days – and, hopefully always – our spiritual training shapes us so that we really can open our hearts to God, allowing God to work through us.

And what might that spiritual training look like?

Well, let me tell you the story of my first church job.

Sixteen years ago, I was in my last semester at seminary.

Commencement and ordination were getting close.

It was all very exciting.

I was filled with a sense of blessedness, and accomplishment, and, maybe most of all, relief.

There was, however, just one little thing: now I had to find a job.

Even back then, fulltime clergy positions were already getting kind of scarce. In fact, in my diocese there was only one fulltime position available – to serve as curate (or the assistant clergy person) at Grace Church in Madison.

Madison was and is a beautiful and appealing suburban town, its streets lined with plenty of old trees shading attractive homes. It has a main street picturesque enough to have been featured in several movies. There’s a train station offering easy access to New York City.

In short, it’s a really nice place.

But I really didn’t want to go there.

I was convinced that I was called to be a city priest – after all, that’s the world that I knew and where I thought I could minister best.

And, to be totally honest, I felt insecure, afraid that I just wouldn’t fit in with people who went to fancier schools than I had, who were interested in things that I knew nothing about – stuff, like, you know, golf and gardening.

(Yes, God has a sense of humor.)

But, despite my hang-ups, the reality was that I needed a job.

So, I went out to Madison to meet with the then-rector, the Rev. Lauren Ackland, and have conversations with a wide range of parishioners. Slowly, it dawned on me that I liked these people. I could imagine myself living among them and serving beside them.

As the day went on, I became more and amazed by just how much was going on at Grace Church – so many wonderful, vibrant ministries, mostly led by lay people. 

Finally, near the end of my interview day, Lauren asked me if I had any questions.

And, I said something like, “I have to ask, why do you think this church is doing so well?”

I’m kind of embarrassed by that question now (Remember, I was new to all of this!), but I’m glad that I asked because I’ll never forget Lauren’s answer.

Without hesitation, she said, “It’s the daily worship.”

Grace Church offered a public service of worship every day of the year. Most of the weekday services were not particularly well attended. Sometimes it was just the officiant and the reader – and sometimes just the officiant alone, praying for, and on behalf of, the whole community.

Lauren said that the walls of the church were “bathed in prayer,” and that all of those prayers had a powerful spiritual effect.

I confess that at the time I was skeptical, but over the years I became convinced that she was absolutely right.

I can’t really explain how, but by God’s grace, the practice of daily prayer – that spiritual training - strengthened the entire church.

And, what’s true for a community is also true for each of us.

We have been given a seemingly impossible challenge – to always make good choices – to live blamelessly – to control our hearts as much as we contain our actions – all seemingly impossible, but with God, all things are possible.

The changing seasons are a call for us to hit the spiritual gym – to do some spiritual training – shaping us to open our hearts to God, allowing God to work through us.

Happy “Pre-Lent!”

Amen.