Ponder All These Things: Baptism

Showing posts with label Baptism. Show all posts

Sunday, February 2, 2025

Redemption, Release, and the Gift of Waiting

Do you despise waiting in long lines? If so, this sermon is for you!

This sermon was inspired by the readings above and was preached at a service of Holy Baptism on February 2, 2025 at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles. Video of the sermon may be found here.

Holy God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

Awhile back, I found myself in a familiar situation—standing in line at the grocery store, scanning for the shortest route to checkout. I thought I had chosen well, but then the man in front of me turned and said, “I’m just warning you, but I’m slow!” I considered jumping ship, but with my collar on and someone now behind me, I responded with the first kind thing that popped into my head: “I’m in the business of waiting.”

His wife soon arrived, and the man repeated, “I told him I’m slow, honey.” She laughed, and looked at me, I smiled to the couple and remarked, “Patience is a virtue.” But then the woman’s face turned serious. Staring me in the eye, she exclaimed, “Patience may be a virtue, but I won’t ever ask God for it.”

How often have you heard that? Patience might be the most maligned of virtues. We admire it, but we don’t want to develop it. We live in a world that prizes speed, efficiency, and immediate gratification, yet our Faith Tradition teaches us that God’s work often unfolds slowly. And today, we witness just that in our Gospel lesson.

On this the Feast of the Presentation, we experience a story about anticipating—about two patient souls, Simeon and Anna, who hoped their entire lives to see the Messiah. Their stories, as well as the story we are telling today through Skylar’s baptism, reveals that waiting is not passive but a holy expectation, an active action of faith that leads us into redemption and release.

Simeon and Anna knew what it was to wait. Simeon had been promised by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before seeing the Messiah. Anna, an 84-year-old prophetess, had lived most of her life in the Temple, fasting and praying, trusting that God’s redemption was at hand. They did not see waiting as a burden but as an act of faith.

And then, one day, all of a sudden, the waiting ended. Mary and Joseph entered the Temple with their child, and the Spirit moved. God’s Spirit moved so powerfully that Simeon took Jesus into his arms and broke out in song:

“Lord, you now have set your servant free, to go in peace as you have promised. For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior whom you have prepared for all the world to see.”

(By the way, the first chapters of Luke’s Gospel are truly like musical theater, it seems that every few verses Zechariah, Mary, and now Simeon break out with a holy hymn.)

Seriously, though imagine the weight of Simeon’s words. A lifetime of waiting fulfilled in a single moment. The joy, the relief, the redemption!

Waiting, when viewed through Simeon’s lens, was not about enduring time but about preparing his heart to receive the presence of God. Isn’t that we all are invited to do? But, it’s not always so easy.

I personally do not like waiting. I have struggled with it my whole life. That impulsive, controlling, egoic part of me wants things to be completed yesterday, but this is not the Way of God. Fortunately, I have had ones who have tried to teach me the patient path.

As a kid, when my sister was at dance rehearsal, I would run around on the playground next to the ballet studio. Toward the end of the time, which always felt longer than it was, my mom would call me over to watch for my sister. I did not want to sit still, so she turned it into a game. She would ask if whoever was walking down the street towards our car was my sister. “Is that huge man your sister?” “NO!” (huge laughter) “Is that old lady your sister?” “NO!” (rolling on the floor laughing). Finally, my sister would arrive, and I would joyfully walk with my family to the car.

As I reflect on this example of waiting, I see that growing patience can be full of joy, laughter, and hope, as much as it can be a time which is difficult, irritating, and uncomfortable. Regardless of our emotional state, Simeon and Anna show us that faithful waiting is never in vain—it leads us to a moment of recognition, a moment when we see Christ clearly before us.

Like how we will clearly see Christ before us in Skylar’s baptism today. Holy Baptism is the sacramental way we are adopted into the Household of God—the outward and visible signs of water and oil punctuate the sure and certain means of grace that Sklyar receives as she becomes a member of the Body of Christ. In a way, Holy Baptism marks a beginning and an ending—it is a redemption and a release—an ending of the old ways of sin, separation, and death. And at the same time, we realize in Baptism the fulfillment of a promise and the start of a new journey.

Malachi’s words from this morning’s First Lesson tell us that the Lord comes as a refiner’s fire, purifying and making new. Hebrews reminds us that Christ, by taking on flesh, came to release us from fear and death. Holy Baptism, then, is our own presentation before God. It is our moment of being claimed, of being refined and set free to walk as God’s beloved children.

