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Isaiah 43: 1-7                                                                                                                 NPMC
Psalm 29                                                                                                                        Baptism of Jesus
Acts 8: 14-17                                                                                                                 January 10, 2010
Luke 3: 15-17, 21-22                                                                                                    Anita Retzlaff

The Baptism of Jesus: Inaugurating God’s Blessing

Grace and peace to you from God the Father of our Lord and Saviour Jesus the Christ. In our moment of silent prayer today we quiet our minds as we reflect on the baptism of our Lord, that he once received the Holy Spirit as a sign of new life. For those of us today who are already baptized recall the meaning of this inaugural moment for you. For those who are not yet baptized consider the significance of such a choice and the symbol of freedom that affords ever-new beginnings. Let us pray. O Holy One of Israel in you we find our salvation, that is, we experience your blessing and desire for peace on earth. AMEN

The baptism of Jesus is an inaugural moment. I hope that by using the term “inaugural” many of you will make an immediate association with the presidential inauguration ceremonies that took place in the US back in November of 2008. The inauguration of Barack Obama as President of the United States signaled a bold new beginning. Whether you were for or against his election, whether or not you support Democrats or Republicans there was no doubt at the time that this was the advent of a new era in the history of the United States and the world.

The word inauguration has interesting roots. An inauguration is a formal ceremony of introduction or the beginning of a new venture. An augur is a prophet or soothsayer who observes and interprets signs and omens for guidance in public affairs. This has roots in the Roman Empire. Augury is the practice of divination, the interpretation of signs and omens in order to make predictions or indicate direction for the future. So an inauguration is not only a celebration of a new beginning but it also carries with it the notion that there is divine guidance in the process. It is interesting that the president of the United States is inaugurated instead of merely inducted, installed or sworn into office.

Dare we compare the inauguration of the American president and the impact of that new beginning to the seismic shift in world history at the baptism of Jesus, the inauguration of God’s blessing on the earth through the gift of the Son? Well I guess if I were bold enough to take a jab at us Christian folk, I might suggest that it would be great if we considered that the baptism of Jesus had at least as much impact on our daily lives as did the inauguration of the American president some 14 months ago. But of course I might not be bold enough to suggest that. I leave that for our reflection.

There was a moment in time when the heavens opened and something like the bodily form of a bird descended upon the carpenter of Nazareth, Jesus, and the world would never be the same again. This was a formal beginning complete with signs, symbols and the voice of God: the kinds of portents that have accompanied other major world-changing events throughout history. Angels of God, visions and dreams, voices heard often announce a new beginning. Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream. Others hear a voice and a new ministry begins. Or as in the case of Protestant reformer Martin Luther, his life is spared in a storm, a vow is made in the presence of God and a new direction for the church comes into existence. Water is poured, covenants made, heads anointed, new names are given, symbols conferred and expectations proclaimed. And with all of these signs, symbols and pronouncements new directions materialize.

Our reading from the gospel of Luke this morning finds us at the threshold of inauguration. “People were filled with expectation” we read. They await the inauguration of a liberator. Something new is unfolding in a communal social and religious life that has become cumbersome, drab and oppressive. With the preaching of John the Baptist it appears that salvation is at hand. John proclaims the need for repentance and there is something new in the air. Have they finally come face to face, finally, with their liberator? John the Baptist offers the people entrance into a new way of life through the baptism of repentance; the inauguration of a new start, of getting right with God and neighbour. He promises to set people free from centuries-old guilt and hopelessness.

Sounds good, doesn’t it? Think about the inauguration of President Obama and the hope that he proclaimed. Think about your own life; those times when you have felt used up, dried up and lifeless. At those points we desperately welcome a new start: something that promises to set us onto a new path: wipe the slate clean and throw off the old stuff weighing us down, smothering our enthusiasm, our love of life and our love for others.

“Hang onto your hats,” says John the Baptizer, “you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. There is another one who will change your lives more dramatically than I can. He will alter your whole way of living in this world and take you beyond your acts of repentance. His baptism, his inaugural invitation, will open to you a world of choices and consequences with huge potential and great blessing.” I think this is what John means when he speaks of Jesus’ baptism with the Holy Spirit and with fire. It is not necessarily another physical dousing with water but it is a deep, deep commitment to love beyond what most of us can first imagine.

