The First Step is Admitting that You Have a Problem

The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs

Ash Wednesday

2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10

I am going to be perfectly honest: part of me dreads Ash Wednesday each year. The words which we will soon hear spoken to each of us are hard words to hear: Remember that you are dust, and to dust shall you return. They are hard words because they remind me of my own mortality; they are a reminder that no matter how hard I try, I am ultimately not in complete control over my own life. I dread being told that. I don’t know about you, but I am addicted to control. I am addicted to that rush I feel when I am in control of my own life. And if I’m not in control, I at least want to project an image that will make other people think I am in control. But Ash Wednesday and its reminder that I am dust tells me that I am not ultimately in control of my own life. That is hard to hear.

But there is also a relief that comes when I hear those words. Remember that you are dust, and to dust shall you return. Remember, in other words, that there is a God, and that God is not you.

That is what Ash Wednesday is about, after all. At their roots, the many things that we have each come to repent of this day are the same. Sin, however we might define its particulars in our lives, is a denial that God is in control of my life. Pretending to have that sort of ultimate control that only belongs to God is a way of making an idol out of myself. That is what sin is: usurping the place that properly belongs to God. That is what the serpent told Adam and Eve in the Garden: Eat of the fruit of the tree of which God has commanded you not to eat, and you will be like God.

The first step is admitting that I have a problem. Paradoxically, it is only in doing so that I will ever be free, free to be the child of God that I was created to be.

God is God, and I am not. Ash Wednesday is a hard day for us, but it is also, as St. Paul says, the day of our salvation. Because today, this one day out of all 365, I am called to be honest with myself, with all of you, and with God. I need that honesty, because it is only in admitting that I am not in control, in admitting that I need a savior, that I create the space in my heart for the Holy Spirit to come in and renew in me the joy of my salvation. The first step is always admitting that you have a problem.

Amen.

The Glory of God

The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs
The Last Sunday after the Epiphany
Mark 9:2-9

Then Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 

I love Mark’s account of the transfiguration because it is so honest in portraying the disciples’ terror. Matthew omits their terror, and Luke tries to minimize it, but not Mark. Mark is honest. The transfiguration was terrifying, but not because it was miraculous. There are plenty of miracles in Mark’s Gospel, but we are never told that they’re terrifying. We’ve heard stories of Jesus healing and casting out demons these past few weeks, and people were amazed and astounded by these miracles, but not terrified. There are only three occasions in Mark where we are told the disciples are terrified. The first is in Mark 6, just after the feeding of the five thousand. The disciples are in a boat, trying to cross the Sea of Galilee to go to Bethsaida. It is night, and there is a strong wind that is frustrating their efforts to row across. Jesus had stayed behind on the other shore to pray, but suddenly they see him walking across the water, and they are terrified. We heard the second occasion of the disciples’ terror this morning: how, when Jesus took Peter and James and John up a high mountain, presumably to pray, as was his custom. Suddenly, Jesus’ clothes are bleached dazzling white, the word in Greek means to flash like lightning, and beside him are Moses and Elijah, who were promised to return to herald the messiah’s arrival. And Peter begins to babble, because the disciples are terrified. The third occasion comes after the crucifixion, when Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Salome went to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body with spices. When they get there, they find the stone rolled away, and a young man in a white robe tells them, “He has been raised; he is not here.” And they went out and fled from the tomb in terror.

No one is ever terrified by the many miracles in Mark’s Gospel, but these three stories (walking on water, transfiguration, and resurrection) terrify the disciples. Why is that? To us, they seem equally as miraculous as healing someone’s withered hand or casting out demons, don’t they? After all, healing, exorcism, miraculous feedings, walking on water, transfiguration, resurrection, aren’t we just giving many different names for impossible? But for the disciples, these three actions belong to a different category from mere miracle. They were all divine acts that could not be explained. They could explain healings and exorcisms and miraculous feedings. Elijah and Moses and the prophets had done those things. If you just knew the right spells, you could do them too. In fact, there are ancient depictions of miracle stories from the gospels where Jesus is shown holding a magic wand. Clearly, there was a category in the ancient world that could explain these things.