For Skylar, today is the day she is presented before the Church, just as Jesus was presented before His Heavenly Father in the Temple. Skylar will be named and marked as Christ’s own forever. Her parents, Trevor and Sophia, godparents, David and Megan, and other family (including her grandfather—a fellow priest in the Church) stand as witnesses and guides, just as Simeon and Anna once stood. And we, the gathered community, promise to uphold her in the Faith, knowing that our waiting and watching for Christ continues in each new generation. Beautifully, as we wait and watch Skylar (and others who join the Body of Christ), God will give us glimpses of Christ’s presence.

Simeon and Anna teach us something about how we can do this work of waiting and watching and walking together. They show us that waiting is not just about looking for God in the grand moments but in the everyday ones. They show us that we do not wait alone. God is always near, always working, always preparing us to recognize Christ in our midst and in each other. They also show that it is much easier to wait together than alone.

Holy Baptism of course reminds us of these truths too. This is not a finish line but a beginning—an invitation to continue seeking Christ in the world. Just as Simeon and Anna saw salvation in a swaddled baby, we are invited to see Christ in the most unexpected places: in the eyes of a child, in the face of a stranger, in the slow moments when we learn to let go of control and trust that God’s timing is always good.

So, when we grow impatient, when we wonder if God is truly at work in our lives and in this broken world, let us remember Simeon and Anna. Let us remember that Christ comes—perhaps not always in the way we expect or at the speed we desire—but always, always in love. And let us rejoice that today, through Skylar’s baptism, we see once more that the promises of God are being fulfilled in our midst.

Patience is a virtue. Not because it is easy, but because it shapes us to see the world as God sees it. Today, we witness the fulfillment of promises in Jesus’ presentation. We witness the power of redemption and release in Holy Baptism. And we witness, in Skylar, the next chapter of God’s story unfolding.

May we, like Simeon and Anna, live in expectant hope. May we see Christ in the waiting. And may we celebrate and share with joy the light that has come into the world.

Amen.

Sunday, January 12, 2025

Epiphany People

You've heard of Easter People, but what about Epiphany People?

This sermon was given at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles. A video of this message may be found here.

Loving and Beloved God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your words may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

On this first Sunday after the Epiphany, we celebrate the Baptism of Our Lord. This day draws us deeper into the manifestation of God’s glory in Christ, a theme that began with the arrival of the Magi at Epiphany and continues throughout this liturgical season. The readings and prayers before us today open a door to understanding what God is doing in Christ, not just for Israel but for the whole world—and how we are invited to join in Christ’s mission and ministry.

Let us begin with the voice that echoes over the waters in Luke’s Gospel account. The people are gathered in anticipation, wondering if John the Baptist might be the Messiah. John quickly dispels that notion, pointing instead to one who is greater. “I baptize you with water,” he says, “but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” And then, in a moment of divine revelation, we see Jesus baptized, the heavens open, the Holy Spirit descend like a dove, and the voice of God proclaim, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you, I am well pleased.”

This proclamation signals something extraordinary: God’s presence is being made manifest in a new way. Jesus, fully human and fully divine, steps into the waters of the Jordan not to be cleansed but to cleanse, not to be claimed by God but to claim us for God. In this act, Jesus inaugurates his public ministry, revealing that he is not just Israel’s Messiah but the Savior of the world. It is a pivotal moment, one that invites us to consider our own baptism and the covenant we share with Christ.

Isaiah’s prophecy provides a powerful backdrop to this event. “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine,” God declares. These words, spoken to Israel in exile, are now spoken to all who enter the waters of baptism. In baptism, we are named and claimed by God, sealed by the Holy Spirit, and marked as Christ’s own forever. This is not just a personal promise but a communal calling—to participate in God’s mission of restoration, healing, and reconciliation. What does this look like?

One way of answering that question is seeing that the Season after the Epiphany highlights three transformative moments: the Magi worshipping the Christ child, the voice of God calling Jesus “My Beloved Son” at his baptism, and the transfiguration when Jesus’ full glory is revealed. Together, these stories tell us that the light of Christ is not to be hidden but shared, that God’s glory is for all people, and that we are called to reflect that light in the world.

