"The Way Less Traveled"- Micah 6:6-8, Matthew 5:1-12-- Jan. 29, 2017

The Beatitudes–these 12 verses at the beginning of Matthew 5–have been called by one commentator "Christianity for Dummies." You may have heard of that series of books–the "Dummies" series–I got "Robert’s Rules for Dummies" when I was moderator of the Southwest Association, and there are an astonishing number of subjects the series deals with–"Facebook for Dummies," "The Bible for Dummies," "Accounting for Dummies,""Acrylic Painting for Dummies," "Acid Akalyne Diet for Dummies," and that’s just the beginning of the "A’s"-- you name it, and chances are there is a "Dummies" book to help you through. The idea is to cut through all the jargon and intimidating details of a topic or system, "‘dumbing down’ their core concepts to their absolute essentials in a non-threatening, ‘how-to’ format. That’s exactly what Jesus does for us," this commentator claims, "in this week’s gospel," [David Sellery, This Week’s Focus, 1/29/14] in the Beatitudes. "Christianity for Dummies."

Well, you know me. Why make something simple when you can find layers and nuance and complexity?! I just find these sayings at the beginning of Jesus’ "Sermon on the Mount," as Matthew has arranged his teachings here, to be too challenging, too startling, too threatening to be dismissed as "for dummies." "The Be-Happy Attitudes"? as Robert Schuller called them? Really? "Blessed are those who mourn...blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you..."? Don’t worry, be happy?

Makarios is the Greek word used in all these sayings. It gets translated as "blessed," or "happy," but in a society that was based on honor and shame, like 1^st c. Palestine was, it really has more the sense of "honored." "Honored are you who are poor in spirit...honored are those who mourn...honored are the meek..." not shamed, not ridiculed. Those who heard Jesus’ teaching these things would have been shocked, just as we are, to hear this reversal of the world’s values and priorities. When had they ever felt honored for their poverty–of resources or of spirit? When had those who mourned felt good about it? When had hunger – for food or for righteousness– been regarded as a good thing, let alone rewarded?

"The Biblical tradition," as Disciples of Christ author and pastor Bruce Epperly writes, "is always counter-cultural in spirit. It agitates [others say it "afflicts"] the comfortable, whether conservative or progressive, by challenging our lifestyles and assumptions. And, conversely, as the saying goes, it also comforts the agitated [or afflicted], those at the margins of life, those with their backs against the wall, or struggling with debilitating life issues." [adventurouslectionary, 1/20/17]

Counter-cultural indeed, and getting more so by the minute, I have to say. While I wholeheartedly agree that the suffering and sense of abandonment of any of our citizens and brothers and sisters is cause for concern and attention, that is no reason to abandon the values of our Constitution or our faith, to discriminate on the basis of religion, or race, or station in life. "Honored are the poor...those who mourn...the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness...the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake..." It doesn’t get more currently counter-cultural than that.

"What does God require of you?" the prophet Micah asks those who have thought to buy God’s favor with elaborate offerings and shows of piety? How will God regard those who have devastated the land with their cheating and lying? "Can I tolerate wicked scales and a bag of dishonest weights?" God asks. "Your wealthy are full of violence; your inhabitants speak lies, with tongues of deceit in their mouths..." "God has told you, O mortal, what is good [Micah says]; and what does God require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" Christianity–the essence of the Biblical tradition–for dummies.

Back in 1997, Apple Corporation launched an advertising campaign called "Think Different." It featured portraits of people who had dared to go against the grain, the game-changers, people like Neil Armstrong, Amelia Earhart, and Apple head Steve Jobs himself. "Think different," Jobs said. "We were here to put a dent in the universe; otherwise, why else even be here?" It was an appealing, attractive invitation to buy into (literally) Apple’s minimalist aesthetic and technology, which, could be argued, did change the world. But it was an advertising campaign, not only urging our consumption of a product but has now become an overwhelming conformity. "Think different?" Have those of you–those of us–who have entered into the world of personal computers and smart phones tried to really "think different" and turn off the machines? Take a break from social media, wrestle with an idea instead of just Googling it? And what might "think different" mean in an era of "alternative facts" or "fake news"? It gets curioser and curioser, doesn’t it?

