Everyday Mountaintop Experiences

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 15, 2026

Year A: The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

Exodus 24:12-18

Psalm 2

2 Peter 1:16-21

Matthew 17:1-9

Everyday Mountaintop Experiences

Today we reach the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, the final Sunday before the start of Lent on Wednesday.

      On Ash Wednesday, we will gather here to be reminded that we are dust and to dust we shall return.

     We will receive crosses of ash to remember that someday we will die – which most of us are well aware of – but these ashes are also a sign of our total dependence on God, the God who not let go of us, never, not even in death.

Lent is a season for repentance and sacrifice. 

      And Lent is also a powerful call to mindfulness, a season to really pay attention to what’s going on in our lives, seeking signs of God’s presence, God’s activity, within and among us.

If you were here last Sunday, you may remember that I talked about synchronicity and keeping a synchronicity journal.

For the past couple of years, I have been keeping a journal. I’ve tried to do this a few times in the past, but this is the first time I’ve been consistent about it.

It’s not specifically a synchronicity journal but almost every day, I’ve managed to write one page. I think that’s the key. One page feels manageable, doable, to me. 

Aiming for more than that, or just being open-ended about it, would be overwhelming and I would convince myself that I just don’t have the time for it and my mostly blank journal would eventually get shoved into the back of some drawer.

But I can almost always manage one page.

Partly my journal is just a record of what happened – where I went, what I saw, did, and said, and what other people said and did.

Sometimes I write about hard stuff – misunderstandings, conflict, illness, death – and other times I record joy – wonderful, often unexpected, blessings.

And occasionally I write short prayers – very short, I’ve only got one page – asking God’s help with something or offering written prayers for particular people.

      And sometimes I even remember to write “thank you.” 

So, if you are still looking for a Lenten practice – there’s certainly nothing wrong with giving up a bad habit or refraining from some luxury – but I think journaling can be a very powerful and beneficial practice.

Maybe because it makes me slow down and pay attention, journaling has also refreshed my memory – helping me recall things that I had buried in the past – embarrassing things, regrets, sins, yes – but the journal also helps me remember long-ago blessings that I had forgotten, especially seemingly small moments, what we might call everyday mountaintop experiences

Everyday mountaintop experiences.

At the end of last week, I made a quick trip to Jersey City to visit my parents and my sister – everything’s fine, I just hadn’t seen them in a couple of months.

As perhaps you’ve heard, I lived most of my life in Jersey City so, of course, there are so many memories there, just about everywhere I look.

But on this visit, besides seeing my family, I also spent time on the campus of St. Peter’s Prep, my high school alma mater, the school where I later taught history until I left for seminary and priesthood.

It was so good to be back, but also a little disorienting. I hadn’t been inside the school in nearly ten years, so lots of things are quite different.

And yet, despite all the changes, my mind was flooded by many memories, including two that I would call everyday mountaintop experiences.

So, when I was growing up, my family always just assumed that I would go to St. Peter’s Prep. 

I guess my family really believed in me because, not to brag, but St. Peter’s was and is the best Catholic boys’ school around – it’s just a fact!

I’m not sure how much pressure I felt about the assumption I would go to St. Peter’s. I think I always just believed it, too. And I was a pretty good student, with one painful exception: math.

I always struggled with math.

I didn’t understand it – and, honestly, once we got past arithmetic, I just didn’t see the point.

I had absolutely no interest in solving for x.

But, despite my poor math skills, I was indeed accepted by St. Peter’s Prep, and those four years shaped the rest of my life.

So, here’s the first memory:

One day in my freshman year, I was pushing open one of the swinging doors that led to a stairwell when suddenly I heard the bells ringing from the Orthodox church across the street, which was a daily event.

But in that moment – I can still see it and feel it – in that moment, I thought, “I’m here. I’m really here. I go to St. Peter’s Prep.”

And I was flooded with gratitude and amazement that I had made it and it was really happening,

Everyday mountaintop experiences.

And here’s the second memory:

After I graduated, I had really hoped to return to St. Peter’s as a teacher. I thought that would just be the best job ever and if I managed to land a spot, I was sure I would stay there for the rest of my life.

(Yes, I know, I know, God is full of surprises!)

Well, it took a couple of tries but eventually I got it – I was hired to teach history.

That was big – and I was so excited.

There was just one kind of awkward, frightening situation.

Many of my teachers were still on the faculty – and, besides having to force myself to call them by their first names – that was fine.

Except there was this one math teacher…

A math teacher who, I have to say, had been pretty tough on me – a math teacher who had seen me at my academic worst – a math teacher who I was sure was thinking, “My God, this school is really going down the drain if they’ve hired the likes of Murphy!”

