On Our Way to the Promised Land, Together

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

October 29, 2023

Year A, Proper 25: The Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost

Deuteronomy 34:1-12

Psalm 90:1-6, 13-17

1 Thessalonians 2:1-8

Matthew 22:34-46

On Our Way to the Promised Land, Together

Many of you know about the Institute for Islamic, Jewish and Christian Studies. 

Located over in Towson, it’s an organization with an important and now especially timely mission: dismantling “religious bias and bigotry” and building “learning communities where religious difference becomes a powerful force for good.” 

St. Thomas’ has had a long association with ICJS. Over the years, several of our people have been involved, very much including Bill Baxter, our beloved twentieth rector, who was deeply committed to its work. 

When I first arrived here, Caroline Stewart brought me over to ICJS to meet some of the staff and learn more about their programs and activities.

And since then, I have attended a few of their events, but always just online. Like many other people, I have come to appreciate the advantages of not having to drive, and enjoying the comforts of home, and, yes, I admit it, the possibility of checking email or scrolling through social media while half-paying attention to the program.

But now, with the sickening and frightening rise of anti-Semitism and Islamophobia, I decided that this time an online presence was not enough.

And so, on Monday evening, I headed down to Northern Parkway to Northside Baptist Church to attend an ICJS program on the great 20th Century theologian, philosopher, mystic, and teacher, Howard Thurman.

Thurman is someone who should be better known than he is.

He taught Martin Luther King, Jr., and was a profound influence on him, especially his notion of the Beloved Community. 

Some of you may have seen one of Thurman’s quotes – it sometimes shows up on coffee mugs and internet memes. Thurman said:

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Good and true words, right? 

One of Howard Thurman’s main concerns was the search for common ground.

Writing in the early 1970s – a time, like ours, of war and divisions so bitter that they seemed unbridgeable - a time, like ours, when society appeared to be coming apart at the seams - in such a time, Thurman searched for common ground.

Thurman insisted on the necessity of community.

Thurman wrote, “For this is why we were born: Men, all men, belong to each other, and he who shuts himself away diminishes himself, and he who shuts another away from him destroys himself.”

Powerful and haunting words.

But, in a time such as ours, with bitter divisions and unspeakable violence, how can we possibly rebuild community?

How can we find common ground?

Well, for us, of course, Jesus is the way.

Jesus shows us the only way to community, to common ground, to the true promised land.

Jesus shows us the way to how things were always meant to be.

And the way of Jesus is always the way of love, the way of very costly love.

In today’s gospel lesson, we continue a theme we’ve been hearing for the last couple of weeks: the ongoing conflict between religious leaders and Jesus.

I say conflict – and there definitely was conflict between the unlikely but powerful Teacher and Healer from Nazareth and the religious establishment – I say conflict but, just like the question about paying taxes that we heard last week, today’s question about the greatest commandment could be a sincere one.

After all, there are 613 commands in Jewish Law.

That’s a lot.

And back during the first century and ever since, Jewish teachers have reflected on which of these laws are most important.

Jesus gives a direct answer, one that’s hard to argue with.

Jesus gives an incredibly challenging answer – an answer that shows us the way to common ground, to the promised land.

Jesus says:

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like unto it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

Love of God and love of neighbor – two sides of the same coin - is the way of Jesus – it’s the way to the common ground that we seek and so desperately need.

I know only too well that my love for baptism has become kind of a running joke around here, but I can’t tell you how grateful I am to the Hemuka Family for presenting young Nathan for Baptism today, and how delighted I am that Sean James has chosen to be baptized next Sunday.

In a time when joy seems to be in very short supply, Baptism is an even greater gift, such a blessing, such a sign of God’s love for us all, such a reminder of how we can get back to community, back to common ground, back to the true promised land.

Together with Jesus and each other, we journey to community by trying, with God’s help, to live out our baptismal promises – coming here week after week, in person, if we can, even when we may not feel like it or it’s inconvenient, because life is hard and we need the Good Food offered here – and because the person beside us or behind us may really need to see us, to be reminded that we are in this together.