As I was reflecting on today’s themes, I found myself drawn to a phrase coined by a dear friend and colleague, the Rev. Charles Youngson, who calls our baptismal promises “the job description of a Christian.” Think about that for a moment. Our Baptismal Covenant is not just a liturgical moment; it’s a blueprint for how we live as followers of Jesus. When we promise to “seek and serve Christ in all persons” and “strive for justice and peace among all people,” we are embracing the work of Epiphany—shining a light on what God is doing in the world.

And what is God doing? God is still sharing the glory of non-competitive transcendence, unconditional love, self-giving service, unending joy, and peace beyond understanding. These are not mere abstractions; they are the fruits of lives transformed by grace. And they are not meant to be hoarded but shared. We are called to be light-bearers, people enlightened by the Epiphany, revealing alongside Christ what God is up to even now. We're called to see the light in one another, too.

Thomas Merton, a 20th-century Trappist monk, writer, theologian, and mystic depicted this beautifully when he wrote, “I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine, and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness.” This realization, which happened in downtown Louisville, KY is a most fitting moment of Epiphany—a season where we are reminded that in Christ, we are made one. Baptism draws us into this oneness, this interconnected web of divine love that binds us to God and one another.

In just a moment we will renew our baptismal vows, and when we do, I invite you to listen to these promises anew. Hear them as both invitation and challenge. How might you, in your own life, embody the light of Christ? How might you reveal God’s glory in the ordinary and extraordinary moments of your days? Perhaps it’s in offering a word of kindness to a neighbor or coworker, advocating for justice in your community or school, or simply being present to someone who is struggling. Whatever form it takes, know that you do not do this work alone. The same Spirit who descended upon Jesus at his baptism empowers and sustains you in your journey.

As we step into this new year, let us remember that we are not only Easter people, marked by the joy of resurrection. We are also Epiphany people, called to illuminate the world with the light of Christ. To be guided and embolden by our Loving God who sends us forth to proclaim, by word and example, the good news of God in Christ—especially that we are all God’s beloveds in Christ.

Let us be Epiphany people, beloved in Christ, and eager to share his light with the world. Amen.

Sunday, February 18, 2024

Holy Baptism: Accepting Your Belovedness

In the waters of Baptism we recognize our belatedness, but God's saving work isn't finished there.

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

It doesn’t always happen. A parent of a newborn child asking clergy to visit them in the hospital. So, when I have the chance to offer prayers of thanksgiving for the birth of a child, I am elated. Sometimes in those labor and delivery rooms the commotion stops long enough for me to invite the parents to wade into deeper waters. “Would you like your child to be baptized?” I might ask.

On a few such occasions, I have had parents quickly tell me that they want their child baptized as soon as possible. This is usually followed up by the phrase, “In case something happens.” When a parent utters these words, I wonder sometimes aloud, “What do you think is happening in Holy Baptism?”

I wonder that with all of you now, “What do you think is happening in Holy Baptism?” Let that question marinate a minute.

Today is the First Sunday in Lent. Now, it’s not the First Sunday of Lent. What’s the distinction? Well, even though we have put away the liturgical A-word for a time, Sundays are always feast days, always! They are the Day of Resurrection. Every Sunday a mini-Easter and Easter is simply a really big Sunday. On this First Sunday in Lent, we discover one of the major purposes of this entire season—we witness one of the big goals of this time when we prepare ourselves for the Paschal Feast of Easter. What is that goal?

Holy Baptism! Along with preparing ourselves for Our Lord’s Passion and Resurrection, this Season of Lent has traditionally been a time when we in the Church ready those who are to be baptized most fittingly at the Easter Vigil. In the Early Days of the Church those who followed the Way of Christ were often persecuted. So, preparations for Holy Baptism were rigorous to ensure that someone was not spying on early Christians (meaning: little Christs) to infiltrate and harm or even kill them. Often this Catechism—instruction in the Faith—took three years!

That is not my hope at Holy Apostles. However, I do believe it takes years and years, decades and decades, even an entire lifetime to grow into the full stature of Christ. This good work though is begun in what our readings focus on today—Holy Baptism.

So, let’s wonder with our lessons this day that question I asked a moment ago, “What do you think is happening in Holy Baptism?” or more simply, “What does happen in Holy Baptism?”

In Mark, Jesus underwent the Baptism of John. He was baptized in the River Jordan. There something mystical and marvelous occurred. A voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved.” Is there an echo in here? We heard these same words last week uttered by an overwhelming cloud during the Transfiguration. Today though, God’s voice bellows from heaven while the Holy Spirit descends like a dove on Jesus.

