"I read a story about a group of atheists who put up huge billboards to celebrate Christmas. Well, maybe not celebrate, but comment on Christmas. The billboards featured a large picture of Santa Claus with the words “Keep the merry” and a picture of the crucified Jesus with the words “Dump the myth.” “Go ahead and enjoy a happy winter holiday,” these billboards seem to say, “but don’t fool yourself with any fantasies that a god might be involved in it.” Infuriating as this may be, sometimes you can almost understand why atheists would look at some of our Gospel stories and decide that they seem fantastic, mythical, unrealistic. Today’s beloved story of the three Wise Men, for instance, evokes outlandish, improbable pictures in our minds of men on camels wearing exotic turbans and silken robes, carrying bejeweled boxes full of inappropriate baby gifts. And looking at this very odd story, we too might even be tempted to throw up our hands and say, “Such a strange story couldn’t possibly be true.” But before we dismiss this Wise Men story as quaint pageantry, we should maybe explore what’s here and why Matthew wanted to tell us the story. So we have four Gospels, one of which doesn’t tell us a Christmas story at all, and three of which tell the Christmas story in very different ways. And we need to understand that while all three versions carry truth, each of these Gospel writers chose to tell us about different things to make points of their own. On Christmas Eve, we hear Luke’s Gospel story with angels and shepherds and a manger, with all the soft edges and sweet carols that we associate with Christmas. Luke’s Gospel is Christmas for the poor and the lonely and those who are aching for love. On Christmas Day, we hear John’s version, which doesn’t mention Bethlehem or Mary or Joseph or the birth of a child at all, but rather soars off into the doctrine of creation and the divine light that existed with God before time began, the light of and for all people. This is Christmas for theologians. Well, today, we come crashing down to Earth again with Matthew’s version of how Christ was born… That’s why Jesus was born. That’s why the whole world brings gifts to his door. That’s why God lives among us still and empowers us to change this world. That’s why God rose from the dead and still lives in us today. And that story is true."
On January 4, 2026 , St. Barnabas Episcopal Church welcomed The Rt. Rev. Dr. Susan Brown Snook , Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego , for a Sunday afternoon service marked by celebration, welcome, and shared purpose. Before the service began, The Ven. Cindy Campos , Archdeacon of the Diocese of San Diego, introduced herself and shared brief updates on diocesan ministry. She spoke about work beyond the border, including Comunidad de Luz in Tijuana, which serves migrant women and children through education, care, and support. She also highlighted the Emergency Air Conditioning program, a St. Barnabas initiative serving the Borrego Valley with support from a diocesan grant. Ahead of the service, Bishop Susan met with those being baptized and received, offering guidance on how the service would unfold and setting a welcoming, pastoral tone for the afternoon. During the 3:00 PM service, one person was baptized and seven individuals were received into the Episcopal Church. As clouds moved across the sky outside, moments of sunlight filtered into the sanctuary, gently brightening the space as the service progressed. Bishop Susan delivered the sermon which emphasized the ways that hope springs from times of extreme distress. She welcomed the new members, and celebrated communion, joined by Fr. David L. Madsen, Rector, Fr. Michael Plekon and lay leaders Jan Naragon Llouise Jee and Paula Huls, reflecting the shared leadership of the parish. St. Barnabas choral musicians provided music throughout the joyful service, supporting congregational worship and bringing tears to more than one person’s eyes. The ensemble was led by Naomi Madsen and included Sherry Harapat, Dick Helvig, Jeanne Plekon, and Llouise Jee. Following the service, the celebration continued with a shared meal, conversation, and time together, marking a meaningful day in the life of the St. Barnabas community. Photos © Susan Forsburg. All rights reserved.
A low-cost spay and neuter clinic hosted by Animal Action League took place on Monday, December 22, 2025 , at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church , located at 2680 Country Club Road. The clinic offered affordable veterinary services for cats and dogs, including spay and neuter procedures, vaccinations, and microchipping . These services help reduce unwanted litters while supporting the long-term health, safety, and identification of companion animals in the Borrego Springs area. While pets were being cared for, the church remained open to those waiting. Coffee was available thanks to Fred Jee , creating a warm and welcoming space during the morning hours. Those who missed this clinic are encouraged to check St. Barnabas Episcopal Church’s website, social media accounts, and event calendar for information on future animal welfare clinics and other upcoming community events hosted at the church.
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.
On February 8 at 1:00 pm, St. Barnabas Episcopal Church will host a screening of Diminishing Returns, a 20-minute documentary followed by a Q&A with filmmaker Colin Whitman. The event is open to the community and will take place in the church sanctuary. Event Details Film: Diminishing Returns Date: February 8 Time: 1:00 PM Location: St. Barnabas Episcopal Church Program: Screening followed by a Q&A Afterward: Coffee and snacks available Why are we doing this? If you spend time in Borrego Springs, chances are that you like movies and that you may be in a book club. How often do you finish watching a movie and want to talk about it with someone else? We at St. Barnabas are providing you a chance to merge movies and discussion with a screening of a 20-minute documentary, Diminishing Returns, followed by a Q&A with the L.A.-based filmmaker, Colin Whitman. We pride ourselves in promoting justice and kindness in our local neighborhood. But where do the boundaries of our neighborhood end? How far can we go to aid people who are holding onto their way of life by their fingernails? Do we even know who they are? This film touches on the question “who is my neighbor?” as well as themes of living alone, navigating two cultures, family ties, and others. It’s gotten a lot of interest in other film venues as a parable for navigating the perceived distance between “us” and “them.” If you see Diminishing Returns at the film festival, you may get something new out of it the second time. The mark of a good film! Colin Whitman met Ernesto, the subject of the film, while he was walking his dog in his own neighborhood. He took the initiative to strike up a conversation and uncovered a surprisingly sweet and suspenseful story of a perfect stranger and his family overseas. Ernesto is not so different from us as we might assume. Come and see to find out more about Ernesto and the effect the Colin’s film had on his life. ~ Jan Naragon What to expect The film will be shown at St. Barnabas in the Sanctuary at 1 pm on February 8. Admission is free (donations accepted). Well-behaved dogs welcome. Enjoy this 20-minute ‘thinky’ documentary in a more intimate setting than the film festival, then mingle afterward with the filmmaker in a Question and Answer session. Follow that with coffee and cookies and more time to ask questions that you forgot earlier in the beautiful courtyard at St. Barnabas. Head home feeling inspired. Film Synopsis Diminishing Returns follows Ernesto, who collects recyclables in Los Angeles to help pay for his daughter’s chemotherapy treatment in the Philippines. The short documentary offers a direct look at caregiving, sacrifice, and resilience across borders. All are welcome to attend Whether you come for the film, the conversation, or the community, we hope you’ll join us for an afternoon of insight, connection, and inspiration.
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+
A Community Concert Marking 60 Years of a Holiday Classic
By Fr. Michael Plekon
