Ultimate Things

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

November 9, 2025

Year C, Proper 27: The Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost

Haggai 1:15b-2:9

Psalm 145:1-5, 18-22

2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17

Luke 20:27-38

Ultimate Things

Back in February, a fierce storm blew through our area.

Maybe some of you remember it.

The wind gusts were so strong that it looked like the rain was falling horizontally.

Sue and I were in the rectory that afternoon as the wind howled and the rain streaked by when suddenly there was a loud crash, kind of a smashing sound.

I looked out one of the living room windows and immediately saw that the large old oak tree that had stood not far from St. Thomas Lane, that had stood beside the little stream that trickles through our property, that beautiful large old oak tree had shattered, only the base of the trunk remained standing, its large limbs lay jumbled on the ground.

I was still absorbing that startling scene when there was another crash. I saw the tall pine tree that had stood close to the house, that towered above where we park our cars, that tall pine tree was chopped near its base and came tumbling down.

Amazingly, the falling tree didn’t lay a scratch our vintage Hondas and, even more important, didn’t do any damage to the rectory. 

      Although the pine tree fell right in the sweet spot between our cars and the house, it did bring down the utility line.

      And the house went dark and quiet.

      After the storm passed, I went outside to look more closely at the damage. It was startling to see the pine tree lying on its side. And it was even more unsettling to see the old oak shattered into pieces.

      I do still miss the pine tree – especially during the summer because its shade used to cool our cars.

     But I really miss the mighty old oak.

     If you’ve driven along St. Thomas Lane, you know its absence has made the house much more visible from the road.

     But it’s not that so much.

     Of course, I know very well about life cycles and all that, but it really bummed me out that this old tree that had withstood so many storms over, I don’t know, a century or two, was no more.

     And for months after, each time I drove up and down our driveway, the once stately tree lying in pieces was for me a stark reminder, a stark reminder of ultimate things.

     We are now entering the last few Sundays of the Church Year.

     In just three weeks it will be Advent once again. Advent is the holy season when we prepare for Christmas, everybody knows that. But during Advent we also look ahead to the Last Day.

     Over the next couple of weeks, our Scripture lessons will increasingly turn to ultimate things.

     And right on schedule, in today’s gospel lesson, we heard Jesus being questioned by some Sadducees. They have a very specific question for Jesus about what life will be like in the next life.

     The Sadducees were a group within first century Judaism. The gospels often pair them with the better-known Pharisees, but the two groups were quite different.

     The Sadducees seem to have been a smaller, more elite group – and, as Luke tells us, they did not believe in resurrection, they didn’t believe there was anything beyond death.

     Knowing this about the Sadducees, makes their encounter with Jesus kind of…annoying.

     I mean, the Sadducees think the whole idea of life after death is nonsense, so they concoct this ridiculous story of a poor woman who married seven brothers in succession. And then they ask Jesus whose wife will she be in the next life?

     Can’t you imagine the Sadducees looking around at each other with smug expressions, sure that they had stumped the rabbi from Nazareth?

     Come on, try to wiggle out of that one, Jesus!

     Now, to be fair, the Sadducees are right about what’s called “Levirate Marriage.” It’s found in the Book of Deuteronomy, and it was intended to protect widows from being cast out of their husband’s family. Rather than facing the world on her own, the woman would be married to her husband’s brother.

     Well, Jesus takes seriously the question about the heavenly marital status of this poor woman who was married to seven brothers in succession. Jesus’ reply is very polite, but really, he tells the Sadducees that they don’t understand anything – they just don’t understand anything about God.

     I hope that we understand a little bit more about God than the long-ago Sadducees.

     And one thing we know about God is that God is always transforming death into new life. 

     We learn about God’s transforming work throughout the Bible.

     For example, in today’s Old Testament lesson, we heard from the Prophet Haggai, not a prophet we hear from very often.

     Haggai was alive around the time that the Babylonians captured Jerusalem and destroyed the Temple in 586, sending some of the population into exile in Babylon.

     Just like in Egypt long before, it must have seemed like all hope was lost. God’s people were living far from home. And the Temple, God’s very home, lay in ruins.

     But, of course, that wasn’t the end of the story.

     Empires do not last forever.

     It may require much time and sacrifice but empires do not last forever.

     So, the Babylonians were in turn defeated by the Persians, who allowed the people of Israel to return home and to restore their capital, to rebuild the Temple.

     And as we heard from Haggai, God pledges that the new Temple will be even more spectacular than the old one.

     God promises, “My spirit abides among you; do not fear.”

     And it was a big capital project but with God’s help, the people of Israel did indeed rebuild the Temple.

     God is always transforming death into new life.

     This is the heart of our Christian faith, Good Friday to Easter, the cross to the empty tomb.

      And if you’ve driven along St. Thomas Lane over the past couple of weeks, you may have noticed some new life there, too.

      With God’s help, and thanks to the good work of the Green Team and the generosity of the Chesapeake Bay Trust Urban Tree Planting Program, where the old mighty oak once stood, there are now lots of new plantings, young, native trees, carefully protected by mesh, just beginning to take root.

       Yes, the oak stump is still there, a reminder of vulnerability and death.

       But now when I drive up and down our driveway, I see all that new life and I think about how wonderful it will be over the next few years to watch those trees grow, and how future rectors and their parishioners and neighbors will get to witness the trees reach their full height, achieve their full glory.

       God is transforming death into new life.

       And what about the next life?

       Well, St. Paul writes, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9)

       So, there’s not too much we can say for sure, but certainly the God who dreamed up and sustains all of “this,” the God who is transforming death into life right here and now, the God of the living will continue that transformative work in the next life, too, in ways that we cannot begin to imagine.

       As I was thinking about all of this, this pre-Advent reflection on ultimate things, I was reminded of these words from our Prayer Book.

       A good way to conclude, for now.

       Let us pray.

       Father of all, we pray to you for those we love, but see no longer: Grant them your peace; let light perpetual shine upon them; and, in your loving wisdom and almighty power, work in them the good purpose of your perfect will; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

        Amen.