We journey to common ground by trying, with God’s help, to live out our baptismal promises – turning away from evil, the evil in our own hearts, the evil done by our “their side” or by “ours.”

We journey to the promised land by sharing the Good News with words and actions – seeking and serving Christ in all persons – striving for justice and peace among all people and respecting the dignity of every human being. 

This is the way of Jesus – the way of costly love.

This is the way to community – the way to common ground – the way to the true promised land.

It’s definitely not an easy way.

It’s only with God’s help that we can take even just a few halting steps along this way.

Howard Thurman once wrote, “There are two questions that we have to ask ourselves. The first is, ‘Where am I going?’ and the second is ‘Who will go with me?’”

I believe that, despite all our many troubles, we are on our way to community, to common ground, to the way things were always meant to be.

And we – Nathan, Sean, and all of us “fully alive” people here at St. Thomas’ - we are on our way to the true promised land, together.

Amen.

It All Belongs to God

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

October 22, 2023

Year A, Proper 24: The Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost – Green Team Sunday

Exodus 33:12-23

Psalm 99

1 Thessalonians 1:1-10

Matthew 22:15-22

It All Belongs to God

Well, like many of you I’m sure, during this tragic and dangerous time, I’ve been praying extra-hard for peace – somehow, peace – in the Middle East.

And, with so much suffering out there, I have also been trying my best to be extra-thankful for the good stuff going on here at St. Thomas’, God’s abundant blessings that cascade upon us each and every day.

There’s the stunning beauty of our campus, of course, especially these days as the leaves shade into gold and red before they fall to the ground, doing their part to prepare for the new life of spring.

And I have some big news! We have back-to-back baptisms coming up! Next Sunday, young Nathan, and then the following Sunday not quite so young Sean, will plunge into the holy water, dying with Christ and, like a green shoot breaking through the spring soil, they will rise again to new life.

Right here, God will make an unbreakable, indissoluble bond with Nathan and Sean – a bond stronger than anything, stronger even than death itself.

You know that I can’t wait!

Also, if you’re keeping track at home, we are now halfway through “wedding season”. This afternoon, right here, Remington Brooks and Courtney DeVeau will make some big promises to each other, pledging to give one another mutual joy. It will be a joyful celebration and we are all invited.

Last Sunday afternoon a bunch of us spent an hour or so hiking through the Irvine Nature Center, led most of the way by our intrepid young parishioner, Brendan. We admired the beauty of that place and along the trail we even encountered a garter snake, who, frankly, did not seem to appreciate all the attention.

But out of all the recent events here, the one I keep returning to the most is the Newcomers Reception we held last Saturday afternoon, up the road at the Rectory.

It was such a great event.

God has blessed us with so many wonderful newcomers, so many people who have quickly grown to love this place and are already enriching our common life in really meaningful ways.

Naturally, the newcomers had never been to the Rectory before. In fact, most of them hadn’t even known where or what it was.

Longtime parishioners know that the Rectory is an awfully nice house, surrounded by beautiful grounds. Certainly, Sue and I never imagined that we would live in such a grand place.

Anyway, a couple of the newcomers were wide-eyed and kind of exclaimed when they came into the house.

One person looked around in wonder and asked me, “Is this all yours?”

Well, actually, no, not really.

One of the gifts of being a priest is that there are lots of reminders that many have come before me and done their best for the church and then handed it off to the next person.

For example, I see the portraits of four of my predecessors each time I go in and out of my office.

And although you have done so much to make us feel at home – and we do - living in church housing also reminds us that the Ellises and the Baxters and many others have made a home here for a time and then passed it on to others.

And someday Sue and I will do the same.

And, while you may not get reminded quite so often, this is true for all of us.

No matter whose name is on the deed or the mailbox, no matter what lines we draw on a map, no matter whose flag flutters in the breeze, none of this is really ours.

It all belongs to God.

