One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

November 5, 2024

Election Day Prayer Service

Deuteronomy 10:17-21

Psalm 145:1-9

Romans 8:38-39

Matthew 5:43-48

One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism

This past Sunday, during fellowship after the 10:00 service, one very kind parishioner told me that she was worried about me.

Specifically, she was worried about how I would do at our service here this evening – concerned that I would stray into partisan politics and get myself into some trouble.

I really appreciate her care for me.

But there’s no need to worry.

I mean, it’s true that in this anxious and overheated moment, almost anything can be heard through a partisan ear, seen through a partisan lens.

And, actually, that’s one of the reasons why we’re gathering tonight rather than last night. Even if I were inclined to be partisan in the pulpit, which I’m not, there’s no point.

Unless you’re going to get up and go vote right this minute, it’s over.

For better or for worse, what’s done is done.

We are now in that uncomfortable in-between time, between voting and receiving the results.

But I’m also not worried about being misheard or misinterpreted because tonight I don’t really want to talk about the election.

No, I want to talk about… Baptism.

(Plot twist, I know!)

When I meet with someone about to be baptized, or, more often, when I meet with parents preparing to have their child baptized, I always discuss the multiple meanings of Baptism.

There’s forgiveness of sin – the washing away of our inherited tendency to selfishness, our destructive habit of rebelling against God.

There’s initiation – it’s through Baptism that we become members of the Church.

And, like Holy Communion, Baptism is also a sacrament of unity.

In the familiar words of the Letter to the Ephesians, words that we say at the start of each Baptism service:

There is one Body and one Spirit;

There is one hope in God’s call to us;

One Lord, one Faith, one Baptism;

One God and Father of all.

Baptism is a sacrament of unity.

We are united with God – an unbreakable unity, a bond that can never be dissolved no matter what we do or don’t do, no matter how many times we mess up, no matter who the president is.

Baptism is a sacrament of unity.

And we are united with one another – and although we often try to break it apart, this is also an unbreakable unity, a bond that can never be dissolved no matter what we do or don’t do, no matter how many times we mess up, no matter our political affiliation, no matter who we voted for, no matter who wins this election.

Baptism is a sacrament of unity.

And this amazing gift – this indestructible bond with God and one another - calls for a response from us.

Since there is nothing that can separate us from God’s love – since God will not let go of us no matter what – we are free – we are truly free to be bold and generous.

No matter who wins the election, this is very good news for us all.

In a few minutes, we are going to renew our Baptismal Covenant.

With God’s help, and because we have been washed in this sacrament of unity, we can go for it:

We can gather here with our Christian siblings, week after week, in times good and in times anxious, like tonight.

We can acknowledge our mistakes, admit when we’ve fallen short, asking for forgiveness and for the strength to do better.

With God’s help, and because we have been washed in this sacrament of unity, we can proclaim the Good News by what we say and what we do.

We can seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self – and, yes, that includes both Republicans and Democrats.

We can strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being – and, yes, that includes independents and the indifferent, too.

With God’s help, and because we have been washed in this sacrament of unity, we can really do these good and holy things.

In fact, as an old friend of mine used to say, “I don’t have to believe it because I’ve seen it!”

Here at St. Thomas’, here at this servant church, over and over, I’ve seen us strive to live out our Baptismal promises, loving boldly and generously.

With God’s help.

Finally, I’m going to invite you to use your imagination.

I’ve mentioned to a few of you that I have a little dream about a change I’d like to make inside of our church.

As you know, our baptismal font is tucked away here in the corner, which is not ideal symbolism, and also makes it hard for most people to actually see our baptisms.

So, my little dream is that someday, maybe, we could move our font to the center of our church, right there in the middle of the aisle (which, I’ll just note, is extra-wide).

This would wonderfully symbolize the central place of Baptism in our Christian life, and it would allow us to gather around the font each time we welcome a new Christian.

Now, we have a lot of capital projects in the works, and I know changing things in the church can be understandably upsetting for many people.

So, at least for now, I’d like you to just imagine.