This was Jesus’ Baptism. In The Book of Common Prayer though, we attest that there is One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism. So, here it is! This is Holy Baptism. Every other Baptism throughout all time is taking part in this one—each new baptism is not a cheap imitation—it’s the same one. And, though we do not say it explicitly in our Baptism service, just as Jesus heard these words from heaven, you hear these words: You are my beloved. God also added, “With you I am well pleased,” which we did not hear in the Transfiguration. In your Holy Baptism, God is well pleased too.

So, this Holy Baptism—this one Holy Baptism—is a moment when we discover our true identity, in Christ we are God’s beloved. This is not as nervous new parents often think, eternal fire insurance simply offered to prevent us from dying and going to hell. This interpretation of Holy Baptism has caused much harm. God does not intend to utilize scare tactics to intimidate or coerce us into loving God. Holy awe of God, being overwhelmed by Our Creator are likely outcomes of growing ever closer to the Almighty One—still for too long some of our siblings in the Church have utilized a fear of hell into scaring people into their pews.

God loves us—God sees us through the lens of Christ, as beloved. Still, Holy Baptism is deathly serious, but not because of what often is attested by turn or burn preachers with bullhorns screeching on the street corner. Our First Lesson from Genesis and our Second Lesson from Peter’s Letter provide us with deeper understanding.

Holy Baptism is like the flood. It is like the flood in that we are overwhelmed by it. Not only this, but our old way of being is no more. In Holy Baptism, we undergo death—we die to self—and we are made a new creation in Christ. Baptism then is not simply a cleansing of your sins, it’s not like washing your hands to remove dirt. No, it’s not simply that your iniquities are sprinkled with holy water, it’s that you are not the same person before and after baptism—like creation before and after the flood.

What happens then in Holy Baptism is transformation, rebirth, and taking part in the Resurrection of Christ! If we say that it is simply to avoid sin or avoid hell, we are making this rite too small. In this sacrament, we are made new, we are in Christ seen as the beloved, and we are recognized as our true selves—children of God. Anything less than this does not express the power and abundance of God’s grace.

When talking about grace though, I am frequently reminded of Frederick Bonhoeffer’s notion of cheap grace. He attests the grace we receive, for example in Holy Baptism, the grace we receive here from God is 100% free. However, this grace will cost us.

We see this immediately in today’s Gospel. Jesus—once baptized and identified as the beloved—is driven out into the wilderness. Did you notice who drove him there? It was the Holy Spirit! What? From within the Divine Community of the Trinity, Jesus was guided into the wilderness and faced temptation. Immediately this overwhelming grace that Jesus received cost him something. He persisted as he rested in his beloved identity—a grace from God.

Grace, that is the surprising gift of God’s favor, unearned and undeserved, led Jesus into self-emptying love. Notice it’s not the other way round—God the Father did not wait for Jesus to win his belovedness after avoiding temptation from Satan. Jesus was beloved, then this grace invited him into self-giving love. We most clearly see this sacrificial love at the Cross of Calvary, but it’s here in the wilderness too.

Jesus gave away comfort. He gave away convenience. He faced temptation. He slummed it with the beasts. Not because he wanted a fun camping experience or a divine merit badge. This was a way of resting in the belovedness of God and recognizing that in this truth he could face overwhelming challenges.

This is what happens in Holy Baptism. We recognize and celebrate our true nature, as God’s beloveds. If you have not been baptized, I invite you to come talk with me. If you are interested in Confirmation—that is confirming what happened in Holy Baptism—a mature commitment to Christ, come talk with me. If you want to reaffirm your Baptismal Vows or be received from another denomination, come talk with me.

In Christ, all of us are seen as God’s Beloveds, and in these rites of initiation and renewal, we recognize and celebrate as the Church what God already sees in us. You do not need to be baptized so as to avoid eternal death, but in Holy Baptism you do die. You die to your old self, you are made a new creation in Christ, you accept your place as God’s beloved, and you receive the abundant grace of God. This grace is free, but will cost you. May we rest in the truth of our belovedness through Christ, may we receive this grace, and may we be ready to give of ourselves to help others know that they too are beloved.

Monday, January 14, 2019

Onward

My Baptismal Certificate (Thanks be to God that God wasn't finished with me then).

