Sermon for Baptism of the Lord Sunday, Year A, "Here Is My Servant," Isaiah 42:1-9, Matthew 3:13-17

 Sermon 1/8/23

Isaiah 42:1-9, Matthew 3:13-17

Here Is My Servant

I’ve been thinking a lot about our Christian concept of call in the last couple of years. One of the most important things my mom taught me about faith was that God calls all of us. Being called by God isn’t something that’s just for pastors, for preachers. No, she reminded me often that everybody is called - it’s just a matter of figuring out what it is that you’re called to do. So, I was always on the lookout for my call from God. Mom never told us being called by God would look like any one thing, and indeed, my siblings and I took very different paths. But, as seems to be somewhat of the family way, I slowly realized I was called to pastoral ministry. And I went to seminary, and I pastored churches for 17 years. And during my years of pastoring, I’ve loved talking to other people about listening for and finding and answering their call from God. I love helping people discern what God is up to in their lives. 

Sometimes, though, I wonder if the way we’ve talked about being called by God in the church has been too confusing, or too narrow, too limiting for people. Not everyone has had the same journey with “call” as I have had. My brother Tim, for example, really struggled to find a career path. These days, he works in international banking doing something I don’t understand at all. But I know he would never describe his work as a “call.” And with my other brothers working in higher education and in vocational rehabilitation, Tim sometimes feels like the odd one out. He’s never felt like God was calling him to a particular kind of work. I worry that we’ve tied “call” and “career” too closely together. “Careers” as we think of them today weren’t really a thing in the scripture, anyway. Nobody was picking college majors in Jesus’s day. 

And then there’s me: I was pastoring in the local church, but I’m not anymore. I loved a lot about being a pastor, and the people I served were wonderful, but eventually some of the stresses and strains of pastoring started to outweigh the joys. I’m reminded of theologian Frederick Buechner’s words about vocation - words I bet my Uncle has shared with you at some point - that the “place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.” (from Wishful Thinking.) I certainly wasn’t miserable in my life as a pastor. But neither was I finding my deep gladness any longer. Do calls from God end? Do they get replaced with a new one? When I decided to go back to school to work on my PhD, I wasn’t necessarily feeling called by God to that particular path. But I did think it might bring me some deep joy to be in school again. Is that “enough” to “count” as a call? Or is it only a call from God if we feel we are being pointed by God to take a very specific path? 

As it would happen, a couple of the thinkers I’ve encountered in my PhD work have helped me think about how we’re called in some new ways. My focus is on Christianity and Animals. Dr. David Clough, a scholar in the field, writes that the although humans are more like nonhuman animals than we like to think, what sets human apart might be our vocation - our call. And for Clough, our call from God, our purpose, is laid out for us right in chapter 1 of Genesis: we’re made in God’s image - and being God’s image in the world is our purpose! (1) Imagine how your life would be shaped if you focused all your attention on trying to be the best reflection of God in the world you could be! It wouldn’t matter so much what career you chose, although there are certainly some careers that might make it easier for us than others to try to reflect God in our work. Instead, all aspects of our lives could be fulfilling our call from God. Dr. Christopher Carter is another scholar whose work I really admire. As he thinks about the relationship between humans and nonhuman animals, he says that our human task is to figure out what it means to be human and that doing that figuring out takes practice. We have to practice being the kinds of humans God means for us to be. (2) There’s something comforting to me about that idea - that we don’t always do a great job of being the humans-created-in-God’s-image we’re meant to be, but that we can practice, work at it, get better at it - better at loving, caring, growing, and reflecting God’s image. So - what if the biggest call from God that we need to hear (again and again) is the call to be God’s image in the world? And what if we spend our lives practicing and practicing this work until we can say that we love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, and our neighbors as ourselves, and really mean it. That’s a call that we won’t outgrow, a call that doesn’t fit for just one season of our lives.

And it is, in fact, the call of our baptism. Martin Luther, the 16th century excommunicated Catholic priest who was a leader in what we call the Protestant Reformation, taught an understanding of the scripture and the meaning of baptism that we still hold called “the priesthood of all believers.” Luther argued that Christians didn’t need to rely on a mediator, a priest, to go between them and God. Christians had direct access to God through their own faith life. And for Luther, it is baptism that provides the marker of our relationship with God - the entry point, in a sense. In baptism, we are all made “priests” of sorts, not because we will all be leaders of congregations and preside over the sacraments, but because, as 1 Peter 2:9 says, “we can show others the goodness of God.” God calls us to service and discipleship in the baptismal waters. In baptism, we’re reminded that we are created in God’s image. Baptism is a way of answering God’s call to a life of faith, and answering “yes” to God’s invitation of grace. 