And then it was the first day back from summer vacation, the first faculty meeting, and before the start of business we were all chatting in the library, catching up, making introductions. At one point, from across the room my former math teacher caught my eye, and she summoned me by curling her finger.

I made my way over like I was heading to my execution.

But when I got close to her, she suddenly smiled and she said, “Good things come to those who wait.”

In that moment I just felt huge relief but as I remember it now, I think of it as a sign that we are not defined by our weaknesses and mistakes – we are more than that in God’s heart and in the hearts of others, even really tough math teachers.

Everyday mountaintop experiences.

On this last Sunday after the Epiphany, the final Sunday before Lent, we always hear the story of the Transfiguration – much more than an everyday mountaintop experience for Jesus and for his friends, Peter, James, and John.

The Transfiguration is a vision with rich symbolism:

Jesus is affirmed by the presence of two central figures of Israel’s past: Moses and Elijah.

Jesus is both transformed but still himself, a foreshadowing of Easter.

  And much like at Jesus’ baptism, a voice from heaven announces: “This is my Son, my Beloved; with him I well pleased; listen to him!”

The most poignant moment in the story is when Peter wants to build dwellings for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Peter wants to memorialize this mountaintop experience, to hold onto it for as long as he can.

And who can blame him, right?

But, of course, that’s not the way it works.

And so, Jesus and his friends come down the mountain and begin the journey to Jerusalem and all that awaits them there.

We all know that feeling of returning to the ordinary after an extraordinary experience.

We all know what it feels like to face something frightening, to face something painful.

        And yet, in the ordinary times, and even in the hard times, there are everyday mountaintop experiences: simple, beautiful, powerful moments when we can feel God’s presence, God’s activity, within and among us.

If only we remember to pay attention.

Amen.

Synchronicity

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 8, 2026

Year A: The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany

Isaiah 58:1-12

Psalm 112

1 Corinthians 2:1-16

Matthew 5:13-20

Synchronicity

Well, the leaders of our church had a very busy January.

As most of you know, throughout the month we held Focus Group meetings on Sundays after the morning services and on Zoom during the week.

These meetings were an opportunity for our leaders to present a vision of how we might meet some of our current needs and to dream a little bit about the future of this old but quite active church.

It was really gratifying to see how many of you attended the meetings – sometimes coming back for more – and it was great that so many of you shared your own ideas and hopes.

A month ago, the kitchen was much lower on our priority list than it is now.

And we heard you about enhancing our offerings for children and youth.

Whatever we decide about a capital campaign – whatever the outcome of this process – the work we’ve been doing – the work itself – has been holy and valuable.

In spiritual terms, we’ve been engaged in discernment – sacred listening and reflection – opening our eyes, ears, minds, and hearts to determine God’s will for us – trying our best to follow where God is leading.

Unfortunately, discernment is often limited to people like Rev. Amelia and me, who have “discerned” that we are called to ordained ministry.

But God is always calling all of us – both lay and ordained.

God is always calling us onward, nudging us forward.

But God is usually subtle, so we have to pray and listen and reflect on our own, and together as a community.

When I was in seminary, I actually took a whole class about discernment.

It was a great course, though I sometimes think I should have paid more attention – I’ve kind of zigzagged a lot over these past twenty years.

But one of the discernment exercises that we did in the class has stuck with me: we were each asked to create a synchronicity journal. 

A synchronicity journal.

The idea was that when we wrote in our journal, we should pay close attention to how different strands of our life that might seem disconnected could be heading in the same direction, kind of like a spiritual merge onto the “Beltway” of life.

So, here’s a very basic example: let’s say the rector of your church suggested that, you know, you would make a great lector. Would you consider reading the lessons or leading the prayers in church?

“Hmm. Well, thank you! I’ll consider it.”

And then, during the week somebody at work says to you, you know, you have a great voice. Have you ever done radio or voiceovers?

Well, that would be a couple of different strands, from different parts of your life, seemingly coincidental but, in fact, converging, heading in the same direction.

And so, in your synchronicity journal, you might notice these converging strands and write about that and think about how God might be calling you – how God might be calling you to use your voice.

Now, synchronicity isn’t magic and you can’t force it, but when you really start paying attention, you’re likely to become more aware of God’s call and God’s will.

And synchronicity isn’t just something that happens to us.

With God’s help, we can choose synchronicity.

We can line up the different strands of our life so they all point in more or less the same direction.

We can live lives of integrity and consistency.

