Walking In Love

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 25, 2024

Year B: The Second Sunday in Lent

Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16

Psalm 22:22-30

Romans 4:13-25

Mark 8:31-38

Walking In Love

Walk in love as Christ loved us, and gave himself for us, an offering and sacrifice to God.

Last Friday evening, some of us who have been involved in helping our Afghan friends got together over at Gilead House.

We had been invited by our very first Afghan friend – Hizbullah – whom we first met about a year and a half ago.

As some of you know, Hizbullah is a very bright and personable guy – a go-getter for sure. So, to no one’s surprise, he has already done quite well here in his new country.

In fact, he’s just gotten himself a new job in Washington DC. Which means he’s leaving Baltimore, which is definitely bittersweet for everyone who has gotten to know him here.

So before leaving, Hizbullah invited us for one last get-together, to say thank you for the welcome and the help.

During the party, as I looked around the room at our own parishioners, and parishioners from St. Mark’s in Pikesville, and members of the synagogue Chizuk Amuno, and Betty Symington who leads ERICA, our local Episcopal group helping refugees, when I looked around at all these wonderfully capable and generous people, I thought back to a memorable lunch I had with our parishioner Louis Hogan over at the Greenspring Club, not long after I first arrived here.

We got to talking about the fall of Afghanistan and the dire plight of the Afghans desperately trying to flee, including many who had assisted the US during our long entanglement with their country.

Louis wondered if there was something that we – St. Thomas’ – might do.

And so began a long and winding journey, with many fits and starts along the way.

We learned a lot about the challenging and complicated work of refugee resettlement.

We made friends with Betty at ERICA, and folks at St. Mark’s and Chizuk Amuno, and elsewhere.

And, eventually, we welcomed Hizbullah and Abdul and Abobaker and others.

By now, Hizbullah has learned a lot about America and so he was aware that Valentine’s Day had just passed. And so he made a point of inviting spouses to his pizza party.

And so as I looked around the room, I thought of how much time and energy these wonderful people and their wives and husbands have sacrificed to welcome strangers – I thought of all the rides to and from school and work and all sorts of appointments – I thought of all the hours trying to cut through really thick and sticky red tape – I thought of all the dinner invitations and outings – I thought of all the sacrifices, although I know that each one of these people would say that caring for our new friends may not have always been easy but it has always been a gift and a blessing.

Walk in love as Christ loved us, and gave himself for us, an offering and sacrifice to God.

One of the curious themes in the gospels is the fact that the disciples – Jesus’ friends and followers – usually have a hard time figuring out who he is exactly and what is mission is all about.

The demons always know who Jesus is, but his friends, not so much.

There are exceptions, though, or at least partial exceptions.

Just before today’s passage from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” 

That was an easy one – the disciples knew that people thought that Jesus was the return of one of Israel’s great prophets.

But then Jesus asks his disciples a tougher question.

“But who do you say that I am?”

Probably to everyone’s surprise including his own, it’s Peter who gets the answer exactly right:

He says, “You are the Messiah.”

At that moment, I always imagine Peter kind of shyly beaming, like the only student in class to give the correct answer.

But, as we heard today, the problem is that Peter and the others have not yet grasped just what kind of Messiah Jesus is.

They probably have visions of worldly glory and triumph – glory and triumph that the hoped to enjoy as Jesus’ top lieutenants.

So it must have come as quite a shock when Jesus told his friends that he was going to suffer – that he would be rejected by all the world’s powerful people – that he would be executed.

What kind of messiah – what kind of savior – is that?

Jesus also mentioned that he would rise again on the third day but by then I doubt anyone was still listening.

Peter simply cannot accept this – can’t accept that his Lord and friend was going to be hurt and die – and Peter may also have made the leap to wondering just what Jesus’ suffering and death would mean for him and the other disciples. 

And so Peter pulls Jesus aside and rebukes Jesus – a strong word, rebuke – in the gospels it’s often used when dealing with demons and evil spirits.

But Jesus does not accept Peter’s rebuke and turns it back on him, calling Peter “Satan,” the tempter – tempting Jesus to turn away from his mission of sacrifice and love.

Walk in love as Christ loved us, and gave himself for us, an offering and sacrifice to God.

Walking in love may sound sweet and sentimental but Jesus teaches us that this kind of love is expensive – it cost Jesus and his friends a lot – and it will cost us a lot, too.

