Deeply Rooted

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

July 27, 2025

Year C, Proper 12: The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Hosea 1:2-10

Psalm 85

Colossians 2:6-15

Luke 11:1-13

Deeply Rooted

Well, that was quite the Old Testament lesson, wasn’t it?

It’s not every Sunday that you hear words like that in church!

Obviously, a lesson like today’s reading from the Book of the Prophet Hosea requires some explanation, some background.

According to the Bible, King David and his son King Solomon ruled a unified kingdom.

But, after Solomon’s death, the people in the northern part of the kingdom rebelled against harsh leadership and heavy taxation, and they created a new kingdom, called Israel, while the southern kingdom, centered around Jerusalem, was called Judah.

As you might expect, there was ongoing hostility between the two kingdoms, and differences developed, especially around worship.

The Book of the Prophet Hosea is set during the 8th century BCE, when the northern kingdom of Israel was defeated by the Assyrians. Many thousands of Israelites were deported and other peoples were brought into Israel.

By the way, the descendants of the people of the northern kingdom will be later known as the Samaritans – related to the Jews but with differing religious ideas and customs, and, as we talked about a couple of weeks ago, with ongoing hostility between them.

Anyway, the Prophet Hosea declares that it was the unfaithfulness of the people of Israel – their worshiping of other gods – that led to this disaster of invasion, defeat, and dispersal.

And, whatever the historical truth of his own marriage, Hosea uses the image of marrying a promiscuous woman to represent faithful God’s relationship with unfaithful Israel.

And although the Book of Hosea is mostly about the northern kingdom, it is also a pointed warning to the people of Judah, to the southern kingdom, to remain rooted in God, to not lose their way, or disaster will befall them, too.

You don’t have to know a lot about the Bible, or history - and you don’t really even have to be an especially insightful or attentive person - to know that it is very easy for us to lose our way.

It’s all too easy for us to get uprooted from who and what is most important.

It’s all too easy for us to get uprooted - to uproot ourselves - from who we are meant to be, who we really are.

Sometimes this uprooting is caused by sin, by deliberately turning away from God’s way, by rejecting God’s love.

But sometimes this uprooting is caused by just mindlessly bouncing along from one event, one challenge, one opportunity, one news cycle, to the next.

And then, maybe without even realizing it, we’ve lost the thread of our own lives, we’ve gotten uprooted.

This uprooting can happen to any of us, very much including clergy.

One of Bishop Carrie’s expectations for us clergy is that we all have a spiritual director.

A spiritual director might be better called a spiritual guide or spiritual companion.

A spiritual director is someone specially trained to have conversations about faith, about spirituality, about looking for God at work in and through our lives.

Having a spiritual director is a very good thing but I confess that it’s something I’ve often “not gotten around to,” maybe because self-care isn’t always my strong suit, maybe because I’ve arrogantly thought I didn’t really need one, or maybe because I thought I was just too busy – there’s always so much to do.

All of the above, probably.

Well, I now have a spiritual director – she’s a Roman Catholic nun and I’m so glad that I found her. She is very wise, down-to-earth, and funny.

At one of our recent sessions, we were talking about, ahem, my age and my career path, how it feels like I’ve been on the move for so long, rolling along from one thing to the next.

And she suggested that maybe I’m entering a transition time, beginning to shift from a time of doing to a time of being.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot – transitioning from a time of doing to a time of being.

Now, I’m not ready to call it quits and spend my days sitting under a tree pondering the mystery of it all – not yet anyway.

But I’ve heard my spiritual director’s observation as a call, as a call to a healthier balance between doing and being – a call, like Rev. Amelia reminded us last week, to become and stay rooted in prayer – prayer, which makes all the “doing” possible.

Of course, today’s gospel lesson is all about prayer.

At the start, we get a glimpse of Jesus praying, a reminder that Jesus is a man of prayer, sometimes praying with others and sometimes going off by himself, to get away from the crowds and even his own disciples, for some alone time with the Father.

This time, after Jesus finished praying, we’re told that one of the disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.”

When it comes to prayer, we don’t know how or what John the Baptist taught, but Jesus teaches a very simple prayer, a very Jewish prayer, one that doesn’t require any special training or skill, a prayer for everyone, a prayer that is so deeply engraved on our hearts that often it is remembered even when almost everything else is forgotten.

A prayer that proclaims that God is holy and that we long for God’s kingdom.

A prayer that reminds us that we depend on God for everything, every day.

A prayer that acknowledges that we lose our way and that we are meant to forgive others when they lose their way.

A prayer that recognizes that life is hard, but God is holding us in our worst moments, with us always.