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek [not Caspar Miquetoast types, but those who are empty enough of self to be filled with God], for they shall inherit the earth...." This is about far more than thinking "different"–this is about living "different." A life of "transformed non-conformity," as Martin Luther King Jr. said. A life of being joyful–not just "happy, " but being in harmony with the essential intention of the universe. "Be joyful," farmer/poet Wendell Berry wrote in Mad Farmer Liberation Front, " be joyful,/ though you have considered all the facts." "Practice resurrection," he said. Live different. Think of the portratis in that campaign–Jesus, Martin Luther king, Jr., Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Desmond Tutu, Malala Yosefsay...

These 9 verses are less of a prescriptive "how-to" and more of a descriptive "this is what life is like." For example, you don’t have to go out and seek things to be sad about so you can be "blessed" or "honored." Sorrow and loss will find you. They are part of life. Not because you have done something bad or because you deserve it or God is punishing you. Even when you are mourning, you are "blessed," you are not alone, you will be given the capacity to endure. God is with you. So it is when you recognize how "poor in spirit," how prone to discouragement you are, how prone to bitterness, or judgmentalism, or prejudice; "I recognized I was powerless over alcohol, or drugs, or food," the first step of the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous says; or, as Luke’s version says, when you are poor – period – which happens, which is part of life for an overwhelming number of human beings on this planet– "blessed," "honored" are you; you are not alone, you will be given the capacity to endure. God is with you.

These "blessings" or makarisms are a description of life that is interdependent, fueled by sacrificial love, that may very well lead to persecution in this world which does not honor living "different," but is the way things work and are structured in God’s way, in that way less traveled, to riff on Robert Frost, and is the way to identify with the suffering of the world. This "letting go to transform the world" [Epperly, op cit.] is the only way it will be healed.

As we look for Epiphany moments in these days and weeks to come, we might look not only amongst the usual places and to the "usual suspects," but also in the unexpected, the unloveable, the un-beautiful, the unsuccessful, at least by the standards of our culture. We may find glimpses of God that shake us up, turn our assumptions and expectations upside down.

While I’m still not quite ready to call them "Christianity for Dummies," I do think that the Beatitudes and Micah’s 3 requirements – do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God–are worth knowing by heart. Add these to our commission and maybe the 23^rd Psalm to keep in your backpack of words to live by. In these days and weeks and even years to come, we may need to be able to call up these blessings to help us endure. Let’s see if we can do this–

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely, on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven. For in the same way they persecuted the prophets before you.

"The Gospel is a word of protest," NT scholar Karoline Lewis says, and "The Beatitudes are a call to action for the sake of creating the world God imagines." [workingpreacher.org, 1/29/17] A call to action and a description of how God works in the world. "There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice," the great Jewish writer Elie Wiesel said, "but there must never be a time when we fail to protest." Protest with our lives, our words, our thoughts, our prayers. So may we "live different." So may we be part of the healing of the world.

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 

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Announcements

ANNOUNCEMENTS

BIRTHDAYS AND CELEBRATIONS THIS WEEK:

May 6 – Nora Parsons

               Jacob Ranttila

May 7 – Colin Derby

SUNDAY:

5:00 pm        Sunday Supper

TUESDAY: 7 p.m. Board of Deacons meets, Room 2

COMING UP:

• 
  
  
  
  • This is Kit Packing Week; we will be packing kits for shipping starting at 9:30am tomorrow through Wednesday or until done.
  
  
  • Tues, May 2^nd Deacons Meeting 7pm in Rm 2
  
  
  • Come and join us for the Fellowship luncheon on Wednesday May 3rd at noon. Sign-up sheet in Webster Hall if you wish to bring something.
  
  
  • Fri., May 12, 6 p.m. “Bridge to the Future” Dinner
  
  
  • Reading Group: The meeting of the Reading Group will be after worship Sunday May 14. (Sorry, it had to be moved from an earlier date announced in the Open Door because of schedule conflicts.) The theme is books by an author you expected to disagree with but which you read with as open a mind as possible. David Durfee
  
  
  
  

 

• Plant Sale at Second Congregational, Saturday, May 20^th. We're taking inventory! Please let us know what plants you have to share. Nora (442-6766) and Lynn (375-6355)

OTHER NEWS:

 

• Our Master Gardner extraordinaire, David, has announced that (at least for summer) our church gardens are available for adoption on a first-come basis. The church can provide water, some tools, and sunshine. “Your” garden may be tended at your leisure (except Sunday 10-11am) Sign up in the office!!