And, as Frances Horich writes so beautifully in this week’s stewardship reflection, God simply asks us to be good stewards – to care for all that we have been given and then hand it off to those who come next, hopefully a little better than we found it. 

It all belongs to God.

In today’s gospel lesson we are still in the midst of the conflict between various religious leaders and Jesus – an ongoing conflict that we’ve been hearing about for the last few weeks.

Next up today are the Pharisees, a group within Judaism, usually depicted in the gospels as opponents of Jesus.

Right from the start, Matthew sets a negative tone, writing that the Pharisees “went and plotted to entrap Jesus in what he said.”

The Pharisees may have indeed been trying to trip up Jesus but it’s also possible that they sincerely wanted to know what Jesus thought about a particularly thorny issue among the Jews of the first century: paying taxes to the Roman emperor – paying taxes to the often brutal regime that occupied their land.

And really, this tax question is part of a larger issue that continues to vex us to this day: how to balance our civic responsibilities with our religious beliefs and obligations.

Our consciences and our courts continue to wrestle with these questions, and probably always will.

Well, whatever their motives, Jesus has no trouble answering the Pharisees:

“Give…to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”

Left unsaid, of course, is that, in reality, the emperor – Caesar – has nothing that is his own. No matter his great wealth and his exalted titles, despite all that tax money, he will exit life with nothing, leaving behind all that he thought he possessed, leaving behind the legacy, for better or worse, of the life that he lived.

It all belongs to God.

Here at St. Thomas’, today is Green Team Sunday, a chance for us to hear about the work we are doing to be good stewards of this beautiful campus, and to learn ways that we can better care for God’s earth in our everyday lives.

I’m so grateful to the Green Team and especially its co-chairs, Donna Eden and Leslie Steele.

Leslie, by the way, is still technically a newcomer, although that’s easy to forget, since she and her intrepid son Brendan have become such familiar presences around here and have already contributed so much to our community.

Which brings me back to the Newcomers Reception.

As I said earlier, I was struck by how the newcomers already love this place, already seem quite at home here.

Obviously, that really speaks to the quality of the welcome they’ve received.

Those of you who have been here a long time, you have a strong sense of responsibility for this place.

You care about St. Thomas’ very deeply.

Honestly, it’s one of the things that drew me to you.

But it’s a sense of responsibility, not ownership.

Around here, there is a real joy in welcoming new people, sliding down the pew to make room for others, delight as people take their first steps over the well-worn threshold, adding their hopes and sorrows to the prayers offered here by so many generations.

Especially considering the grim state of the world, it is a great blessing and comfort that so many of you are such good stewards, caring so much for this church, but always remembering that, just like our homes, just like the whole world, it’s not really ours.

It all belongs to God.

Amen.

Rejecting Idolatry, Choosing Loving Service

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

October 15, 2023

Year A, Proper 23: The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost – Outreach Sunday

Exodus 32:1-14

Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23

Philippians 4:1-9

Matthew 22:1-14

Rejecting Idolatry, Choosing Loving Service

This past week, I have been so disoriented by the dramatic contrast between our life together here at St. Thomas’ and what’s going on out there in the world.

Here, we have so much good stuff going on. 

Last Sunday, we had a joyful Blessing of the Animals service, with a couple of dozen happy barking dogs and one probably less than thrilled cat.

And just yesterday, we had the second session of a lively and thoughtful book study – and a bunch of parishioners and preschool families went to First Fruits Farm and helped to bag 33,000 pounds of potatoes (!) that will feed the poor – and, later in the day, the rectory was filled with parishioners who came to our Newcomers Reception.

But out there, it has been a heartbreaking, terrifying, and infuriating week.

Sometimes I think we really have seen it all – that we have grown numb to violence and suffering.

But the surprise attack by Hamas on Israel was truly shocking – shocking in its horrific brutality – and also shocking because so many of us, including many Israelis, had placed so much confidence in their surveillance and defense abilities.