Imagine our font, right there in the center of the aisle, in the heart of our church.

Now, imagine all of us gathered around the font.

Imagine that we’re all here, our own communion of saints, parishioners past, present, and future, all of us washed in this sacrament of unity, our differences set aside and our anxieties at rest. 

Imagine what is profoundly true:

There is one Body and one Spirit;

There is one hope in God’s call to us;

One Lord, one Faith, one Baptism;

One God and Father of all.

Amen.

Removing the Trappings of Death

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

November 3, 2024

Year B: All Saints’ Sunday

Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-9

Psalm 24

Revelation 21:1-6a

John 11:32-44

Removing the Trappings of Death

Today is All Saints' Sunday, when we celebrate the women and men throughout history recognized by the Church for their holiness: the apostles and martyrs, the “fools for Christ.”

And today we also recall the saints of our own lives – people unlikely to ever receive any official acknowledgment – but men and women whose sanctity has touched us and others in powerful and life-changing ways.

If you’ve been around here for a while and paying attention to my sermons, you’ve already met some of my personal saints:

There’s my grandmother Rita who faced her final illness with profound faith. Once, when I was sitting beside her hospital bed, she suddenly turned to me and said, “I know where I’ve come from, and I know where I am going.”

Whether she realized it or not, she was quoting Jesus in the Gospel of John.

And there’s Dave, who was the rector of our church in Jersey City. On our very first Sunday there, at the Exchange of Peace he made his way down the aisle to Sue and me, extended his hand and said, “I’m Dave. Welcome to St. Paul’s.”

His welcome changed our lives forever, beginning for me a journey from teacher to priest, a journey that eventually led Sue and me here with all of you.

And there’s Paula, a woman about my age, sick for a long time, dying of cancer. One time when I was sitting with her in the hospital she said to me, “When I first got sick, I asked ‘Why me?’ But now, having seen all these other sick people, I ask ‘Why not me?’”

And there’s Sister June, who for decades led St. Vincent Academy, an all-girls high school in Newark. Along with other remarkably dedicated and talented educators, she stayed in that struggling city, while many other institutions either closed or fled to the suburbs. When I interviewed for a job St. Vincent’s, she told me that my job wouldn’t just be teaching history, that the school’s work wasn’t only education. No, the school’s mission was doing our part in Christ’s ongoing redemption of the world.

These are some of my personal saints – not perfect people, of course - but their holiness and faithfulness are gifts that continue to inspire and challenge me, continue to shape my life.

I hope today you’ll recall your own personal saints and give thanks for their witness.

And today - with God’s help and with all humility - maybe we can aspire to be saints in our broken and frightened and angry world.

But how might we do that?

        Well, let’s look at today’s gospel lesson, the raising of Lazarus.

        During his earthly ministry, Jesus worked many miracles, performed many signs. We heard one of his greatest just last week: restoring the sight of the bind beggar, Bartimaeus. 

        But the raising of Lazarus is Jesus’ greatest sign, pointing to what his life and ministry are all about: defeating death and offering new life.

        This can be hard for us to believe, especially when death seems to have the upper hand.

        I mean, even Jesus’ friends Mary and Martha, Lazarus’ sisters, they trusted in Jesus, they believed that if Jesus had been present during their brother’s illness, he could have and would have healed his friend, just as he had healed so many others.

        But even Mary and Martha, who knew and loved Jesus so well, even they couldn’t imagine that Jesus could and would offer new life to their dead brother.

        After all, four days in the tomb is a long time.

        Well, you just heard what happened next.

        Jesus calls the dead man out of his tomb, and to the totally understandable shock of everyone present, Lazarus lives again.

        I want to point out one easy-to-miss detail in this story.

        When Lazarus came out of the tomb, he was still wrapped in his burial cloth.

        Jesus says, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

        Jesus offers new life.

        But, as my friend Sister June and so many other saints have understood, we have a role to play in this ongoing redemption.

        Jesus offers us new life.

        And Jesus calls us to unbind one another, to remove the trappings of death.

