Rev. Maureen Frescott
The Congregational Church of
Amherst, UCC
January 13, 2013
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
“Rise and
Shine!”
Have
you ever stood on an ocean beach in the summertime, and let your toes sink into
the wet sand at the edge of the shoreline?
As the
waves roll in sending water rushing past your shins, you can often feel the
sand shifting beneath the soles of your feet.
It’s
a strange sensation that makes it seem as if you’re moving along with the
waves, being pulled first out to sea and then back towards the shoreline.
Yet
each time the water rushes in and recedes you find that you haven’t moved at
all. It can feel disconcerting,
but it’s also comforting to know that while the sand and water shifts and flows
all around you, you remain safely planted on solid ground.
Growing
up on Long Island, I remember standing on the shoreline of Jones Beach one day at
the age of 5 or 6, and experiencing that alternating feeling of fear and
exhilaration as the waves pushed and pulled at me as I waded into the water.
I
never let the water get higher than my waist, and my older brother Brian was
with me that day, so I knew I was safe.
But
then suddenly, as a wave rolled in I felt myself being lifted up and tossed out
to sea. One second I was looking up at the blue sky and in the next I was
looking at 4 feet of water over my head, as I tumbled and rolled and struggled
in vain to keep from sinking even further below.
I
didn’t know how to swim and I had no idea how to hold my breath under water.
But
then just as suddenly, I felt arms wrapped around me, and I looked up and saw
my brother Brian pulling me to safety.
Brian
was my hero that day, until I found out years later that he was the one who
picked me up and threw me in the deeper water in the first place.
In
reality, I was probably submerged for less than 10 seconds and only a few feet
from the shoreline, but that incident instilled in me a life-long fear of being
under water.
So
when I hear about “believer baptisms” practiced by Baptists and other
traditions that call for older children and adults to profess their faith and be
fully immersed in water, I thank God that my parents were Catholic and had me
baptized when I was 4 weeks old.
On
this first Sunday after Epiphany, we celebrate the Baptism of Jesus,
and
in doing so we’re called to remember our own baptisms as well.
Martin
Luther, the great leader of the Protestant Reformation, passionately reminded
the Christians of his time to "Remember your baptism!"
Of
course, many of us were baptized as babies or as young children and can't
"remember" the details of our baptisms. But Luther pushes us to focus
on something bigger than our historical memory of the day we were baptized.
This
is about more than recalling what if felt like to be dressed in a white gown or
suit and to then be handed over to a stranger and have water dribbled or poured
over our head.
Even
if we were old enough to remember the day of our baptisms, or have experienced
a full immersion baptism as an adult, it’s not the physical sensations of the
water against our skin or the emotional exhilaration of becoming a part of the
community of Christ that we’re called to remember.
In
his catechism, Luther wrote, "A truly Christian life is nothing else than
a daily baptism once begun and ever to be continued."
Luther
calls us to remember our baptism, each and every day -
To
remember who we are, and whose we
are.
To
remember that we belong to God, and
as Children of God and followers of Christ,
we are beloved.
Even
in an age when we spend so much time talking about "self-esteem" and
our almost narcissistic desire to feel special, don't we all still long to hear
that we are beloved?
We
need to hear it, and we need to remember it, every day, as we go about doing
the difficult work that God calls us to do in this world.
After
Jesus was baptized, and he rose up from the river Jordan, the Holy Spirit
descended upon him and a voice came from heaven proclaiming:
"You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well
pleased."
We might
imagine that Jesus needed to hear those words, right there and right then, as
he knew that this was the founding moment of his ministry.
John
the Baptist had announced him to the world.
Declaring
him as being more powerful than he, and able to baptize not just with water but
also with fire and the Holy Spirit.
That’s
quite a job description to have to live up to.
From
then on Jesus would no longer be just the son of Joseph the carpenter.
He
would no longer be an anonymous man living in an anonymous town who got up
everyday and worked and prayed just like everybody else.
Theologians
and scholars alike disagree on whether Jesus knew from birth what God had
planned for him, or if he discovered it along with everyone else on the day of
his baptism.
But
just as many of us do, I wonder if Jesus ever doubted his ability to live up to
such grandiose expectations.
In
our call to worship Jesus as our Lord and Savior we sometimes forget about his
human side.
There
was that moment in the Garden of Gethsemane, when Jesus got down on his knees
and pleaded with God to take this cup from him, the cup of suffering from which
he was destined to drink.
In
that pivotal moment, I wonder if Jesus doubted his ability to fulfill the
promise of his baptism, as he struggled to be the beloved Son, whom God was
calling him to be.
I
wonder if that same doubt arose years before when he stepped into the Jordan River
and he allowed John the Baptist to push him wholly beneath the water.
We
might wonder what was running through Jesus’ mind in that disorientating moment
when the water went over his head.