But Jesus knows that offering ourselves, sacrificing ourselves, is the only way to new life.

The Bible and Christian history teach us that this is true.

And the Annual Report of this parish also teaches that this is true.

If you take the time to read the report – which I hope you will – you’ll find that there has been a whole lot of walking in love – a whole lot of self-offering and sacrifice – here at St. Thomas’ over the past year.

I’ve already mentioned all the time and effort given for our Afghan friends, but on just about every page you can read about so many parishioners – you - who have given of yourselves so abundantly.

You’ve given astronomical amounts of time to our church and its ministries and shared your talents and your treasure so generously: planning and leading Bible Study – polishing silver and brass and arranging flowers – rehearsing hymns and anthems – assisting at worship as ushers, lectors, chalicists, and acolytes – crafting quilts and blankets for people sorely in need of some warmth and comfort – guiding our Preschool and Sunday School so they can continue to be places of care and education for our children – being wise stewards of our wealth and property – writing hundreds of thank you notes to people who have pledged or given in other ways - looking into painful chapters of our church history that have been neglected or even forgotten, remembering and re-membering – sharing our time and resources with people at Paul’s Place, the Community Crisis Center, Owings Mills Elementary School and other places of good work - coming to church regularly, even when maybe you don’t feel like it, because God has been so good to us and, who knows, maybe the person sitting near you just really needs you to be here.

Yes, there has been a whole lot of walking in love – a whole lot of self-offering and sacrifice – here at St. Thomas’ over the past year.

And no one has given more of herself to our church than Jesse VanGeison.

Although much of her work as Senior Warden has taken place behind the scenes at many meetings – so many meetings – you know that on top of her many warden responsibilities, Jesse also coordinates hospitality on Sunday, is leading our Cemetery Unity Committee with great devotion, and, as if that were not enough, has recently stepped up yet again to coordinate our Sunday School.

All of this on top of her demanding professional responsibilities.

It is a rare day that Jesse and our exceptional Junior Warden Barritt Peterson and I aren’t in some kind of communication – innumerable texts, and phone calls, and, yes, meetings both in person and on Zoom.

Over these past couple of years I’ve come to know what many of you have known for a long time: Jesse is an extraordinary person – wise and skilled and generous – and with a really big heart.

At the end of most of our meetings or calls, Jesse will ask me, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Is there anything I can do to support you?”

What a tremendous gift and example for all of us – a servant leader for a servant church, walking in love, giving away so much of herself for God and for us.

So, yes, there has been a whole lot of walking in love – a whole lot of self-offering and sacrifice – here at St. Thomas’ over the past year.

And look where it has brought us!

Peter wasn’t able to hear Jesus say that he would rise again on the third day, but, eventually, he got it – he experienced the New Life of Jesus.

And, during a hard time in our land and our world and many of our lives, maybe we can’t hear the promise of new life, either.

So I say, read the Annual Report.

Or just look around.

And, most of all, let’s keep walking – let’s keep walking together – walking in love as Christ loved us, an offering and sacrifice to God.

Amen.

The God of Second Chances

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 18, 2024

Year B: The First Sunday in Lent

Genesis 9:8-17

Psalm 25:1-9

1 Peter 3:18-22

Mark 1:9-15

The God of Second Chances

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”

Maybe you’ve heard that quote from the writer Maya Angelou.

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”

Maya Angelou’s words point to the importance of first impressions and trusting our gut.

The quote comes up a lot when a politician or a celebrity does something wrong – something wrong that comes as no surprise to anyone who has been paying attention all along.

And I bet this quote rings true for any of us who’ve been burned by someone – burned by the same someone in the same way – over and over again.

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”

The idea seems to be that it’s better to make a quick decision about someone, better to not hope for improvement, better to avoid disappointment, heartbreak, or worse.

Maya Angelou was very wise but, fortunately for us, this is not how God operates.

No, God is the God of Second Chances.

In today’s Old Testament lesson, we heard the end of the story of the Great Flood, Noah, and the Ark filled with pairs of the world’s creatures.

Just like the story of Jonah that we talked about a few weeks ago, Noah’s Ark is one of the Bible stories that we often share with children – probably because there are animals involved.

I wonder about that because, when you stop and think about them, both stories have terrifying elements.