We can live in a way so that what we say and do here in church matches what we say and do out in the world.

Which brings me to today’s powerful and challenging first lesson from the Prophet Isaiah.

Here’s the context:

In the 6th Century BCE, at least some of the people of Israel returned from exile in Babylon.

They had thought that once they got back home, all their problems would be solved, and God would restore Israel’s might, power, and glory.

But that has not happened – and the people are puzzled.

I mean, they think they’re doing everything right – they’re going to the temple and making the required sacrifices – the necessary prayers are being offered – they’re even fasting, for heaven’s sake.

And still nothing.

So, what’s the problem?

Well, speaking through the Prophet Isaiah, God gives the answer: Your worship and prayer and sacrifices don’t match how you are living your lives.

While you’re busy being “religious,” you’re also oppressing your workers.

      While you’re busy being “religious,” you’re fighting among yourselves.

      This inconsistency, this incongruity, is a sad state of affairs – one that should be familiar to us because throughout history - and certainly today - we’ve seen people say they are Christians, wear shiny symbols of our faith, go to church and pray piously, and then go out into the world and say and do the most appalling things.

      It’s a sad state of affairs, but God didn’t leave the people Israel there.

      And God doesn’t leave us there, either.

      God calls us back to synchronicity – back to consistency and integrity between what we say and do in here and what we say and do out there in the world.

      God says:

 Is not this the fast that I choose:

to loose the bonds of injustice,

to undo the thongs of the yoke,

to let the oppressed go free,

and to break every yoke?

        Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,

and bring the homeless poor into your house;

when you see the naked, to cover them,

and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

        Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,

and your healing shall spring up quickly;

your vindicator shall go before you,

the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.

        Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer;

you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

Today, considering what’s going on around us, we might want to take the bulletin home with us and reread those words - reflect, and pray on those words.

In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus picks up on the theme of light – calling us to let our light shine – not to brag, not to be praised or admired by others, but so people give glory to God.

And, you know, the fastest way for us to dim our light is by being inconsistent between how we are in here and how we are out there.

People see and smell that and will rightfully reject us as hypocrites, like so many others.

But if, with God’s help, if we gather the different strands of our life and live synchronous lives – if we live as the same people when we’re in church or at home or at work or at school or in the store or in the car or on the internet – if we live those kinds of lives, then God is glorified. 

      And our overshadowed world will receive much-needed light.

Amen.

Everyone Is Invited

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

January 18, 2026

Year A: The Second Sunday after the Epiphany

Isaiah 49:1-7

Psalm 40:1-12

1 Corinthians 1:1-9

John 1: 29-42

Everyone Is Invited

As I hope you all know by now, we have begun holding Focus Group Meetings, on Sundays after the two morning services and also during the week on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

The Sunday meetings are in person, over in the Parish Hall, and the weekday meetings are on Zoom, which we hope will give everyone who loves St. Thomas’ an opportunity to attend and participate.

I have found the first four meetings to be very moving experiences.

It’s been inspiring to hear our wardens and other leaders present a vision of how we can continue to build on the firm foundation that we’ve inherited from our spiritual ancestors – how we can care for our organ so that it can ring out with God’s praises for many years to come – how we can appropriately remember our brothers and sisters buried in the North Cemetery – how we can live even more deeply into our vocation as a servant church.

Our leaders have been presenting a lot of information, plenty of facts and figures, but, most of all, they’ve been speaking from the heart.

The love that our leaders have for this place and our ministries has been shining forth so beautifully.

And it’s not just our leaders.

What I like most about how we’re doing these Focus Group Meetings is that, not only is everyone invited to attend, but everyone is invited to share their thoughts, to share what they – you – see as our greatest needs.

Everyone is invited to reflect on what God might be calling us to do.

Everyone is invited to dream.

Everyone is invited.

It hadn’t really occurred to me until a couple of days ago, that we are undertaking these conversations and reflections – we are extending these invitations – during the season of Epiphany – which, some of you will remember, was the name of our last capital campaign, twenty-five years ago.

Epiphany means “manifestation.”

And during these weeks between Christmas and Lent, we celebrate the manifestation of Christ to the people of the world.

Epiphany begins with the arrival of the stargazing, gift-bearing Magi – the mysterious visitors from the East.

Although they’re not Jews, they travel far to honor the newborn king, to pay him homage.

And then last Sunday, we heard the story of Jesus’ baptism – when anyone who happened to be listening would have heard the voice of God declare:

“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Epiphany.

The manifestation of Christ to the people of the world.

And now, in today’s lesson from the Gospel of John, we hear John the Baptist remember baptizing Jesus.