Today, we remember that Jesus was baptized too. Jesus’s baptism has always been kind of puzzling. If Jesus is God’s child, is God, is without sin, why does he need to be baptized? And Jesus never really explains to John why Jesus has to be baptized - we see that in our reading from Matthew today. His “it’s proper, it makes things right” doesn’t really answer all my questions anyway. In fact, even the gospel writers seem to me a little puzzled by the scene (hence their including John asking the question they and we are all asking: why does Jesus need to get baptized?), but they know it is really important. It marks the beginning of his ministry. It serves as the dividing line between his life before, which we know so little about, and his life after - his preaching, teaching, death, and resurrection. Can remembering Jesus’s baptism help us understand our own baptism? How can it help us as we ponder our purpose, our call? 

I think of our reading today from the prophet Isaiah. In our passage, God is describing a servant, full of wisdom and justice, who will help Israel, God’s people, in a time of great need. This servant is upheld by God, chosen by God, one in whom God delights. The servant is full of God’s spirit. The servant works to bring forth justice, persists in the midst of struggles, and pursues justice even when things are challenging. God leads the servant, and sets them as a light to the people. The servant works to open the eyes that are blind, to bring prisoners out of dungeons and darkness. Through the servant, God does new things. 

We tend to see passages like this as descriptions of Jesus - whether because Isaiah was predicting the future (even while he certainly believed he was just writing about his own context, and a hoped for earthly leader amidst the war and chaos of his time), or because we at least read back into these texts and see in Isaiah’s hope for a kind of ideal leader a description that only Jesus could fulfill so completely. But either way, I think when we read this description of God’s servant, by seeing this is clearly “about Jesus,” we miss how it is about us too. Because if this text is only describing Jesus, it can’t possibly be describing something we might need to fulfill through lives of discipleship. If only Jesus can be the kind of leader the prophets envisioned, then our discipleship isn’t so important - no one is depending on us.  

Instead though, again and again in the gospels, Jesus asks us to follow him not from a distance, awed by his mighty deeds that we could never do; no, Jesus asks us to follow closely and learn how to do everything he does. Jesus shares power. Jesus says we can do what he does and more. Jesus wants us, calls us, to be like him. And I think that we can be like Jesus because Jesus is like us. I think Jesus is baptized because we are baptized. Jesus is God-with-us - that’s what we’ve just celebrated in Christmas. And being baptized with us is another way of being with us, joining us together in one purpose, one call. If Jesus is God incarnate, then we are God imaged. Jesus shows us God in the flesh and then asks us to do the same for one another. Jesus show us the goodness of God, and then we spend our lives showing the goodness of God to others.   

I’m about halfway through my PhD program, and I’m still not sure what particular path I’m taking - if I’ll teach, or work for an organization, or even a  church again, or somehow figure out a way to go back to school for an 89th time. But I still trust my mom’s advice. We’re all called. We’re called to follow Jesus and be as much like him as we can. We’re called to reflect God’s image to the world. We’re called to show God’s goodness to others. It will take practice. But that’s what being human is all about, and Jesus promises to join us in our work, being like us, so we can be like him. Thanks be to God. Amen. 

1. Clough, On Animals Vol 1: Systematic Theology 

2. Cite Carter, The Spirit of Soul Food

Sermon for Baptism of the Lord Sunday (Year A/Year W), "Much Obliged," Matthew 3:1-6, 11-17