• There is a sign-up sheet in the Webster Hall for the May 12^th Dinner “Bridge To The Future” PLEASE sign-up by May 8^th so food needs can be determined. Thanks so much!!!

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“Many Paths to Follow”-- Psalm 27:1, 4-9, Matthew 4:12-23 -- Jan. 22, 2017

I’ve always found the story of Jesus’ calling his fishermen disciples a little “cult-ish.”
You just heard it–

As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea–for they were fishermen. And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.’ Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.

It’s a little too reminiscent of the movie “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” A little too suggestive of the need for an intervention to save a child from a cult.

But surely it’s a distilled version of what actually happened. Melissa Bane Sevier has a wonderful fantasy on what might have preceded this call. She imagines Zebedee looking at the backs of his sons as they follow Jesus down the beach and wondering how he’s going to tell his wife that they’ve gone. She tells the story of a typical family business, this fishing operation that Zebedee had inherited from his own father and hoped someday to pass down to his sons; the two boys, James and John, resisting being locked into that future, doing the usual grousing that teenagers and young men (and women) are apt to do, wishing that their father wouldn’t take some of the left-over fish after the day’s sales and drop them off at the shacks and small fires of the widows and poor families who lived along the way home, complaining and bickering as they mended the nets.

But then the boys, now young men, started hanging out with their school chum Jesus, who seemed to have matured faster than James and John. Sevier imagines–“Jesus often stops and talks with Zebedee at the end of the day and sometimes tries to help a little with the net mending. Jesus is terrible at mending. Even so, Zebedee continues to try to teach him, just to hear Jesus talk while they work together. He loves the things Jesus says about God. He loves what he says about justice for the poor.” [Contemplative Viewfinder, 1/16/17]

As the young men spend more and more time with Jesus, Zebedee notices that they seem to be growing kinder, less self-absorbed. He even notices that James is saving aside some of the widows’ favorite fish to slip to them on the way home.

And then one day, Jesus comes by and says, “Today’s the day. Come and follow me.” And of course they go–not without saying good-bye, but with no tears. And Zebedee is left with the other workers and his nets. He knows that he can’t leave. Not only is he too old for traipsing around the countryside, but who would take care of his wife and daughters and other sons? Who would catch the fish, let alone provide food for the widows and the poor? “Sometimes we are left behind for a purpose,” Sevier suggests.

President Obama, in his farewell address, issued a call to all of us to take up the work of citizenship. And President Trump, in his inaugural address, said that power wasn’t being transferred from one administration to the next, or one political party to another, but rather to the people. Democracy is not a spectator sport. It depends on the involvement and participation of its citizens for its very existence, to vote, to call our representatives to account, to support or protest as our conscience calls us. As my daughter wrote on her Facebook page about why she was participating in yesterday’s Women’s March–“because fear, despair, and apathy are the enemies, not people who are different; because our system of government requires engaged participation, because what we do as individuals affects our community, our country, and our planet.”

Being followers of Jesus requires no less–and probably more–participation, nothing less than our whole, unique selves, to discover just what it is that we were given so that we can be of service to the greater good, to live out our calling. The word “vocation” or calling often implies some grand, clear profession or role–like being a teacher, or doctor, or lawyer, a parent, an artist, a priest or minister or rabbi. And the “voice” who calls us is implied. I know that we talk about “sense of call” when we interview members in discernment for the ministry. Who told you you should be a pastor? Did you hear the words, “Follow me, and I will teach you how to fish for people”? The voice of my “calling” to ministry sounded more like a door slamming shut in front of me and another door opening behind me or to the side.

But what if our call is much more subtle? What if it’s less about what we should do and more about who we are?