January 13, 2019—First Sunday after the Epiphany

Isaiah 43:1-7

Psalm 29

Acts 8:14-17

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Do you remember your baptism? I don’t. In the Church we sometimes say, “Remember your baptism!” but I don’t. It’s not that I don’t remember that I was baptized, it’s just that I was seven months old. I do however, remember what people told me about that day.

On Saturday, May 4, 1985 in front of just a handful of people Fr. Jim Touhy celebrated a service of Holy Baptism. It is not lost on me as a Star Wars fan that I was baptized on May 4^th—as in, "May the Fourth (sic) be with you." Still there are so many more important details that others have told me about that day worth remembering.

Like that it was one of the last private baptisms celebrated at Saint Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Birmingham. As you know, we in the Episcopal Church now prefer a raucous celebration in the midst of a big feast day like All Saints’ Day or today. Being baptized in front of a few people who will raise one up right is profound, but when a whole church says, “We will!” make sure this child or person is brought up into the full stature of Christ, it’s so rich for the whole community.

Back to my own baptism, I also have been told that on that spring day in 1985 I cried bloody murder throughout the whole service. Fr. Touhy—an Irishman—said afterward in his thick accent, “Well, I hope it took!” As in, he hoped that he had gotten all the Satan out of me. These shared details and my own other memories about that church weave together this beautiful tapestry that informs me about the importance of being marked as Christ’s own forever. What about you, what do you remember about your own baptism?

What do you remember about what happened after your baptism? I’m not talking about the reception, I mean what occurred in the wake of your baptism? I ask this because today’s Gospel lesson directs us strangely away from Jesus’ baptism at the hands of John and towards another moment entirely. And, truth be told, what happens as we move through our life in Christ, our life-long journey as the beloveds of God, may shine just as brightly as that one shimmering moment in the baptismal waters. So, let’s look more closely at today’s words from Luke, as we are charged to move onward in our relationship with God through Christ.

Unlike in Mark’s account, when Jesus emerged from baptism with the heavens being torn open immediately, or Matthew’s account, when again the dove descended as Jesus rose out of the River Jordan, or John’s account, when we did not receive an elaborate description of the baptism at all, unlike the others, Luke’s story gives us an intentional account of Jesus’ baptism, but in the past tense. Listen again: “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…” the heavens opened, the Holy Spirit came down, and the Father’s voice boomed. The moment of baptism had already passed.

How long ago was it? Well, in a blog post thisweek, our former rector writing about the Greek word, which we translate as “had been baptized,” lets us know that it’s unclear. However, what is as clear as the flowing baptismal water itself is that Jesus had already been baptized and was currently praying when the Spirit alighted upon Him. That’s right. The way Luke writes it Jesus was not being baptized when the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like that of a dove instead, it was when Jesus was praying that all of this action took place. This changes some things my friends!

Sometime after Jesus was baptized he was praying. And, as he was, God’s Spirit came upon him and told him the most important truth we will ever hear, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” There are two things here I want to dwell upon—first, what this tells us about prayer and second, why we need these words today more than ever.

So first prayer! Oftentimes parents of young children come into a priest’s office panicking. Especially if this child is the first in a family, the parents worry that if they do not hurry up and get their child baptized, then something bad could occur. And, so they ask, “What will happen if my child dies before she is baptized?” Sometimes not wanting to pull the rug out from underneath the parents’ feet too quickly, I will slowly try to unpack the fears surrounding this wayward belief. Most notably I want them to know clearly that Holy Baptism IS NOT eternal fire insurance.

This morning please hear me as I restate this truth. There is nothing you or your child can do that will separate either of you from God’s love. Nothing! Nothing, nothing, nothing, NOTHING! Baptism is not fire insurance. It is a repentance from sin and a turning towards God; however, God never waits on you to do something before God loves you! Got it? Now, not to undercut the profundity of the Holy Sacrament of Holy Baptism, but today’s Holy Scripture tells us that it is in prayer that Jesus received the Spirit and accepted His true identity as the Beloved.

So what does this mean? Is Holy Baptism insignificant? Well, no. But, it does shed some light on the power of prayer. Parents, guardians, grandparents, and the extended church family who may worry about our children’s eternal lives are also called to care about our children’s mortal lives, which are very much part of eternity. How do we care for ourselves and our children? How do we help ourselves and others to turn from evil? How do we lean ever closer towards Christ? How? How? How? Not only through the mysterious waters of Holy Baptism, but also in the rich life of prayer that we share together! Baptism is wonderful and can be profound, but it may very well be in our individual and shared lives of prayer that we hear the most important truth.