Sermon 1/9/22

Matthew 3:1-6, 11-17

Much Obliged

“Much obliged.” Do you use that phrase? “Much obliged.” It isn’t a common response for me personally, but it is a way we might say thank you, although it might sound a little old-fashioned or formal to our ears. It used to be a more common way of saying thank you. What does it mean exactly? “Much obliged” is a kind of shortening of a fuller sentiment: “I’m much obliged to you for what you did for me.” And to spell it out even more clearly, to be obliged is to be in someone’s debt - to be obligated to another person. To be obligated (according to Google) is to be bound to someone, legally or morally. If we’re obligated to someone, it can be with thanks and gratitude and appreciation because of what someone’s done for us, or it can be a weight, a burden, something that makes us feel trapped, what we owe to someone. If we think about our obligations, there are probably some that make us feel thankful and stir our sense of commitment, and some that make us feel overwhelmed. What legal obligations do you have? Debts we owe. Taxes we pay. Contracts to which we’re a party. What obligations do you have to people? To friends, spouses, children, relatives, bosses, neighbors, employees, students, teachers? When you think about the obligations you have in your relationships, how do you feel about those commitments? Is your indebtedness in relationship one direction, or mutual, between both people? What kind of time obligations do you have? How is your time bound up? What of your time is designated to certain tasks, certain ways of being spent? What of your time is obligated, and what is discretionary, to be spent as you choose? We are much obliged indeed. Much obliged - it’s a complicated little phrase.

Our gospel text for today has me thinking about obligations and what it means to be obligated. In the Christian calendar, today is Baptism of the Lord Sunday, a day when we remember the baptism of Jesus. The baptism of Jesus is kind of a conundrum. In the gospels, Jesus’ baptism takes place in the context of John the Baptist baptizing many people in the Jordan River. John has been preaching a fiery message, focused on this key message: “Repent, for the realm of the heavens is near.” And people respond to his message in droves, confessing their sins, and being baptized as a sign of new life. But then Jesus comes to be baptized too. 

If baptism relates to repentance - a recognition that we’re not going in God’s direction, we’re not headed closer to God and we need to turn around and head back to God - and John the Baptist’s theme word is certainly repentance - then why does Jesus get baptized? If Jesus is perfect, guiltless, he doesn’t need to repent, right? This conundrum has plagued readers of the scripture for a long time - and evidently even plagued the writers of the scripture. While Mark’s gospel just has Jesus being baptized with no seeming concern for uncomfortable questions, Matthew’s gospel includes an exchange between Jesus and John where John himself seems uncomfortable baptizing Jesus. We see this in verses 13-15 of our Matthew 3 text. In the New Revised Standard Version, the version of the Bible I use most, it reads like this: “13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14John would have prevented him, saying, ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ 15But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then [John] consented.”

Although Jesus’ response seems to clear things up for John enough to go ahead and baptize Jesus, his response has never really cleared things up for me. But then I read Dr. Wil Gafney’s translation and interpretation of this text. We’re using Dr. Gafney’s A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church Year W for the season of Epiphany, and her commentary opened up this text for me. In her translation, Dr. Gafney constructs Jesus’s exchange with John like this: “13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John forbade him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, yet you come to me?” 15 But Jesus answered him, “Let it go for now; for this way is proper for us to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John let it go.” In her commentary, Gafney notes that the words “Let it go” are weighty words here, words that would serve to release an obligation - as in a legal obligation. They could be words of divorce, for example - certainly a release from an obligation. Or, here in Matthew, words canceling a legal objection. John has filed a verbal objection to baptizing Jesus, and Jesus tells him: “Let it go.” I think this exchange between Jesus and John at Jesus’s baptism is saying: figuring out the theological details of why I, Jesus, should get baptized, when for others it is a sign of repentance, is not the point here. The point here is what my baptism will do - it joins me to the human struggle, to the human faith journey, in a concrete way, marking the beginning of my ministry in ritual. 

And John lets it go, lets go of his objections, lets go of holding Jesus and holding himself to the obligation of figuring out how and if it makes theological sense for someone like Jesus to be baptized. John lets go, and baptizes Jesus. And as soon as John lets go and baptizes Jesus, the heavens are opened, and God sends her Spirit down on Jesus like a dove, descending, and God’s voice is heard: “This is my son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” 

The letting go of the obligation, the clearing of the way for Jesus to be baptized: it results in the heavens breaking open and a powerful experience of God’s presence and affirmation. When John lets go of the obligation to have everything make perfect, logical, theological sense, when he lets go of some mental checklist he has for who needs to be baptized and why, when he makes space for Jesus to participate in a ritual even though he doesn’t believe Jesus needs it, the releasing of the obligation makes way for the movement of the Spirit, makes way for God to draw every closer to God’s creation, makes way for Jesus to begin his public ministry with the deep knowledge in his heart that he is beloved.   