        This is not easy work, because, especially today, the trappings of death in our world are very powerful and frightening – they’re heavy and they hold us tight.

        The trappings of death poison so many of our hearts.

        The trappings of death include:

        Our refusal to give others the benefit of the doubt, refusing to even try to understand their points of view.

        Our mistrust of people who are different, different in how they live, believe, love, think, and look.

        Our tendency to use cruel or even violent language – our tendency to use cruelty and violence in the mistaken belief that somehow this will solve all our problems.

        Our willingness to look away from the suffering of others, focusing only on our own needs and comforts, quick to blame others for their troubles, and conveniently letting ourselves off the hook.

        Our fear and faithlessness, forgetting that just like God did not give up on Lazarus, just like God did not leave Jesus dead in the tomb, God will not give up on us, will not let go of us, no matter what.

        I could go on, but these are some of the trappings of death that weigh us down.

        And, yes, especially two days before Election Day, we can feel those binds, can’t we?

        But Jesus offers us new life.

        And Jesus calls us to unbind one another, to remove the trappings of death.

        If you’ve been around for a while and paying attention to my sermons, not only do you already know some of my personal saints, but you’ve also heard me preaching a lot about the importance of community.

        I’ve often preached about the gift - the special vocation - of this particular community.

        St. Thomas’ is one of the few places around where we rub shoulders with, where we build relationships with, a diverse group of people, people who probably disagree with us about a whole lot.

        I’ve never taken a poll, and I really don’t want to know, but I would guess that politically we’re about 50/50, Republican/Democrat.

        Just like our country, more or less.

        And yet.

        And yet, we pray together, week after week.

        We share a cup of coffee and a pastry together, week after week.

        We welcome absolutely everyone who comes through our doors, week after week.

        We offer loving service at Owings Mills Elementary School and the Community Crisis Center.

        We’re about to fill Thanksgiving bags for people we’ll never meet, for people who can never thank us or do anything for us in return, people we don’t know anything about except that they’re hungry – and that’s all we need to know.

        And when one of us is sick or in trouble or sorrowing, we offer hope and support, sending forth prayers to heaven, preparing meals, writing cards, making calls.

        The world binds us with the trappings of death - with fear and anger and hate – but here, here, no matter our differences, we love one another.

        Just like for Lazarus long ago, Jesus offers us new life.

        And Jesus calls us to unbind one another, to remove the trappings of death.

        With God’s help, this is our special vocation.

        With God’s help, this is the work of the church.

        With God’s help, this is the way to sainthood.

        Amen.

 

“Eyes Raised, Hands Joined, Feet Bare”

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

October 20, 2024

Year B, Proper 24: The Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost

Job 38:1-7

Psalm 104:1-9, 25, 37b

Hebrews 5:1-10

Mark 10:35-45

“Eyes Raised, Hands Joined, Feet Bare”

Some of you know that a week ago I made a silent retreat.

You may remember that this is something I’ve done before. But for those of you who didn’t know, yes, I can be quiet for a few days!

For this year’s retreat, I spent the week at a beautiful monastery tucked away in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia – amazingly, just a 90-minute drive from here.

Along with the Trappist monks who live, pray, and work there, about ten of us were on retreat – maintaining silence in the retreat house, taking our meals sitting side by side, not saying a word, which, I have to say, did make me self-conscious of my chewing and the little groans as my body began to digest the food.

A silent retreat gives the time, space, and, most of all, quiet to pray and to think.

And one of the things I reflected on is how I use, or misuse, my time. How much time I waste on unimportant things. How much time I waste scrolling through social media.

Often that scrolling is what they call doomscrolling, reading and looking at posts about all the terrible things going on in our country and world – the natural and human-made disasters, the wars and threats of war, and the approaching election that so many of us dread.

But, that said, sometimes you find something good or inspiring on social media.

For example, the other day, someone posted a letter that Pope Francis wrote to the men he had recently appointed as the newest cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church.

The main function of the cardinals is to elect the next pope.

But, throughout much of their history, many cardinals have wielded a lot of power, both within the church and in the secular world, too.

