Baptism at St. Barnabas

There were shepherds out in the field keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, "Fear not, for behold I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a savior who is Christ the Lord, and this will be a sign for you. You will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger, and this will be a sign for you."  In Luke's telling of the Christmas story, startled shepherds are the first to hear the good news of great joy that will be for all the people. In the sign that a new order is at hand, this astounding announcement comes from angelic beings to rural, earthly guardians of sheep. A savior born that day in nearby Bethlehem? What? How? And who are we to be told in such a remarkable way? This good news is almost too good to be true. "And this will be a sign for you." God knows we struggle to see, to believe. The angels offer the shepherds a trio of things tangible: a baby, swaddling cloths, a manger. A sign that the shepherds are not dreaming, that generations of prayers have been answered that night, that God has penetrated the veil and come to all people. In this incredible arrival of a human baby laid in a feeding trough, not in a plush crib, God signals a new way for us to see ourselves and one another. "And this will be a sign for you." This Christmas, where are you looking for a sign? Is your heart too wounded, too jaded to even hope for evidence of God's presence? "I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people, for everyone." Radical inclusion, great joy despite the hatred, violence, and division that rake our neighborhoods. In coming to us in human form, God upends our understanding and invites us into a life-altering story. God as helpless infant, born in dirt and straw to show us all things are possible, all people are welcome in and through God's love. Like the shepherds, will we open our eyes and ears to see and hear the signs? God comes where we least expect it and exactly where we need to be found. This Advent, this Christmas, and always, the Episcopal Church welcomes you.

[Episcopal News Service] Presiding Bishop Sean Rowe preached Dec. 7 at New York’s Trinity Church , describing the Gospel story of John the Baptist as a surprisingly appropriate set-up for the seasonal anticipation of the coming of Christ. “No [better] way to get into that Christmas spirit than hearing about broods of vipers and chaff and unquenchable fire,” Rowe said with a smile, eliciting chuckles from the congregation. John the Baptist is “like the one relative” who is willing to tell “inconvenient truth” at the family’s dinner over his “locust casserole.” But John the Baptist also was following his ministry in the wilderness and calling for repentance at “a good time to be a prophet,” Rowe said, when there was much for the people to complain about. “The kingdom of God was appealing in a way that the world was not,” Rowe said, drawing connections to today’s troubled times.  “The wheat and the chaff grow together. None of us are entirely good or entirely bad,” Rowe said. “But the love of God — and this is the gift of judgment — the love of God is so bright, the love of God burns so strong, that when judgment comes it is about the chaff in all of us that will burn away, and all that will be left of us is what is of the kingdom, what is of God what is of love.”

There were shepherds out in the field keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, "Fear not, for behold I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a savior who is Christ the Lord, and this will be a sign for you. You will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger, and this will be a sign for you."  In Luke's telling of the Christmas story, startled shepherds are the first to hear the good news of great joy that will be for all the people. In the sign that a new order is at hand, this astounding announcement comes from angelic beings to rural, earthly guardians of sheep. A savior born that day in nearby Bethlehem? What? How? And who are we to be told in such a remarkable way? This good news is almost too good to be true. "And this will be a sign for you." God knows we struggle to see, to believe. The angels offer the shepherds a trio of things tangible: a baby, swaddling cloths, a manger. A sign that the shepherds are not dreaming, that generations of prayers have been answered that night, that God has penetrated the veil and come to all people. In this incredible arrival of a human baby laid in a feeding trough, not in a plush crib, God signals a new way for us to see ourselves and one another. "And this will be a sign for you." This Christmas, where are you looking for a sign? Is your heart too wounded, too jaded to even hope for evidence of God's presence? "I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people, for everyone." Radical inclusion, great joy despite the hatred, violence, and division that rake our neighborhoods. In coming to us in human form, God upends our understanding and invites us into a life-altering story. God as helpless infant, born in dirt and straw to show us all things are possible, all people are welcome in and through God's love. Like the shepherds, will we open our eyes and ears to see and hear the signs? God comes where we least expect it and exactly where we need to be found. This Advent, this Christmas, and always, the Episcopal Church welcomes you.

[Episcopal News Service] Presiding Bishop Sean Rowe preached Dec. 7 at New York’s Trinity Church , describing the Gospel story of John the Baptist as a surprisingly appropriate set-up for the seasonal anticipation of the coming of Christ. “No [better] way to get into that Christmas spirit than hearing about broods of vipers and chaff and unquenchable fire,” Rowe said with a smile, eliciting chuckles from the congregation. John the Baptist is “like the one relative” who is willing to tell “inconvenient truth” at the family’s dinner over his “locust casserole.” But John the Baptist also was following his ministry in the wilderness and calling for repentance at “a good time to be a prophet,” Rowe said, when there was much for the people to complain about. “The kingdom of God was appealing in a way that the world was not,” Rowe said, drawing connections to today’s troubled times.  “The wheat and the chaff grow together. None of us are entirely good or entirely bad,” Rowe said. “But the love of God — and this is the gift of judgment — the love of God is so bright, the love of God burns so strong, that when judgment comes it is about the chaff in all of us that will burn away, and all that will be left of us is what is of the kingdom, what is of God what is of love.”