When
the sights and sounds of the crowd gathered above became muffled, and the
Baptist's hands beneath his back grew shaky under the weight of the Promise of God
that he held in his arms.
Might
Jesus have hesitated to come back up, knowing what was awaiting him when he
rose out of the water?
How
encouraging it must have been for him, when he finally
emerged from the Jordan wiping the water from his eyes, to hear the voice of God saying,
"You are my Son, the
Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
If
only we could hear that voice, as we rise to meet the challenges of our day.
Because
we have many challenges.
As
Christians we’re called to do grandiose things such as love our enemies, to forgive
those who persecute us, to release our fear of those who are different from us
in any way, and to not worry about the future and trust that God will provide
for us all in abundance.
We
struggle with this calling not just on communal scale, when it comes to issues
of inclusivity and social justice, but we also struggle with it on a personal
scale, and in many ways this is the harder challenge that we face.
What
are you struggling with right now?
Are
you struggling to forgive someone?
Are
you struggling to forgive yourself?
Are
you anxious because someone you love is going through a difficult time?
Are
you fearful that the bad thing that you’re worried might happen, will happen?
Are
you fearful that the good thing that you want to happen, won’t happen?
Are
you frustrated because you can’t seem to move someone, or help them to
understand what you know in your heart of hearts to be true, because they in
their heart of hearts believe the opposite to be true?
Are
you angry because something was taken from you, or withheld from you?
Are
you sorrowful because you lost something or someone who was precious to you?
Are
you longing for that one thing, that one person, that one job, that one financial
windfall that will change your life for the better and make getting out of bed
in the morning that much easier, and much more joyful?
We
carry all of these longings, fears, anxieties, frustrations, and sorrows before
God.
And
we declare our inadequacy in the face of God’s unconditional love.
Who
are we to be called beloved?
Who
are we to claim that in us God is well pleased?
Some
of us are barely holding it together.
And
others of us are staying on track but still feel like we could be doing more, and
should be doing more - to help our neighbor, to improve our communities, to
hone ourselves into kinder, more compassionate and more productive people of
God.
We’re
carrying a lot of weight on our shoulders.
But
perhaps we might feel that weight lighten when we listen again to the words of
Isaiah that Greg read for us earlier:
The Lord said, “Do not fear,
for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name,
you are mine.
When you pass through the
waters, I will be with you;
the rivers shall not
overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the
flame shall not consume you.
You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.”
How many of us long
to hear these words?
How many of us long
to hear that we are loved just as we are?
We make a lot of
promises at our baptism, or we have promises made for us that we confirm once
we come of age.
We acknowledge that
we have entered into communion with all Christians through Christ, and have
been accepted into the care of the church.
We acknowledge our
acceptance of God’s forgiving grace.
And we promise to
continue to grow in our faith and in our ability to live a full Christian life.
Many of us don’t
recall our own baptisms or even our confirmations, so we may not have a
conscious memory of having accepted these terms of our baptism.
Which is why Luther
calls us to remember our baptism again and again.
To remember what it
is we signed on to do and be as members of the body of Christ.
But also to remember
those words that God spoke to Jesus at his Baptism.
Because those words
ring true for us as well.
"You are my child, the
Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
We need this shoring
up, this encouragement, this reinforcement of our belovedness….because the task
we have set before us as baptized Christians is not an easy one.
Changing ourselves
and thus changing the world to better reflect God’s compassion, love, and
grace, is a very difficult thing to do.
But we must also
remember that we are not Jesus.
We are not rising up
out of the baptismal waters with the weight of the world’s redemption upon our
shoulders.
We’re not agreeing to
serve as the head of a movement that has as its goal to raise up the powerless,
and to pull down the powerful.
We’re not choosing to
stand before the authorities with our palms up and our arms wide open in ready
acceptance, in response to extreme persecution, unyielding physical abuse, and
our impending execution.
Jesus is God’s
beloved son, and the message he received from God on the day of his baptism was
meant for him. Because he needed to hear that he was loved immensely, and that
regardless of the doubts and worries and fears that he might have carried
within his human heart, God was well pleased with him.
That message of
unconditional love and acceptance is also something that we need to hear as we
follow in Jesus’ footsteps.
As we remember our
baptism, on this day, and every day, let us also remember that despite the
daunting task that lies before us as beloved Children of God, our baptism into
the body of Christ anchors us on solid ground.
It anchors us in
tradition, in community, in faith.
As we stand on the
shoreline with the changing waters of the world rushing past our feet, we may
feel like we’re being pulled in and out with the waves, and that the shifting
sand beneath our feet may topple us over at any moment, but once we recognize
and accept that God loves us, just as we are, and that we are called to do the
same with each other, we no longer have a reason to fear being pulled out to
sea.
For even as we pass
through the waters, God is with us.
And we will rise up
from the depths, just as Jesus did,
And shine as beloved
children of God, just as we are called, and were created, to be.
Amen.