Have you ever experienced being set free from an obligation? When I was a fairly new pastor, moving from my first appointment to my second appointment, I got a call from a clergy colleague who administered the conference’s loan and scholarship program. He was an older clergy person who I admired for his wisdom and gentle temperament. I had received a loan when I started seminary that would be forgiven a chunk at a time as long as I stayed serving in the then North Central New York annual conference for a certain number of years (10 I think) - making it more of a scholarship than a loan. But my second appointment was taking me to a church in Greater NJ Annual Conference, where Bishop Suda Devadhar asked if I would come and serve. I was keeping my clergy membership in NCNY, but I wouldn’t be serving in NCNY anymore. So my colleague who administered the loans was calling to tell me I would have to start repayment. I had forgotten all about the caveat to the loan, always viewing it as a scholarship, and never thinking that my new appointment would result in repayment. I didn’t complain outwardly, but inwardly I scrambled to figure out how I would repay the debt. 

But then a few days later, he called me back. He’d been thinking it over. And he decided, independent of what the rules said, that I wouldn’t have to pay back the loan. They’d count my service in NJ as continuing work for our conference, since I was keeping my membership there, and they’d just consider the loan paid. He was letting it go. Obligation canceled. I was never sure what prompted him to change his mind, to bend the rules. But I was grateful. It turns out, I only stayed at that church in NJ for 2 years, and then I returned to my home conference to serve for many more, more than meeting the 10 year requirement. My time pastoring in NJ was brief, but it was an important part of my vocational discernment, and I can tie that period of time to clarity and direction about my ministry, to enduring relationships that have nourished my spirit, to exploration that connects me to my current doctoral work at Drew. My colleague - he would have been totally correct to hold me to the obligation that I’d agreed to when I took the money. But he didn’t. He let it go.

I wonder: When are our obligations constraining us and others? When are they holding us back from God, holding us back from love, holding us back from relationship, joy, and thriving? When are the obligations that we have placed on others burdensome and restrictive in ways that act as stumbling blocks to relationship with God? Obligations, of course, are a part of life, and obligations, even and especially challenging ones, shouldn’t just be disregarded. Being obligated to one another is part of the way we love our neighbor. But the interaction between Jesus and John has me thinking about the theological obligations we hang on each other and on ourselves. We have all sorts of ideas, all of us, about what it takes to be “good Christians,” committed disciples, dedicated followers of Jesus. Our ideas might differ from each other depending on our theological perspectives, but most of us have mental checklists and requirements to be serving God in the right way. Sometimes what’s on our checklist can shape us in positive ways, like spiritual disciplines that keep us close to God. But sometimes we turn our theological positions into obligations that are weighty millstones and way-blocking obstacles that cause ourselves and others to stumble on our path with God. What obligations can you let go of? And perhaps, even more importantly, what you have more power over: Who can you free of an obligation that is burdening them? When you let go, what movement of God might you be making space for? The possibilities are endless.

Today we celebrate Jesus’ baptism. There are so many reasons why Jesus being baptized doesn’t make sense, as John well knew. Jesus asked him to let it go and baptize anyway, and John did. And God’s Spirit broke through, in the midst of a sacred ritual. How can we set each other free, cancel indebtedness that binds, remove heavy burdens, and clear the pathways that we’ve filled with obligations that are more about being right than righteous? And what might God do when we let go? I can’t wait to find out. Amen. 

Bibliography: 

Gafney, Wilda C, “Epiphany II.” A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church Year W. Church Publishing, 2021. Selections from pp. 42-44.

Sermon for Baptism of the Lord Sunday, "Citizens of God's World," Mark 1:1-11

Sermon 1/10/21

Mark 1:1-11

Citizens of God’s World

I, like many of you, I suspect, have been at a loss when trying to process the events at the Capitol Building in Washington, DC, when a mass of people broke into the building to interrupt the certification by Congress of the Electoral College, which made official President-Elect Joe Biden’s election. Typically, after national world events like that - the kind that really shake us, I try to post something on facebook, some reflection, some words - maybe not of wisdom, but of encouragement, of hope, of helping people to process what’s happened. But I’ve been coming up empty. I’m not sure what to think, or what to do. 

It’s not that what happened at the Capitol was so shocking. After all, the escalating language since the election and well before has suggested that the way our US American culture has been functioning is unsustainable. But I’ve felt as if this past week has been a taking of all the brokenness we’ve been accumulating and putting it on garish, painful display, where we can’t ignore it or hide it or suppress it, and I don’t know what to do. 

