Draw the Circle Wide

Draw the Circle Wide

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

August 16, 2026

Year A, Proper 15: The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Isaiah 56:1, 6-8

Psalm 67

Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32

Matthew 15:10-28

So, one of my summer projects has been trying to deepen my relationships with some of my local clergy colleagues.

I’ve been here five years now, and while I’ve made a couple of clergy friends, there are lots of other people I don’t know well or even at all. So, I’ve been taking advantage of the somewhat slower summer pace to get together for lunch.

Last week, I had a kind of leisurely lunch with a priest who I have gotten to know a bit, but this was definitely our richest conversation. 

We share an interest in social justice and community organizing, so we talked some about that.

And we also got to talking about our futures and she asked me a question that kind of threw me, a question that I don’t think anyone had ever asked me. She said:

“Do you think you’ve achieved the goals that you had for your priesthood?”

“Do you think you’ve achieved the goals that you had for your priesthood?”

I didn’t really have an answer.

I’ve never been one of those people who had a big goal – like those kids in elementary school who knew they wanted to be a doctor, a nurse, a lawyer, whatever and did what they had to do to achieve that goal.

I’m sure some of you were like that, but not me. 

And my first thought was that over the past couple of decades, my goal has often been to “get through it” – not in the sense of “get it over with” (although, sometimes…), but more in the sense of, “I need to get through the ordination process, get through seminary, get ordained, get a job, and so on…”

And wherever I’ve been, including here, I’ve certainly had goals – here, I think of helping to stabilize the church after the pandemic, of moving outreach (which has always been very important here) but moving outreach to a more central place in the church’s life.

Another goal was to reach the point where we could hire a second priest (check!) and now to be the best mentor I can be for Rev. Amelia.

So, plenty of goals.

But, you know, sometimes you can forget your own story.

So, after struggling a bit to think of some big capital “G” goal, I finally remembered my story – in fact, I remembered something I once told you – how, when I was a high school history teacher, I loved having a freshman homeroom – I loved creating a place where the freshmen felt welcome and safe. I loved creating a real sense of homeroom community.

But then, you know how it goes, the school year would end and the following year I would have to start this community-building work all over again.

And it was the goal of helping to build, to strengthen community – a community that lasts much longer than a school year – a holy community of welcome, love, and care – a holy community of baptisms, weddings, funerals, and all the wonderful and hard stuff in between, it was that capital “G” goal that attracted me to this work.

It’s work that I think of as “drawing the circle wide” – drawing the circle wide, inviting everyone in, including, yes, people we may not like, people who seem different, people with whom we disagree about all sorts of things.

Draw the circle wide.

In today’s gospel lesson, we hear Jesus draw the circle wide, at least eventually.

It takes a minute, but Jesus draws the circle wide enough to include this poor Canaanite woman – she’s not a Jew, she’ a Gentile – this persistent woman who annoys the disciples – this desperate mother who begs Jesus to heal her daughter.

“Lord, help me.”

Just like all of you parents, this woman is willing to do anything for her sick child, even asking a Jewish teacher and healer for help – and she doesn’t give up, even when Jesus seems to harshly dismiss her:

“It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” 

To which she offers one of the best comebacks ever:

“Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”  

And hearing that comeback, Jesus praises her faith and heals her daughter “instantly.”

And, I don’t know, maybe that was the plan all along, or maybe Jesus was testing the woman’s faith.

Maybe.

Or maybe… the woman’s bold and courageous persistence – her faithfulness – moved Jesus to reach beyond his own Jewish community – to draw the circle wide – wide enough to include this desperate mother and her sick daughter.

Draw the circle wide.

For us, drawing the circle wide is not so much about growing the church, though inviting and welcoming everybody is really important, of course.

But drawing the circle wide is more about sharing our many blessings and gifts – I mean, we are so blessed to be part of this church, right? 

Drawing the circle wide is supporting one another in our times of need and sorrow - and inviting others to step into the circle to share their blessings and gifts.

Drawing the circle wide is about rejecting a culture that teaches us to fear and even hate other people – it’s about following a different way, following the way of Jesus, listening to the voices of others, especially when they cry for help.

Drawing the circle wide changes our hearts.

Community can be quite challenging and sometimes it will even break your heart, but on the whole, being here, being with lots of different people, being here with lots of different kinds of people softens our hearts – and, as Jesus points out in the first part of today’s gospel lesson, our hearts are really important – it’s our heart that can spew out really ugly stuff or share incredible love and generosity. 

Finally, drawing the circle wide moves us in a God-ward direction, moving closer to Isaiah’s beautiful vision of lots of people, people of all different backgrounds, Jews and Canaanites, and Marylanders and, oh yes, New Jerseyans, all of us gathered on God’s holy mountain, loving and praising God, forever.

All week, as I’ve been reflecting on today’s sermon, I’ve been mindful that right now there are quite a few of us who are facing some very hard times – and I hope and pray that being part of our St. Thomas’ circle is a comfort and support for them, for you.

A most important goal.

And I’ve also been thinking about words written by Gordon Light, a Canadian Anglican bishop, words that have been set to beautiful music, words that are meaningful even unadorned with melody:

“Draw the circle, draw the circle wide.

Let this be our song. No one stands alone.

We’ll stand side by side.

Draw the circle, draw the circle wide.

Draw the circle, draw it wider still.

Let this be our song, be our song: no one stands alone.

Standing side by side.

Draw the circle, draw the circle wide.

In your sadness and in your grief,

All the pain, it seems there’s no relief.

We will hold you until the storm subsides.

Draw the circle, draw the circle wide.”

Amen.