And then John points to Jesus.

John points to Jesus and says, “Look! Here is the Lamb of God.”

Another epiphany – an epiphany that draws Andrew and the other disciple to follow Jesus, to find out what this “Lamb of God” is all about.

And there are more epiphanies: Jesus gently invites Andrew and the other disciple to “Come and see.”

And then Andrew passes on the invitation to his brother Simon and before we know it, Jesus has begun gathering his little band of followers, the little band that will eventually grow into the church all around the world, including right here at St. Thomas’.

Right here at St. Thomas’, where everyone is invited to participate, not only in our Focus Group meetings, but everyone is invited to participate in everything.

St. Thomas’, where everyone is invited.

I really like the words of today’s opening prayer, what’s called the collect:

“Grant that your people, illumined by your Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ’s glory.”

Isn’t that beautiful?

And, you know, one of the privileges of my job is that I get to see so many of you shining with the radiance of Christ’s glory all the time.

I see the radiance of Christ’s glory shining through our Focus Group presenters, people who care so much about the mission of the church, people who devote an extraordinary amount of time and talent to strengthen our church so we can be even more faithful, more effective in sharing the Good News in word and deed.

I see the radiance of Christ’s glory shining through so many of you who have already attended our meetings, wanting the best for this holy place, sharing your experiences and insights.

And, of course, I see the radiance of Christ’s glory shining through you any day of the week as you tutor children at Owings Mills Elementary School, make sandwiches for the hungry, make sure our church is ready and beautiful for worship, sing God’s praises, welcome people as they arrive at church, teach our children, care for our cemetery, puzzle over The Screwtape Letters, and on and on.

And I see the radiance of Christ’s glory shining through you each time you invite someone into our community, each time you pass along Jesus’ holy invitation to “come and see.”

These holy invitations – these holy invitations to people who may not even know what they’re looking for – these holy invitations are so important.

In fact, a holy invitation once changed my life.

I’ve told you this story at least once before, but it’s a good one, and, besides, not everyone’s heard it.

So, about twenty-five years ago, I was teaching history at St. Peter’s Prep in Jersey City, my high school alma mater.

Sue and I had been married for a couple of years and things were good. But at some point, I realized that, although I was sort of getting church through my job, it wasn’t something that Sue and I shared.

So, I suggested that we go to Mass at our local Catholic church.

I won’t get into details but, in short, it was not a good experience.

The following week, I was telling this story in the faculty room, probably exaggerating how uninspiring the service was to get cheap laughs. After the room settled down, one of my colleagues, Patty Nickerson, said quietly, “You should come to my church sometime.”

And the following Sunday, Sue and I accepted Patty’s invitation and worshiped at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, just a few blocks from our house in Jersey City.

And not unlike Andrew and the other disciple and Peter, that invitation changed our lives – sending us down a path that I could not have imagined, opening us to experiences we could not have dreamed, eventually leading us here with all of you.

After I talked about that long-ago holy invitation during our Wednesday Bible Study, a few others who were there told their stories of invitation – simple, quiet invitations that changed them, invitations that led them to St. Thomas’, invitations that were indeed epiphanies, manifestations of Christ.

So, it’s the Season of Epiphany and Christ is being manifested to our weary and hurting world.

It’s the Season of Epiphany, and as always, our church is jumping with plenty of activity – opportunities for worship and learning, chances to dream big about our future, ways to care for one another and to tend to our community.

It’s the Season of Epiphany and the radiance of Christ’s glory is shining through St. Thomas’, shining through you.

It’s the Season of Epiphany and everyone – absolutely everyone – is invited.

Amen.

God’s Indissoluble Bond of Love

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

January 11, 2026

Year A: The First Sunday after the Epiphany

Isaiah 42:1-9

Psalm 29

Acts 10:34-43

Matthew 3:13-17

God’s Indissoluble Bond of Love

I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long time since Sue and I have attended a New Year’s Eve Party.

Instead, for us, New Year’s Eve is pretty much like any other night.

I’m an early riser, so I never stay up to watch the Times Square countdown.

I will say that this year my sleep was interrupted by the midnight fireworks – so I was drowsily and none too happily alerted that a new year had begun.

Didn’t these people know that January 1 is the Feast of the Holy Name and we had a service at 9:00 am!?!

I guess not.

Even though in reality it’s just another day, many of us invest at least some meaning in the end of one year and the start of another.

There are all those “Best of” lists: books, movies, music, ... sermons.

Of course, some of us make New Year’s resolutions.

And for a week or two, the gyms are a little more crowded, and the bars maybe a little less so.