I don’t know what to do when it feels like the meaning of words has become so fluid. What I think are “facts” and “truth” don’t line up with what others say. If I point to news accounts to support my claim, someone else can just call that fake news, and produce an entirely different account from an entirely different news source. What seems to me to be a clear act of racism, others insist is not, while labeling things that I see as anti-racist as racist. What I see as a peaceful protest, others insist is a call to violence, and what seems to me a violent insurrection, others describe as a protest, exercising first amendment rights. And I see my points of view as a reflection of my faith - grounded in my faith in God and my commitment to following Jesus. But I see others claiming to be on the side of Jesus, doing God’s work, who have come not to just different conclusions than I have, but opposite conclusions. Irreconcilable conclusions. Conclusions that make me wonder how I can be in relationship with people who don’t just have different opinions than me, but who seem to see the world in a way that is on a repeated collision course with the way I understand the world. Am I right? Are they wrong? Is there even such a thing as right and wrong?

And so even though I think I know what’s right, that I think I hear God’s call - I’ve been a little quiet. I’ve felt like my words are useless - they’ll resonate with people who already think like I do, and be ignored by people who already think the opposite of what I do, and I will be like what the apostle Paul described - “a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.” He didn’t mean that as a complement. Yet, I can still only try to follow Jesus as best as I possibly can, and although he certainly took time for reflection, for prayer, for rest, he never gave himself an “out” from the most difficult conversations and conflicts. In fact, much of the gospel narratives are spent recounting Jesus saying to folks, “You have heard that it is said … but I tell you.” It seems really different understandings of the truth are not so new. 

So - as people of faith, I think we’re called to take a stand, to speak up, to offer more than “thoughts and prayers” when crisis unfolds around us. Not instead of thoughts and prayers - but the ways of being and acting in the world that unfold because of what our thoughts and prayers reveal to us about God’s call. But how are we called? What do we do? 

Today is Baptism of the Lord Sunday. It’s the day on the liturgical calendar when we remember the baptism of Jesus, an event recorded in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. John’s gospel takes up similar themes, and Paul’s writings frequently discuss baptism in the name of Jesus, baptism by the Holy Spirit. In the Acts of the Apostles, baptism is again and again the act that joins new followers of Jesus to the community. Baptism is the marker of Christian identity. Baptism is the outward sign, the celebration of our becoming God’s family. It is God’s invitation of grace, and our response, our commitment, our vow to live in response to God’s grace a life of love in the ways of Jesus Christ. We “put on” Christ in baptism, clothe ourselves in Jesus, meaning to be as Jesus-like as we can be. 

In worship, it is common to renew our baptismal vows on this Sunday. We renew our baptismal covenant not because God ever rescinds God’s invitation of grace, but because sometimes it seems like we’ve left the party. Sometimes, we’ve forgotten our vows. God is faithful, but we are caught up in sin. We need a reminder, and a chance to recommit, to remember that we said “yes” to God’s invitation. As I was preparing for today’s service, I found a liturgy for the Reaffirmation of Baptism that was used “by the Worship and Spiritual Renewal Committee of the 218th General Assembly (2008) of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), in San Jose, California.” I found the prayer of confession in the liturgy moving. I want to share parts of it with you: 

Through our baptism we were made citizens of God’s kingdom, and freed from the bondage of sin. 

In baptism you joined us to Christ in his death that we might be raised with Christ in new life; but we cherish old ways and fail to embrace the risen life of righteousness, justice, and love. 

In baptism you united us with all the baptized who confess your name; but we foster division in the church. We refuse to live as one people, and so fail to witness to your reconciling love before the world. 

In baptism you call us to ministry in all realms of life, but we refuse the struggle to know your will; we do not nurture the ways of peace; we allow enmity and hatred to grow among us, putting neighbor against neighbor, and nation against nation. We abuse the earth you entrust to our care, and live in discord with all you have made. 

In baptism you sent us to serve with compassion all for whom Christ died; but we ignore the suffering of the oppressed and the plight of the poor. We take bread from the hungry, and will not listen to cries for justice. 

In baptism you gave us the Holy Spirit to teach and guide us, but we rely on ourselves, and refuse to trust your direction. We spurn your eternal wisdom, preferring the luring ways of the world. 

Remember the promises you made to us in our baptism, forgive our sinful ways and heal our brokenness. Set us free from all that enslaves us, and raise us to new life in Jesus Christ, that we may be your faithful servants, showing forth your healing love to the world, to the glory of your holy name. Amen. 