And now, Israel is in the midst of a furious response, which may or may not be effective but is already causing even more suffering and death for innocent people just trying to get by in Gaza, in what was already an awful situation.

The outbreak of war in the Middle East has overshadowed suffering elsewhere – for example, thousands were killed in an earthquake in Afghanistan – and also the steady drumbeat of violence continues closer to home, including shootings at both Bowie State and Morgan State – bringing fear and bloodshed once again to places of learning.

Well, what might today’s readings say to us in these days of trouble?

Today’s parable from Jesus is a tough one – one that doesn’t make much sense if we assume that the king is a stand-in for God.

No, this king sounds just like the kind of king that people in the ancient world would have known well – the kind of dictator that we find all too often in the world today – vengeful and placing a very low value on life.

Not properly dressed for the wedding? You are cast into the outer darkness!

Yes, unfortunately, we know the type.

And then there’s today’s first lesson, the familiar story of the Golden Calf.

The people of Israel are out in the wilderness and Moses has been up on that mountain an awfully long time and it sure seems like God isn’t really coming through for God’s people.

What has God done for us lately, anyway?

So, you know, why don’t we make ourselves a statue and worship it?

The people think to themselves, times are tough, so let’s live like everybody else and bow down before an idol and see if that works.

Bad idea.

You may have seen on the news that, in an effort to prevent future violence, the leadership of Morgan State is looking to fence in much of their campus.

It’s not my place to second-guess their decision – it’s a heavy responsibility to keep a campus safe. But the truth is that desperate and determined people usually find a way.

Walls and gates often fail, as Israel has learned so painfully.

And, I will say this – it is not an option for the church to build a kind of wall or gate to protect ourselves from the suffering of the world.

No, just the opposite.

We are called to reject idolatry – the idolatry of violence – the idolatry of hate - even the idolatry of our own safety.

Instead, we are meant to stand beside the suffering, offering loving service to and with people in need.

No matter what is going on out there, we are called to be a servant church, to bring some of the good stuff from in here to people out there.

And that’s why we celebrate Outreach Sunday today – this is why we have invited some of our ministry partners to speak with us today.

The prophets envisioned that someday we – all of us - would lay down our weapons and live together in peace.

When I look out into the world, that vision sure seems like a fantasy.

But when I look closer to home, when I look around here, I think, we are on our way.

So, with God’s help, may we continue to reject idolatry and instead choose loving service.

Amen.

"Rebuild My Church"

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

October 8, 2023

Year A, Proper 22: The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20

Psalm 19

Philippians 3:4b-14

Matthew 21:33-46

“Rebuild My Church”

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

The conflict between the religious leaders and Jesus continues.

If you were here last week, you may remember that the “Chief Priests and elders” asked Jesus about the source of his authority. 

Who or what gave Jesus this power to teach and heal?

Who or what gave Jesus the right to challenge the official religious authorities?

Jesus responds to the questioning religious leaders by bringing up a touchy subject: John the Baptist.

The people had no trouble recognizing John as the real deal but the religious leaders, not so much.

And the same was true for Jesus – people knew that Jesus was teaching like no one they had ever seen or heard - people knew that Jesus was healing like no one they had ever seen or heard.

But, the religious leaders, not so much.

Today, as the conflict between the religious leaders and Jesus continues, Jesus offers a parable – and not a particularly subtle parable, at that.

It’s a parable that tells the history of religious leaders rejecting God’s prophets, religious leaders even rejecting God’s Son – and that rejection leads to dire circumstances for the religious leaders who were sure that they knew God so very well.

So, no surprise, as a religious leader myself, this ongoing conflict between the religious leaders and Jesus makes me… uncomfortable. 

And, actually, the ongoing conflict between the religious leaders and Jesus should probably make all of us churchgoers at least a little uncomfortable.

How often do we miss signs of God at work around us?

How often do we miss God at work in and through seemingly unlikely people?

Well, 800 years ago, in the central Italian region of Umbria, quite a few people saw God at work in and through a seemingly unlikely person: Francis of Assisi.