But the truth is that, starting a new year doesn’t make much difference in our lives and certainly not in the world.

All the challenges and horrors of the old year are still very much with us.

This is always true, of course, but maybe it’s even more true this year.

Our divisions seem as deep as ever.

We can watch the same videos of the tragic killing of Renee Nicole Good in Minneapolis – we can see the same images and draw wildly different conclusions.

Maybe that’s always been true. 

What’s definitely true is that our world is clearly entering a new era. 

      Old norms of speech and behavior have been discarded.

      Old alliances are being strained, even dismantled.

      The postwar order – the only order most have us have ever known – is ending.

And something new, or perhaps something very old, is beginning.

Some of us think this change is long overdue and welcome.

While others of us worry, what kind of world awaits us when so much that we have known and trusted and even taken for granted is passing away?

So, maybe it’s more important than ever for us to remember the one bond that can never be broken, no matter the change of year, no matter the change of season, no matter war or peace.

Maybe it’s more important than ever for us to remember that, in baptism, God makes an indissoluble bond of love with us.

No matter what we do or don’t do, no matter what happens in the world around us, God just won’t ever let go of us.

In baptism, God makes an indissoluble bond of love with us.

Today, on the First Sunday after the Epiphany, we always hear the story of Jesus’ baptism.

In somewhat different ways, all four gospels tell us about Jesus’ baptism.

Today we heard Matthew’s version, which presents the story as both a personal experience for Jesus – he sees God’s Spirit descending upon him like a dove – and also as a public event – God announces to anyone listening:

“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

At our Wednesday Bible Study, we talked about a couple of interesting questions:

When did Jesus fully grasp who he was?

When did he fully understand his mission?

It could be that, in some sense, Jesus knew all along.

Or maybe there came a time when Mary sat him down and told him the story of his miraculous birth, the angel, the shepherds, the Magi.

“Son, there are some things I need to tell you.”

Or maybe it was a gradual awakening and understanding.

Or maybe it was not until the first Easter morning when he left the tomb.

We don’t really know, but if you and I have ever met, then you know that I think it’s at his baptism that Jesus learns who he really is, whose he is, and what he is meant to do.

And in the Gospels of Mark, Matthew, and Luke, right after Jesus’ baptism, he is sent into the wilderness to undergo forty days and nights of testing.

And then Jesus begins his work of love, healing, teaching, sacrifice.

And I would suggest that it’s at our baptism that we learn who we really are, whose we are, and what we are meant to do.

We are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.

And knowing that God has made an indissoluble bond of love with us, we can, with God’s help, do the ongoing work of love, healing, teaching, sacrifice.

I would also say that in this most uncertain time, the church is more important than ever – this church is more important than ever for us.

Yes, of course, we can pray anywhere and discover God at Wegmans or Royal Farms, or out on the NCR Trail.

And, yes, you could certainly be baptized elsewhere, maybe in the Chesapeake or even the kitchen sink.

But it’s here that we that we gather around the font and pray with and for the newly baptized.

It’s here that we gather with people, all different kinds of people, yes, people who watch the same video and see things we don’t see – all different kinds of people and we pray together, serve together, love one another.

The church is more important than ever – this church is more important than ever.

And it needs our support.

I’m always reluctant to talk about pledging because, obviously, I have some self-interest. But there are a still some very faithful parishioners – people who I know love this place – who have not yet pledged.

The money is important, but it’s the commitment – our commitment to this place – that matters most.

In this uncertain time, our church is more important than ever – and there’s nobody else to take care of this beautiful community, this beautiful place – just us – so we really need everyone “all in.”

And today we hold our first focus group meetings, to look more deeply at the needs of our church, to dream a bit about our future, and to reflect on what God might be calling us to do.

In religious language, the process we’re beginning today is called discernment – and prayerful discernment is always worthwhile, always good, no matter the outcome.

So, I hope that you’ll participate in at least one of these sessions and share your thoughts on our plans, on our future.

So, by nature, I am a somewhat anxious person.

I try to keep a lid on it, but it’s true.

Of course, I worry about lots of things, but I am not frightened of the future.

I’m not frightened because we have one another. We have this amazing community of love, healing, teaching, sacrifice.

I’m not frightened because just as Jesus was baptized, I was baptized – we were baptized.

And in the water of baptism, God has made an indissoluble bond of love with me, an indissoluble bond of love with us all.

God just won’t let go of us.

No matter the year, no matter the season, no matter what.

Amen.

