Baptism
of the Lord
January
12, 2020
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.”
Over
the years, I have started to collect a list of Things People Say During a
Baptism. Not the official words, but the words around the event. It’s
surprising the range of things that you hear people say.
The
most common expression is, “What a beautiful baby!” We hear that a lot, and
it’s no wonder why. All babies are beautiful. I can’t imagine somebody saying
otherwise. There’s something about the miracle of birth and the presence of
child that defrosts the coldest heart.
Some
months back, I had the privilege of walking one of the church’s newest children
down the aisle. Usually we ask that task of a church elder, but for some
reason, I was the one. About halfway down on the right, one of our most senior
saints broke into a radiant smile as we approached, so I moved closer to
introduce them. And the three-month old child wrapped her hand around the
finger of someone 90-some years older.
It
was a moment I will never forget, one generation touching another. And the
senior saint said, “She’s beautiful.” We hear that a lot.
There
are other comments, of course. Here’s one: “We love the dress.” That comes up
sometimes, especially if it is a dress. Once it was a handmade dress of ivory
satin. It was stunning. The mother said, “It was my wedding dress.” Her father
said, “I don’t get it. Why is my grandson wearing a wedding dress at his
baptism?” There’s no telling what you might hear people say at a baptism.
The
big day of 1992 was the day Herb was baptized. I didn’t want to miss it. Nobody
did. Herb was well up in years. He had been coming here for years with his
wife. In conversation, somebody discovered he had never been baptized. We
asked, “Is this something you want to do?” And here’s what Herb said: “It isn’t
too late, is it?” Of course not. You ought to hear what is said at a baptism!
I
heard something at my own baptism. Well, it was spoken, but I don’t know if I understood
it at the time. I was one of the Baby Boomer babies in Rev. Duffy’s office in North
Springfield Presbyterian Church, Akron, Ohio. Six or seven of us baptized that
day. It was no private affair; never is! Baptism is a sacrament of the people
of God. It’s a public moment.
Apparently,
the minister was getting acquainted with all the parents and admiring their
babies. As my mother is holding me, my father blurts out that he had never been
baptized. Rev. Duffy froze in his tracks. What? Dad blushed, and Rev. Duffy
said (listen to this), “First things first.” Right then, they brought some
water and Dad was baptized the same day as me, March 19, 1961. First things
first.
Maybe
there’s something about baptism that is so important that commentary happens.
People talk about it, comment about it. As with Clarence, whom some of you
remember. His whole family came literally from around the world when his three
children were baptized. The family originated from Africa, but they gathered that
day from all over the globe. It was a big day. We danced during the offering!
Sometime
after that, the congregation elected Clarence to serve as an elder of the
church. He thought about it, prayed about it, and said, “OK, the time is
right.” The date was appointed to ordain all the elders and deacons. And in
conversation, I discovered that Clarence himself had not yet been baptized. He
was a faithful member of the church. He was elected to be an elder. He and his
wife had presented their three children for baptism. But not him. The echo from
1961 was still ringing in my ears: “First things first.”
When
nobody else was around, I asked why not. And he said, “I never thought I was
good enough.” That's when I could quote God, who spoke on the day of Jesus'
baptism, and said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well
pleased." You are beloved as you are. You are the Beloved of God.
Curiously
enough, and according to the story, Jesus hasn't "done" anything yet.
Not in the Gospel of Matthew. Oh, he has been born. His life has been raised in
the bosom of Israel, learning faith, reciting scripture, taking on the
traditions of prayer and the customs of charity - now, some say at age 30, he
steps up to the baptizer and says, "It's my turn."
But
it doesn’t proceed without a conversation. John the Baptizer didn’t want to do
it. He said, “No, not you.” Jesus said, “Yes, me.”
John
said, “That’s all wrong. I’ve baptized people to prepare for the Messiah, but
here you are.” Jesus said, “Right now. The time is full.”
John
said, “But this is backwards; you should be baptizing me.” And then Jesus said
something that prompted John to baptize him. He said, “We must do this in order
to fulfill all righteousness."
Now,
this is the Gospel of Matthew, and that is a loaded term, especially for this
book. Matthew never explains it, but he shows what it means.
It
happens in chapter one. Joseph the woodcutter is "a righteous man." He
knows the rules and he does what was right. If you remember the story, the
rules said, "Dismiss Mary, 'cause she's pregnant." The Bible said
that.
But
the right thing to do was to listen to what God said through a dream: "Don't
be afraid to hold onto Mary; her baby is my baby, the baby is the saving baby,
the whole world's baby. Don't be afraid to take her and her baby into your
heart." That's what he did. He knew the rules - but he did what was right.
Righteousness
is more than keeping the rules. Righteousness is doing what’s right. That’s the
life Jesus will pursue: a higher righteousness. Not long after the baptismal
water dries, he stands tall on a mountain to say, “Unless your righteousness
exceeds that of the merely religious people, you can't receive the blessings
from heaven” (5:20). As soon as he said that, all the merely religious people
said, “What do you mean by that?”
