We hear this word when someone has had an amazing experience or a breakthrough revelation. Coming down Yaqui Pass at sunset years ago, Jeanne had an epiphany about Borrego. That is why we got here and remain. There was an indescribable beauty to the sunset on the Santa Rosa mountains. Little did we know what would await us here, St. Barnabas, and so much more. The word is Greek and it means exactly what I just wrote, a seeing something you had never seen before, a revelation. On January 6, twelve days after Christmas, there is the feast of Epiphany. Scholars note it is a feast older even than Christmas, likely also tied to the new year and the beginning of longer days, more light. At first it was a celebration of the coming of God into the world, into space, time and humankind, what we now celebrate at Christmas. There were three important moments of revelation or showing that became linked with Epiphany. The first is the arrival of the wise men or three kings, following a star, at the place where the child Jesus, Mary and Joseph were staying. They were likely scholars from Persia, who saw in the star that they followed a sign of something wonderful happening. When they found the child Jesus, they worshipped him as God, offered gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. These were later linked to Jesus being both king and priest, the myrrh a foretelling of his death, as it was a burial spice. The wise men were not from Israel, they were outsiders, Gentiles. So, this was also a revelation of Jesus to the whole world beyond his own Jewish people. The second moment was the epiphany that occurred when Jesus was baptized by his cousin John the Baptist. There was a voice from heaven that said “You are my beloved Son,” and a dove also appeared overhead. John realized as did some of his followers that this was no ordinary teacher but the one chosen to save the world, Jesus. That’s what “Jesus” means. Usually on the Sunday after Epiphany one or another account of Jesus’ baptism is read. Lastly, the first of Jesus “signs” is part of Epiphany. This was his changing water into wine at a wedding feast in Cana in Galilee. Somehow, they’d run out of wine on the first day of the feast, a really horrendous situation. Mary, Jesus’ mother tells him of the embarrassment and pain, and Jesus tells the caterer to fill six huge stone jars with water and then take it to the head caterer. When he tastes, he exclaims this is the best wine ever. So, the revelation is that with Jesus’ arrival, we have God with us, as one of us. God’s ways or kingdom are going to be put into practice, first by Jesus, then by us all. While these are beautiful moments, there are epiphanies every day too many to number: that you made someone smile, fell cared for, forgiven. That food was shared, that you lent an ear to someone’s pain, shared someone’s worry, or their joy. What a good way to start the new year --Epiphany
Sermon by Jan Naragon St. Barnabas Episcopal Church, Borrego Springs There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness, that he might bear witness to the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came that he might bear witness to the light. Recently you've read about a leader in a much-contested part of the world who felt insecure in his power. Desperate to maintain the status quo, he cast a wide net to rid himself of the threat, killing thousands of children in the process. I am speaking of King Herod. This year, the Feast of the Holy Innocents falls on a Sunday. Holy innocents were the babies that were slain by the order of Herod after he was hoodwinked by the Wise Men. Shortly, we'll say a prayer of lamentation to commemorate the thousands of innocent children whose lives were lost in the conflict between Hamas and Israel, more than 20,000 since October of 2023. Loss of potential, unimaginable anguish of so many parents. Yes, it's more than terrible. Maybe we want to do something, but what? John's gospel offers an action item for us today in the Baptist bearing witness to the light. What is this bearing witness thing? The Ten Commandments speak of bearing false witness against one's neighbor. What about true witness? Bearing witness is an act of intentional remembrance. It is an act of etching something important into our oral history that can never be destroyed. Our Bishop Susan recently was in the news for bearing witness, standing in solidarity with immigrant detainees outside of a federal courthouse. An organization of Palestinian Christians called Sabeel has been bearing witness weekly in the absence of press coverage of the events in Gaza and the West Bank. Listening and being present preserves the crucial historical moments that may fade with neglect, time, and juicier news. How many of you have been in a situation where you felt powerless, where you could not act upon a perceived injustice and said, "Well, that's all well and good, but we know what really happened." Well, that's bearing witness. John the Baptist knew what really happened. His ministry was the first step in making sure that Jesus got remembered, that the word was the light of men and women. That no matter what happened later, the darkness would not overcome the light. Bearing witness doesn't require physical prowess or good health. It is an act of coming alongside to ensure accurate memory, to express solidarity, and to reinforce the equality of every child of God. Bearing witness does not cancel out the need for forgiveness. It brings the need for forgiveness into sharper relief. Bearing witness begins with prayer. Every week, we pray for our distressed world. Remembering and expressing compassion through prayer opens the door of our awareness, bit by bit. Perhaps remembering and lamenting can lead us to speak truth to power. A quote from Chris Tumulty: "In a season when many feel powerless, the act of gathering in prayer brings solidarity and strengthens the resolve of those working toward justice, reminding us that suffering should never go unacknowledged or unanswered." Dame Jane Goodall said, "The big problem today is that so many people feel insignificant. They feel that the problems facing the world are so huge that there's nothing they can do, so they do nothing. And as an individual, maybe there isn't really that much, but when you get thousands, and then millions, all doing the best they can every day for other beings, then you get huge change." Bearing witness when and where we can is in God's image, is Emmanuel, God with us. There was the true light which, coming into the world, enlightens every person. We are all keepers of the light. Let's close with an excerpt from O Holy Night. Truly, he taught us to love one another. His law is love and his gospel is peace. Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother, and in his name, all oppression shall cease. Amen.