A simple, beautiful prayer meant for everyone, no special training or skill necessary.

And then Jesus talks about God’s love and generosity.

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve met a few new people – community organizing is very helpful for that – and as we’ve gotten to know each other, I’ve told them some of my story and especially my experience here at St. Thomas’.

And whenever I talk about this place, I always highlight your generosity – the abundant giving that I mention in sermons all the time, caring for the Afghans and the children at Owings Mills Elementary School, the countless hours so many of you give to lots of other ministries – the cemetery, Sunday School, Confirmation class, Sacred Ground, and on and on.

To put your incredible generosity in New Jersey terms, there are more than a few of you I know that, in a pinch, I could ask you for a ride to Newark Airport!

But, as loving and generous as you are, God is even more loving and generous.

God is the Source of love and generosity.

I know that we all know this, but we forget, I forget.

For all sorts of reasons, some good and not good, I get uprooted, we get uprooted.

And sometimes, maybe we even place our ultimate trust in other would-be gods – our own abilities, our money, certain leaders.

As Hosea warned long ago, that is a recipe for disaster.

Finally, in today’s epistle lesson, the author of the Letter to the Colossians writes, “As you have received Christ Jesus the Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.”

So, praying together, we will not lose our way.

With God’s help, we will remain deeply rooted.

Amen.

 

God's Love is Personal

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

July 13, 2025

Year C, Proper 10: The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Amos 7:7-17

Psalm 82

Colossians 1:1-14

Luke 10:25-37

God’s Love is Personal

I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn that I spend a lot of time thinking about how best to lead our church during this tumultuous time in our country’s history.

The wardens and I talk about it pretty regularly.

How do we hold together our beautiful community, diverse but united, when the forces of division are pushing and pulling all around us?

In a time such as this, how do we remain faithful to our baptismal promises to seek and serve Christ in all people, respecting the dignity of every person, loving our neighbor as our self?

In my sermons over the last few months, I’ve tried to sort of nod toward what’s going on around us, acknowledging it, while not taking it on directly – both because preaching is not a current events class and because it is my great hope that we will all stick together, no matter what.

But today, I would like to speak a little more directly about one of the most divisive and complex issues of our time: immigration. 

If you watch the news or read the paper, you may have seen a particular kind of immigration story – it keeps getting repeated, over and over.

Some people who have been certain that all immigrants without the proper paperwork should be deported, have gotten upset when that happens to a person – a particular person - in their own community, in their own lives.

You know, the guy who works at the bagel shop on Main Street.

The waitress at the diner, who’s been here for years and is loved by everyone in town.

The father of the high school valedictorian.

Just the other day, I read a story in the paper that was an extreme version of this phenomenon. It was about Chris Allred, a 48-year-old man who works as a recruiter at a trucking company in Arkansas. For all the familiar economic reasons, he was – and still is – in favor of deporting undocumented people.

Well, it turns out that Mr. Allred had never married. But after his dying grandmother shared her prayer that, at last, he would find a wife, he tried dating apps and, guess what, he found someone he liked, a woman named Geleny – and to make a not very long story short – they fell in love and got married.

Chris Allred believes Geleny is the answer to his grandmother’s prayer.

There’s only one problem: she is an undocumented immigrant from Ecuador.

After trying their best to navigate our maddeningly complicated immigration system, it became clear that Geleny would have to return to Ecuador.

And because he loves her, Chris Allred has chosen to go with her to Ecuador, a place he’s never been, where the people speak a language he does not understand.

It’s a touching and fascinating story in large part because this man from Arkansas recognizes both the complexity of the immigration issue, and also the deep contradictions in his own heart and mind.

In the article he describes himself as a “walking contradiction.”

But here’s the thing: in the end, it was his encounter with a person – with this particular person – that led him to take the biggest chance, the biggest leap, of his life.

You know, stories like these shouldn’t surprise us.

We’re really not so good with abstractions, which is why Jesus so often taught by telling stories – parables – about particular people, characters who come alive each time we repeat the stories.

And these parables about particular people are meant to startle us, to shake up our preconceptions, to make us uncomfortable, to help us see life in new and different ways.

Today, of course, we heard one of Jesus’ very best-known parables, what’s usually called the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

Luke frames the parable with an exchange between Jesus and a lawyer, a lawyer who wants to know what he must “do to inherit eternal life.”

Jesus knows that the lawyer knows the correct Jewish answer to that question: love God with everything you’ve got and love your neighbor as yourself.

But then the lawyer asks a more provocative question, “And who is my neighbor?”

As Amy-Jill Levine writes in our summer reading book, really the lawyer is asking, “Who is not my neighbor?”

