Epiphany I – The Baptism of our Lord
Genesis 1:1-5
Acts 19:1-7
Mark 1:4-11
+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
WHAT do the guy [Bruce Pardo] "who dressed up as Santa and killed his ex-wife and her family (and then committed suicide) and the Muslim guy [Atif Irfan] who got thrown off a recent AirTran flight on suspicion of terrorism have in common?” Stephen Dubner, one of the authors of the wildly best-selling Freakonomics, asked that question in a blog last week.1
Dubner’s answer is that both of them had their intentions badly misread. One appeared tame, and one appeared scary, but human beings often terribly mis-interpret appearances. Pardo, a regular at mass, an usher, was held in high esteem, widely regarded as a nice guy. Irfan, a tax attorney, was with his family boarding a plane, and some of them were chatting about what were the safest seats on the plane. A passenger overheard this, deemed it suspicious, and told AirTran. AirTran turned Irfan and his eight family members over to the FBI, and even after FBI cleared them, AirTran refused to honor their tickets and to fly them to their destination.
Dubner assumes human beings fear the unknown more than the known. The people who didn’t fear Pardo were his family and friends, and the people who feared Irfan were strangers. Dubner concludes,
In general, we fear strangers much more than we should. ... So the next time your brain insists on fearing strangers, try to tell it to cool out a bit. It’s not that you necessarily need to insist that it fear your friends and family instead — unless, of course, you are friends with someone like Bernie Madoff. Don’t forget that the greatest financial fraud in history was committed primarily among friends. And with friends like that, who needs strangers?
Now what does any of this have to do with Jesus and his Church? I first started going to church because I was looking for purpose and meaning in life, for some kind of connection to eternity and to what really matters, for a home, a place to be grounded, centered, to grapple with big questions. I identified with George, a philosophy professor in Tom Stoppard’s play Jumpers. George explains God’s existence by saying “If there is an apparently endless line of dominoes knocking itself over one by one . . . somewhere there was a domino that was nudged.”2 I sensed that, and so I began thinking about Jesus and Christianity. I wanted to know something more about that first mover, about that thing or person or God that energizes the universe.
But I quickly discovered that those central, essential, fundamental questions are not at the heart of every church. I found that after being a Christian for a while, I often overlooked the big questions and defined myself more according to where I stood on little things. One of the best things I receive as priest is the blessing of talking to people who are seeking, people who are asking the big, central questions, people who challenge my thinking and assumptions. It renews and challenges my faith as well as reminding me why I’m a Christian, but I wonder if I sometimes come off as stale, smug, rigid.
I remember about a year or so after being baptized I went to a church where a parishioner came up to chat with me at coffee hour. I was grateful not to be left hanging out there and eagerly responded. He told me that he was a founding member of the congregation. He questioned me about where I was from and how long I had lived there, but I doubt because he was much interested in me. Rather, he wanted the opportunity to tell me about his own importance, that he was a fixture, the tenth generation to live in his town.
As a newcomer, and as a highly enthusiastic new Christian, but unsure of how to be a Christian, my interpretation of what he was telling me was that he belonged there, and it wasn’t clear that I did. I probably didn’t know my place, and if I was going to stick around I’d best not think of getting any ideas, questioning anything, or shaking up things. Certainly the idea of assuming any real responsibility, other than worshiping and pledging of course, in the life of that parish family was far, far down the road. Welcome to the Church!
I’m not a great pet lover – perhaps because I am so pained by the similarity of animals to human beings. I don’t like being reminded about it. On a dog-training website, I found the following advice about bringing your dog to a new dog park:
Bring him [the dog] in the park's gate or entrance behind you on a heel, so it is apparent to the rest of the dogs that the newcomer is under control and does not need to be shown the rules of the house by THEM. Realize that if your dog is not under control when he comes in, the other dogs will sense this and will seek to control him for you!3
That may be the most convincing argument against evolution. It describes human beings as much as dogs. Groups of people accepting new people is very challenging work. Businesses, clubs, schools, neighborhoods, nations can be quite particular about who’s acceptable. But churches can offer another way. I have a hard time imagining Jesus would want us to establish a clear pecking order and keep strangers under control, knowing their places?
I think that Christianity, especially, offers us a better way to get to know one another. The Church has a different vision of what human life together can look like. A faithful church doesn’t find its purpose in the satisfaction or comfort or control of its people, but rather tries to help each of us to grow in faith and commitment to Jesus and his gospel, to make Christ the center of our lives, to help each of us be better disciples. Each of us both receives strength and nourishment and assumes responsibility for Christ’s mission and ministry.
Today, we’re
going to baptize
In his letters
to the Romans and the Galatians,
At the baptism this morning, we will renew our commitment to the Baptismal Covenant. It expresses how we live our Christian identity. The first three questions state our core doctrinal belief, and they’re important, but ultimately I think that Jesus is more interested in people than ideas. After all, he chose twelve apostles who were rather simple, literally minded, largely lacking sophistication and erudition. They lived by labor, not intellect.
It’s unlikely the Apostles could have cooked up the Creed of their namesake, but it’s more likely they could have cooked up the second half the Baptismal Covenant, the five questions about Christian responsibilities, about our responsibilities to other people – solid, concrete direction about following Jesus, how Christian identity expresses itself in day to day living: that is, coming together to give and receive care and support; worshiping, praying, and learning together; resisting evil and then – when we fail – repenting, confessing, starting again; witnessing to Jesus and his gospel; honoring Christ’s presence in all people; loving all people; trying to see Christ present in every person we meet; working for justice and peace.
We recognize authentic Christianity, live into our Christian identity, in the way we treat other people. It challenges us to reach out and to include the newcomer, the outsider, the unknown, to take an interest in that person, to learn from that person, to receive the gifts of that person, to share with that person, even to be shaped by that person. For Jesus, real strength is not in self-assertion or in having it our way.
During
But water is
also about life and purity. The prophet
Ezekiel had a magnificent vision of water pouring out of the
Water frightens us and delights us, threatens us and sustains us. And isn’t that also what the stranger is to us? Threat and new life. And isn’t that what Jesus is to us? A threat to the way we live now and the possibility of new life, deeper love.
+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
1 Stephen J. Dubner, ‘The Cost of Fearing Strangers,’ Freakonomics Blog, NYTimes.com, January 6, 2009.
2 Example
from Rowan Williams, Tokens of Trust,
3 Rena Murray, ‘Dog Dominance Behavior - Dog Park Havoc’ at ezinearticles.com.
©2009 Lane John Davenport