Jonah spending three days and nights in the belly of the Great Fish sounds like the stuff of nightmares.

And even worse, God getting so fed up with our misbehavior that God floods the entire planet, destroying every living thing except Noah and his family and the animals he was able to cram onto the ark – well, it’s hard to imagine something more frightening than that.

But at the end of the story, it almost sounds like God has some second thoughts about the flood – or, if not second thoughts then at least God promises never to do something like this again – and God seals this promise – this covenant – with a rainbow across the sky.

Just like in the story of Jonah, when he was disgorged from the big fish and given an opportunity to go to Nineveh and just like when the people of Nineveh repent and God decides not to destroy the city, God is revealed to be the God of Second Chances.

God is the God of Second Chances.

But why?

I mean, let’s face it, if you or I were God we would’ve given up on us long ago, turned our attention to some other planet, some other more obedient species with a better track record of love and generosity and forgiveness.

If you or I were God we would’ve given up long ago on a world where sick and addicted people are camped out on the streets of the wealthiest country on earth – a world where we can’t even have a Super Bowl parade without some angry and armed person opening fire – a world where a brutal dictator coldly disposes of his opponents without guilt or fear – a world filled with our less dramatic but still destructive cruelties and dishonesties

It would seem that we have shown God who we are, over and over.

But maybe that’s not true.

I’ve mentioned to you before that one of my spiritual heroes is Thomas Merton, the 20th Century monk and writer.

Thomas Merton spent a lot of time thinking and writing about what he called our real and false selves.

Merton wrote, “Every one of us is shadowed by an illusory person: a false self. This is the man I want to be but who cannot exist. Because God does not know anything about him. And to be unknown of God is altogether too much privacy.”

Our false self is the person we present to the world – the mask we wear to get along in this messed up world we have created.

The false self thinks it can be satisfied with money, power, prestige, or just security – and yet they are all illusions.

The false self uses others for our own benefit or pleasure.

The false self is never truly at rest, at peace.

And so, as Thomas Merton, wrote, God doesn’t have anything to do with our false self.

But God knows our real self – the real self that is such a great mystery that we may not even know it ourselves.

But when we look at Jesus – the Ultimate Second Chance given to us by God – we see what’s real.

When we look at Jesus, we see what God is really like and we see what we are really like, too.

In today’s lesson from the Gospel of Mark, we again heard the story of Jesus’ baptism – this one-on-one encounter between God the Father and Jesus the Son, the Beloved with whom God is well pleased.

Our real self, beloved by God.

And immediately after Jesus’ baptism, we’re told that the Spirit cast Jesus into the wilderness, where he was tempted by Satan. 

I like that Mark doesn’t tell us the exact nature of the temptations because that means we can fill in the blanks and think of our own temptations, our own weak spots, and know that Jesus can resist them.

With God’s help, our real self can resist our temptations – and live the lives of love that God has always intended for us.

So this is our task, especially during Lent.

With God’s help, we face our sinfulness and repent.

With God’s help, we recognize that the stuff we spend so much time, energy and money chasing, will never really satisfy us.

With God’s help, we look more closely at Jesus and see who God really is.

With God’s help, we look more closely at Jesus and see who we really are.

If you were here last week, you may remember that in my sermon I talked about my recent trip to San Francisco, which happened to coincide with the fierce rainstorms that swamped much of the California coast.

The worst of it was on Sunday when I made a memorable trip up and down “the mountain" to Grace Cathedral.

The next day, Monday, the storm had subsided.

I took an early morning walk down to the Bay where I was greeted with the most beautiful rainbow, soaring across the vast, open sky.

There weren’t too many people out yet but most of us there, including me, pulled out our phones and tried to photograph the rainbow’s beauty, its wide embrace.

No matter the storms of our life, no matter our sins and failures, no matter how we get fooled by our false self, God has known from the start who we really are.

And so, long after we might have given up on us, God promises to be – continues to be - the God of Second Chances.

Amen.

 

Abounding In Steadfast Love

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 14, 2024

Ash Wednesday

Joel 2:L1-2, 12-17

Psalm 103

2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Abounding In Steadfast Love

So the calendar has been playing some tricks on us lately.

You may remember that just a month and a half ago the Fourth Sunday of Advent was also Christmas Eve, a liturgical mash-up that required some flexibility and a quick turnaround here in church.  