Born in probably 1181, Francis grew up in a well-to-do family – his father was a prosperous cloth merchant.

In his youth, Francis liked the usual things for his time, place, and class: the songs of the troubadours, the ideals of chivalry, and the supposed glory of battle.

But after being held for a year as a prisoner of war, Francis began to change.

Or, God began to change Francis.

Francis felt called to follow Jesus as closely as he could, determined to give away all of his possessions and live in holy poverty, to preach peace and love and forgiveness to both people and animals, to radically trust that God would provide all that he really needed.

Early on during his time of transformation, Francis was praying alone in a falling down chapel – the Chapel of San Damiano. While he was praying, he heard Jesus call to him. The Lord said:

“Francis, Francis, go and repair my church which, as you can see, is falling into ruins.”

At first, Francis interpreted this call as a “Buildings and Grounds” issue. 

We know all about that!

So, Francis began to literally repair that dilapidated chapel. 

But later, Francis came to understand that Jesus was calling him to something more.

You see, the church of Francis’ time had grown wealthy, corrupted by worldly power. 

Many in the church had forgotten – or had chosen to forget – Jesus’ way of loving service.

Francis, and the men and women who followed in his footsteps, rebuilt the church not with stone and mortar, and not even by criticizing the religious authorities of that time.

No, Francis and his followers simply rebuilt the church with love - love for God’s people – love for all of God’s creatures.

Francis and his friends trusted that Jesus is the cornerstone, and upon that sure foundation they rebuilt – or renewed – a church of love and service.

Renewal is an ongoing task, of course.

It won’t be news to you that today the Church is in desperate need of renewal.

So many dismiss the Church as corrupt, irrelevant, closed-minded, and abusive.

And, let’s be honest, considering how so many religious leaders and self-professed Christians have behaved, who can blame people for seeing the Church this way?

So, while we may not be able to hear him quite as clearly as Francis did, Jesus is calling to us here today: “Rebuild my church.”

And, right here and now at St. Thomas’, I see so many you, each in your own way, answering that call and following the way of Jesus, the way of Francis:

Offering love to everyone, especially the poor and suffering.

Devoting so much time, talent, and treasure to serving others.

Caring for our little corner of the earth, and the creatures who depend on it.

Yes, the great rebuilding – the holy renewal – of the Church is underway.

With God’s help, may we continue to follow the way of Jesus and Francis. 

In a world that is so broken and fearful, may we be instruments of God’s peace.

Amen.

The Blessing of Humility

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills

October 1, 2023

Year A, Proper 21: The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Exodus 17:1-7

Psalm 78:1-4, 12-16

Philippians 2:1-13

Matthew 21:23-32

The Blessing of Humility

Most of you know that before I was a priest I was a history teacher.

(I know that most of you know that because I’ve mentioned it to you like a hundred times already!)

Growing up, I hadn’t really thought about becoming a teacher, hadn’t planned on it. Instead, I sort of fell into teaching.

After I graduated from college, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I had considered graduate school but it seemed unwise to devote so much time and money to more studying when I was still so up in the air about my future.

So, to give myself some time, and because pretty much all I really knew was the classroom, near the end of the summer I applied for and got a job, teaching eighth graders at a local Catholic grammar school.

And so began seventeen years of teaching, while I figured out what I really wanted to be when I grew up!

I was aware that I got the job because the principal was getting desperate and I guess I seemed presentable enough. I knew nothing about teaching, aside from having watched and listened to teachers for almost my whole life.

(I actually didn’t take my first Education course until after I started teaching.)

So, I approached teaching by imitating my favorite teachers and hoped for the best.

In those early insecure days and years, I remember being very concerned that I come across as knowledgeable and competent. It really bothered me when students would ask a question that I couldn’t answer – and it’s entirely possible that early on I fudged a little, trying to look like I knew more than I actually did.

But, over time – probably with experience and through learning – I came to understand that school was not supposed to be a kind of “brain dump” from teacher to student – that teachers didn’t have to be – and really shouldn’t be – know-it-alls.