And the affirmation, the reconciliation: Hear the good news! In baptism you were buried with Christ. In baptism also you were raised to life with him, through faith in the power of God who raised Christ from the dead. (1) 

I keep coming back to that first statement: “Through our baptism we were made citizens of God’s kingdom, and freed from the bondage of sin.” We’re meant to be citizens of God’s reign on earth and in eternity. Our citizenship with God isn’t just one of our many identities. It is meant to be our primary identity. Not America First, or Democrats First or Republicans. Not Trump First or Joe Biden First. Our citizenship, our primary identity, the only one that matters eternally: we belong to God. That’s what we celebrate in baptism, and reaffirm today. We belong to God, and we want to follow God’s rule, and affirm God’s values, and live in God’s reign, and imitate God’s love. 

Pastor Brett Younger picks up the theme, exploring what this means more fully. He writes, ““The children of God tell the truth in a world that lies, give in a world that takes, love in a world that lusts, make peace in a world that fights, serve in a world that wants to be served, pray in a world that waits to be entertained, and take chances in a world that worships safety. The baptized are citizens of an eccentric community where financial success is not the goal, security is not the highest good, and sacrifice is a daily event. Baptism is our ordination to ministry, our vow to live with more concern for the hurting than for our own comfort . . . Baptism is the commitment to share our time with the poor and listen to the lonely.”

If we’ve been baptized, we’ve vowed - on our own, or through others who have loved and nurtured and spoken for us - we’ve vowed to be citizens of God’s reign. We belong to God. As God says to Jesus, “You are my child, beloved. I am well-pleased with you,” so God claims us, too. Citizenship in God’s reign means God first, our neighbor first, and in case we get confused about who our neighbor is, Jesus gives us lots of examples. Citizenship in God’s reign means God is in charge, and God’s will shall be done, not our own, not our President’s, not our governor’s, not our political party’s will. Citizenship in God’s reign means serving rather than being served. It means giving up rather than taking up power. It means that sacrifice is costly to us, rather than sacrifice that seems to cost others. Citizenship in God’s reign means, in words drawn from our baptismal vows, resisting evil, injustice, and oppression however they show up. It means rejecting evil. It means repenting - turning away from sin and back toward God when we’ve gone too long in the wrong direction. My allegiance is to God’s reign on earth and in eternity. In baptism, I celebrated my citizenship in God’s reign. And today I want to remember that it is God’s values I want to uphold, and God’s call to truth, to justice, to compassion, to love, to self-sacrificing service that I want to emulate. Knowing we are invited to be citizens of God’s reign won’t make things clear and easy. But, just like Jesus is reminded in his baptism of who he is, remembering we belong to God will give us strength to persevere as disciples of Christ, striving to put God first in everything.  

Remember, God, the promises you made to us in our baptism.  Forgive our sinful ways and heal our brokenness. Set us free from all that enslaves us, and raise us to new life in Jesus Christ, that we may be your faithful servants, showing forth your healing love to the world, to the glory of your holy name. Amen. (1) 

1. Adapted from “Reaffirmation of the Baptismal Covenant”: “This liturgy for the Reaffirmation of Baptism, including the celebration of the Lord’s Supper, was used by the Worship and Spiritual Renewal Committee of the 218th General Assembly (2008) of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), in San Jose, California. This was the committee that discussed and approved the overture for solemn assemblies.” https://www.pcusa.org/site_media/media/uploads/theologyandworship/pdfs/reaffirmation-baptismal-covenant.pdf 

2. Brett Younger, as quoted on https://reverendjoanmkistler.blog/2020/01/12/sharing-christs-baptism/

Sermon for Baptism of the Lord, Year A, "Everyday Jesus Spirituality: The Discipline of Being Grounded," Matthew 3:1-17