And often this power has been reflected and enhanced by living in great luxury, and by receiving deference from others.

And that deference may be best summed up by how cardinals have been traditionally addressed: “Your Eminence.”

So anyway, Pope Francis wrote to the newly appointed cardinals.

He called on them to have their “eyes raised, hands joined, and feet bare.”

“Eyes raised, hands joined, and feet bare.”

Eyes raised to see farther and love more deeply.

Hands joined in prayer.

And feet bare to touch the harsh realities of life, calling for them to be compassionate and merciful.

Eyes raised, hands joined, and feet bare.

I love that.

And then, here’s how the pope concluded his letter:

“I thank you for your generosity and I assure you of my prayers that the title of ‘servant’ will increasingly eclipse that of ‘eminence.’”

“That the title of ‘servant’ will increasingly eclipse that of ‘eminence.’”

Well, that sure sounds a lot like Jesus, doesn’t it?

Just now, while I was reading today’s gospel lesson, some of you regular churchgoers may have had a sense of déjà vu. 

It was just about a month ago that we heard a passage from a little earlier in the Gospel of Mark, that’s a lot like what we heard today.

In that first instance, Jesus and the disciples were walking along the road. Jesus is teaching – warning – preparing his friends that he is going to be betrayed, suffer, die, and rise again.

Meanwhile, what were the disciples talking about, arguing about?

Who among them was the greatest.

With infinite patience, Jesus taught the disciples, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”

That seems pretty clear. One would think that the disciples would’ve gotten the message.

But one would be wrong.

One would be wrong because Jesus’ message and example of servant leadership was radically countercultural in the first century, just as it’s radically countercultural today when most leaders would much rather be eminences rather than lowly servants.

And so here we are today, with the brothers James and John giving us a masterclass in not just getting it.

First, they say to Jesus: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

Demanding something of Jesus, that’s pretty gutsy.

And then it turns out that James and John have set their sights very high. They’re not interested in who’s the greatest here and now. No, they want the best seats, right beside Jesus, in the Kingdom.

It turns out, Jesus can’t grant that but, he warns the two bold brothers that what they’re asking is going to cost them – that following the way of Jesus – the way of loving service – is going to cost them, it will cost them everything.

The brothers say that they are able to make that sacrifice.

Not totally convincing, I have to say.

And, of course, true to form, the other ten disciples got mad at the brothers and so, yet again, with infinite patience, Jesus reminds them that for him – and for us – the way to true greatness is sacrifice, the way to true greatness is offering loving service.

It was around three years ago - after having spent a few months beginning to get to know this place, after getting to know at least some of you – it was around three years ago that I first suggested that God is calling us to be a “servant church.”

This wasn’t something that I just made up.

As I said back then, generously helping others is woven into the fabric of St. Thomas’ – long before I arrived here there was your deep commitment to Habitat for Humanity, Loaves and Fishes, and Paul’s Place – there was the Christmas Extravaganza - just to give a few examples.

But, over the last three years, what we’ve tried to do is move this beautiful truth about St. Thomas’ to the center of our lives together.

So that when we think about our church – and maybe even when people out there think of our church – one of the first things that we and they think of is that this is a church that doesn’t just serve itself, but this is a church that serves others.

And so, with “eyes raised, hands joined, and feet bare,” this servant church under the servant leadership of our Outreach co-chairs Margaret Green and Betsy Wilmerding, we’ve used our time and our gifts wisely.

We’ve welcomed and cared for new friends who’ve traveled a long and hard road from Afghanistan.

We’ve deepened our commitment and expanded our generosity to the Community Crisis Center.

And, of course, there’s “Owls First,” the new afterschool enrichment program now underway at Owings Mills Elementary School.

Plus, we’re just beginning to build a relationship with Owings Mills High School and just beginning to make friends with leaders in other neighboring faith communities – and who knows where that might lead?

We are a servant church with a lot of wonderful servant friends.

And today, on Outreach Sunday, some of those friends from the Community Crisis Center and Owings Mills Elementary and High Schools, and Hizbullah, our first and much-loved Afghan friend, will be speaking at the 10:00 service.