What
does that mean? Oh, he could offer plenty of test cases. Here’s one: “You've
heard it said, don't cross your fingers when you take an oath on a stack of
Bibles. But I say to you, let your word be something that can be trusted. Mean
what you say. Keep your promises. Be obedient to your own convictions.”
(5:33-37) It’s not enough to say the word; You must do it.
Or
here’s another one. “You have heard it said, draw careful boundaries. Live by
putting up fences. This person is your friend. That person is your enemy.
You’ve heard it said, keep those lines clear. Don’t cross them. But I say to
you, God loves everybody. God creates everybody. So love the people who are not
your friends; you don’t have to like them, but you must work for their benefit.
Put them on your prayer list.” (5:43-48)
This
is the higher righteousness. It is a life of generosity and whole-hearted
commitment. It cannot be lived in half measures. We can’t dip in and dip out;
it’s all the way in. For the sake of doing the right thing, the God-like thing,
of moving beyond our natural inclinations as a human animal to do what is
possible when God truly claims us and fills us with the Holy Spirit.
John
Burgess teaches at our Presbyterian seminary in Pittsburgh. He’s written a book
called After Baptism – and that’s the point of the whole book: what do we do to
after we come out of the water. How do we live to show that we belong to God?
It’s
no surprise that he has chapters on the Ten Commandments. Love God first of
all, keep the Sabbath, honor father and mother, don’t steal or covet. God gives
the commandments as a gift to direct our lives. After God claims us in the
water, God says, “Here is how I want you to live. Here is how I want you to
love.” If we don't listen to that Voice and live accordingly, writes John
Burgess, baptism is merely a “sentimental ritual.”[1]
There is an ethical life to be lived.
Now,
this is shocking for some folks. It may have never occurred to them how God
calls them to live once they have been claimed in the love of Christ.
“Baptized? Sure, I was baptized, but that was a long, long time ago.” What does
that baptism mean? It means that we are not only part of the Christian
community, we are called to live the Christian life, a life of continuing
growth, understanding, and devotion.
Sometimes
when we see what God requires of our lives, it shocks us, disturbs us, even
frightens us. I think of the parable that writer Brian McLaren tells. It
unsettled me when I first heard it, so maybe it will unsettle you too. Goes
like this:
“Please
de-baptize me,” she said.
The priest’s face crumpled.
“My parents tell me you did it,” she said. “But I was not consulted. So now, undo it.”
The priest’s eyes asked why.
“If it were just about belonging to this religion and being forgiven, then I would stay.
The priest’s face crumpled.
“My parents tell me you did it,” she said. “But I was not consulted. So now, undo it.”
The priest’s eyes asked why.
“If it were just about belonging to this religion and being forgiven, then I would stay.
If it were
just about believing this list of doctrines and upholding this list of rituals,
I’d be OK.
But your
sermon Sunday made it clear it’s about more. More than I bargained for.
So, please, de-baptize
me.”
The priest looked down, said nothing.
The priest looked down, said nothing.
She
continued: “You said baptism sends me into the world to love enemies. I don’t.
Nor do I plan
to.
You said it
means being willing to stand against the flow. I like the flow.
You described it like rethinking everything, like joining a movement.
You described it like rethinking everything, like joining a movement.
But I’m not
rethinking or moving anywhere. So un-baptize me. Please.”
The priest began to weep. Soon great sobs rose from his deepest heart.
He took off his glasses, blew his nose, took three tissues to dry his eyes.
“These are tears of joy,” he said.
The priest began to weep. Soon great sobs rose from his deepest heart.
He took off his glasses, blew his nose, took three tissues to dry his eyes.
“These are tears of joy,” he said.
“I think you
are the first person who ever truly listened or understood.”
“So,” she said, “Will you? Please?”[2]
“So,” she said, “Will you? Please?”[2]
McLaren doesn’t answer her question. He just dangles it out there, waiting for a response. In so doing, all of us are prompted to ask, “How are we going to live?” If we belong to God, it matters how we spend out time, how we take care of one another and our world, and where we give our first allegiance.
For Jesus, the old “repentance baptism” of John is
fulfilled and finished. To live forward is to live according to the love and
justice of God. And that is his invitation for all of us, too. When we are
baptized, what God says, “You belong to me. Nothing can ever come between me
and you. I love you completely.” And when the baptism is over, we are called to
love all that God loves.
This, I think, is what it means for us to “fulfill all
righteousness.” To love all that God loves. To live as generously as Christ
lives. To be courageous as the Holy Spirit gives us strength. To do the right
thing. For it matters what we do after the water has dried.
(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
[1] John P. Burgess, After
Baptism: Shaping the Christian Life (Louisville: Westminster John Knox
Press, 2005) p. 3.
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