More than Enough

More than Enough

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

August 2, 2026

Year A, Proper 13: The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

Isaiah 55:1-5

Psalm 145:8-9, 15-22

Romans 9:1-5

Matthew 14:13-21

In last week’s sermon, I talked about “spillages,” this idea of free-writing – just writing whatever pops into our head, not worrying about grammar or spelling or clarity – just letting it all spill out onto the page.

And I suggested that our prayer can be like that – our prayer can be “spiritual spillages” – just spilling out our hearts to God, all the good, bad, and ugly stuff – spilling out our hearts with confidence because we know that God already knows what’s in our heart and God will not let go of us, no matter what.

I have found “spillages” to be a really rewarding practice, both for my writing and my spiritual life.

But one unexpected side effect has been that I seem to remember my dreams better.

I try to write early in the morning, as soon as I can brew that first cup of coffee.

And to my surprise, often my “spillages” begins with recalling as much as I can from that night’s dreams.

So, on Wednesday morning, I remembered a dream that seems to have included all of you.

We were all together at a party – it was kind of like a cocktail party – some people were sitting down but most people seemed to be standing, juggling their beverage and one of those little appetizer plates and a napkin – you know how that it is.

I think we may have been on a boat – it felt like that – and it was crowded – we were all very close together.

And as I remember it, we were all there – I saw people I see all the time but also some people we don’t see very often and others who haven’t been here in quite a while.

And the emotion I remember feeling was joy – joy at being together and celebrating – I don’t know what we were celebrating – maybe we were just celebrating being together – celebrating that there was more than enough – more than enough food and drink – more than often friendship and fellowship – more than enough love. 

More than enough.

Now, by Tuesday night, I was already thinking about today’s gospel lesson – the familiar story of the Multiplication of the Loaves and the Fishes – so, my dream may very well have been shaped by this most beautiful story – a story so important, a story that reveals so much about Jesus, that it’s the only one of Jesus’ miraculous signs included in all four gospels.

The story begins with Jesus taking a boat to a deserted place for himself. 

But this attempt at getting some alone time fails – the people are simply too hungry – they are hungry for Jesus, hungry for his teaching, hungry for his healing, and, it turns out, the people are just plain hungry.

To their credit, the disciples realize that the hunger of this huge crowd in a deserted place is a big problem.

They try to get ahead of the problem by telling – not asking, but telling – Jesus to send the crowds away, so they can go to town, buy food, fend for themselves.

Seems reasonable, but the disciples should have known that Jesus would have something else in mind. Jesus says,

“They need not go away; you give them something to eat.”

Again, the perfectly reasonable disciples think this is impossible – they’ve only got five loaves and two fish – there’s just nowhere near enough for the thousands of hungry people.

Well, you heard the story.

With Jesus there is enough.

With Jesus there is more than enough.

But, like the first disciples, believing in that abundance, recognizing that abundance, sharing that abundance, can be a challenge – we need reminders, we need to pay attention.

I’ve told you before that, by nature, I tend to be an anxious person – I see my glass as half-empty. My mind often quickly flies to the worst-case scenario.

What if, what if, what if…

But, partly because of the writing - the spillages, the journaling – I think I’ve been doing better with that – I’ve been doing what a very wise parishioner suggested, “Remember to pray and think positively.”

And last week, when I met with my spiritual director, we talked about some of the good stuff that’s happened lately – the capital campaign, the church construction nearing the finish line, Sue’s exciting new job, the writer’s conference, the arrival of Kate Julian, who will be working with our children and youth.

Enough.

More than enough.

Much more than I could have ever imagined.

Now, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have to deal with fears and challenges, of course.

And, probably more than anybody, I’m aware of the fears and challenges that many of you face – and I also know that I don’t know everything that’s going on in your lives.

But I think of the long-ago thousands of hungry people enjoying what I’m sure was a particularly delicious meal of bread and fish.

I think of my dream of all of us gathered on, let’s call it the S.S. St. Thomas, all of us close together, feasting, celebrating.

I think of our capital campaign and the sandwiches made for Paul’s Place, right here, by our parishioners, just this past Wednesday morning.

And I think of the service I attended at our cathedral on Wednesday afternoon.

You may remember that back in June I told you about a man I called “Mark.”

Maybe about a year and a half ago, Mark was diagnosed with a very serious case of cancer. One of our parishioners connected him to me and we had a couple of long, challenging, but also rich and beautiful phone conversations.

And then he was doing better and we just exchanged a few quick texts, just checking in.

But then a few months ago, unfortunately, Mark’s cancer returned. And he got back in touch asking if we could meet in person, that he had a question for me.

And if you remember me telling you this story, you may remember that he had been going around asking different people a question that I certainly did not expect:

“Why do you believe in God?”

That threw me a bit, but we ended up having a very long and meaningful conversation.

And then, about two weeks ago Mark texted me again. He wanted to tell me that he had decided to become an Episcopalian, that he had joined a church near his home. I was sorry that it wasn’t St. Thomas’, but very glad that he had found a spiritual home as he and his family journey down this next hard stretch of road.

Well, on Wednesday afternoon, about 25 of Mark’s family and friends gathered at the cathedral where Bishop Carrie formally received Mark and his wife into the Episcopal Church.

This was one of the most moving services I’ve ever attended – a dying man who has been on a spiritual quest chose to say yes to Jesus, chose to become a disciple, chose to trust that God will not let go of him, no matter what.

When it was time for Communion, we all gathered around the altar, making this ancient ritual feel more like a family meal.

It felt more like what we call the Last Supper but what was really the “first supper.” Gathered around the altar together, seeing each other’s faces, watching as one by one we stretched our hands and were fed, it felt like that amazing day when the disciples and thousands of hungry people discovered that with Jesus there is enough, there is more than enough.

With Jesus there is enough.

With Jesus there is more than enough.

Amen.