When you have a chance, I hope you’ll take a look at the video on our website or YouTube channel, or at least, read the descriptions of our outreach work and look at the photos right there in the center of today’s “magazine.”

Today is Outreach Sunday.

Today we celebrate the good work that God is doing in and through our servant church – the good work that God is doing among our servant friends.

“Eyes raised, hands joined, feet bare.”

Amen.

Serious Business, Abundant Mercy

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

October 6, 2024

Year B, Proper 22: The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

Job 1:1; 2:1-10

Psalm 26

Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12

Mark 10:2-16

Serious Business, Abundant Mercy

Since I started serving here, a little more than three years ago, one of the biggest surprises has been the weddings.

We’ve had quite a few weddings these last few years, and there are already a few on the calendar for 2025!

In a time when so many people have either flat out rejected the church, or have simply drifted away, I think that this is a very encouraging sign.

Now, I’m sure that some of the couples have chosen to have their weddings here, in part, for the beauty of this place, or to maintain family tradition, or, maybe to keep the peace with parents and grandparents.

But, overall, I’ve found these couples to be quite serious in their preparation and quite sincere in wanting God’s blessing upon their union.

I always have several meetings with the couples, getting to know them, learning about their relationship and talking about challenges or difficulties they may have faced.

And, at our last meeting, we always talk about the service itself, reading through the words that they and I will say, reflecting on why we say these things, and what it all means.

During these conversations, the couples are often surprised when we reach the part of the service when the officiant asks the congregation – usually a lot of happy, fancily dressed people who are looking ahead to a great party – when the officiant asks the congregation a most serious question:

“If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else for ever hold your peace.”

During the wedding, this often elicits a few awkward giggles or the clearing of some throats.

And then, after waiting a beat, the officiant asks the couple the same question:

“…if either of you know any reason why you may not be united in marriage lawfully, and in accordance with God’s Word, you do now confess it.”

After another moment of awkward silence, we proceed.

Maybe these questions seem archaic or even humorous, but they’re important – not because this is an ideal time to reveal some impediment  to marriage – but because they underline the importance of the promises these two people are about to make to each other – they remind us of how their relationship is about to change forever – and they point to the fact that marriage is serious business.

In today’s gospel lesson, we pick up almost exactly where we left off last week.

Last week, we heard a very common theme in the gospels: the disciples just not getting it.

You may remember that the disciples complained to Jesus that other people, not part of the “inner circle,” were casting out demons in the name of Jesus and they wanted Jesus to put a stop to that right away.

Jesus declined to do that, and he went on to highlight that our relationship with God is serious business – so serious that we should remove whatever causes to stumble, whatever causes us to sin.

Jesus says, “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off.”

And now today, we heard another recurring gospel theme: the religious authorities playing a game of “Gotcha” with Jesus.

In this case, the Pharisees ask Jesus, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”

Now, we should try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but this is a very suspicious question.

I mean, as Jesus points out, the Law of Moses is quite clear that, yes, a man could divorce his wife. The only debate was about under what conditions could he do so.

But the fact that the Pharisees ask Jesus this question would seem to indicate that they’ve heard that Jesus has been teaching something different – something more restrictive than the Law – and they want to hear him say it for themselves – they want to get Jesus on the record.

And Jesus gives them what they want.

He skips right over the Law and looks all the way back to the beginning – back to God’s original intention for marriage – that the two become one, and that this union should be permanent.

“Let no man put asunder,” in the thunderous language of the King James Bible.

And then, when he was alone with his disciples, Jesus goes even further and says that any divorced person who remarries is committing adultery.

Obviously, for many reasons, this is a very challenging, even painful, teaching and I’d rather talk about almost anything else - even the Orioles getting swept in the post-season yet again – I’d rather talk about almost anything else than talk about this.

But, let’s begin with some context. 

First of all, much like the amputations Jesus had just talked about, Jesus’ hard teaching is a clear reminder that marriage is serious business.

