January 31, 2010
The Fourth Sunday after The Epiphany (Year C)
(Baptism of Theo Curry)
Jeremiah 1:4-10; Psalm 71:1-6; I Corinthians 13:1-13;
Luke: 4:21-30
John the Baptist and I have much in common. You might think I am thinking that we are both prophets. But, no, that is not true. I am not a prophet at all, merely a parish priest who dares to wrestle from week to week with the scripture, and try to make sense of it in my life and, I hope, yours too.
NO! John the Baptist and I have something else in common, no, not camel’s hair clothes nor a fondness for locusts . . . not that either. It is that we both get to baptize Jesus! Today, at the ten o’clock service, we will baptize Theo Curry, who played Jesus in the pageant in December! I know that doves will not likely descend and proclaim Theo the beloved as the dove did for Jesus and John the Baptist; but just because there are no doves and godly proclamations from the clouds, that does not mean that Theo is any less loved, any less chosen, any less in God’s eyes in any way!
In the reading from Jeremiah, when the prophet in fear and trembling tried to wiggle out of his calling to tell the Hebrew people the truth about their failures as God’s chosen, to wiggle out of following God’s instructions, God reminded him that he was not merely a boy, but one of God’s own, and God knew him, formed him in the womb, and even before he was born, consecrated him.
That, too, is true of Theo. God has already consecrated him. God has already formed him and known him, not in the sense that his life is predestined or without Theo’s choice, but in the sense that he, like all of us, is called as one of the chosen, one of the beloved of God to serve the world and others in God’s name.
It is in God that Theo can take refuge, and it is God who will be there as Theo’s strong rock and castle, not because we baptize him today, but because God already intends to be part of Theo’s life.
Today, in baptizing him together, we affirm what God has done, and we begin, as his Christian family, to teach him the ways of being Christian. We begin to teach him of his innate “belovedness.” We teach him that with that “belovedness” comes certain responsibilities. They are the responsibilities that Jesus spoke of in the gospel, the very ones that got him thrown out of the synagogue in his hometown. Those responsibilities are to care for the poor, release the captives, heal, recovery of sight to the blind, free the oppressed, and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, which is to proclaim and live forgiveness. That is the Christian responsibility, and it is summed up nicely in the baptismal covenant. But, if we really listen, they are responsibilities that threaten the “establishment,” the steadiers in our own lives, and force us to live not for ourselves but for God. Then, because we are living for God, we care for those God cares about, other human beings. That is how we live out those responsibilities, by practicing on each other.
The passage from Corinthians tells us about Love. It is the passage that is often read at marriages, but frankly, I think, it is a far better passage for baptisms because it speaks of the “tool,” the “character,” the “means” by which we mere mortal human beings respond to our calling as beloved of God. We love! To love others, from a spouse to the most alien “other” whom we find reprehensible, to love them is our responsibility, our Christian calling. To love like that is a deliberate choice we make daily, sometimes hourly, or minute to minute. We love, not because there is moonlight and roses, we love because we have faith. The kind of faith God has in us when he forms us in the womb and sets us upon the journey as his own. Love is not the gushy wonderful, blissful feeling of heart thumping and butterflies; love is far more work than that, true love anyway.
Love is patient and kind, kind when people do not “deserve” it, kind when people are the epitome of what you find intolerable, kind to the poor, the oppressed, the outcast. In Jesus’ day that meant lepers, and prostitutes, and political and religious foes, and prisoners, and outsiders.
What does it mean in our day? Possibly immigrants, or people of different ethnicity, thieves or murderers or lazy bums on welfare, or southerners or westerners or Midwesterners, or Californians, or democrats, or maybe even republicans. To love those whom we find inherently reprehensible, culturally or politically or personally, is to show them the same kind of respect as we would show our heroes.
Love, as God teaches, does not insist on its own way. How contrary to human nature does that sound? I believe the “original sin” that we must, as human beings, live with is the selfishness of insisting on our own way. I do not know of anyone who is free of it. We share that sin, and equally we share its resolution when we love as God loves, proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, so to speak, to those who are likely to take what we think of as ours, when we give that love freely, sometimes to our detriment.
Love bears all things, not for one’s self, but for others. Love believes all things are possible, not winning the lottery sort of possible, but winning hearts and communities for Christ sort of possible. Love hopes all things, all things that are of God that is, not all things that are of human desire and lust. Love endures all things, even the slings and arrows of those whom we might be called to proclaim such love to. Love . . . does not end!
When God formed us and knew us in the womb, God imbued us with eternal love. It is as much a part of us as the sin of self that we like to exercise so readily. It is our choice to determine which will own us.
When we baptize our children, as we baptize Theo today, we are promising to help to teach them that way of love, that way of looking out for others, recognizing God in them as readily as God does. We promise to be there to embody God’s love, as a community, as a church, and as God’s people. When we baptize Theo, we promise to help him find the intent God has for him, has had since the womb, by providing a healthy safe, love filled, place to explore what that means, because, at least in my experience, few of us KNOW that intention without a whole lot of discernment – and discernment cannot be a thing done apart from a community of love.
Love does not mean saying. “Oh, yeah, you are so right. Go ahead and do whatever you want!” Love holds us accountable and responsible for treating each other the way God treat those most different and reprehensible to us, with kindness, patience, and love. And, hopefully, that is the way we find God (and each other) treating us also.
Jesus was driven out of town when he dared to say such things, when he dared to live on this radical edge of love and proclamation of the gospel of justice.
I have no illusions that I am a prophet. But I am one who believes that striving for that same kind of love, the kind of truth of love told in the lessons today, is the very best way human beings can live and grow into their full potential, grow into the person God created them to be. I am still a work in progress, just like Theo, just like each of you, but I am grateful for these lessons and their reminder that there is a way to follow, and there are good people, here and in every part of my life, in every part of your lives. And especially as I look out at you, I know there will always be good people in Theo’s life to show him the way, to demonstrate it. And when he wavers a bit from that path and instead chooses to inch toward that innate desire toward self, there will be forgiveness and more love showered upon him.
What joy and challenge there is in being Christian! Welcome to our faith, Theo. Welcome, God’s beloved, God’s own. Welcome!
Amen.
The Reverend Dr. Gale Davis Morris
Church of the Good Shepherd