Sermon 1/12/2020

Matthew 3:1-17

Everyday Jesus Spirituality: The Discipline of Being Grounded

As I think most of you know, I just returned from a long-planned vacation to Florida, where my family and I visited Disney World and Universal Studios. We had a great time, and after a week of living in one house together, everyone in the family is still speaking to each other, so I count that as a win! Seriously, it was a wonderful trip. I was particularly proud of my mom. Not all of you know this, but she’s a bionic woman. She’s had rotator cuff surgery, and both knees replaced, and twice had her ankle fused, all remnants of her physically demanding nursing career. Before her surgeries, she was walking with a cane, and we feared she was headed for a wheelchair. Things were better after the surgeries, but she still wasn’t great with long-distances. When I first started planning our vacation, I assumed we’d have to rent her a scooter. I knew she’d never be able to do all that walking. But she’s worked so hard this year, and lost a significant amount of weight, and she walked all over those parks with ease. A scooter would have just slowed her down! But even though she can walk everywhere, some things are still challenging for her. She doesn’t do well on ground that isn’t level - inclines are very uncomfortable on her fused ankle. And she struggles with things that require a little extra balance. The people movers at universal were like an adventurous ride for her, and especially challenging were a couple rides where you’re standing on solid ground, and step onto a moving platform to get into the ride vehicle, but then when you get off, it looks like the part you’re standing on is the solid ground, and the part that’s really not moving at all looks like it is the part that’s in motion. Does that make sense? Everytime we got on one of those rides, she needed a little extra help finding the solid ground. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about solid ground this week, about being grounded, sure of the earth beneath our feet. Have you ever been in an earthquake? The only earthquake I’ve ever felt was back in 2011, when an earthquake hit Washington, DC. You could feel it in Syracuse, very mildly. But I remember that I was in my office at my church in East Syracuse, and everything just started feeling weird. My first thought was not that I was experiencing an earthquake, but rather that I was ill. I got up and walked carefully down to the secretary’s office, where she was speaking with the custodian, and only when I realized that they’d felt it too did I realize that we’d felt an earthquake. This mild experience left me feeling very unsettled. The ground is not supposed to move beneath your feet. What do you do when the ground - something that is supposed to be solid and steady and supporting you when nothing else does - is moving? I can only imagine, then, what it feels like to endure a truly catastrophic earthquake. The people of Puerto Rico, still recovering from Hurricane Maria, have been dealing with a series of strong earthquakes this week. I can’t imagine the anxiety of wondering whether the ground will stay where it is supposed to, much less the literal and figurative upheaval of life again. Over and over, the ground is moving beneath their feet. 

Aside from these devastating earthquakes, I think a lot in our world right now makes us feel ungrounded, like the world isn’t steady beneath our feet. We’ve been anxiously watching things unfold in our relationship with Iran - an assassination, the downing of a commercial airplane, and a lot of rhetoric that makes us fear war and violence. We have on our hearts Fort Drum soldiers deploying to the Middle East. We’re wading through the impeachment of the president. Wildfires of enormous magnitude are devastating the continent of Australia. And that doesn’t touch on any personal losses we’re experiencing, upheaval in our personal lives. We desperately need some solid ground on which to stand. How do we find it? 

Today we’re starting a new sermon series, focusing on some creative spiritual disciplines. Spiritual disciplines are repeatable practices that we engage in that help us grow in our faith and stay close to God through the good times and the struggles of life. Traditional spiritual disciplines are things like prayer, reading the Bible, meditation, and fasting. But for the next several weeks, we’ll be exploring some less traditional spiritual disciplines. Peter Schurrman, author of an article in Reformed Worship magazine, the source for our sermon series, writes, “Spiritual disciplines … are not just about doing the right things. The Pharisees read their Bible and prayed every day, but it drove many of them deeper into pride and prejudice. Jesus called the Pharisees religious fibbers and spiritual graveyards. Spiritual disciplines are not defined by what you do, but by the desired goal of the activity, and the key desire for Christians is to become more like Jesus. Anything can be a spiritual discipline if it gets you to become more like Jesus. You could say that spiritual disciplines are defined by this Christian motive and intentional repetition.” (“Everyday Jesus Spirituality: Customized Spiritual Disciplines,” Reformed Worship, December 2108, 5.) 

That’s what we want: to be more and more like Jesus. And to help us do that, become more like Jesus, we’re starting by exploring the discipline of being grounded. Schurrman writes, “Practicing being grounded means when worry creeps up on you or distractions call on you, you focus on God’s presence in the here and now. You listen and attend, neither dwelling in the past or rushing headlong into the future. Your vocation, your mission, is clear. Your mandate is the healing of the world.” (6) Being grounded means we keep our focus on God’s presence, right now, and that we draw strength from God’s presence. How do we do that? 

Today is Baptism of the Lord Sunday, a day when we remember Jesus’ baptism by John, and a day when we also remember our own baptisms, or anticipate the time when we will be baptized. Our text from Matthew’s gospel begins with John the Baptist’s ministry, where he appears in the wilderness, preaching about the need for people to repent, to turn their hearts and lives back to God. Matthew tells us that John is embodying the words of the prophet Isaiah who wrote, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” In that passage from Isaiah, the prophet talks about the valleys being filled and the mountains being brought low in anticipating of the coming Messiah. The ground before the Messiah’s arrival seems awfully unsteady. Indeed, John’s message to the religious leaders who come to see him as he baptizes the crowds implies that they are not as grounded in their relationship with God as they like to think themselves. He tells them that they can’t just rely on the faith of their ancestors. They need faith - and repentance - of their own. 