No, instead the best teachers are lifelong learners – people open enough and humble enough to keep learning, to learn from their students.

That kind of mutual learning happens all the time in our wonderful preschool that we celebrate today – our magical school where our bright and curious children ask thoughtful questions and give unexpected answers that get their teachers looking at the world with new insights and renewed wonder.

The blessing of humility. 

Like many of you I’m sure, this past week I read a lot about the great Brooks Robinson, Mr. Oriole, the Human Vacuum Cleaner, Hall of Fame third basemen, considered by many to be the best to ever play that position.

One thread that ran through all of the remembrances of Brooks was the fact that, as a great a player as he was, he was an even greater man.

And what made him truly great was his humility – never boastful about his own amazing accomplishments, he spent decades attending countless community events, donating his awards to support various charities (There’s a famous photo of Brooks posing with all of his 16 Gold Glove awards but they had to create replicas because he had given so many of them away).

He signed his autograph whenever and wherever someone asked for it, and he introduced himself to strangers even though certainly everybody in Baltimore knew who he was.

The stories go on and on. 

There are lots of great ballplayers but this is why so many parents named their kids Brooks.

The blessing of humility.

It may sound strange, but our God is a humble God.

Or, if you don’t want to go that far, at the very least, we know that God is willing to humble God’s Self.

God could have come among us with thunder and lightning, with dazzling displays of divine power, but instead God comes among us in and through Jesus of Nazareth, a human being just like us, born to people who were quite ordinary, or, at least so they seemed.

From the earliest days, those who followed the way of Jesus picked up on this blessing of humility.

In fact, in today’s lesson from the Letter to the Philippians, Saint Paul quotes what is probably a very early Christian hymn:

“(Christ Jesus) who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”

The blessing of humility.

And Jesus, the humble Son of God, he was open to all sorts of people – was delighted by all kinds of people – tax collectors, Gentile women who stood up for themselves and their children, his own often bumbling and confused disciples – Jesus the humble Son of God was open to all sorts of people, with one glaring exception:

The religious people who thought they had God all figured out – the holy know-it-alls who could not, or would not, see God at work all around them.

And we certainly hear these know-it-alls missing the point in today’s gospel lesson.

Jesus has been performing all sorts of signs and teaching unlike anyone has ever heard.

Jesus has also directly challenged some of the practices in the Temple, overturning tables and chasing out the moneychangers – and so the “Chief Priests and elders” ask him, “By what authority or you doing these things and who gave you this authority?”

In his usual way, Jesus doesn’t answer directly.

Instead, Jesus brings up a touchy subject: John the Baptist.

You see, the religious authorities hadn’t accepted John the Baptist (and, to be fair, the feeling seems to have been mutual!).

But, although the Baptist hadn’t received an official seal of approval, the people, well, they recognized John’s authority and power all right, flocking to the banks of the River Jordan to repent, and get dunked, and begin anew.

So when Jesus asks the religious leaders about the source of John’s authority, they are stuck and can only answer, “We do not know.”

Which, who knows, for these leaders, that just might be the beginning of humility.

I’ve told you before that I believe that the church – especially our church – has a special vocation.

We are one of the very few places left where people from lots of different backgrounds – where people young and old and in-between – can be together, celebrate together, serve together, and love one another.

With God’s help and a healthy dose of humility, we can learn from one another.

We can learn from our youngest children, from our preschoolers and kindergartners, as they ask their innocent questions and give their wonderfully creative answers.

We can learn from our youngest parishioners as they come bounding up to the altar rail, sticking out their hands to receive the Good Stuff, the Best Food of All.

We can learn from those of us in the middle, navigating a rapidly changing world, often caring for both parents and children.

And we can learn from the old, not dismissing them as out of touch but opening our ears and hearts to receive a lifetime of hard-earned wisdom.

That is our special vocation – and our special gift.

And, thanks be to God, it can all be ours, if only we accept the blessing of humility.

Amen.