In the words of the Prayer Book, “…marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance for the purposes for which it was instituted by God.”

Second, back in the first century, divorce was often very bad news for women. Men could cruelly use very trivial reasons to divorce their wives, leaving them quite vulnerable in a very harsh world.

Even with the safeguards that are in place now, that can still happen, unfortunately.

So, we can certainly hear Jesus’ teaching as a way to protect women from being discarded and abandoned. 

Finally, any time we read short excerpts of Scripture, like we do in church every week, it’s important to remember that these are just little slivers of the great sweep of God’s message to us.

And so today, I want to point to the words of our collect, our opening prayer, especially this:

“Pour upon us the abundance of your mercy.”

God is abundantly merciful.

Marriage is serious business, but God is abundantly merciful

And since God is abundantly merciful, I am sure that our merciful God does not want people to stay in marriages that are physically or emotionally abusive.

And since God is abundantly merciful, forgiveness is offered when we mess up and fall short of the very high standards that have been set for us – which is very good news since, whether we’re married or not, we all mess up on a regular basis.

So, a tough lesson today, but here’s the good news:

Yes, marriage is serious business, but God is abundantly merciful.

Amen.

Life or Death

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

September 29, 2024

Year B, Proper 21: The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22

Psalm 124

James 5:13-20

Mark 9:38-50

Life or Death

The other day, I visited with a couple of parishioners who had attended one of our Newcomers Receptions over at the Rectory.

They commented on how beautiful the house is, which is certainly true, and it’s something that Sue and I never take for granted.

At our church back in Jersey City, the rectory was also beautiful, but, unlike here, it was located right beside the church, on a fairly busy city street.

As you’d guess, that proximity and visibility had advantages and disadvantages, but one upside was that I was able to become sort of the priest of the block, minister to the neighborhood.

And that flock beyond our congregation included some of the people who attended the Twelve Step meetings in our Parish Hall.

One thing that I’ll never forget is how these people were incredibly faithful to their meetings – no matter the weather, no matter if our furnace was on the fritz, no matter how hard it was to find a parking spot, no matter what, each week they made their way from the sidewalk and into the hall, where they admitted their addiction and used well-practiced words and stories.

        Each week, they performed a kind of liturgy – a service of recovery and hope.

Attending those meetings was, and is, serious business, the difference between sobriety and destruction, a matter of life or death.

Over the years, I’ve often wondered if we might capture some of that same urgency in our Christian lives, how we might recreate some of that same urgency here in church.

Because, as we heard in today’s gospel lesson, Jesus’ message is serious business, it’s the difference between heaven and hell, a matter of life and death.

        In his usual pithy way, Mark packs a lot into today’s gospel lesson.

        First, in the latest installment of our long-running series, “The Disciples Just Don’t Get It,” Jesus’ closest followers complain that other people – people outside the inner circle - are using Jesus’ name to cast out demons.

       What’s left unsaid is that these “outsiders” are probably having more success than the disciples themselves!

       The disciples want Jesus to put a stop to this, but instead, Jesus tells his friends that they don’t have some kind of monopoly on him – that others should be allowed and even encouraged to call upon Jesus’ power.

       And then things get more serious, when Jesus warns of dire consequences for anyone who is a “stumbling block,” anyone gets in the way of someone who wants to follow Jesus.

       That should be sobering for any of us who have not been as welcoming or as encouraging as we should be when someone arrives here.

        It should be worrying to those of us who have been hypocrites – saying beautiful words in here but then living in a very different way out there.

        And then Jesus turns his attention to all of us – and uses graphic language to say that we need to remove from our lives whatever causes us to stumble – we need to remove from our lives whatever separates us from God - insisting that this is serious business, a matter of heaven or hell, life or death.

        And, finally, Jesus riffs on salt, and gives us the kind of cryptic warning that we’d better not lose our saltiness.

        Whew.

        That’s a lot to deal with, so I’m especially glad that, in just a few minutes, I’ll have the joy and privilege of baptizing young Graham, who will become our newest Christian.

        I think I’ve probably mentioned that I love Baptism. I love baptizing people.