And now today, Ash Wednesday, the start of the holy season of Lent… is also Valentine’s Day.

Of course, this calendar collision hasn’t required us to change our plans here in church but it has unleashed some online church humor.

Maybe you’ve seen some of the memes that have been floating around the Internet:

My favorite is the one that shows one of those little candy hearts that usually have sweet messages like “Be Mine” or “I luv U,” but this one says “Remember U R Dust.”

And then at the bottom of the meme there’s this little reminder: “You can’t spell Valentine without Lent.”

Which, you know, is actually true.

I’m usually not a fan of church humor but these have been fun, and, who knows, maybe they’ve helped to remind some people about Ash Wednesday.

And, you know, today’s calendar mash-up does remind us of a great truth.

None of what we are doing here today makes any sense without love.

I’m guessing that you don’t need me to tell you that we are going to die some day.

But we do need to remember and celebrate God’s love for us.

In today’s opening prayer, I said that God hates nothing that God has made.

That’s accurate, as far as it goes, but the truth is way better than that.

As the Prophet Joel wrote long ago, God is “abounding in steadfast love.”

God is abounding in steadfast love – that’s why God came among us in and through Jesus.

Unfortunately, we often reject God’s love.

We turn away from God’s love when we’re not loving - when we judge other people – when we refuse to share what we think is ours – when we are less than faithful in prayer and worship – when we treat people as things to use for our benefit or pleasure - when we think there is such a thing as “us” and “them” when with God it’s always just “us.”

It’s hard to face our sins.

It’s frightening to look at our mortality.

But God is abounding in steadfast love, so we are never rejected and abandoned, no matter what we do or don’t do.

God is abounding in steadfast love, always inviting us, urging us, to turn around, to come back, to live and love as we were always meant to live and love.

May we all have a holy and love-filled Lent, trusting in, and returning to, the God who abounds in steadfast love.

Amen. 

Sacred Ground

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 11, 2024

Year B: The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

2 Kings 2:1-12

Psalm 50:1-6

2 Corinthians 4:3-6

Mark 9:2-9

Sacred Ground

Many of you know that I took some vacation time last week. I was out in San Francisco for a few days, just in time for the torrential rains – the so-called “atmospheric river” - that soaked the California coast.

The worst of the rain hit San Francisco last Sunday.

That morning, I woke up to the pouring rain and the howling wind. I reconsidered my plan to walk up to Grace Cathedral – the grand Episcopal church that sits at the top of swanky Nob Hill.

I thought about what it would be like to walk up the steep hill to the Cathedral, certain that my flimsy umbrella would be no match for this fierce storm.

I imagined finally reaching the cathedral, soaked, chilled, and exhausted.

I also thought, I mean, I go to church all the time – so maybe I could sit out this one Sunday.

But then I thought of you, how so many of you manage to get here even when the weather isn’t so great, even when it might be tempting to just stay in bed, to roll back over and get more sleep, or just take some time for yourself, maybe pouring a leisurely second cup of coffee.

So, I prepared for the storm as best I could and ventured out.

As it happened, the storm let up a bit as I huffed and puffed up California Street – and it felt good to reach Grace Cathedral, to once again step onto that sacred ground - to enter that holy place – to take in its vastness and early morning quiet.

The service was beautiful – the congregation welcoming and seemingly happy to be there, despite the weather.

I had the rare-for-me experience of being a person in the pew – or the chair, actually – totally anonymous and not having to worry about what I was going to say or do next.

By the end of the service I had just about forgotten about the storm outside.

But when I reached the cathedral doors, the wind was whipping around the top of Nob Hill, the rain was coming down in great sheets, and I could plainly see why they call it an “atmospheric river.”

A bunch of us waited in the cathedral vestibule, looking out nervously for any sign of let up, checking the weather app on our phones to get the latest forecast.

But finally, one by one we faced reality, zipping our jackets and pulling up hoods, opening our umbrellas, stepping out into the raging storm, getting on with our lives, leaving the safety and serenity of the cathedral and making our way down the hill.

And now here it is a week later and I’m back on our holy hill, on sacred ground, with all of you.

It’s the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, the final Sunday before the start of Lent on Ash Wednesday.

And, as we do on this day every year, today’s gospel lesson takes us up yet another holy hill, to sacred ground.

We heard the story of the Transfiguration as told by the Gospel of Mark.