And rather than give a general answer, Jesus tells a story – a story about some particular people.

The road between Jerusalem and Jericho was known to be dangerous, so the first hearers of this parable wouldn’t have been surprised to hear what happened to the poor man, assaulted and left half-dead by robbers on the side of the road.

But they would have been shocked by the behavior of the priest and then the Levite, both religious men, who both crossed to the other side of the road to avoid dealing with the man in distress.

The first hearers of this parable would have expected that these religiously knowledgeable men would have helped. After all, that was and is God’s Law. Helping someone in need is more important any other obligation.

But perhaps the priest and Levite were afraid that what had happened to the man would happen to them – I mean, the robbers could still be nearby, looking for more easy targets. Or maybe these religious men thought they were just too busy to help. Or maybe they just didn’t want to get involved in someone’s else’s mess.

I’m sure most, maybe all, of us can relate.

So, the first hearers of this parable would have been surprised and disappointed by the behavior of the priest and the Levite.

But that surprise was nothing compared to what comes next.

To begin to appreciate the shock of this parable we must remember that, although related to each other, Jews and Samaritans in the first century did not get along at all.

It might have been difficult for a Jew to imagine that a Samaritan could even be good.

And vice versa. 

Now when this particular Samaritan sees the beaten man by the side of the road, he could have acted like the priest and Levite and crossed over to the other side. 

        He could have grumbled and tsked, saying something like, “They really need to beef up security on this road.” Or he might have blamed the victim, thinking that this man should have been more careful. Or he might have hoped and prayed that “someone” would come along and help this man before it’s too late

But no.

This particular Samaritan shatters all expectations, going above and beyond, offering healing by pouring oil and wine on the man’s wounds, bringing this man - who was likely Jewish – bringing this man to an inn, paying two days wages to an innkeeper so the man had time to recover, and promising to return and pay whatever he might owe.

This Samaritan saw the half-dead man not as a problem or a danger but as a person, a neighbor, in need of mercy.

        God’s love is personal.

        So, God came among us not as an abstraction but in and through a person, Jesus of Nazareth.

        And God continues to dwell among us, not as a theory or as a set of rules, but in and among all of us, each and every person.

        So, here’s what I think about how we go forward together as a church during these tumultuous times.

        First, as I said last week, we pray.

        We are always, but especially now, called to be people of prayer, remembering that God lives in our own hearts, that God gives us strength to face the future, and that God uses us to bring healing to others.

        So, first we pray.

        And second, we stay focused on persons.

        We must not live in a world of abstractions, a world of labels, ideologies, talking points, and judgments.

        No, we are called to love and serve people, right here and now.

        That’s why I keep talking about our Afghan friends and the kids at Owls First over at Owings Mills Elementary. 

        They are not abstractions.

        They’re not “the immigration system.”

        They’re not “the school district” or even “kids today.”

        No, they are people, loved personally by God.

        And so, whatever we might think about the issues of the day, we must not look away, we must not walk away.

        No, we must see our neighbors, walk beside them, offering what we have, offering even more than might seem necessary or prudent.

        We are called to love, and show mercy to, our neighbors.

        God’s love is personal.

        And so, our love must be personal, too.

        Amen.

Being Peace, Giving Peace

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

July 6, 2025

Year C. Proper 9: The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

2 Kings 5:1-14

Psalm 30

Galatians 6:1-16

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Being Peace, Giving Peace

I’ve mentioned to you before that one of the highlights of my week is our service on Wednesdays at noon.

Each week, our faithful group gathers for Communion and Anointing, and then some of us stick around to read and discuss the gospel lesson that’s coming up on Sunday.

Very often we celebrate what are called the “lesser feasts,” the days throughout the year when the Church remembers different saints, the holy women and men who have modeled for us what it looks like to be a Christian.

Sometimes these saints are well-known and familiar.

And other times, they are pretty obscure, people that I need to do some research on before I give my homily.

That’s something I love doing.

I think of it as part of my continuing education.

Anyway, this past Wednesday we honored someone who was new to me: Moses the Black., also known as Moses the Strong, Moses the Robber, Moses the Egyptian.

Now, we’re not talking about the famous Moses of the Old Testament who led the Israelites from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land.

No, on Wednesday we honored Moses the Black who lived in Egypt in the 300’s, many centuries after the famous Moses.

And in his early years, Moses was a criminal – a robber and perhaps even a murderer.

He and his gang terrorized many communities in Egypt.

The story goes that, after one of his numerous crimes, Moses was on the run from the authorities, and he found himself a pretty good hideout: a monastery.

And it was there in the monastery, among the monks, that Moses experienced a peace like none he had ever known before – and this peace transformed his life.