That second thing worth dwelling upon is why we need this truth now more than ever. What’s the truth? Through Christ and the Spirit, which came to reside upon and within Jesus, God says also to you, “You are my child, my beloved; with you I am well pleased.” You and you and you and you and you and all of us are God’s most precious child. Like all good parents God does not play favorites, instead God says you are my beloved. Jesus heard that truth, at least according to Luke, not in baptism but in prayer. If you are one of those worried parents who must have your child baptized perhaps these words are challenging because it’s not as simple as one moment. God is too big for just one moment. God wants you forever. God wants you to know that you are God’s beloved forever.

In just a moment we are going to remember our baptisms. We will do so by reciting the Baptismal Covenant. It will be lovely. And, I hope you take time each year on your baptismal anniversary to think back upon that moment when you were cleansed from sin and marked as Christ’s own forever. Still, what you need now and always is to pray. Not because it’s required of you. Not because God has to hear you worshipping, praising, or groveling. You need to pray because it is in prayer that you will recognize the truth of Holy Baptism. It is in prayer that you will hear God saying, “You are my child, my beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And for that, thanks be to God. Amen!

Monday, January 8, 2018

On the Edge

What a joy to welcome John Theodore Olson as a new member in Christ's Body!

The Readings which inspired this sermon were:

If one does not proceed with caution during this time of year, one might develop a severe case of John the Baptist fatigue. Since the start of December we have heard almost every Sunday morning about this unique forerunner to Jesus. What he wore and what he ate stick in our minds like an article from People magazine detailing a celebrity party. The baptizer donned a custom camel’s hair suit fitted with a vintage leather belt. He noshed on a minimalist paleo diet of free range locusts and organic wild honey. When we hear the story so often we tune out what is going on and just as importantly we tune out where it is happening.

John the Baptizer appeared in the wilderness. The specific location of that wilderness matters immensely. John baptized those from town and country at the River Jordan. Now, this seemingly mundane detail about the location of John’s baptizing could appear too common to be noteworthy, but in Mark—the briefest of the Gospel accounts—nothing is superfluous data.

Meaning overflows from the Jordan. In particular, this was the border between the barren wilderness and the rich land of milk and honey, promised of old to God’s People. As we remember this story today, we stand on the edge of these same waters, the edge of this border, and the edge between what was promised and what will be fulfilled. We do not stand alone—no, we are here with John and Jesus and all those who came and still come in search of something that cannot be found in the established religion of the day. That is why so many went out to John, isn’t it? To search for something new and fresh and real. What is it precisely though that we are doing here at the edge of these baptismal waters?

We who may love our church and our traditions, what are we doing? The lessons from today lead us toward an answer. Genesis describes the Spirit’s moving over the waters ever since the beginning of Creation. Our Psalm for today celebrates God’s voice upon the waters. The portion we heard from the Acts of the Apostles depicts some followers of John receiving the Spirit in the waters of baptism when Paul ministered in Ephesus. In each of these we find something earthly linked with something that lies beyond the worldly—the sacred mingling with the secular, the divine in the everyday. Of course, the Gospel lesson from Mark most fully exemplifies this: “And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.” Is this why we’re here? To catch a glimpse of God through a thin place? What was really happening with Jesus in that river?

For a long time the Church has argued about whether Jesus “needed” to be baptized by John. Mark’s telling of the story runs somewhat at odds with the others. Matthew tells it as though John would not baptize the one coming after him. Luke does the same. The Fourth Gospel account (the Evangelist John) supposes that Jesus’ baptism happened, but does not describe the event. Here in Mark’s narrative though things appear simpler. After John proclaims his message as the forerunner of the Messiah, Jesus appears to be baptized. Did he need it? Was he with sin before? Was he trying to fit in with the rest of humanity? As frustrating as it is, the text remains silent on these issues. More importantly though, we find something transformative happening as we watch from the edge of the River Jordan.

When Jesus emerged from the murky river a voice declared from heaven, “You are my Son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.” The holy cut into a simple ritual out on the edge between the civilized and the uncivilized, between what was promised and what will be fulfilled, between what had been and what was to come. God entered into the lives of human beings as they grasped at a new way of approaching their lives. For regardless of what we make of Jesus’ decision to be baptized, the others out in the wilderness around the Jordan were searching for an amendment of life. The message John preached that attracted so many focused upon turning back to God—repenting or refocusing upon the Holy One. This too brings us to the holy waters over which the Spirit still moves.