But not walking on water, or wearing clothing that flashed like lightning, or being resurrected. These were things that gods did. In Greek and Jewish literature alike, these acts were reserved to the Gods. Only Hermes or the Spirit of God could move across the waters, as God’s Spirit did in creation. You knew when you saw a god or the Most High God because of their clothing, which was like nothing that human beings could make. And for the Greeks and Romans, resurrection was a sign of being exalted to godhood. These moments in Mark’s Gospel are moments when the disciples are allowed to clearly see Jesus’ divinity, and it terrifies them.

And that is why Peter wants to make three dwellings. He is terrified, and he wants to find a way to accommodate the divine into his categories. He wants God to fit into the way that he understands the world to work. But that is not what God does. Instead of changing to fit our categories, God changes us to fit God’s categories. That is why we began our worship this morning with a prayer that God might changed into Christ’s likeness from glory to glory. From glory to glory. From the transfiguration to the resurrection.

It’s no mistake that we are hearing this Gospel reading today, the last Sunday after Epiphany. On Wednesday, we will begin our Lenten fasts, seeking to allow God to work in us through the individual disciplines we each will choose, so that we might be made more like Christ. I don’t know about you, but I have tended to think about Lent as a journey to the cross, to Good Friday. But that is too small an understanding, like Peter’s attempt to make dwellings on the Mountain of Transfiguration. Our collect this morning gives us the clue that this is the wrong idea: we are journeying from glory to glory, because the Lenten road is a journey to Easter and the resurrection. It’s a journey that leads us beyond our theology and our categories, all of which are ultimately too small to contain God.

As we heard this morning, our God is a transcendent mystery, infinitely above all our attempts at understanding. At the same time, in Jesus Christ, our Lord and Creator became our brother, like us in every way. I don’t understand this, any more than I understand the transfiguration. But I do know this, and I believe it, even as I do not understand it: God breaks into our world in incarnation, in walking on water, in transfiguration, in resurrection, in bread and wine, so that we might become like God.

Amen.

Be Lifted Up - Demons et al

Mark 1:29-39

There are three major events that take place in the excerpt we heard from Mark this morning – our 3^rd Sunday in the first chapter of the gospel – and I’d like to draw out each one, then draw some conclusions on how these very first century, ancient world stories – like exorcisms – still have meaning in our 21^st century lives.

So – we’re on the same day as we were last Sunday.  In the morning on that Sabbath – Jesus went into the synagogue and wowed everyone with his teaching – teaching not as a scribe but having authority.  Jesus knows who he is and whose he is – and the people can see that.

And it was that authority – that sense of self-knowledge – that compels him to break the rules.  In the midst of that Sabbath worship he healed a man of an unclean spirit.  We can assign all sorts of modern day maladies to what that might mean – unclean spirit – but Jesus sets the person free – releases him – unbinds him.  Jesus casts out whatever it is that it keeping that person from being the child of God he is meant to be.

And – that gets noticed.  It’s noticed by the people in authority – they don’t have authority, they are just in the right position – because Jesus broke the rules.  It gets noticed by the people – who are amazed at his teaching and healing.  And, as we see again this morning, it gets noticed by the demon.  A recurring theme of Mark’s gospel is that until the very end – until the crucifixion – the only ones who recognize Jesus as the Holy One of God are the demons!  We’ll get to that.

So – Jesus then leaves worship – I’m sure he stayed for coffee hour, though…and goes with his disciple to visit Simon’s mother-in-law.  And it’s annoying she doesn’t have a name – so let’s just call her Esther.  Women weren’t important enough when the scriptures were written to always be given a name – BUT – amazingly – they are important enough for Jesus to talk to, eat with and to heal.  Jesus and Simon go into the house – Simon says, Esther is really sick – can you help?

Another important point of context. In the time of this gospel – when you’re sick there are major societal ramifications.  Just like a person who is considered “unclean” because they have a demon – a person who is sick is shameful, a disgrace.  Remember in John’s gospel, the blind man – and everyone around him is arguing over who sinned so badly that this man went blind?  Was it his fault?  His parents?  To be sick was to be at fault – to be deserving of your illness.  This reflected badly on you – and your family.  We still have that, with some illnesses, don’t we?

Being sick also kept you from being able to fulfill your role in the family.  Look – it’s old fashioned to us now – but the role of the woman in the household was to serve – and we can’t take that in a pejorative sense.  Esther being sick meant she not only brought shame onto her family from the outside – but inside the family, she couldn’t do her job.  None of us like it when we are in that state do we?  Work gives us purpose – makes us feel like a contributing member of the world. None of us want to be a burden, right?