       And there are lots of reasons:

       Baptism is a celebration of new life – new life for te person getting bathed in Holy Water – new life for all of us, as our circle grows a little wider.

       Witnessing Baptism is a reminder that, once upon a time, that was us – we made those big promises, or, more likely, those big promises were made on our behalf.

       And, it’s a reminder that God has made a big promise to us, promising that God’s bond with us is indissoluble – that God will not let go of us, no matter what.

       Today, though, I’m particularly aware that Baptism reminds us that our Christian life is serious business, a matter of heaven or hell, life or death.

       In a moment, I’m going to ask Graham’s parents and godparents if they renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God – do they renounce the evil powers of this world that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God – do they renounce all sinful desires that draw them from the love of God.

       And, answering on Graham’s behalf, they will answer, “I renounce them.”

       Whatever we might think of Satan, there’s no doubt that the “spiritual forces of wickedness “ are very powerful.

       There’s no doubt about “the evil forces of this world that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God.

       There’s no doubt about “sinful desires” that draw us away from God.”

       Just turn on the news, any day of the week.

       The people getting to Twelve Step meetings no matter what, they know all about those evil forces – and, let’s be honest, we do, too.

       So, for us, the first step is renouncing evil, wanting nothing to do with it.

       And, second, Baptism reminds us how to keep our “saltiness” – how to keep our faithfulness – how to live in ways different from the ways of the world.

       With God’s help, we admit when we mess up and ask for forgiveness.

       With God’s help, we gather here – not as a nice thing to do occasionally – but as a matter of life and death.

       With God’s help, we share the Good News by what we say and do.

       With God’s help, we seek Christ in everyone and love our neighbors as ourselves. 

       With God’s help, we work for justice and peace, and respect everyone’s dignity, especially the people we don’t like or trust one bit.

       With God’s help, this is how we keep our saltiness.

        I don’t know if we can ever really duplicate the urgency of recovering addicts, getting themselves to their meetings, no matter what.

But the message of Jesus is urgent.

        Jesus urgently calls Graham and all of us to a life very different from the ways of the world.

        Jesus calls us to a life of love and service.

        And this is serious business, as serious as it gets: a matter of heaven or hell, a matter of life or death.

        Amen.

The Lowerarchy

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

September 22, 2024

Year B, Proper 20: The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proverbs 31:10-31

Psalm 1

James 3:13-4:3; 7-8a

Mark 9:30-37

The Lowerarchy

A few months ago, someone I know from Jersey City posted on social media that her cousin – Samantha, a 32-year-old mother of three – is missing.

Samantha had been scheduled to check into a rehab for drug addiction, but she never arrived, and, even worse, it took weeks before her family found out.

Since so much time had passed, the trail was already very cold, but her cousin and others have been using every tool they can think of to get the word out, and to let Sam know that she’s loved and missed and will be welcomed back home, with no questions and no blame.

A few weeks ago, there was a lead that Sam had been spotted in Kensington, the

Philadelphia neighborhood known as the largest open air illegal drug market on the East Coast.

While following up on this lead, the family discovered that so many people are looking for loved ones who get lured to, and then trapped in, Kensington, that there are several video cameras posted around the neighborhood, with their feeds accessible through YouTube.

I had never heard of anything like this, but after a quick Google search, I found them.

These cameras capture grim scenes of people – so many people, men and women, all different ages and races – stumbling around, sprawled out on the sidewalk, dazed by drugs, many of them bearing ugly sores, some bandaged and some not.

The police come by regularly, getting everyone to move along, but everybody’s back once the coast is clear.

I’ve noticed a couple of other things.

Of course, most passersby ignore these poor people, looking straight ahead, hoping to avoid any contact. And who can blame them? It must be awful to live or work in that neighborhood and witness so much suffering and despair, every single day.

But there are others, maybe from church groups, who stop by to distribute food and water. And rather than just dropping off supplies, they seem to actually engage with the people living on the streets, treating them like people, like brothers and sisters.