This morning, John Theodore Olson will be baptized—yes, we related. For many of us raised in the South, this moment collapses upon only one faucet, the aforementioned forgiveness of sins. While I am partial to my son Teddy, I know that he will not be immune to iniquity. He is after all a preacher’s kid—and all of us at some point go astray. But, if one merely believes that baptism is about eternal fire insurance—that is not going to hell—then one has sorely missed what is at the heart of these lessons and what is at heart of God’s love for us.

When Teddy, or anyone else, undergoes the holy gift, the holy sacrament that is Holy Baptism the baptized are forgiven their sins, but something else happens too. When through Christ we celebrate baptism we hear God’s voice adopting the baptized as a beloved child. Yes, there is a turning that presupposes the voice; however, God does not utter from heaven, “Your sins are forgiven.” No, God says, “This is my beloved, in you I am well pleased.” The lesson from the Acts of the Apostles illuminates this truth in a specific manner.

Those in Ephesus got the baptism of repentance from John the Baptizer, but somehow they missed the crucial second step in the process. They had not been baptized with the Holy Spirit. They were ones who had been baptized by the water, but they had avoided somehow the Spirit and the spiritual fire that accompany baptism through Christ. In other words, they had only been focusing on the forgiveness of sins, but they did not hear their rightful calling through Christ. They had not heard the words that God speaks to all of God’s Children, “You are my beloved, with you I am well pleased.”

Some of us too might have missed the Holy Spirit. Like those in Ephesus we might have solely aimed at amending our lives that we did not get the full power of baptism. The gift of initiating and engrafting a new member into the Body of Christ shines both in the freedom that comes with forgiveness and also in the transforming fire from the Spirit. The Holy Spirit gifted those disciples in Ephesus long ago with the abilities of tongues and prophesy—Teddy already has the gift of tongues, as his morning babbling has exemplified. What gifts will the Holy Spirit impart on Teddy in this moment? How will Christ’s Spirit transform us as we welcome this new member? In what ways does the Spirit gift us?

For us to focus only on the forgiveness of sins in this moment of Holy Baptism is to miss half of the Spirit’s powerful gifting. In Baptism the Holy Spirit brings profound, marvelous, world-transforming abilities—how will we receive them? How will you be transformed as you hear God saying to you, “You are my beloved, with you I am well pleased.”?

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Crosses on Your Forehead

What do a cross of Chrism and one of ash have in common?

If we could not wash off the Holy water and Chrism oil from Baptism, nor the ashes from today’s liturgy we would notice that we have multiple crosses in precisely the same location on our brows. An almost invisible strand ties together today’s penitential rite and the Christian entry rite. Surprisingly, the service of Holy Baptism begins only 29 pages after the conclusion of the Ash Wednesday service; somehow though, the two feel farther and further apart than that. What binds together these crosses on our foreheads? What ties together the one made of ash and the one marked with oil?

In a few moments, you will be invited to observe a Holy Lent, and then anyone who wishes will come forward. You will be reminded that you are dust and to dust you shall return, and at that same moment burnt up branches from Palm Sundays past will be shaped into the form of a cross on your forehead. In this way, one year’s journey to the Cross fades into the next. And, for many ages Lent, which comes from a word meaning spring, has served as a time when converts blossom into full-fledge members of Christ’s Body. On one side of Lent the ashen cross and on the other at the Great Celebration of Easter the cross of oil, in between was the final formation before the church recognized one as a Christian. Ash Wednesday, Lent, and Holy Baptism, thus have been inextricably linked together, as a time of growth. And yet, is that all this season is about: personal progress?

Lent, if approached haphazardly, shifts into a short-lived season of discipline used for our own purposes of self-importance. When we make Lent a six-week season of “doing good, rather than building a Lent that becomes a life” we miss the mark.[1] As all of us, the novices and the elders alike, begin to walk the Lenten way of the Cross, we would do well to remember that Jesus’ public ministry began not with forty days of piety or self-discipline, but first within the deep, brooding waters of Baptism—waters that call to mind the depths over which God first moved to create. As there is only one Baptism, once baptized we do not enter these waters again, but Lent does allow us to be refreshed and renewed, as we repent and return to God. As we turn to God in this penitential season we may very well see the hidden feature tying Ash Wednesday, Lent, and Baptism together in an unexpected place. For these occasions are as much about death—that is turning away—as they are about new life. Somehow though, death does not play well in our culture.