If yo u’ve ever stood in the Borrego desert at dawn, you know how the light arrives quietly, not demanding anything from you, simply offering itself. That is the kind of welcome we hope to offer at St. Barnabas. Here in this wide landscape, many people come to sort out their lives, to breathe again, or to listen to something deeper. If that’s where you find yourself as a new year begins, you are not alone. And you don’t need to have a map in hand to walk through our doors. You are welcome here — with your questions, your doubts, your hopes, and your story. The desert has always been a place where people wander, wonder, and discover unexpected acceptance. It’s a place where God has a way of meeting people not because they are certain, but because they are searching. We try to be a church shaped by that same way of being spacious, honest, and grounded in love. One of the gifts of the Episcopal tradition is that it doesn’t require everyone to think alike or believe alike. Like the desert, it makes room. Our common prayer holds us together even when our perspectives differ. You don’t have to fit a mold to belong. Archbishop Desmond Tutu once said, “God’s dream is that you and I and all of us will realize that we are family.” In the desert, family often looks like whoever shows up with you at an oasis, where crossroads meet. I say this as someone who has spent much of his life on the edges of religious communities — interfaith, curious, comfortable with mystery. And yet, in this church, I have found acceptance and a home. The edges, I’ve learned, can be holy ground. If you’re standing at the edge of mystery — or simply looking for a place where you don’t have to pretend, this is your invitation. Your presence matters here. So do your questions. As the new year unfolds, I hope you find renewal and belonging — and if you wander our way, a little desert church would be glad to welcome you in. Father Dave Madsen+
We hear this word when someone has had an amazing experience or a breakthrough revelation. Coming down Yaqui Pass at sunset years ago, Jeanne had an epiphany about Borrego. That is why we got here and remain. There was an indescribable beauty to the sunset on the Santa Rosa mountains. Little did we know what would await us here, St. Barnabas, and so much more. The word is Greek and it means exactly what I just wrote, a seeing something you had never seen before, a revelation. On January 6, twelve days after Christmas, there is the feast of Epiphany. Scholars note it is a feast older even than Christmas, likely also tied to the new year and the beginning of longer days, more light. At first it was a celebration of the coming of God into the world, into space, time and humankind, what we now celebrate at Christmas. There were three important moments of revelation or showing that became linked with Epiphany. The first is the arrival of the wise men or three kings, following a star, at the place where the child Jesus, Mary and Joseph were staying. They were likely scholars from Persia, who saw in the star that they followed a sign of something wonderful happening. When they found the child Jesus, they worshipped him as God, offered gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. These were later linked to Jesus being both king and priest, the myrrh a foretelling of his death, as it was a burial spice. The wise men were not from Israel, they were outsiders, Gentiles. So, this was also a revelation of Jesus to the whole world beyond his own Jewish people. The second moment was the epiphany that occurred when Jesus was baptized by his cousin John the Baptist. There was a voice from heaven that said “You are my beloved Son,” and a dove also appeared overhead. John realized as did some of his followers that this was no ordinary teacher but the one chosen to save the world, Jesus. That’s what “Jesus” means. Usually on the Sunday after Epiphany one or another account of Jesus’ baptism is read. Lastly, the first of Jesus “signs” is part of Epiphany. This was his changing water into wine at a wedding feast in Cana in Galilee. Somehow, they’d run out of wine on the first day of the feast, a really horrendous situation. Mary, Jesus’ mother tells him of the embarrassment and pain, and Jesus tells the caterer to fill six huge stone jars with water and then take it to the head caterer. When he tastes, he exclaims this is the best wine ever. So, the revelation is that with Jesus’ arrival, we have God with us, as one of us. God’s ways or kingdom are going to be put into practice, first by Jesus, then by us all. While these are beautiful moments, there are epiphanies every day too many to number: that you made someone smile, fell cared for, forgiven. That food was shared, that you lent an ear to someone’s pain, shared someone’s worry, or their joy. What a good way to start the new year --Epiphany