Every Season is a Season of Celebration

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

March 2, 2025

Year C: The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

Exodus 34:29-35

Psalm 99

2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2

Luke 9:28-36

Every Season is a Season of Celebration

Let us pray.

O God, whether we are up on the mountaintop or down in the valley, give us the gift of awe, help us to recognize and celebrate your love and your healing at work in and among us.

Amen.

        Well, last weekend, we had a couple of really great days here at St. Thomas’.

On Saturday afternoon, of course, we had our magnificent recital: “A Journey of Song: A Celebration of Heritage and Hope.”

David Marshall dreamed up a beautiful program for us and the musicianship was extraordinary. No surprise there.

But, even more important than the amazing technical skill, there was so much heart – heart that we could all hear in the songs, heart that we could feel here in this old building among parishioners and friends and guests.

For Sue and me, the recital was extra-meaningful because it was a reunion with one of our all-time favorite people, Gail Blache-Gill, who had been the Minister of Music at our church in Jersey City. 

It’s hard to find exactly the right words to describe what it felt like to see and hear Gail sing at St. Thomas’ – it was kind of like weaving together different threads of my life, of our lives, creating something unexpected and new, something that felt just right.

As if that weren’t enough, three of our Jersey City parishioners surprised us by making the trip down to Maryland, transforming the recital into a real family reunion.

So that was amazing.

And then on Sunday we gathered in the Parish Hall for our Annual Meeting.

Meetings can be a drag, believe me I know, but our meeting felt like a celebration – a celebration of your extraordinary generosity, a celebration of all the life-giving ministries that happen here all the time, and a celebration of some big plans in the years ahead:

        We’re going to transform what was formerly the assistant’s house into a home for Afghan refugees.

        We’re going to enclose and memorialize the North Cemetery.

        We’re going to fully rehabilitate the organ, which should continue to serve our church for many decades.

        We’re going to connect to the sewer system (that may not sound glamorous but it’s a big deal!).

        And, lest we forget, we will hire a full-time Assistant Rector so we can do and support even more ministries and help keep me going, too!

        All with God’s help, of course.

        Yes, last weekend was really something – it was a celebration of song and ministry.

        You might even say that, for us, for St. Thomas’, last weekend was a mountaintop experience. 

        And now here we are today.

        It’s the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday and the start of the holy season of Lent.

        And every year on this day in our gospel lesson we hear the story of another mountaintop experience: the Transfiguration.

        As we just heard, Jesus is transformed before their eyes, giving a glimpse of Easter, when Jesus is still himself but also different – a preview of Easter, when Jesus journeys from death to new life.

        In this mountaintop experience, Jesus and his closest disciples, Peter, James, and John, encounter two key figures from Israel’s past, Moses and Elijah.

        On the mountain, Jesus and his friends hear the voice of God: “This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him.”

        And as suddenly as the mountaintop experience began, it was over.

        It was time to come down the mountain, back into our broken and suffering world.

        Who could blame Peter for wanting to build mountaintop dwellings for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah?

        Who could blame Peter for wanting to stay “up there” forever?

        And then, in the second part of today’s gospel lesson, we get a snapshot of the world’s suffering:

        A father desperately seeking help for his son, for his only child.

        The well-meaning disciples trying to help, trying to fix the situation, but they fail.

        In Luke’s version of this story, Jesus doesn’t explain why the disciples can’t cast out this demon, but in Mark he says that this kind of demon can only be defeated by prayer and in Matthew he says that the disciples just didn’t have enough faith.

        But, far from the mountaintop, in this valley of suffering, Jesus casts out the demon and restores the boy to health.

        Just like for Jesus and his disciples and just like every mountaintop experience, our amazing weekend at St. Thomas’ eventually came to an end.

        We all went back down the mountain to our routines and responsibilities.

        We all went back home to face our challenges and fears.

        At some point, most of us probably turned on the news or doomscrolled through social media, filled with stories of cruelty and violence, suffering and loss. 

        Life is hard in the valley of suffering.

        This is why it is so important for us to be here week after week.

        Now, I’m not going to say that every Sunday is a mountaintop experience, although if our hearts are really open to what’s happening here, then maybe.

        But I will say that, when we’re here together, every season is a season of celebration.

        I came across an interesting quote from Abraham Joshua Heschel, the great 20th century Jewish theologian, philosopher and civil rights activist.

Heschel draws a distinction between entertainment and celebration.

        Entertainment, he says, is a passive state, “it is to receive pleasure afforded by an amusing act or spectacle.”

         But “celebration is an active state, an act of expressing reverence or appreciation.”  

        So, every time we gather here, it’s a celebration – a celebration of God’s love for us, a celebration of our love of God and our love for one another.