As almost always, I find the words of story-teller and Jungian analyst Clarissa Pinkola Estes to be wise and inspiring. “You could be the water,” she writes in a poem, called “The Rainmaker: You Could Be the Water”--1. You could be the water...
By the scent of water alone,
the withered vine comes back to life,
and thus…
wherever the land is dry and hard,
you could be the water;
or you could be the iron blade
disking the earth open;
or you could be the acequia,
the mother ditch, carrying the water
from the river to the fields
to grow the flowers for the farmers;
or you could be the honest engineer
mapping the dams
that must be taken down,
and those dams which could remain to serve
the venerable all,
instead of only the very few.
You could be the battered vessel
for carrying the water by hand;
or you could be the one
who stores the water.
You could be the one who
protects the water,
or the one who blesses it,
or the one who pours it.
Or you could be the tired ground
that receives it;
or you could be the scorched seed
that drinks it;
or you could be the vine—
green-growing overland,
in all your wild audacity ...
©2000,2016, poem “The Rainmaker: You Could Be The Water,” by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés

How many ways there are to follow Jesus! Not only to drop everything and leave family behind to travel the countryside preaching and healing, but also to stay behind, to do your own work faithfully and full of love, to provide food for the people, or to deliver it, or to prepare it, or to make the place where nourishment is offered more beautiful. You could listen to people, you could remind them that they are Beloved. You could write legislation that structures our community more justly. You could thank or encourage a legislator. You could help clean up a stream or a river. You could pray. You could write songs or sing songs of praise or lament or justice. You could hold a child, or play with a child, or listen to a teen-ager. You could visit a mosque, or a synagogue and make new friends. You could sit quietly with someone who has lost a loved one, or give a foot massage to someone who’s depressed.

“Walk with me and work with me,” Jesus says in Peterson’s translation. “I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I’ll show you how to recover your life.” You could be the living water...or the ditch...or the vessel...or the tired ground...or the one who protects the water, the one who blesses it... The only option you don’t have is to do or be nothing.

The power of the story of the disciples’ dropping everything to follow Jesus is not their immediate, almost ruthless leaving of family and responsibilities. It is that we must indeed leave behind all that is not our way of serving the true God–we must leave behind all the other gods we spend our lives serving–money, success, possessions, family work, if they have become our gods. We must leave behind all those other false selves that are not our true self–let go of trying to be someone you’re not. “Be yourself,” Oscar Wilde said, “Everyone else is already taken.” The great Catholic Worker founder Dorothy Day wrote, “No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless. There is too much work to do.”

We pray each Sunday–perhaps each day–for God’s kingdom to come on earth, as it is in heaven. We are called to be part of making it a reality, of doing the “real work of Christmas,” as our anthem this morning sang about. It’s big enough for each one of us to take a little piece. In fact, each of us is essential. You could be the water, or who knows what else? “Come, follow me,” Jesus said. There are an infinite number of ways to do that. Pick one. Find one. Be that one.
Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"What Time Is It?"- Isaiah 49:1-7, John 1:29-42 -- jan. 15, 2017

Joyce Hollyday, writing in Sojourners magazine, tells the story of

a boy named Free Spirit [who] was only 4 years old when he was wrenched away from his family and forced into a Canadian residential school. A nun gave him a new pair of shoes, which he plunged into a sink filled with water. He was shocked by the beating he received. His Algonquin people always soaked their new moccasins and chewed on them to soften the leather.

Decades later, [Hollyday writes] during Canada’s 2011 Truth and Reconciliation hearings in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Free Spirit joined scores of witnesses who shared their stories of suffering in schools whose purpose was to annihilate their culture. Each evening, all the tissues used to capture the day’s tears were gathered and released into the Sacred Fire that burned outside. There they mingled with ashes that had been carried from previous hearings in other cities. [Sojourners, Jan. 2017, p. 8]

Such deep wounds! Such a huge breach between cultures, somehow, tentatively, beginning to be repaired with truth-telling and listening, with tissue ashes and Sacred Fire.

Hollyday goes on to tell of a "truth and reconciliation" process in the United States.

In the United States, the first large-scale truth and reconciliation process was launched in Greensboro, N C in 2005. Its focus was the 1979 Greensboro Massacre, in which members of the Ku Klux Klan and American Nazi Party opened fire on marchers demanding economic and racial justice, killing five and wounding 10.