Jesus and his “inner circle” of disciples – Peter, James, and John, head up the mountain for some time away, away from all those people hunting for Jesus, hungry for his teaching, begging for his healing.

While they’re up on the mountain, Jesus is transformed before their eyes – his clothes whiter than any white – and he is joined by Elijah and Moses, two towering figures of Israel’s past.

What does one say or do in response to such a vision?

Well, Peter makes the totally reasonable suggestion of building dwellings for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Maybe he’s thinking, let’s try to hold onto this moment for as long as we can.

No sooner does Peter propose this capital project then a cloud overshadows them all and the voice from heaven declares,

“This is my Son, the beloved, listen to him!”

And then, after the voice grows silent and the cloud and Elijah and Moses vanish, it’s time for Jesus to head down the mountain and face all that awaits them: the Cross, the Tomb, and New Life.

But before we move on, I’d like to circle back to Peter and his mountaintop building project.

When Peter proposed the dwelling places for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, he was probably recalling the exodus of his Israelite ancestors from Egypt, when God would meet with Moses in what was called the “tent of meeting.”

Up on the mountain, Peter recognized that God had come among God’s people once again, and so it seemed right that some kind of shelter should be constructed on this sacred ground.

I think Peter should get half-credit for this.

He’s not wrong but the truth is even more amazing than he can yet grasp.

In and through Jesus, God has come among us again – come among us as one of us.

But Jesus sanctifies much more than just a piece of mountaintop real estate.

Jesus, God’s Son, makes holy the parts of the world that are obviously beautiful like Grace Cathedral on Nob Hill in San Francisco and St. Thomas’ Church here on our little hill above Garrison Forest.

But Jesus doesn’t just stay up on the mountain.

No, Jesus, comes down the mountain, down into the depths and the mess, down into the storms of life, making holy the parts of the world – the parts of our lives - that might not seem beautiful at all – the places of suffering, fear, and death.

I’ve been fortunate to visit San Francisco a bunch of times, and over the years, I’ve discovered places I like to go each time, different restaurants and parks and walking routes.

But when I planned this trip, I decided I wanted to see and do some things that I hadn’t seen and done before.

So, I attended a beautiful concert by the San Francisco Symphony.

And I also visited the Tenderloin Museum.

If you know San Francisco, you may know that the Tenderloin has long been the city’s Skid Row – the neighborhood where the poor and the addicted live, either in Single Room Occupancy hotels or just out on the sidewalks.

Frankly, it’s one neighborhood that I’ve always avoided.

After all, I was on vacation – and I certainly don’t have to travel across the country to witness poverty and despair.

But I was intrigued by the Tenderloin Museum, interested to learn more about this seemingly God-forsaken neighborhood.

Of course, to get to the museum, I had to walk the streets of the Tenderloin and, while I wasn’t afraid, I was certainly on alert and it was painfully sad to see so many people camped out on the sidewalk, imprisoned by illness, by addiction.

The museum itself, however, is a bright, clean, modern space.

I was the only visitor at the time.

It was so quiet in there – even prayerful.

Making my way around the exhibits, I learned about the neighborhood’s history, how it had long been home to oppressed and marginalized groups – waves of newly arrived immigrants, gay and transgender people – people who fought for their rights, doing the best they could for themselves and their neighborhood.

And the museum had information about some of the Christian congregations and organizations that have stuck it out in that challenging soil.

Sure enough, Jesus is in the Tenderloin, too, making it sacred ground.

There’s Glide Memorial Church, a formerly Methodist church that has long thrown open its doors to the poor and the hurting and advocated for their well-being.

And there is St. Anthony’s Mission.

Back in 1950, a Franciscan priest named Father Alfred Boedekker opened St. Anthony’s Dining Room. On the first day he expected to serve 150 meals and ended up serving 400. And they’ve been at it ever since, just like our own Paul’s Place, gradually expanding their menu of services, shining the Light of Christ on a place long neglected – a place not God-forsaken at all, ground made sacred by Jesus Christ the Son of God.

Since Lent begins on Wednesday, you may have been making plans for what to give up or to take on during that holy season.

After my San Francisco experience, after my trip up and down the mountain, I’m going to ask God to remind me that God has come among us in Jesus Christ, who has made the whole earth – from swanky Nob Hill to the suffering Tenderloin – has made all of it - sacred ground.

Amen.