        Every time we gather here – when we hear God’s Word, when we receive Christ’s Body and Blood, when we exchange a sign of peace especially when there’s not much peace “out there” in the world, it’s a celebration.

        Every time we welcome a new Christian in the water of Baptism, that’s a celebration. Obviously. Everybody knows that!

        But every time we gather here after a beloved sister or brother has died, as hard as that is, it’s also a celebration – it’s a celebration because we remember the person we’ve loved and why we loved them and now miss them so much – it’s a celebration because we hold each other up – it’s a celebration because we know that the Transfiguration is a glimpse of Jesus’ future and our own – God will not let go of us, no matter what.

        Even Lent, which maybe doesn’t seem so celebratory, and, considering the grim state of the world, we might even be tempted to skip this year, even Lent is a celebration.

        It’s a celebration to remember that we are dust, totally dependent on our loving God.

        It’s a celebration to repent, to turn around, to be even more loving, more faithful, more generous.

        It’s a celebration to prepare for the biggest celebration of them all – to prepare for Easter.

        It’s at Easter when we learn, when we know, that evil and death do not get the last word – that, even when things look as hopeless as a sealed tomb, even when shadows seem to be blocking all the light, love and life will triumph.

        So, last week we had quite a weekend here at St. Thomas’, days that I know I won’t forget anytime soon.

        And maybe we can’t promise a mountaintop experience quite like that every week.

        But, whether we’re up on the mountain or down in the valley, when we gather here with Jesus and his friends, every season is a season of celebration.

        Amen.

Less Woeful, More Blessed

Less Woeful, More Blessed

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 23, 2025

Year C: The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany

Genesis 45:3-11, 15

Psalm 37:1-12, 41-42

1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50

Luke 6:27-38

Let us pray. 

Loving God, help us to follow the way of Jesus.

Help us to follow the way of love, generosity, and mercy.

Help us to make this world less woeful and more blessed.

Amen.

So, as you know, each week we hear various excerpts from Holy Scripture. 

And, by the way, we follow a schedule of Bible readings. So, I don’t choose the scripture that we hear – and, sometimes, maybe like today, for example, I might have made a different choice!

One problem with this system is that it’s easy to get so focused on these individual passages that we miss the big picture, the context, we don’t pay any attention to what was happening in the background of the biblical world, we don’t know or forget what life was like for Jesus and for all of the other people we read about in the Bible.

It’s important for us to remember that life in biblical times was almost unimaginably difficult.

Of course, there were none of our modern conveniences – none of the gadgets that make our lives so comfortable – no electricity which Sue and I sorely missed last week when the high winds brought down trees and knocked out our power – the house got cold really fast.

I know lots of you were in the same boat.

Back in biblical times, people were completely dependent on the harvest and the catch – a drought or an empty net meant hunger or even worse.

And while there were folk remedies and maybe some of them even worked, there was, of course, no modern medicine – no vaccines or antibiotics or scans or surgery – none of the marvels that have restored so many of us to health, none of the discoveries and innovations that have kept so many of us alive.

Yes, life in biblical times was almost unimaginably difficult.

And, in the first century, during the days of Jesus’ earthly life, on top of the usual challenges, the people of Israel lived under Roman occupation.

Now, the Romans were great builders. In fact, some of their roads, and aqueducts, and buildings are still in use today – which, let’s give them credit, is amazing.

But those impressive achievements were built on the backs of poor people throughout the empire – the people who were forced to send so much of their wealth to Rome.

And, of course, if any of those subjugated people ever dared to resist Rome, the punishment was swift and brutal.

Crucifixion, which was really death by suffocation, was common. And, unlike in the case of Jesus, usually the bodies of the crucified were left on the cross to decay, a horrifying sight, a stark reminder of the price of challenging the powers that be. 

So, it’s in a land of suffering, that Jesus offers what we heard last week, what’s often called the Sermon on the Plain.

It’s in a land of suffering that Jesus presents his downside-up vision, “Blessed are the poor, the hungry, the weeping, and the hated.”

And it’s in a land of suffering that Jesus warns the people who were living large, the people who were doing well while so many were suffering: “Woe to you who are rich and full and laughing and respected.”

If this all sounds bizarrely downside-up to us, which it does, imagine just how crazy Jesus’ words must have seemed to people living under Roman occupation!

And now, in today’s excerpt from the Gospel of Luke, we hear the continuation of the Sermon on the Plain, the continuation of Jesus’ downside-up vision of how we are to live together.

Jesus’ downside-up vision of how things were always meant to be.