Baptism is an inaugural act and a defining moment in our lives. It is that moment when we are prepared to consider the winnowing fork in the hand of Jesus; the necessity for making clear choices in life and accepting the consequences that follow. The apocalyptic, rather scary imagery of Jesus clearing the threshing floor and throwing the refuse into an unquenchable fire kind of chills our blood. On the other hand it bears out in most of our lives that key decisions dictate consequences that positively or negatively change and affect the rest of our lives and the lives of others. As people who say we believe in the love of Christ we must be prepared to live into the consequences of our decisions. Our baptisms are not usually accompanied by the rending of the heavens and a booming voice proclaiming God’s pleasure and yet I think that happens for each one of us at key moments in our journeys with God. Indeed the heavens open and offer us new hope and at the same time, the God of all love, smiles upon us and blesses us as we struggle to be faithful and wholesome people.

The voice of God from heaven should be very instructive for us because with it God pronounces his delight in Jesus’ choices. This is where we have reason for pause because Jesus was a radical and a disturber of the “cultural and religious” peace. What does this mean for us and our baptismal inauguration? Does God smile upon our decision and bless our choices?

I wish to illustrate the hard-hitting impact of Jesus’ method of ministry and the fact that the voice of God proclaims that Jesus’ work is good work. From a Geez magazine article, “Turning over the classroom tables”, I am taking excerpts that I think highlight the wide-ranging and rather “unchurchy” ministry of our Lord. The author of the article, David Cook, lives in Tennessee and teaches courses in New Testament, American Studies and Democracy Studies.
Each summer, I teach a three-week course on the New Testament to high school students. On the first day I present them with two questions that guide our time together: Who is Jesus? What does it mean to be a Christian?

Most students encounter these questions in a relaxed way, confident and secure they know the answers…. Answers to these two questions have been memorized, doctrinized and swallowed whole by far too many teenagers – to the point that knowing Christ seems about as difficult as knowing directions to the shopping mall or the name of the cute lifeguard at the country club pool. Therefore I see this class of mine as a form of missionary work, a reverse conversion where students can be liberated…. To pull this off, I’ve learned to depend on one particular group to do the work for me. What group is my biggest ally in the liberation of students from beliefs and ideologies that are not their own? Other Christians.

Day one: We read what other Christians have to say. Millionaire preacher Joel Osteen believes that material wealth is God’s blessing. Mother Teresa finds God’s blessing in the gutters and orphanages. Texas minister John Hagee condemns Harry Potter as an ally of Satan and sinful New Orleans as deserving of Hurricane Katrina. Rev. Jeremiah Wright says, “God damn America!” Pat Roberston says, “God bless Republicans!” The Ku Klux Klan claims to be Christian, and Dorothy Day says Christianity is one thing: love.

Day four: Hoisting each other up and into our school’s dumpster, we hold class amongst the garbage, talking with a missionary who has just returned from Nicaragua where thousands of people actually live in city dumps.

Day 10: We meet Brother Ron. A Gregorian monk living under a vow of poverty, he works at a soup kitchen where he washes the feet of homeless people. Peels off their socks. Clips their toenails. Drains and bandages their pus-filled blisters. Massages lotion into their feet. Gives them new socks, and when he can afford it, shoes, too. “I am disgusted by popcorn theology,” he says, his voice rising. “People go to church in Armani suits where there are orchestras, movie screens and stand-up comics as ministers. Then, when the show’s over, they drive back to their gated communities. I expect at any moment Christ—who lived as a homeless man and died a convicted criminal—to walk in and turn over the cash registers. He didn’t call us to go to church. He called us to carry his cross!... God doesn’t give a hoot about religion. He made all of us and in the end, God draws all things near. There is no Hell in my theology.”

Day 15, the last day. Today we meet at a cemetery. An acre of green and brown grass at the edge of town, it’s where the moneyless poor and homeless folks are buried. Inmates from a local prison dig the graves. The coffins are plywood boxes. The prison pastor gives the invocation. Sometimes, the only witnesses are the prisoners. We end our course here, among the graves of the poor. I’ve asked the students to bring flowers and we spend an hour or so decorating. Students place flowers on graves, pulling weeds away, revealing the name of the dead underneath. They are quiet…. The wind blows through the trees, and headstones once empty are now covered in daisies, red roses, lilies. From the first day until now, students have asked me how I would answer our two questions, and each time, I have refused. It is not about what I believe. I wonder if they realize that by coming here, with our flowers for the forgotten graves of those so poor they are buried in boxes in graves dug by prisoners, that I am finally answering their question.”

(David Cook, “Turning over the classroom tables,” Geez Magazine, Winter 2009, pp. 64-66)

A turning point is on the horizon for all of us at every moment of our lives. The blessing of God came to this earth in the inauguration of Jesus’ baptism and ministry: so too do we live into the reality of our baptisms and God’s blessing. The greatest thing we can achieve in life is to have that sense that God has said to us too, “You are my beloved; with you I am well pleased.” AMEN
 

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