As the hearings opened, Gorrell Pierce, who was the Grand Dragon of the Federated Knights of the KKK in 1979, strode in with a cadre of young white men. African-American community activist and pastor Nelson Johnson, who was wounded in the attack and lost five of his closest friends that day, immediately stood. He walked across the auditorium and made his way down that row of men, shaking every hand and thanking them for coming. Nelson admitted later that it wasn’t his first impulse, but that as a Christian he knew he needed to bring his best self to that encounter and try to reach out to the best self within Pierce. [Sojourners, op cit.]

I want to be like that when I grow up. I want to be so rooted and grounded in love that I can reach across the divide of hatred and sorrow and begin to repair the breaches that, now more than ever, divide our nation. Here on the brink of the inauguration of a new president who comes into office in what is arguably one of the most divided times in our history, how are we to act and to speak in ways that honor the truth but also contribute to reconciliation?

The writer of John’s gospel was well-acquainted with breaches that tore communities apart. His community had been stung and deeply wounded by being thrown out of the synagogues, families split, loved ones betrayed to death, and bitter words used on both sides against the other. John’s language is full of polar opposites-- light and dark, night and day, good and evil, ascending and descending–and his gospel, finely honed after decades of telling the story, living with the message, is carefully constructed with no throw-away lines.

So, when we read in the passage Scott read for us this morning, that "it was about four o’clock in the afternoon" when the two disciples came and saw where Jesus was staying, we would do well to pay attention. What’s up with that–"four o’clock in the afternoon"? Or the 10^th hour, as the Greek says.

One commentator suggests that it’s a tribute to the impact that their meeting of Jesus had on them, like recalling where you were and what time it was when you heard about the planes flying into the Twin Towers. I was at an Interfaith Council meeting at the Baptist Church, and the Methodist minister got a call on his cell phone, which none of the others of us had, about quarter of 10. "It was about 4 o’clock in the afternoon."

Yes. Maybe that is why John included that detail. AND, think about 4 o’clock in the afternoon, particularly at this time of year. It’s still daylight, but twilight is beginning to seep in. For a man who frames his gospel in polar opposites–light vs. dark, day vs. night–4 o’clock in the afternoon is somewhere in the middle. This is when his first disciples began to see where Jesus "was staying," where he "abided," where he remained. That’s another way of saying, "what he was about," "where he was rooted and grounded." "What are you looking for?" Jesus had asked them. They said to him, "Teacher, where are you staying?" He said to them, "Come and see." They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon."

Where are you "staying"? Where do you "abide"? The same can be asked of our church–"Where do we abide? What do we stand for? In what are we rooted and grounded?" In times of violent "back-and-forthing," accusations flying, it’s important to know where we "abide."

On this past New Year’s Eve day, a Watch Night gathering took place in Washington DC’s historic Metropolitan African Methodist Episcopal Church, led by the Rev. William Barber, head of the North Carolina NAACP and the Moral Mondays movement. The gathering, under the auspices of the non-profit group called "Repairers of the Breach, " [from Isiaiah 60] issued a call for a new Poor People’s Campaign, 50 years after Martin Luther King Jr. called for the first one. They issued a call for a moral agenda, a moral revolution of values, demanding policies that are ‘constitutionally consistent, morally defensible, and economically sane." [Religion Dispatches, University of So. Cal., 1/3/17]

This movement is self-consciously NOT characterized as being part of the "religious left," but rather a moral center. Taking part in the gathering were people like the Rev. Dr. James Forbes, formerly the pastor of the Riverside Church in NYC, along with the Imam from the Mosque of the Islamic Brotherhood in New York City, and other leaders of faith communities across the religious spectrum. Group members pledged to use every non-violent means possible to lift up and fight for the rights and well-being of the poor and oppressed minorities. As Rev. Forbes said, "The country can no longer afford to let poverty and bigotry be left out of the indices of success for the nation."

In a letter to President-elect Trump, which I signed in an internet invitation to faith leaders, the group wrote, "Our success [as a nation] is measured by how we welcome the stranger, care for the sick, care for the poor, and care for the hungry in practice and in policy.... We do not believe these are left or right issues. They are right or wrong issues."