We are meant to love our enemies, to turn the other cheek, to give away what we have, to do to others as we would have them do to us.

We are to be merciful, just as Joseph was merciful to his brothers who had sold him into slavery, just as God is merciful to all of us.

You won’t be surprised that Jesus’ most challenging vision got me thinking about baptism – got me thinking about the big promises we make in the Baptismal Covenant – to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self – to strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being.

With God’s help. Always and only with God’s help.

Finally, at the very end of today’s passage, Jesus says, “the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

That sounds like a quid pro quo with God – that if we’re good then God will be good to us.

But we know that’s not how God does things.

Instead, I think Jesus is simply stating a fact: when we are loving and generous and merciful, then, with God’s help, we create a church, a community, a world, that is more loving, generous, and merciful.

The measure we give will be the measure we get back, and, knowing God, we will always receive way more than we give.

So, I’m not sure if I would have chosen this most challenging gospel lesson for the day of our Annual Parish Meeting, but the more I’ve thought about it, I think it is exactly right for us today.

Out there, the ways of the world continue to be… the ways of the world.

A first century Jew brought to our time would be dazzled, shocked, and confused by many things, but the cruelty and oppression and suffering of so many people in so many places would be all too familiar.

But, here at St. Thomas’, while we are certainly not perfect, there is a sincere and honest attempt to follow the downside-up way of Jesus, the way of love, generosity, and mercy.

I hope that you will take the time to read our Annual Report – a lot of people worked really hard on it, most especially Jane Farnan, our dedicated Parish Administrator.

There’s a lot of data in the Annual Report but at its heart is a story of one Christian community here in the Baltimore suburbs doing its best to make Jesus’ downside-up vision a reality.

It’s a story of this church, with God’s help, trying to make the world a little less woeful and a little more blessed.

While the world teaches us to be selfish, while the world insists there’s just not enough so we better hold on to what we’ve got, here we give so much away.

Think of the thousands of sandwiches made for the guests at Paul’s Place and the hundreds of bags of supplies and all those Thanksgiving bags shared with the people at the Community Crisis Center.

And I was so touched that so many of you bought tickets for the Sutton Scholars event at Top Golf on Thursday night – some of you buying tickets even though you couldn’t be there, even though you missed the chance to see me make a fool of myself trying to swing a golf club.

While the world teaches us to fear and even despise strangers, we continue to welcome and support and love our Afghan friends, giving countless hours to make sure they have every chance to thrive here in their new home.

On Thursday evening, at that Sutton Scholars event, Betty Symington of ERICA pulled me aside to thank me for your generosity, your persistence, your steadfastness. I’ve had very little  to do with that but I was proud to accept her thanks on your behalf.

While the world pushes us apart, dividing us up, here at St. Thomas’ everyone is welcome – all kinds of people from lots of different places with all sorts of different ideas – everyone is welcome here.

And as I have preached many times and will continue to preach in the days ahead, this is one of the last places where lots of different people can come together, pray and serve together, love one another.

It’s a special vocation, and one that we must protect, cherish and nourish.

While the world insists that the church is in decline and the future looks bleak, God sent us two remarkably faithful women who have said “yes” to God’s call, and we have been so blessed by Amelia’s and Sue’s gifts – and I know that I can’t wait to see the next chapters of their ministries.

And God continues to send us so many wonderful new people who have gotten involved in our ministries and have even taken on leadership positions.

For example, our Stewardship chair Amy Sussman, Preschool Board chair Kathy Resnik, new Treasurer Brian Lyght, Vestry member Shyla Cadogan, and Green Team co-chair Leslie Steele – they are all newer to St. Thomas’ than me. Isn’t that amazing?

While the world often seems so ugly, and getting uglier by the minute, here at St. Thomas’ there is a commitment to beauty – caring for our buildings and grounds, polishing the silver and ironing the linens, arranging gorgeous flowers every week – and our choir sings with astonishing skill and faithfulness – what a place of beauty this is!

And speaking of beauty, yesterday’s Spirituals recital created by David Marshall (also newer than me!) was incredibly beautiful and moving, a real comfort during challenging days.

I could go on, but I won’t because I know you’ll read the Annual Report.

Seriously, please read the report because in words and numbers, it tells the story of St. Thomas’ Church as we follow the downside-up way of Jesus, the challenging way of love, generosity, and mercy.

As Deacon Amelia said in her wise and thoughtful sermon last week, we do this work together.

Here at St. Thomas’, with God’s help, together, we make the world a little less woeful and a little more blessed.

Thanks be to God.

And thanks be to you.

Amen.