 

So what does Jesus do?  Don’t forget it’s still the Sabbath – not supposed to do any healing – but just like that man bound because of a demon – Esther is bound by her fever – and Jesus wants to set people free. 

And notice how he does so…Jesus came, he took her by the hand and lifted her up.  Picture that for a minute.  Picture the tender action of Jesus gently taking her hand and lifting her up.  I doubt that was how he cast out demons – but Esther was a different person with different needs. 

Jesus takes her by the hand, lifts her up – and THEN the fever leaves her.  Jesus isn’t one of those charismatic preachers who needs an audience to put on a show of healing.  He meets individual people and relates to their particular needs – always with the purpose of restoring them to wholeness in themselves – AND – within their community.  Jesus lifts people up.  Jesus sets people free.

Which allows her to turn and follow.  Someone cared for her – so she turns and cares for Jesus.

And then, forget about it – its been a busy day and word has gotten out!  So S’maltimore.  And droves of people surround poor Esther’s house wanting to be lifted up and set free – and who could blame them? 

But – notice what it says – all who were sick and possessed came – the whole city – but – not all were healed.  Many were.  Many demons cast out – many healed with various diseases – but not all. 

Why?  I don’t know.  Just like today – I don’t know why some are healed and some are not.  Go back and reread what we heard from Isaiah – another reminder about the mystery, the incomprehensibility of the Holy One.  But it’s important for us to remember – Jesus did not heal every person he met in the way that they wanted.  And even those he did – they had the same mortal life that we do.

Moving on – as Jesus did.  The next morning – he gets up goes and prays.  Look I don’t do it every day either – but I do it, fairly regularly – and it makes a difference in my life – and I know I’m not the only one here who has that same awareness.  To start our day connecting with the Holy One – matters.  It certainly mattered to Jesus.

But check out this phrase – Simon and his companions go “hunting” for Jesus.  Hunting?  Yep – that is a direct translation – they aren’t just looking, they aren’t eagerly seeking – they are on the hunt.  Because Esther’s house is still surrounded by people clamoring to be set free, to be lifted up.  Which makes Simon and his companions anxious and nervous.  Just like the disciples surrounded by all those hungry masses in the feeding of the 5,000 story who turn to Jesus saying – what are we supposed to do about this?

We get anxious when there is a crisis of some kind and we don’t know how to solve it or fix it, immediately.  So we hunt for someone to give our anxiety to – because we have this not always true notion – that there is always something “to do” – sometimes there isn’t.

Anyway – probably because Jesus connects daily with God, probably because Jesus knows who he is and whose he is - Jesus doesn’t react, doesn’t give in to their anxiety.  He did what he could do in Capernaum – and it’s time to move on.  Some were healed, some weren’t – he can’t do everything.  He doesn’t do what they want – he lives into his calling - let us go on to the neighboring towns to proclaim the good news – because that is what I came to do – Jesus tells them.

And – if I may be so bold as to reference my sermon of two weeks ago – the good news is this – the time is now.  God is here.  Turn and trust.  Jesus knows that when some people hear that message they will be set free – they will be lifted up.

Wait – the demons.  I believe in demons that want to thwart the power of God in us and in the world.  As individuals – the demons are those things that keep us bound – they are the addictions – not just to vices – but to anxiety and fear, to basing our sense of who we are on what other people think.  Those critical demonic voices in our head that cut us down.  The demons are also the voices of our own pride and maybe even guilt – that keeps us from going into the neighboring towns and cities – to help lift people up.  Keep us from going into our own hearts to ask Jesus to turn and lift us up.

That’s why they always know Jesus – darkness never wants to let in the light, because anxiety and shame are the fears that keep demons alive. 

The good news is the same then, now and always – we hear it again and again because it doesn’t always get through, it doesn’t always lift us up, it doesn’t always encourage us to turn and serve in grateful response.  But many times it does.  Be grateful for the good news today – God is here, the time is now, turn and trust – for maybe just in the hearing you will be lifted up – and you in turn will go and lift up another.  Amen.

 The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

When Paul Isn't Really Talking about Idols

The Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany
1 Corinthians 8:1-13
The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs

Taken at face value, this morning’s epistle hardly sounds like the basis for a relevant sermon, much less an interesting one. After all, when was the last time someone offered you food that had been sacrificed to an idol? This is not a pressing issue in the church today. At the same time, though, it is. Paul is talking about specific issues within a specific community at a specific time, but the conclusions he draws are still things that we should pay attention to today.