And online, there’s a steady stream of comments in the chat – some are unkind and mocking while others are kind and compassionate, noticing when regulars are missing, and hoping and praying for healing and recovery.

And, of course, even if there aren’t video cameras to live-stream the suffering, these same scenes could be easily found in Baltimore and every city, and this same suffering occurs, usually more hidden, in every community across our country.

Seeing all of this reminded me of a guy from my church back in Jersey City, Carmine.

Carmine was about my age and more or less homeless himself – and, I have to say, he was often very difficult.

But one year, he wrote on his pledge card – yes, he pledged – he wrote on his pledge card that his ministry was to seek out the lost and bring them to church.

And, often to our great discomfort, that’s exactly what Carmine did. He brought people in even worse shape than he was, people who were not capable at all, people who were the opposite of the capable woman described in today’s lesson from Proverbs. 

In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus predicts that he is going to be betrayed, killed, and rise again on the third day.

This is the second time in the Gospel of Mark that Jesus makes what’s called a Passion Prediction.

We heard the first prediction last Sunday. You may remember that didn’t end well because Peter got so upset at the idea of Jesus suffering and denying that Peter “rebuked” Jesus – and Jesus rebuked Peter right back, calling him Satan, criticizing him for focusing on human things and not on God.

Well, as we heard today, the second Passion Prediction didn’t go much better.

We’re told that the disciples didn’t understand what Jesus saying.

And I’m sure that’s true. I mean, no one expected, or wanted, a suffering messiah.

And what would this suffering mean for the messiah’s followers?

Better not to know – best not to ask any questions.

Instead, let’s talk about something else…like, oh I don’t know, which one of us is the greatest?!?

I love the moment when Jesus very knowingly asks the disciples, um, what were you guys talking about back there on the road?

Can’t you imagine them all gazing down at the ground and shuffling their feet, with sideway glances, and maybe with a nervous clearing of their throats?

Well, an exceedingly patient Jesus uses this as a teachable moment.

The first lesson is familiar: if you want to be first then you must be last, you must be the servant of all.

But the second lesson is maybe less familiar.

Jesus places a child in their midst, in the center of the group.

And holding the child, Jesus says:

“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

It’s a very tender and appealing image.

But it doesn’t sound very challenging, does it?

I mean, let’s be honest. Here at St. Thomas’, we’d be overjoyed to welcome a whole lot more children in Jesus’ name. Happy to do it.

But there’s more going on in this scene than meets our 21st century eyes.

Back in the first century, I’m sure parents loved their children.

But society viewed children not as symbols of innocence, but as useless, not capable at all, non-persons who just didn’t count – they just didn’t matter until they could contribute to the household, to society.

I mean, you wouldn’t get anything for being kind or generous to a child, unless maybe you were playing a very long game.

And yet this is who Jesus places right in the center of his disciples who were so concerned with their place in the hierarchy, with worldly honor.

Jesus places at the center a child, a person with no status at all, and says when we welcome and serve this powerless person, we welcome and serve Jesus himself.

As one commentator wrote, Jesus replaces a hierarchy with a “lowerarchy.”

I’d like to think that children do have status in our society but, frankly, the horrors that take place in so many schools across our country year after year – horrors that we know how to prevent but simply choose not to, well, it makes me wonder.

But, no question, there are plenty of grown-up people who are often dismissed and despised as non-people, like those poor people addicted and suffering on the streets of Kensington, and in so many other places.

If we want to follow Jesus, we can’t ignore them, and we certainly can’t mock or hate them.

We’re called to serve people in need and this servant church definitely does that so beautifully – we’ll do that this morning as we pack another batch of bags for the Community Crisis Center.

But Jesus calls us to even more than that – calls us to invite people in need closer to the center of our life together, just as Jesus held that child while surrounded by his disciples.

We need to remember that Jesus is most easily found among the lowerarchy, out there on the streets, out there with Samantha and Carmine, out there in line at the Crisis Center, out there hungry for a sandwich at Paul’s Place, out there, waiting to be loved and served, out there, waiting to be welcomed.

Amen.