January 13, 2008

Nancy M. Morris

You see white in front of you today and perhaps you wonder why. The world’s Christmas season is long over and even the most liturgical among us would expect the Church’s season to end with Epiphany, January 6^th, last Sunday. But there is one more white Sunday in this cycle of celebration before we revert to the quiet and unassuming green of the time between.

Today, the Sunday after Epiphany, is known as the Baptism of the Lord. The Epiphany season is all about revelation: seeing light in darkness, a Messiah present in a babe, God’s presence in a prophet from Nazareth. There are three texts that belong to Epiphany just as much as Luke 2 belongs to Christmas Eve. I’m certain you know one of them. It’s the visit of the Magi to the Holy Family. Gentile kings recognize what Jewish scribes cannot. Through their persistent star gazing they find the child who is born King of the Jews. Another traditional Epiphany text is the marriage at Cana where Jesus performs his first miracle and water is turned into resurrection wine. The third text, the one that traditionally falls between those two, is the text appointed for today, namely the baptism of Jesus. In this awkward story of a sinless Messiah seeking baptismal cleansing, we hear a voice declare: "This is my Son." So in this season of "seeing," I invite you into an opportunity for "hearing" a voice spoken over baptismal waters and what it has to say to us today. And in the Gospel turn taking that is the lectionary, it’s Matthew’s turn to speak.

Let your voice be heard, Mighty God and Enlivening Spirit. Let it be heard in the words of your Holy Word and in the Word made flesh, in whose name we pray. Amen.

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

As most of you know, I started life as a Baptist. You can ask David Henry or you can trust me, but the truth is every Baptist pastor has stories to tell about immersion baptisms gone awry. I imagine pastors from our tradition have their stories to share as well. After all, that tradition carries with it the inherent unpredictability of children. (Well, not at Second. All our baptisms are flawless!) But when you are dealing with large quantities of water, the potential for mishaps is almost as great.

I’ll never forget one particular Sunday morning during my tenure at St. John’s Baptist in Charlotte. Be mindful that performing a baptism by immersion requires some degree of physical preparation by the pastor. After all, you must get into the water yet at the same time appear to be perfectly attired in shirt and tie. All the Baptist pastors I knew accomplished that fast change through the use of chest - high waders. And since it takes time to both put on and take off waders, baptisms were often scheduled for the end of the service.

Perhaps it was in deference to the nerves of this candidate, or perhaps it was because this pastor preferred to end the service with his sermon, but on this particular Sunday the baptism was placed in the middle of the service. Be mindful as well that it takes several hours to fill a baptistery with water but only a matter of minutes to empty one.

Everything about the baptism went smoothly that day. The candidate whispered his profession of faith; they usually do. The preacher Richard loudly proclaimed the sacred Baptist formula: buried with Christ in baptism and risen to walk in a whole new way of life. Richard was just getting into his sermon when everyone in the sanctuary noticed a disturbingly loud noise coming from the baptistery. The youth minister and I were sitting together up front in the usual spot for liturgists. We looked at each other dumbfounded as to what we should do. We hesitated for only a few seconds before we knew we had to investigate.

We dashed up one flight of steps to the doors of the baptistery, a place I knew well because I had often taken children there in order for them to explore its mystery. Upon opening the doors, we noticed rather quickly the source of the voice. Someone had already started to drain the water. In fact, it was so close to being fully drained that it was gurgling, singing rather loudly if you will, through its final minutes. Unfortunately neither of us knew how to close the drain. Realizing we had to try something, we grabbed a couple of towels and waded into the ankle deep water, trying to silence the drain by stuffing them down its throat. Anything to quiet the disturbing voice, yet all the while adding our own hysterical laughter to its melody.

The only thing that separated us from the sanctuary and the worship service that was trying to continue was the closed curtain across the arch of the baptistery. And since baptism by immersion is central to Baptist theology, that curtain was front and center for everyone in the congregation. Always the focal point of worship visually, it became the focal point audibly that morning.

Being a determined pulpiteer, Richard finished his sermon though he had to admit no one heard him. We discovered later that an eager custodian had opened the drain. He was anxious to get home and thought nothing of this efficient execution of his duties. After all, the baptism was over, wasn’t it?

The voice of baptism echoed in our ears that day, in a compelling and delightfully unforgettable way.

Singing drains aside however, there is a voice that sings throughout Christendom every time baptism is celebrated, with a handful of water or a tubful. It belongs to Matthew. "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me," Jesus declares in Matthew’s closing words. "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age." Add the fact that the first act of public ministry for Jesus is his baptism by John, and you quickly realize that the Gospel of Matthew is, in fact, bookended with baptism.

If Matthew is to provide the script for baptism, and if baptism is our entry into the family of God, we had better come to terms with just what Matthew sees in this sacrament of power and of grace. Walk with me through Matthew’s story and listen to Matthew’s voices. Let’s see together what Matthew has to say.