Death tends to be a topic of which we steer clear at polite social gatherings. We, as a country, are so uncomfortable with death that we spend approximately $20.7 billion a year, so that those in the funeral home industry can deal with death for us.[2] Even though death comes for us all, we attempt to evade it through plans, schemes, and regimes to stay young forever. All of us go down to the dust, and much as we may want to ignore this truth, Ash Wednesday gives us an opportunity to stare death in the face, just like during Holy Baptism. Today we do not dwell morosely on our mortality, but instead as we feel the cross marked on our brows we can realize again the overwhelming reality that even in death we are Christ’s own forever.

When children, youth, and adults are marked in Baptism we tend to focus solely on the new life, but without the often overlooked death that precedes it this rite makes no sense. In Baptism we die, plain and simple. Our individualistic ways are called to cease, as God draws us up into the corporate identity of Christ. We are not just marked as Christ’s own forever, but we become part of the Body by dying to the self. As the Rev. Dr. Will Willimon puts it:

The chief biblical analogy for baptism is not the water that washes but the flood that drowns. Discipleship is more than turning over a new leaf. It is more fitful and disorderly than gradual moral formation. Nothing less than daily, often painful, lifelong death will do. So Paul seems to know not whether to call what happened to him on the Damascus Road “birth” or “death”—it felt like both at the same time.[3]

A Lent following Jesus, not to mention a life following him, cannot be about making ourselves feel good because we do some new discipline or fast for a few weeks each springtime. Jesus, himself makes this clear in the culmination of his Sermon on the Mount, which we hear today. If our reward is based on impressing others because we are merciful, prayerful, or fasting, we are missing the point. Even if we are doing some great spiritual discipline off by our lonesome, if we are doing it for our own benefit, we are missing the point. “What reward are you seeking?” Jesus seems to ask, “An earthly one for your own benefit or a heavenly one that draws you ever closer to God?” Put another way, “Do not be holy because it is what the world expects of you [or even what you think is required of yourself]; rather, learn to live holy lives because a closer relationship to the God who sees in secret will be reward enough.”[4] Die to self, so that Christ may live!

Today, Christ calls us not to immortal greatness, but to ponder our mortal smallness. Remember that not only will we one day die, but also that we have already died in Baptism. The death we die in Baptism brings us into a new life—a life no longer focused on doing new things to prove ourselves worthy to others, to ourselves, or to God. This is Good News! In Lent, then we are free to explore how we may see God living and breathing anew within us.

Churches traditionally sing “Just As I Am” when they baptize folks. It’s a fantastic song, but I am partial to a line Presiding Bishop Michael Curry borrowed from Max Lucado, “God loves us where we are, but God does not intend to leave us where we are.” When we die to ourselves, not just in Lent, but throughout our lives, we experience the transforming power of God’s love. This may happen by getting rid of something that distracts us from seeing God who resides closer to us than our own heartbeat. This may happen by taking on something that focuses us on God who knows us in secret. This Lent, as your brow is marked by a cross of ash remember the other cross marked when you died in Baptism, so that Christ could live within you.

Lent is when new life abounds, for we turn away from a society obsessed with outrunning death and towards the living God who calls us to die to self, so that Christ lives. Lent is when we become less, so that Christ may become all. Let Lent permeate beyond the next 40 days. May we embrace God’s call to turn towards the Lenten path, the Cross, and those Baptismal waters where death and new life meet. May we remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return, so that we may embrace our eternal God. May we have a holy Lent filled with God’s transforming love that meets us where we are, but brings us into the ultimate life of God.

[1] Anschutz, Maryetta. "Ash Wednesday: Pastoral Perspective." In Feasting on the Word, edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, 20. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2010.

[2] Public Broadcast Service. Homegoings: The Economics of Funerals. June 24, 2013. http://www.pbs.org/pov/homegoings/economics-of-the-funeral-industry/ (accessed February 20, 2017).

[3] Willimon, William. "Repent." In Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter, 9. Walden, NY: Plough Publishing, 2003.

[4] Anschutz, Maryetta. "Ash Wednesday: Pastoral Perspective." In Feasting on the Word, edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, 20. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2010.