Moses gave up crime and became a monk himself, devoting the rest of his days to prayer and sacrifice, eventually becoming better known for his holiness than for his past misdeeds.

It’s a great conversion story, isn’t it?

A reminder that, with God’s help, people can and do change.

And, just like many people who have experienced God’s mercy and grace, Moses was reluctant to judge other people.

There’s a story that one of his fellow monks was caught in a misdeed, and all the other monks were gathering to pass judgment on him.

At first, Moses refused to attend this meeting.

But when he finally does show up, he comes carrying a sack of sand on his shoulder.

He had cut a hole in the sack, so the sand was trickling out behind him.

When the monks asked him what was up with the leaking sack of sand, Moses said:  

“My sins run out behind me and I do not see them, but today I am coming to judge the errors of another.”

After Moses said this, the other monks forgave the monk who had done wrong.

Reflecting on Moses the Black’s remarkable story of conversion and faith and sacrifice, I keep thinking about the peace that he experienced when he was hiding out in the monastery.

That peace was much deeper than just the absence of conflict.

That peace was much more profound than just a cease-fire.

That peace was what our Jewish friends call shalom: wholeness and well-being – God’s gift for all of us, if only we would accept it, if only we would nurture it.

And, for the monks, that peace – that shalom – must have taken a lot of effort.

With God’s help, that peace required dealing with differences and disagreements in the community, acknowledging failure and bad behavior – and, most of all, that peace required prayer, lots of prayer.

In today’s gospel lesson we heard the story of Jesus sending out the seventy disciples, two by two, out into the world to continue and extend his work.

Jesus gives them some instructions: travel light and don’t get distracted, stay focused on the mission. 

Jesus says, “Whatever house you enter, first say ‘Peace to this house! And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person, if not it will return to you.”

And now today Jesus gives us the same mission: to offer God’s peace to our broken, grief-stricken, frightened, and not very peaceful world.

And, like those long-ago monks, there’s no way to fulfill our mission without having peace ourselves – without being peace ourselves.

Etty Hillesum was a Dutch Jewish mystic who was murdered by the Nazis in Auschwitz. Living during a terrible and frightening time, here’s what she wrote about peace:  

“Ultimately, we have just one moral duty: to reclaim large areas of peace in ourselves, more and more peace, and to reflect it toward others. And the more peace there is in us, the more peace there will be in our troubled world.”

And for the long-ago Egyptian monks and for us today, reclaiming peace requires prayer.

Then as now, monks pray every day.

And, while we’re not monks, we’re called to pray every day, too.

Since prayer is really having a relationship with God who is the Source of Peace, this is how we reclaim peace and share peace.

Prayer can be just taking a quiet moment or two during the day, to remember God, to remember the miracle that we are all here.

Prayer can be just offering a word of thanks when we wake up each morning or when we get ready to close our eyes at the end of the day.

Prayer can be lamenting the tragedies of our world – grieving the people – all the children - washed away by the horrific floods in Texas.

Prayer can be complaining – God, where are you, why do you allow so many terrible things to happen? Why do you allow so many awful people get away with bad things?

Prayer can be asking forgiveness for our own sins, letting them trickle away like the sand from Moses’ sack.

Prayer can be holding onto the Sunday bulletins during the week and praying for all the people on our prayer lists, just read their names, or just run your finger down the list.

        Pray for our ministry of the week – this week it’s the Cemetery Committee - and they always need our prayers to do their holy work.

        Pray for our church, that, in a time of turmoil and division,  we will stay united, that we will continue to welcome everybody who walks through our doors, that we will continue to be a servant church, giving of ourselves to our Afghan friends, the kids at Owings Mills Elementary School, the kids who will be here this week for Paul’s Place Camp, and the counselors and adult leaders who will be giving them wonderful days they will probably never forget.

        Pray for our country, that our divisions may be healed. Pray that our leaders and our people, all of us, will have a conversion of heart and be true to our highest ideals of liberty and justice, for all. 

        Pray for our world that we will at last lay down our weapons and work together to solve the huge problems of this planet.

    Moses the Black once said, “If a man’s deeds are not in harmony with his prayer, he labors in vain.”

    If our deeds are not in harmony with our prayer, we labor in vain.

    You know, the seventy disciples prayed with Jesus all the time and so did those Egyptian monks.

    And God used their prayers to give them the gift of true peace, a gift they were able to share with others.

    You and I can pray with Jesus, too.

    And when we pray, God will give us the gift of shalom – the gift of peace that we can share with anyone who comes through our doors, the gift that we can share everywhere we go.

    May we pray.

    May we be peace.

    May we give peace. 

    Amen.