Given our two scripture readings today about Abram and Nicodemus, we might be forgiven for thinking that Abram comes out ahead in terms of his relative courage and willingness to take on the task of following God. God says, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you,” and Abram goes, no questions asked. Nicodemus, on the other hand, approaches Jesus in secret, under cover of night so that no one can hold him accountable for the consequences of his inquiries. When Jesus tells him he must be born from above, of the Spirit, Nicodemus responds not with action but with questions that could be construed as merely delaying tactics; then he disappears while Jesus is left to continue the work of God.

St. Paul’s, I have no need to tell you that 2022 turned out to be a year of a lot of change. The Rev. Isaac Martinez, who led our children and youth ministries (along with being a strong presence with GBIO), left St. Paul’s to begin a new ministry elsewhere in January. James, our longtime Sexton, went on medical leave early in the year. Longtime parish administrator, Jill Seiler-Moon retired. Tanya Cosway began as her replacement. Popular Rector Jeff Mello was elected Bishop of Connecticut. Elliott May was hired to be Director of Children, Youth, Family, and Young Adults. A new organ was paid for, installed, and made a regular part of our worship. A new furnace was installed in the parish house (which meant that we were without heat in most of our meeting rooms until shortly after Christmas). At the end of the year, we also suffered a number of heartbreaking deaths of members who contributed mightily to the identity of St. Paul’s for decades including former Rector, George Chapman. The pace of change can feel dizzying.

The feast of the Conversion of St. Paul is officially celebrated on January 25, which was this past Wednesday. We have transferred the feast to this Sunday, to honor the Apostle Paul as the patron saint of this parish, after whom we are named. Normally we do not commemorate saints on a Sunday, because Sunday worship is always a feast of our Lord Jesus Christ. But on a parish’s patronal feast day, an exception is made.

When John the Baptist’s followers came to Jesus to determine whether or not he was the one, Jesus did not give them any great proof. We hear no famous speech from him at this point. He did no miracles for them. Jesus only responded saying, “Come and see!” When did they know that Jesus indeed was who they had been searching for all their lives? Something happened there, something in their conversation with Jesus.

As John baptized Jesus, “a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’” From that moment on, Jesus began his public ministry with great confidence and assurance. In the words of the ancient prophet Isaiah that we read this morning that Jesus made his own, Jesus came to be “a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.” This season of Epiphany is the season where we celebrate Jesus’ ministry, but more importantly, experience his ministry where he is our light in the darkness, where he opens our blind eyes, and brings us out of whatever dungeon or prison we may be in.

From one point of view, Christmas is the end. The presents are bought and wrapped, the cookies have been baked, and soon the decorations will be taken down. We spent all this time waiting during Advent – seven whole weeks at St. Paul’s! – waiting for the culmination, the end of anticipation, the end of shopping, the end of the Christmas frenzy – Christmas is seen, in some worlds, as the goal of everything we’ve been doing these past weeks. But in our church calendar, Christmas has just begun.