To appreciate those conclusions, though, it’s helpful to know a bit about the specifics Paul was addressing. In Paul’s day, whenever you went to a temple to present an animal as a sacrifice, you didn’t sacrifice the whole animal to the god whose temple it was. And this was true whether the temple was the Temple of the Lord in Jerusalem, or the temple of Zeus in Corinth. You’d give the animal to the priest, who would slaughter it and cook it on the altar. Some parts would be given to the god, wholly consumed by fire. But the priest would take a few cuts of meat for himself, as well. And you’d get some of the meat for yourself, too. And in cosmopolitan Greek cities—like Corinth—the civic guilds would sponsor these sacrifices, and would have a huge feast for their members. This would be like the Maryland Club or the Engineers Club sponsoring a sacrifice today. To be a member of those civic guilds, to enjoy the prestige that went along with that membership, you had to participate in the feast. Paul is asking all of the Corinthian Christians to resign from the L’Hirondelle Club.

But Paul, the well-connected in the church at Corinth said, you’ve told us that there are no such things as idols. When you came and converted us, you made it clear that there was no Zeus or Artemis or Hera. So since the idol doesn’t actually represent anything, what’s the harm in participating in the Hopkins Club’s sacrifice next Tuesday?

We heard Paul’s response this morning. Knowledge puffs up, put love builds up. It doesn’t matter what I told you, he says, it doesn’t matter that you’re right. What matters is that there are other people in your church, the Johnsons in the pew in front of yours, and these people don’t understand that. They’re not as sophisticated as you, Paul says, and you are causing them to sin by participating in idol feasts. It’s not a sin for you, because you know an idol is nothing, but Johnny over there is afraid that Zeus is real, so it’s a sin for him.

You know, I think we could substitute any number of issues in the space of “food sacrificed to idols,” couldn’t we? What would you substitute? What isn’t a sin for you, but could be an occasion to stumble for your neighbor? Or turn it around: what isn’t a sin for your neighbor, but would be for you? The fact is, Paul isn’t really talking about food sacrificed to idols. That’s merely the example that is closest to hand in Corinth when he wrote this letter. Paul’s really talking about how do you live in Christian community. We still need help figuring that out today, don’t we?

Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. That’s Paul’s advice for us today. You’re not saved by what you know, in other words. Do you notice what Paul doesn’t do? He doesn’t try to correct the person with the weak conscience. He doesn’t really attempt any explanation at why eating food sacrificed to idols isn’t a sin, not really. What he does do is say, if this thing that I am doing is something that destroys my sister or brother in Christ’s faith, then I will never do it again.

And oh, but that’s hard to preach to all of you today, because I really want to be right, and Paul says that that doesn’t matter. Paul says that concern with being right, the one that we all have, the one that is displayed every second of every day by the talking heads on the 24-hour cable news channels, that concern with being right that our society is sick with, that doesn’t matter at all. Being right doesn’t save us. Love saves us.

And love is really what Paul is talking about all the time in First Corinthians. It’s easy to get distracted by all the bits about fornication and prostitutes that we’ve heard in the Lectionary for the past few weeks, but if you sit down and read First Corinthians through, Paul is talking about love. Remember, this is the epistle of Paul that has that most beloved of wedding passages: Love is patient, love is kind. That’s the climax of the letter. That’s what Paul builds to. That’s what Paul wants us to remember this morning, and every morning. That’s how he ends the letter, in fact: Let everything that you do be done in love. (1 Cor 16:14)

How do we focus on loving one another, instead of being right? God only knows. God only knows. That’s what Paul would tell us if he were here today. None of us have this love thing figured out, but God does. God, who in Jesus Christ, loved us to the end. Who showed us how to walk in love, and gave himself for us, an offering and sacrifice to God. A better sacrifice than what was available in the temple of Zeus. Probably still a better sacrifice than what’s down at the club of your choice today. And I don’t have this walking in love thing figured out, but I do know how it starts for me this morning: right up those steps to that altar. To stand there and to receive the bread and the wine, to hold Love Himself in the palm of my hand, to receive strength to let go of the need to be right, to receive grace to love my neighbor as myself.

Amen.

What is Your Good News?

Epiphany 3, Year B
Mark 1:14-20

Together we prayed for God to give us what we need to answer readily the call of Jesus and proclaim the good news.

