January 11, 2015 – 1st Sunday
after the Epiphany, Year B
© 2015 Evan D. Garner
Audio of this sermon can be heard here.
In between my first two
years of seminary, I spent half of the summer living and working in a parish in
the industrial north of England. It was St. Martin of Tours in Middlesbrough,
and I probably learned more about being a parish priest there than I did in any
classroom. The vicar of that parish was Fr. David, and he and his family
welcomed me into their home—the vicarage that sat adjacent to the church
building. At first, I thought, “How convenient—to live only a fifteen-second
walk from the church!” but, within two weeks, I discovered first-hand the challenges
that come with sharing a parking lot with the place where you work.
The doorbell rang all the
time. Occasionally, it was someone who actually went to church—a parishioner
who came by for a pastoral counseling appointment or a church leader who needed
to meet with Fr. David about an upcoming event. Usually, though, it was someone
with absolutely no ties to the congregation…except that he or she lived within
the geographic boundaries of the parish. Because the Church of England is an
established church, it means that anyone who resides in the parish is entitled
to a baptism, a wedding, or a funeral. It doesn’t matter whether you have ever
been to church or ever intend to go to church. If you’re in the parish, you’re
considered a parishioner. More often than not, when that doorbell rang, it was
someone who was asking, “May I have my baby christened?”
The part that gets under
your skin—even after just two weeks—is the tragic confluence of evangelistic
opportunity and superstitious motivation. You see, even though every minister I
know gets excited at the thought of bringing a new person into the church
through the sacrament of baptism, practically none of those people who rang the
doorbell was interested in raising her child as a part of the church. They just
didn’t want their baby to go to hell. They had learned from their parents and
grandparents that “christening” is the thing that makes a child a Christian and
that only the waters of baptism could ensure that their little bundle of joy would
escape the fires of hell. So, every time the doorbell rang, like Pavlov’s dogs,
I learned to sigh an exasperated sigh of disappointment at what could have been
but was not to be.
Now, I have the privilege
and pleasure of being the rector of a church where everyone takes his or her
baptism seriously and where all the parents who call me up asking for a baptism
do so not thinking about the white, antique baptismal gown or the opportunity
to stand in front of the congregation and show off their baby or the belief that
simply splashing water on a baby’s head is enough to constitute a relationship
with God. No, all of us, when we think about baptism, we think about initiating
a lifelong relationship with God, which will require intentional daily
maintenance and will find its principle expression in the shared life of the
church. That’s what we think about baptism…right?
Think about your baptism
and ask yourself why it matters—or, maybe better than that, ask yourself when your baptism matters. When is or
was or will your baptism be important? Is it a moment from the past when something
special happened? Is it an eternal life insurance policy—a golden sacramental
ticket that someday will get you into heaven? Or is your baptism something that
affects and directs your daily life?
I think that’s what Paul
was thinking about in today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles. On his third
missionary journey, Paul came to Ephesus—an ancient cosmopolitan coastal city,
where the gospel had reached but apostles like Paul had not yet visited. There,
Paul found some “disciples,” a word which means that they were believers or
followers of Jesus. They knew the gospel, and they had committed themselves to
following the way, but, clearly, something was missing. “Did you receive the
Holy Spirit when you became believers?” Paul asked them. Puzzled, the disciples
replied that they had never even heard of the Holy Spirit. “Then, into what
were you baptized?” Paul asked incredulously. And they replied that they had
received only John’s baptism—the baptism of repentance.
Therein was the problem.
“John baptized with the baptism of repentance,” Paul declared, “telling the
people to believe in the one who was to come after him, that is, in Jesus.” In
other words, John’s baptism was about preparation. It was a way to get ready
for the one who was to come. But the Christian life is about more than just
getting ready. It’s about more than repentance. Being a Christian means giving
one’s life over to God, being filled with the Holy Spirit, and living each day on
fire for Jesus. How’s that for language we don’t often use to describe our
faith? Well, if you’re uncomfortable with it, take a look at what happened to
those dozen disciples: they were baptized in Jesus’ name; Paul laid his hands
on him; the Holy Spirit came upon them; and, then, they spoke in tongues and
prophesied. In other words, they became the kinds Christians who don’t just sit
still in the pews and nod their heads in agreement with the preacher.
So back to the question
about baptism: when is or was or will your baptism make a difference in your
life? Is it locked away as a moment from the past? Have you tucked into your
back pocket as if it were a ticket to heaven? Or does your baptismal identity
define your daily life?
In just a moment, we will
stand and renew our baptismal vows. I must to confess to you that I have not
always liked the Baptismal Covenant. This series of questions and answers seems
to shift too much of the emphasis of what happens at baptism onto us, when, in
fact, the beauty of baptism is that it is an expression of God’s love that has
nothing at all to do with what we say or think or do. But I am learning to take
my own baptism seriously—not only as a powerful experience of God’s
unconditional love but also as a life-long gift of that love to which I must respond
daily as a Spirit-filled, Spirit-led disciple of Jesus Christ.
In a moment, you will be asked in a series of questions about whether you take your baptismal identity seriously, and I want you to think about it carefully. Will you accept that what it means to be a Christian is more than just a one-time splashing of water on your head? Will you believe that your identity as a Christian should have an effect on your daily life? Will you recognize that your baptism has as much to do with today as it does with your past and where you spend your future? Imagine what the church—our church—would be like if it were filled with people who spent every day on fire for the love that God has for them. That is what it means to be a Christian. That is who we are supposed to be.
In a moment, you will be asked in a series of questions about whether you take your baptismal identity seriously, and I want you to think about it carefully. Will you accept that what it means to be a Christian is more than just a one-time splashing of water on your head? Will you believe that your identity as a Christian should have an effect on your daily life? Will you recognize that your baptism has as much to do with today as it does with your past and where you spend your future? Imagine what the church—our church—would be like if it were filled with people who spent every day on fire for the love that God has for them. That is what it means to be a Christian. That is who we are supposed to be.
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