Sermon by Jan Naragon St. Barnabas Episcopal Church, Borrego Springs There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness, that he might bear witness to the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came that he might bear witness to the light. Recently you've read about a leader in a much-contested part of the world who felt insecure in his power. Desperate to maintain the status quo, he cast a wide net to rid himself of the threat, killing thousands of children in the process. I am speaking of King Herod. This year, the Feast of the Holy Innocents falls on a Sunday. Holy innocents were the babies that were slain by the order of Herod after he was hoodwinked by the Wise Men. Shortly, we'll say a prayer of lamentation to commemorate the thousands of innocent children whose lives were lost in the conflict between Hamas and Israel, more than 20,000 since October of 2023. Loss of potential, unimaginable anguish of so many parents. Yes, it's more than terrible. Maybe we want to do something, but what? John's gospel offers an action item for us today in the Baptist bearing witness to the light. What is this bearing witness thing? The Ten Commandments speak of bearing false witness against one's neighbor. What about true witness? Bearing witness is an act of intentional remembrance. It is an act of etching something important into our oral history that can never be destroyed. Our Bishop Susan recently was in the news for bearing witness, standing in solidarity with immigrant detainees outside of a federal courthouse. An organization of Palestinian Christians called Sabeel has been bearing witness weekly in the absence of press coverage of the events in Gaza and the West Bank. Listening and being present preserves the crucial historical moments that may fade with neglect, time, and juicier news. How many of you have been in a situation where you felt powerless, where you could not act upon a perceived injustice and said, "Well, that's all well and good, but we know what really happened." Well, that's bearing witness. John the Baptist knew what really happened. His ministry was the first step in making sure that Jesus got remembered, that the word was the light of men and women. That no matter what happened later, the darkness would not overcome the light. Bearing witness doesn't require physical prowess or good health. It is an act of coming alongside to ensure accurate memory, to express solidarity, and to reinforce the equality of every child of God. Bearing witness does not cancel out the need for forgiveness. It brings the need for forgiveness into sharper relief. Bearing witness begins with prayer. Every week, we pray for our distressed world. Remembering and expressing compassion through prayer opens the door of our awareness, bit by bit. Perhaps remembering and lamenting can lead us to speak truth to power. A quote from Chris Tumulty: "In a season when many feel powerless, the act of gathering in prayer brings solidarity and strengthens the resolve of those working toward justice, reminding us that suffering should never go unacknowledged or unanswered." Dame Jane Goodall said, "The big problem today is that so many people feel insignificant. They feel that the problems facing the world are so huge that there's nothing they can do, so they do nothing. And as an individual, maybe there isn't really that much, but when you get thousands, and then millions, all doing the best they can every day for other beings, then you get huge change." Bearing witness when and where we can is in God's image, is Emmanuel, God with us. There was the true light which, coming into the world, enlightens every person. We are all keepers of the light. Let's close with an excerpt from O Holy Night. Truly, he taught us to love one another. His law is love and his gospel is peace. Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother, and in his name, all oppression shall cease. Amen.
If yo u’ve ever stood in the Borrego desert at dawn, you know how the light arrives quietly, not demanding anything from you, simply offering itself. That is the kind of welcome we hope to offer at St. Barnabas. Here in this wide landscape, many people come to sort out their lives, to breathe again, or to listen to something deeper. If that’s where you find yourself as a new year begins, you are not alone. And you don’t need to have a map in hand to walk through our doors. You are welcome here — with your questions, your doubts, your hopes, and your story. The desert has always been a place where people wander, wonder, and discover unexpected acceptance. It’s a place where God has a way of meeting people not because they are certain, but because they are searching. We try to be a church shaped by that same way of being spacious, honest, and grounded in love. One of the gifts of the Episcopal tradition is that it doesn’t require everyone to think alike or believe alike. Like the desert, it makes room. Our common prayer holds us together even when our perspectives differ. You don’t have to fit a mold to belong. Archbishop Desmond Tutu once said, “God’s dream is that you and I and all of us will realize that we are family.” In the desert, family often looks like whoever shows up with you at an oasis, where crossroads meet. I say this as someone who has spent much of his life on the edges of religious communities — interfaith, curious, comfortable with mystery. And yet, in this church, I have found acceptance and a home. The edges, I’ve learned, can be holy ground. If you’re standing at the edge of mystery — or simply looking for a place where you don’t have to pretend, this is your invitation. Your presence matters here. So do your questions. As the new year unfolds, I hope you find renewal and belonging — and if you wander our way, a little desert church would be glad to welcome you in. Father Dave Madsen+