Together we just listened to two stories of God issuing a call and in one story – Jonah – we have a prophet who eventually – and with great reluctance – finally proclaims good news. And in the other story we have some fisherman – Simon, Andrew, James and John – who drop what they’re doing and immediately answer the call, to follow.

Here are the questions these stories raise – Why are we sometimes reluctant? Why are we sometimes ready? What is the good news?

Let’s work our way backwards. What is the good news? Take minute and think about that – what you would say the good news is? Would you say you proclaim it? Would you say you live it?

Gospel translates as good news. Well, we have four. Which one is it? At the top level we can say – the good news is simply Jesus. We believe that the revelation of God was made known in the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Jesus is the good news.

Which takes us down a step to the question – who is Jesus? Well, each gospel presents a different portrait. Here we are in Mark and he is pretty particular about what the good news is. We’re in chapter one this morning and Mark’s gospel begins like this – The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ. Everything that the writer of Mark is about to make known in these brief 16 chapters – is good news.

But just a few sentences later, we hear this – Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God by saying – the time is fulfilled, the kingdom of God has come near, repent, believe.

The time is now. God is here. Turn and trust. (21st c. English) That is quite a powerful prayer. That is quite a starting place. Simon, Andrew, James and John are starting out. And guess what, they will start again and again and again.

I was once engaged in a friendly, albeit heated, debate with a family member about poverty and education. He was arguing from the position that everyone in this country had equal opportunity for education and if they didn’t do well in life, it was because they weren’t smart enough to take advantage of it. I was arguing from the position that the random fact of our birth family meant our opportunities for education are not equitable. My family origin afforded me privileges I didn’t earn, they were simply inherited. It was not a fruitful debate and finally I said, I guess you either start from the position that those who have, are called to help those who don’t – or every person for themselves. To which he replied – exactly.

For every decision, every choice we think about or make – we start from a particular vantage point – a specific value system.

This morning, Jesus offers, God offers a starting place. The time is now. God is here. Turn and trust. Simon, Andrew, James and John are starting. This act of dropping their nets and following doesn’t mean they are finished, souls are saved and they are done (cheap grace theology).

Dropping their nets demonstrates the choice is in their hands – we see the same with Jonah. A change of heart is only real if it changes our behavior.

From now on, for the rest of their journey – every circumstance they evaluate – every problem they wrestle with – starts with the good news. Starts at the truth the time is now. God is here. Turn and trust. Being born again is not a one-time event – it is simply starting from that trust again and again.

And then what does Jesus tell them to do? Is it something specific like, grow the church, feed the poor, solve all the problems in the world? No – Jesus simply says, follow me. If you believe - the time is now, God is near, turn and trust – then follow me, Jesus says. Follow me.

Mark’s gospel then goes on to describe what following looks like. They follow Jesus into the synagogue where he breaks rules that get him in trouble. Following Jesus means upsetting the apple cart to heal people and liberate them from systems that are sick, systems that oppress.

The follow Jesus into the crowds of hungry people who want to hear some good teaching where Jesus has compassion and finds a way to feed the masses. Following Jesus means going to those who are hungry and figuring out how the hungry can be filled.

They follow Jesus out onto the water in the midst of a storm and totally freak out. But Jesus is there. Following Jesus means setting out in our proverbial boats on rough seas, when things are stormy, and trusting that Jesus is right there with us too.

They follow Jesus early in the morning into the darkness to learn to pray. Following Jesus means taking time out of the busyness of our lives to be quiet before God and pray.

They follow Jesus into homes and places where he teaches them in private. He tells them weird stories we call parables to explain what the kingdom of God means. Following Jesus means the Christ-centered community takes time to be together (like we’re doing right now) to grapple with these same teachings and figure out what the kingdom of God looks like in our time.

So if you’re wanting to follow Jesus – take a look at the back of your bulletin. Our “announcements” are really invitations. If you want to follow Jesus to support a family in their grief, help us support the Palermo family.

If you want to follow Jesus to where people are hungry and waiting to be filled, help us increase the volunteer team that serves the people of Paul’s Place.

If you want to follow Jesus to be with God, then consider meditating on scripture or a story from your own life and share that story with the people of this place in our Lenten book.

If you want to connect with others who are seeking Christ, then meet your fellow parishioners at our coffee hour this morning. Get to know the people of this Christ-centered community.