"Teacher, where are you staying? Where do you abide?" Where do we abide?

"We live now in extreme times," Martin Luther King Jr. wrote. "The question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love?" The extreme of love is neither to the left or to the right. It is profoundly deep. How deep is our love for one another and for the world? How deeply are we rooted in that love? From that place of deep and abiding love, how will we live our lives? How will we practice love? It will mean interacting with and listening to people with whom we don’t agree. It will mean finding ways to act, yes, but also to speak about love in language that people who don’t "speak church" can understand, using what we might call "secular language." "It was about 4 o’clock in the afternoon," that time of day that includes both light and darkness. What time is it now?

"‘What if this darkness is not the darkness of the tomb, but the darkness of the womb?’ asked Valarie Kaur [at the Night Watch gathering in Washington DC]. ‘What if our America is not dead, but a country that is waiting to be born?’ Like a mother giving birth, she said, we must breathe, and then push. Kaur, a Sikh who said she knows that there will be moments when the ‘brown boy’ she is raising will be seen as foreign or as terrorist, said, ‘Your revolutionary love is the magic we will show our children.’" [Religion Dispatches, op cit.]

Remember that Truth and Reconciliation hearing in Halifax, Nova Scotia I told you about in the beginning? It "culminated in a birthday party for the survivors of residential schools, who as children never had their birthdays acknowledged. Laughter and tears flowed freely [Joyce Hollyday writes] as we shared a thousand cupcakes topped with candles and together sang ‘Happy Birthday’ in Mi’kmaq, Innu, Inuktitut, Tlingit, French, and English. So, [ she says] if you’re tempted to hide in a corner and give in to despair now that the election is over, I’d say throw a party instead. Celebrate the strength that is forged amid challenge and the hope that is reborn in ashes." [Sojourners, op cit.]

Remember that both the darkness of the tomb and the darkness of the womb are oppor-tunities for God to bring new life, in ways beyond our imagination. May we abide in–remain in–be rooted in that Hope. So may we find strength, and courage, wisdom, and even joy, for the living of these days.

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Troubled Waters"- Isaiah 42:1-9, Matthew 3:13-17-- Jan. 8, 2017

It is said that when the reformer Martin Luther was detained for months in Wartberg Castle, in particularly anxious moments he would remind himself, "I am baptized!" to battle back his despair. "I am baptized!" Just as Jesus himself was baptized, named and claimed by God as beloved and pleasing, so we too, when we take on his baptism, are named and claimed by God as beloved and pleasing. It occurred to me that I may need to take on that practice of "remembering my baptism" in these days and months and years to come. Perhaps we all should.

When the news gets more and more bizarre and worrisome, remember your baptism! You are beloved, a precious child of God, beautiful to behold. In a world of fake news and overnight tweets, hold on to that truth. For those of us faced with the changing or declining health of loved ones–or ourselves-- in these next weeks and months, reminding ourselves that "I am baptized" may help to reinforce the claim of Love upon us, even in the face of death and discouragement. As life’s challenges and surprises threaten to knock us off our feet, with job losses, relationship stresses, worries about kids or grandkids, aging parents, or nieces and nephews battling cancer, all those very real aspects of life that are often the furthest things from our minds when we come to baptism as infants or adults–when you are confronted with those challenges, remember your baptism.

Each of the gospels tell us that Jesus was baptized, and, as Biblical scholar John Dominic Crossan says, the fact of Jesus’ baptism was an enormous embarrassment to the early Christian community. Not because it was miraculous, but because it was so ordinary–"the Messiah placing himself under the tutelage of a rabble-rouser like John? A baptism of repentance? What was he doing in that murky water, aligning himself with the great unwashed?" (Cited by Debie Thomas in journeywithjesus, 1/1/17)

Here in Matthew’s account, this is the first time we hear Jesus speak, in this quiet, troubling conversation with John. It is, as one commentator described it, "a paradoxical blend of humility and magnificence." (Troy Miller, cited by K. Matthews in sermonseeds, 1/8/17)

He wanted John to baptize him, Peterson translates. John objected, saying, "I’m the one who needs to be baptized, not you!" But Jesus insisted. "Do it. God’s work, putting things right all these centuries, is coming together right now in this baptism." So John did it. Humility and magnificence.