And then, Jesus comes to be baptized. John doesn’t understand why Jesus wants to be baptized, a sign of repentance, which Jesus doesn’t need in the same way we do. Jesus responds, “Let it be so for now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” His answer is a little confusing, isn’t it? But by being baptized along with us, Jesus joins in our human experience. He joins the community. He throws his lot in with ours. (see Chris Haslam’s notes: http://montreal.anglican.org/comments/apr01m.shtml) But it isn’t just for us, I don’t think. The baptism is for Jesus, too. It gets him grounded in preparation for the ministry that he’s about to begin. When Jesus is baptized, the heavens are opened to him, God’s Holy Spirit rests on him like a dove, and God’s voice says, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” He can always come back to this reminder of his identity and task. When he’s tempted in the wilderness a chapter later, he can remember this grounding moment. When he’s transfigured on the mountain, joined by Elijah and Moses, words like this will come from God again. When he takes some time alone to pray, he can immerse himself in the truth of these words. When he’s wrestling with his impending death, and when he’s suffering on the cross, these words remind him of his commitment to God’s path. This moment, these words, this baptism, this affirmation from God comes before he preaches and heals and travels and calls disciples and dies and rises. This is where Jesus can get grounded. “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Grounded in the truth of who he is. 

What truth grounds us? How do we stay grounded? I really love dance. I took ballet and tap on and off as a child, although never regularly enough to become really good at it. But I loved every minute of it. My mom and I would see the Nutcracker every Christmas, and just as my niece did when my mom took her this year, I’d leave the theatre twirling and pointing my toes in the aisles. I still love to watch dance of any kind. It’s amazing what dancers can do. And all those spins - pirouettes and others turns - they can do so many in a row without falling over from dizziness. Impressive, isn’t it? 

Well, dancers are able to spin like that because of a technique called spotting. A dancer focuses on a certain point on the horizon, and they keep their eyes on that mark as long as they possibly can while turning. They have to look away for a second, of course, but as soon as they make the turn, the first thing their eyes find is that spot again. And by coming back to that spot over and over, they can turn and turn and turn without losing their balance. It takes a lot of practice, of course. But it is one of the first things dancers learn to do when they’re ready to learn any kind of turns. 

How do we stay grounded? I think being grounded is a bit like spotting for dancers. To stay grounded in our relationship with God, we make sure that no matter where else our attention needs to focus, our eyes are fixed on God as much as possible. God is that “spot” on the horizon that is the center of our equilibrium, the balance, the home to which we return again and again, and as quickly as possible. In Luke’s gospel, when Jesus starts heading relentlessly toward the place that will result in his death on a cross, Luke tells us that Jesus “sets his face to Jerusalem.” He’s got his focus, and it is ever on God and God’s hope for the world. Where is our face set? Let’s fix our sight on God, and keep it there. 

How do we stay grounded? We do our part, and thankfully, God does God’s part. God’s part of us staying grounded is this: God loves us - adores us! God is well pleased with us, delighted in our very existence. We are God’s beloved children. And God tells us that over and over again, in a million different ways. God tells us that in the gift of Jesus to the world. God tells us that in the baptismal waters. God tells us that in the love we share between each other. God tells us that in the gifts of creation. God tells us that in the voice we hear deep in our souls, urging us toward our best selves. And God uses us to tell that to each other. God can use you to remind someone else that they are beloved. We can’t hear it enough. We can’t be too grounded in that knowledge. So make sure you let someone know who needs to hear it: God loves you. God thinks you’re great! God hopes for your best future. 

Our part of staying grounded is making sure we remind ourselves of God’s message as often as possible, in as many ways as possible. Our part is making sure that whatever else turns our head, we fix our eyes back on God at the first possible opportunity. Our part is remembering our baptism, remembering our invitation to a life walking alongside Jesus, and being thankful for the promise of God’s love and grace. Some days, our world shakes us to the core, and we can’t seem to stay on our feet. Remember. Stay grounded in God. Come back to God again and again, and you’ll find the balance of deep faith, and unwavering love. Amen.