Delving into new “things” can be a little scary, but in Mark’s good news pretty much every time the disciples follow Jesus they are – amazed and terrified. When God’s reign breaks into our world – it is incredible and it is scary. There isn’t always a clear plan. Following Jesus is accepting the unknown and repeating to yourself – it’s ok, because the time is now. God is here – so I’m going to turn and trust.

God helps us with the following. But the starting place, the change of heart – is up to us.


Someone said something really interesting to me this week – she said, there is a difference between something being finished and something being complete. What do you think about that? For me, it really resonated. I can have a finished sermon – but that’s really different from having a complete sermon. I can finish my dinner – but that’s different then eating a complete meal. And in the more profound sense – I have been with people who feel they are finished – and I have been with people who feel they are complete. Personally, that’s what I crave in my life of trying to following Jesus. And I think our starting place has a lot do with our sense of completeness.

What is your starting place? Can you proclaim it? Is it good news? Do you believe the time is now – God is here – turn and trust? And if so, do you hear Jesus’ invitation to follow? This morning do you want to? Or are you feeling more like Jonah – reluctant to accept the good news of God’s love and forgiveness for everyone?

One last thing – the good news of Mark’s gospel doesn’t finish – the original ending – chapter 16 has the woman following Jesus to an empty tomb where an angel says – hey! Get going. Jesus is ahead of you, he has gone to Galilee (i.e. he has gone back to where this whole thing started). And it says they left terrified and amazed. But they must’ve done what was told them because this good news got told and has been catching people in God’s net for thousands of years.

God is here. The time is now. Turn and trust.  Amen.

- The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

The Scandal of Baptism

The Baptism of Our Lord

Acts 19:1-7

Mark 1:4-11

The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs

You know, I find it funny how much we like baptisms, how we make them into a party, because the four evangelists all seem a little embarrassed by Jesus’ baptism. Mark, writing first, puts words into John the Baptizer’s mouth, letting us know in uncertain terms that Jesus is more important than John. Matthew has John refuse to baptize Jesus at first. In fact, in Matthew’s story, John asks Jesus to baptize him! Jesus has to insist that John baptize him, not because he himself needs it, but so that they might “fulfill all righteousness,” whatever that means (Matthew doesn’t explain). Luke conveniently forgets to tell us who baptized Jesus, saying simply, “Jesus was baptized.” And in the sequel to his gospel, the Acts of the Apostles, Luke includes that strange story we heard read this morning, where we learn that John’s baptism really didn’t count after all. And, finally, John just skips over Jesus’ baptism entirely. In fact, in John’s Gospel, John the Baptizer doesn’t actually baptize anyone and he isn’t called “the Baptizer;” he’s just “John,” and he just talks about baptism without ever actually doing it.

So why were the evangelists embarrassed by Jesus’ baptism? It’s right there in Mark’s original account, which we just heard this morning: “John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” We don’t typically think of Jesus as needing forgiveness of sins, do we? The evangelists don’t seem to want to tell this story, but it appears that it was a well-known one, so well-known that three of the four felt like they couldn’t just omit it. So they tell us that Jesus didn’t really need John’s baptism, or that the baptism of John was different from the baptism that Jesus’ disciples practiced. They shift the emphasis from John’s baptism of repentance to the vision Jesus has afterward, where he sees the Holy Spirit descending upon him like a dove, strengthening him with God’s grace at the beginning of his public ministry.

I wonder if, deep down, we don’t all feel similarly today. Arianne mentioned in her sermon last week that the church’s original practice was to baptize adults, people who could actually repent for sins they’d committed. For a variety of reasons, a lot of which had to do with Christianity becoming the official religion of the Roman Empire, the church changed this practice and began baptized children. Even though, since 1979, our Prayer Book in the Episcopal Church has actually promoted adult baptism as normative, most people baptized in an Episcopal Church today are children. Infants, in fact. Last week, when we baptized Jack and Jamey, that was the first time I’ve ever baptized someone old enough to speak for themselves!

I think we like baptizing children, because they are cute and adorable. It’s easy to baptize infants, because they won’t object to putting on that heirloom baptismal gown, and they photograph so nicely, and we can get right on to the party, without thinking too much about sin and our own need for forgiveness.

Baptism is scandalous, because the church believes that we are reborn through our encounter with those waters. Everything about us before baptism is washed away in God’s eyes. Babies bring so little baggage with them to the font. Adults would bring full matching luggage sets with us, wouldn’t we?