He wasn’t supposed to be there. Not on that river bank, at that sacred spot where Moses had instructed the people, where Joshua parted the waters, and now where the fiery prophet John held court. Not amongst the rabble of the world, the tax collectors and prostitutes; the lame and blind; the homeless, the jobless, the sick, the unworthy. You know, the undesirables, the sinners. All of them were wanting to get washed up, to feel the cleansing bath of John’s water; to be forgiven, to be restored. Yet there is Jesus, standing in the midst of them, elbow to elbow, probably even touching them, taking his place in line, waiting for his turn in the water.

The baptism of Jesus was scandalous. So scandalous in fact that the Church tried to hide it but couldn’t, which is probably pretty conclusive evidence that it actually happened just this way. How do you explain the sinless Son of God seeking a baptism of repentance with a bunch of blatant sinners? There are ways to weasel. Mark simply reports the facts, as quickly and neatly as possible. Luke creatively evades the facts. John avoids the event altogether. Only Matthew tries to justify it. Only in Matthew do we hear the dialogue between John and Jesus.

Righteousness. It’s a Matthean word, and for Matthew it means doing the will of God. Remember that.

Right there in the middle of the scandal, in the muddy, crowded, chaotic water of the Jordan, comes one of the most divinely drenched moments in all scripture. The skies open up. A dove descends. And we hear a voice, the Voice saying: "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." If a theophany is the tangible manifestation of God’s presence, a direct encounter with the holy, then this is theophany to the third power. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit together create Trinity saturation: the Voice, the dove, and Jesus standing in the water, his head wet from John’s hand.

Matthew creates a unique spin in reporting the Voice, and it’s another clue to Matthew’s meaning of the sacrament. In the other Gospels, Jesus hears: "You are my Son, the Beloved." In Matthew, we hear, "This is ..." Matthew seems to take what was a private moment between Father and Son and turn it into a public proclamation that beckons inclusion, that beckons us.

Don’t we all yearn to hear that Voice? It’s the Voice that claims us and receives us. It is the voice that declares we belong to a holy family, to God’s family not because of anything we have done; because of something God has done; because of something God’s Son has done for us. It’s the Voice we hear each time we baptize saying: child of God.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again and I’ll keep on saying it: our tradition that receives a child into the loving embrace of a waiting God is the way it should be. How else can you honor the One who said if you do not receive the kingdom of God like a child, you shall never enter it.

Every time we watch a baptism, every time we hear the words "child of God," we can insert our names and know that we belong to the family because of what happened in that crowded Jordan River when Jesus was where he wasn’t supposed to be; when Jesus was with us.

Yet how many of us actually believe it? In the reality of a world full of voices telling us who we are, what we should be, what we need to be in order to be worthy, how many of us struggle to hear the Voice and claim its truth?

But Jesus heard more than a voice while he was in that river. Not only was he claimed and named as Son of God. He was anointed for service. The heavens opened and the Spirit descended upon him, and Spirit power is always a call to action, a call to ministry.

The lectionary links Matthew’s baptism narrative with a text from Isaiah chapter 42, and it is a perfect fit. If you pay careful attention to both texts, you can hear how they seem to belong together. Listen:

Son of God; Servant of God. For Matthew and Isaiah, the titles are virtually synonymous.

Righteousness. Right living. Doing the will of God. Justice. Gentleness. Deliverance. Peace.

It would seem that Matthew is trying to tell us: If you would hear the Voice, become the servant.

Listen to another voice that echoes across Matthew’s Gospel.

Matthew is the gospel of discipleship.

And Matthew is the gospel of blessing.

Go where you’re not supposed to be, among the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame. Offer a cup of cold water. Shelter a child. Care for the dying. Listen to the lonely. Seek justice. Extend mercy. Protect the powerless. Work for reconciliation. Know that gentleness is no sign of weakness and in compassion lies strength.

In baptism we are both named as children of God and called out for service.

Yet I must confess that in two weeks we are going to confuse you. That’s when we will call forward those who have been chosen by this congregation to serve as elders. When we do, those who have already been set apart will stand around them, obscuring them from your sight. The new elders will kneel and hands will be placed upon them. Then we’ll pray for Holy Spirit power and wisdom to descend on them. It’s easy to see how you might mistake this call to servanthood to be exclusive. But you would be wrong.

Tucked away in every service of baptism, from a tiny infant in arms to the full stature of adulthood, is an anointing for ministry. With a hand still wet with holy water, the voice will say, "Child of God, redeemed by Christ. I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And may the blessings of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit rest upon you and abide with you all the days of your life." Theophany to the third power one more time and every time.

Child of God; redeemed by Christ; anointed for ministry. If you would hear the voice, become the servant. THANKS BE TO GOD.