God’s righteousness is fulfilled in this baptism, Jesus says, God’s work of putting things right. It’s not a word we think of fondly–"righteousness." We often think of it with "self, " as in "self-righteousness," that unbearable holier-than-thou attitude of some. Or "righteousness" makes us think of uptight, obsessive rule-followers, holding out a standard of living that none of us can ever hope to achieve. It’s got shame built into it. It’s a "church-y" kind of word, and not in a good way.

But listen to how both Isaiah and, from there, Jesus use it–here in Isaiah–

"I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness...Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.

God’s "righteousness" for Isaiah and for Jesus is "experienced as compassionate justice and care for those who are poor and/or marginalized...as healing the damage done to the relationship between God and humanity." (K. Matthews, op cit.) The purpose of Jesus, one writer suggests, is revealed in his baptism–"to lay his healing hands upon a broken, alienated world to make it right with God again." (F.D. Lueking, cited in Matthews, op cit.) That’s the "righteousness" that Jesus’ baptism fulfills.

And, in a way, that’s what the baptism of each one of us fulfills. It’s an expression of grace, of the unearned, generous love of God, an affirmation in sign and seal that we are infinitely, eternally loved. The name of each one of us is "Beloved." Marilynne Robinson, author of the best-seller Gilead, among others, writes, "There is a reality in blessing, which I take baptism to be, primarily. It doesn’t enhance sacredness, but it acknowledges it, and there is power in that." (Cited by Matthews) Our baptism doesn’t make us more holy; it confirms that we already are. In moments when we feel anything but holy, when we feel soiled, or failed, or weak, or rotten, when we feel like a "dimly burning wick" or a "bruised reed," it is especially then when we must "remember our baptism."

Walt Whitman’s poem, which the choir sang earlier for us, speaks in the voice of one who is setting out on the road of life with all the optimism, energy, and enthusiasm of youth. "Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road, healthy, free, the world before me....Going where I list, my own master, list’ning to others and consid’ring well what they say, pausing, searching, contemplating, with undeniable will, I inhale great drafts of space; I am much larger, better than I thought; I did not know I held so much goodness. All seems beautiful to me."

Isn’t that what we hope for the children we bring to be baptized, their whole lives ahead of them? And for youth and adults who come to baptism, we affirm that they too "hold so much goodness." But there is no pouring or stirring of the waters without "troubling" them, as the spiritual says–"God’s gonna trouble the waters." You can’t dip into the font without breaking the surface, disturbing the calm. You certainly can’t fall back beneath the waters of a river or pool without splashing, roiling, upsetting the waters. Built into our baptism is the reality that life will include troubles, challenges, heartache, pain. We will fail. We will be disappointed and hurt. We and our loved ones will get sick. The world will frighten and worry us. We and our loved ones will die. Remember your baptism. Remember that you hold so much goodness, you are beloved, a precious child of God, beautiful to behold. These things happen to us not because we are bad or have done something wrong, but because that is what life includes. Baptism is for life.

There is no magic in baptism. And God’s light and grace and love are not limited to those who are baptized, though the sacrament is one sign among many. There is no magic in baptism or in finding "Epiphany moments," glimpses of God’s light and grace and love, those "thin places," as the Celts call them, where the door between heaven and earth opens. Remem-bering your baptism and perceiving Epiphany moments is a practice, as Debie Thomas puts it. We need to practice claiming our baptism every day–every time you step into the shower and feel the water streaming over you, remember your baptism. "I am beloved." Or when you splash water on your face after you’ve exercised, or after you’ve shaved, remember your baptism. "I am beloved."

The late Biblical scholar Marcus Borg wrote, "Jesus himself is our thin place. He’s the one who opens the barrier and shows us the God we long for. He’s the one who stands in line with us at the water’s edge, willing to immerse himself in shame, scandal, repentance, and pain–all so that we might hear the only Voice that can tell us who we are and whose we are in this sacred season. Listen. We are God’s own. God’s children. God’s pleasure. Even in the deepest water, we are Beloved." [cited by Thomas, op cit.]

This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and this is really good news. Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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