That forgiveness of past sins, freely given, is not the most scandalous thing about baptism, though. The church has always proclaimed that the mark of baptism is indelible. It can’t be redone. When I baptize a person, after I have poured water on them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I dip my finger into special oil and make the sign of the cross on their forehead and make a promise: You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever. No matter what happens from that point on in that person’s life, they are Christ’s own. In other words, they are forgiven, not just of whatever they have done, but also of whatever they will do.

In our collect this morning, we prayed: “Grant that all who are baptized into his Name may keep the covenant they have made…” The fact is that none of us will. None of us can. We enter into baptism, knowing none of us can keep the promises that we make. And God bestows grace upon us anyway. God loves us anyway. God speaks the same words to each of us that Jesus heard: “You are my son, you are my daughter, the beloved; with you I am well pleased." The forgiveness we find in baptism is the forgiveness that we will need when we fall short. We all constantly need that forgiveness. It’s easy to forget that when we baptize adorable children, but it’s still true.

Baptism illustrates the central truth of the Christian life: we are saved entirely by God’s grace. There is nothing that we can to do earn or deserve forgiveness. It is always freely given, offered before we can ever ask. We don’t earn forgiveness. We don’t merit grace. We don’t save ourselves. We can’t. God saves us, just as God upholds our end of the covenant we make with God at baptism. God’s faithfulness always covers our unfaithfulness, no matter how egregious that unfaithfulness is.

As Jack and Jamey and I were preparing for our baptism, I told them that there was one thing that they should remember about their baptism, even if they forgot everything else I had said: Baptism is forever. Whatever you do, God will always love you. Nothing can ever make you unlovable, because Christ has already claimed you as his own. This is the scandalous, life-changing truth of baptism. This is the scandalous, life-changing truth of grace. This is the scandalous, life-changing truth of the Gospel: we don’t deserve forgiveness, but God gives forgives anyway. Amen.

Christmastide: Humanity Restored

Jeremiah 31:7-14 

Luke 2:41-52 

Periodically we’re given a choice in the lectionary over the gospel.  This Sunday, is one of those.

So three weeks ago, Jen, our parish admin, came into my office and said, you’re preaching on the 4^th – which gospel do you want?  Because of the holidays, and office being closed, we needed to get this bulletin done before Christmas.  I looked at the choices:

First choice was the story of an angel appearing to Joseph in a dream, warning him to take Mary and Jesus and get to Egypt quick – because Herod was out to get them.  I didn’t want that scripture – mostly because it’s one I’ve preached on a few times.  I didn’t foresee wanting to talk about dreams at the start of the New Year.

The second choice was also from Matthew – the story of the magi telling Herod about seeing the star.  We start Epiphany next Sunday, and while it’s not a season, but an event – there will be six weeks of hearing stories of Christ revealing himself – so I didn’t foresee wanting to preach on that either.

I picked, obviously, this story that we only get in Luke and is one of the few stories about Jesus as a boy – not a baby or a man – but a tween.  And look, I said to Jen in my office that day – the passage has one of my favorite topics to preach on – when Mary says to Jesus, “Your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.” 

Jen looked puzzled – and I laughed – it’s rare, I explained that we get words in the bible that have such an immediate resonance to our time and place.  And anxiety is certainly one of those words. 

What I didn’t foresee, three weeks ago, was how much anxiety I would be feeling in the week leading up to this sermon. A week that included a very sad and public event for our church.   I’m sure you know what I refer to – last Saturday our Bishop Heather Cook struck and killed Thomas Palermo as he rode his bike on Roland Avenue.

That is heartbreaking enough – but then we learned she left the scene of the accident, only later to return. We can’t understand how someone, especially a clergy person, let alone a bishop, could do that.

And the subsequent news that has been most prominent this week is the release of that she was charged in 2010 for a DUI; which has led to speculation and assumptions about this tragedy and public debate about what qualifies a person to be an ordained, religious leader. 

This stirs up a lot of anxiety.  It is all deeply troubling.  Which was clear to me from the calls and emails I received and the myriad of reactions I read on Facebook.  My anxiety is mostly about my desire, standing here, to preach the sermon that makes all of you feel really good about being Episcopalians and renews faith in your church and our pastoral leaders.

Let’s start with that word: faith.  Faith – in the letter to the Hebrews – is defined as the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (11:1).  What is it we hope for?  The Christian hope is that all people, individually and collectively along with all creation, will one day be reconciled to God.  An image painted by our prophet Jeremiah in the first reading.  Our primary image, though, is Jesus.  We believe Jesus always knew oneness with God.  That’s why he gives his smart aleck response to his parents – basically saying – where else would I be but in my Father’s house?  How could you not know to look for me here?

But this oneness with God is not ultimately about being in a temple or a church – it’s about a completeness.  An intellectual, emotional and spiritual awareness of the connection to the divine within.  That’s what Jesus gave up to be human.  That’s the sacrifice God made for us (Philippians 2:1ff) In a famous quote from a bishop in the 2^nd century – God became human, so that we might become divine. The person of Jesus, the life of Jesus shows what is available and possible for us.

We hope for that completeness, that reconciliation – and we claim conviction in it – because we so rarely see it, in ourselves or others.  Do you look in the mirror each morning and enthusiastically exclaim – there I am, made in the image of God!  Or are you like me, when I look in the mirror – I see flaws.  I see my humanity, my aging, my flaws, and remember my mistakes and struggles.  I can clearly see all the ways I do not even come close to measuring up to what I think an image of God should look like.

But there is what we prayed together to collect our thoughts for this worship service.  A prayer which describes the Incarnation we celebrate at Christmas. The radical, almost incomprehensible truth of what God, in the person of Jesus did for us – O God, who wonderfully created, and yet more wonderfully restored the dignity of human nature, grant that we may share in that divine life.  (BCP 214)

                                                                                                                       

For five centuries the normative practice in the church was to baptize adults, who could make promises for themselves after a period of study.  For reasons that had more to do with church expansion than anything else that changed to the practice of infant baptism.  And it is that tradition that has remained normative, despite the theology of our current prayer book.  Personally, I have yet to do an adult baptism.  And I think, one of the reasons the tradition holds is because when we look on infants and children, it is easier to see the dignity of human nature.  We see innocence and goodness.  We see possibility and hope.  We see the image of God in the children of God.  We see what we were.

God says – you still are.  You are still a child of God, and always will be.  You, in your humanness with all your failings and struggles and doubts – you have been restored – free to live without shame and fear – made worthy to stand before God.  It is accepting this truth which sets us free.  It is only in accepting this truth that we are able to cultivate compassion towards others.

When I returned to church as an adult – after that phase almost all of us go through, and some of us stay in – where we leave church because of the people and the problems that disappoint or anger us, or the inevitably hypocrisy between what we say we are and what we do – when I found the Episcopal church – it was a phrase in one of our post-communion prayers that got me every time.

Eternal God, heavenly Father – you have graciously accepted us (BCP 365).  Still to this day, there are times when I say that phrase – and I’m done.  I can’t keep speaking because it is too overwhelming for me to believe that God accepts me as I am – with all of my failings, my mistakes, my sins, my doubts and my fears.  It is too overwhelming to believe I am worthy of this love – this forgiveness and compassion.  It is too overwhelming to believe that in the act of bringing my brokenness to that altar to receive the body of Christ (which as it says in the psalms is the only sacrifice God wants (Ps 51:17) – my human nature is once again restored.

New Year’s resolutions – commendable as they may be – are not what will make us whole.  They are not what will make us feel worthy.  We are worthy with and through the brokenness.  For something to be reconciled and restored means it had to be broken first.  There could not have been a resurrection without that broken, vulnerable body on the cross.

In 1912, a German theologian named Ernst Troeltsch wrote, “There is no absolute Christian ethic that awaits discovery…There is no absolute transformation of [who we are]…all that exists is a constant wrestling with the problems that arise.”

We are all Christians.  We are all human and we are all holy.  We are, in the words of Martin Luther, to remember we are simultaneously sinner and saint.  That is the body of Christ.  That is what we call the Church.

At 9am we have a baptism and it’s the start of a new year.  It is a good day for all of us to say the Nicene Creed through the renewal of our baptismal covenant.  It is a good day to remember what we promise as a community that stands with people in their joys and their sorrows, that wrestles with the problems of our time in love and with compassion.  It is a good day to remind ourselves of our promises to strive to make known in words and deeds what the reconciliation of God looks like.

Let us pray.  O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquility the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their restoration by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (BCP 280)

The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks