Matthew 4:12-23 "Gone Fishing"

         If you wander into a store like Cricket’s Corner down the street here in Raymond, you can usually find those painted, rustic wooden signs with thin metal wire for hanging them in a deliberately lopsided manner.  The signs read “Gone Fishing,” and they are made for mounting on or near the front door of your home on the lake. 

         The image these signs convey, of course, is that you have nothing better to do with your time than to sit in a small boat on the water, soaking up the sun’s rays, maybe sipping a beer.  Your fishing line is dropped over the side of your boat, and you are occasionally watching for the red and white plastic bobber attached to the line to bob.  If you are feeling particularly energetic, you might cast a few times, hoping, of course, that you will not get snagged on a hidden branch or log, which would mean actually having to move the boat to get unsnagged.  “Gone fishing” is synonymous with “On Vacation.”

         Not so with Peter and Andrew and the sons of Zebedee in our Gospel story for the morning.  These men were no vacationers.  They were working fishermen. But do not get me wrong and conjure up in your imagination hardy muscled men with tight white t-shirts and excellent tans doing, as the author of the blog “Magdalene’s Musing” wrote,  “good honest labor in the bosom of their families.”  It was not like that in the ancient world. 

         Fishing was big money on the Sea of Galilee – and fishermen like the ones we meet in this narrative were small potatoes, no more than little cogs in a big industrial machine. “These men did not work for themselves. They were employees, either of the royal family or wealthy landlords. They were paid either with cash or with fish after they turned over their catch to their employers. And before they could even drop a net into the sea of Galilee, fishermen paid a tax in order to be permitted to fish—a tax on their catch of as much as 40%.”  (Magdalene’s Musing). 

         People who did not own boats had to rent them at outlandish costs.  Those who did own a boat had to pay an endless series of fees and surcharges before they could even cast a net.  In the end, their back- breaking labor only served to make the wealthiest – like King Herod himself – even wealthier.  The rich got rich as the poor got poorer.

         It was in that milieu that Jesus found himself when he left Nazareth after John the Baptist’s arrest and came to Capernaum.   It was in that milieu that Jesus chose his first followers.  He did not seek out the aristocrats or the philosophers, the wealthy or the ruling class.  He chose the least of these. 

         He initially chose four coarse, probably ill-mannered, certainly illiterate fishermen.  In addition, as social justice advocate Jerry Goebels wrote, “They were Galileans -- disdained by Rome and Israel alike -- they were the first to pick up arms and the last to lay them down; they were thought of as traitors, terrorists, and troublemakers.  On their soil, the greatest victories and defeats of ancient Israel had been fought.”

         Galilean fishermen:  what a way to start a ministry.  It is almost as if Jesus was intentionally putting himself at odds with the Roman system of domination and oppression. 

         Jesus did not do the safe thing.  He did not do the comfortable thing.  He did not stay in familiar territory where he might not rock the boat quite so much – no pun intended.  He went to Galilee, with its history as a breeding ground for significant conflict,

and he chose a bunch of impoverished and oppressed blue collar laborers to usher in and model with him a different way to live, a way that reflected God’s dream of justice and God’s passion for the least of these in the world.

         But Jesus did not just call four fishermen – or 12 disciples for that matter.  His call is a timeless one, and the sound of his voice has echoed through the centuries until it has found our ears.  You see, Jesus calls us too. 

         The Messiah takes the initiative here, which is different from many religions.  As Baptist pastor Thomas McKibbens notes, “ There are a lot of stories from all the great religions about teachers who attract disciples. But have you noticed that in most of those traditions the disciples seek out the teacher, and sometimes they have to beg the teacher to allow them to be a student? In most traditions, the initiative is all with the student. But in this story Christ takes the initiative. He goes to Peter and Andrew, James and John, and he calls them” – just as, centuries later, he calls (or chooses) us.

         Oh, you may think that you were the one who did the choosing.  After all, of any place you could have been on this Sunday morning, you chose to be here in church. However, sometime – maybe recently, maybe way back in the mists of time – a voice whispered in your ear:  “Come.  Follow me.” 

         You may not even have heard the voice.  It might have been more like a nudge.  It might have seemed like you were deciding that your children needed a church experience.  Or it might have felt like you were just looking for something more in your life.  Or it might have been that you got up one day and felt as if you needed to give more, reach out more, into the community.  Or it might even have been a habit – coming to church and all – but one day it meant something more that you cannot even really put your finger on. 

         But however it was for you, trust me, there was that voice - “Come.  Follow me” – and you did – and so here you are – following Jesus.  Whether you knew it or not, as you learned about those uncouth fishermen that he chose as followers and about all the dregs, from tax collectors to prostitutes, that he wined and dined with, you decided that you could hang around with those types of people too. 

       That is, if you took this notion of following the Jesus of the Gospels seriously – and how seriously we take this business of Jesus calling us to discipleship is something each one of us needs to reflect upon often. What I mean is better illustrated in an excerpt from a piece of writing I found this week about this passage in Matthew.  Unfortunately, I do not know the author but strongly suspect that he was from the South. 

       “As a child I loved the hymn, “Follow, follow, I will follow Jesus.” Like Mary’s little lamb, anywhere that Jesus went, I was sure to follow. One day it dawned on me that my Jesus never went anywhere except to church and back home again. He insisted that we go to church at least three times a week, especially on Sunday night no matter how badly we wanted to stay home and watch Bonanza.    

       Our Jesus was white, really angry about Civil Rights, supported the KKK, believed in guns, was opposed to seminary education, but loved dinner on the ground, all day singing, and protracted meetings. He read only the King James Version of the Holy Bible, and insisted every word, comma, and period, including the chapter and verse numbers were literal. He didn’t like Catholics (even though there wasn’t a single Catholic in our entire community). He didn’t care for Germans or Japanese (because of WWII). He was a big believer in hell and was always on the lookout for any one smoking, drinking, or dancing. Unlike the Methodists, who had Coke and cookies at their Vacation Bible School, my stern Baptist Jesus believed in Nabisco saltine crackers and Kool-Aid.

         Only later did I realize that most of us follow some image of Jesus we have concocted in our minds. It’s as if there is a Build-A-Jesus store in the mall and we get to make our own Jesus. I had no idea that I was living out the philosopher Fuerbach’s claim that religion is the projection of mankind’s hopes written large. And I also didn’t realize how superficial it was. A self-made Jesus turns out to be a sorry building project.”

         The question for each one of us then has got to be this:  What Jesus do you follow?  Is it the Jesus portrayed in the Gospels – or a Jesus that you have created to meet your needs?

         Do you come to church so you can be a better servant of Jesus during the week? Or do you come mainly because you like the music or the preaching or the fellowship; or out of a sense of duty or habit or because it makes you feel better? 

         Does the Jesus you follow challenge you to discover a real sense of mission in your life and demand that you become involved in ways that reach out and touch the lives of others? 

Or does the Jesus you follow figure that sitting in the pew on Sunday is all it takes because good enough is good enough?

         I do not know what Jesus you follow in the depths of your hearts, but the fact of the matter, my friends, is that the God we worship does make a claim on our lives – unsettling, disturbing, and disruptive, as it is likely to be.  As people of faith, we have confessed that Jesus is the love of God in human form and that his ministry is to carry God’s love to those in need.  That is the Jesus of the Gospels, and that is the Jesus we need to be following. 

         We are important to Jesus’ ministry.  As Episcopal priest, Roy Almquist noted, “Jesus did not work in isolation … he brought samples … his followers, his disciples … those who were the first Church, the first assembly of believers. And they were samples because they demonstrated what can happen when people are open to the possibility of God’s transforming love taking hold in their lives.”

         Jesus called Peter, Andrew, and the sons of Zebedee to enter into a new kind of relationship with him.  By leaving their homes and families and the security of being a little cog in the Galilean industrial fishing machine, they threw their lot in with this itinerant, rabble-rousing rabbi. In doing so, they also entered into new relationships with each other and with everyone they would encounter in their years together and beyond.  Oh, how their lives changed – not made easier, but certainly transformed and overflowing with new possibilities!

         Similarly, Jesus has called us to be samples of what God’s love is like in a world where “me first” and “more is better” are the norms.  When we truly answer Jesus’ call, we, like the disciples, become agents of change.  We become ambassadors of transformation. We become emissaries of new possibilities.  We become ordinary people right in the middle of our ordinary lives answering a call to do extraordinary things. 

         And it is no easier for us than it was for the disciples either.  As Methodist pastor Mark Ralls speculates, “When Christ calls, he beckons us beyond the point of familiarity, asking us to risk doing something we don’t know how to do, to become someone we’re not yet sure we know how to be. It’s not just that we are taking a risk on Christ. Each and every time he calls, he is taking a risk on us”

         And so, as a congregation, Jesus calls us to be a source of light in a cynical, dark, and downtrodden world.  That is one reason why it is so important that you choose to be here on Sunday morning. You might not like the music in a given week, and you may be struck by how boring the sermon is, but your participation says to everyone you know that you come here that you believe there is more good to God and to this life than there is bad – and that is a really powerful message in this day and age.

         As a congregation, Jesus calls us also to be a beacon of hope and encouragement in what, for many people, is a pretty hopeless and discouraging time.  With so many people being job and food insecure and not having enough to make ends meet, it is so critical that you actively participate in and support the mission and outreach ministries of this church – from Heifer Project to local emergency fuel assistance. 

       As a congregation, Jesus calls us, as Lutheran pastor David Lose suggests,  “to be in genuine and real relationships with the people around us, and to be in those relationships the way Jesus was and is in relationship with his disciples and with us: bearing each other's burdens, caring for each other and especially the vulnerable, holding onto each other through thick and thin, always with the hope and promise of God’s abundant grace.”     

And if it seems too much?  If we feel maxed out, like we will sink beneath the murky waters if we take on one more thing, then remember that this call business is not intended to fill us to the point of sinking.  Rather, it is intended to fill us to overflowing. Christ’s call is not about what we can accomplish, but what God can accomplish in us and through us.

       “Gone fishing.”  It is not an easy task and certainly not a vacation.  However, it is what we (the church) and you (the church) are all about.  

By Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church (U.C.C.)

John 1:29-42 "Come and See"

         The author of the Gospel of John makes the encounter seem so casual.  Just the day before apparently, John the Baptist had baptized Jesus – and we know from last week’s sermon that it was no ordinary baptism.  After all, the heavens were torn apart, and the sky cracked to unleash the Holy Spirit in the guise of a dove that alighted on Jesus’ shoulder and the voice of God itself proclaimed Jesus as a Beloved Son.

         In contrast to the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, however, where Jesus hightails it to the wilderness for forty days following his holy dunking in the Jordan River, in Gospel of John, Jesus hangs around for a while, content to be just one of the crowd.  In fact, our story today picks up at the point when John the Baptist practically bumps into Jesus on the street corner.  

         “Hey, look, if it isn’t the Lamb of God, the one who takes away the sins of the world.  Folks, he is the one I have been talking about, you know, the one who would come after me and be greater than I could ever be.  Remember?  And I baptized him – me!  And all I can say is, you should have been here for it.  You should have been here yesterday. He is the Lamb of God, all right.”

         Lamb of God?  Now what is that supposed to mean?  It is a question we might ask ourselves, but it is definitely a question that the folks who heard John’s declaration would have asked.  Lamb of God might be a pretty familiar term in our religious vocabulary, but it certainly was not for anyone within earshot of John.  After all, this is the one and only instance in all of the Bible where this particular phrase appears.

         Reformed Church pastor Scott Hoezee has this to say about the encounter: “John calls Jesus ‘a lamb,’ which could have been perceived a couple of different ways. Lambs are often a symbol of gentleness, meekness, and vulnerability. In this sense, calling Jesus a lamb could have been a nice thing to say, but it would hardly be the type of description that would fit the Messiah. Certainly the average politician wouldn't be very successful in getting elected if the main way people thought about him was that he was a real lamb of a guy!

         But, of course, in Jesus' day, because there was that long history in Israel of using lambs as sacrifices, there was another sense in which hearing Jesus called "a lamb" might have struck some people as cruel. Maybe it would be like today calling someone a "turkey" or a "dumb bunny." Calling Jesus a lamb may have sounded like the equivalent of accusing Jesus of being a little dumb, someone easy to gang up on.

         But whether this title meant Jesus was very meek or that he was destined for the chopping block, either way it didn't seem to indicate Jesus would be very effective in the long run. Nice guys finish last and sacrificial lambs are just finished eventually.

         Yet John adds the kicker line that somehow this particular lamb-like Jesus would ‘take away the sin of the world.’ So now we have the image of a lamb and the concept of sin in the same sentence. But since the only traditional connection between lambs and sin had always involved the death of the hapless lamb, John is clearly introducing a very dark theme. This isn't the kind of thing you'd say about someone who was on his way to the top of this world's heap. This isn't how you'd describe a celebrity on a red carpet or a politician on his way to the platform where he had just been nominated for president.

         John could just as easily have said, ‘Behold, the one who is going down the tubes! Behold the loser, the victim, the dead man walking.’ How odd it must have sounded.”

         However, odd sounding or not, John repeated his proclamation the very next day – at four in the afternoon, to be precise.  You have got to love this Gospel writer, for he often includes these impossible, implausible, tiny details – like the hour of the day or the number of fish caught in a net - in his narrative.  Crazy!

         Anyway, Jesus shuffles by, just hanging out, and John announces again, “Hey, would you look at that?  It’s the Lamb of God.”  Hey, would you look at that?  It’s Katniss Everdeen.  Hey, would you look at that?  It’s Luke Skywalker.  Hey, would you look at that?  It’s Harry Potter.

         And this is where the story gets really interesting!  You see, two of John the Baptist’s followers – Andrew and some other guy (we do not know his name) – apparently are intrigued.  Katniss Everdeen?  Luke Skywalker?  Harry Potter?  The Lamb of God?  And so they begin to follow Jesus – literally, down the street.

         Papparazzi – or first disciples?  Jesus clears up that question pretty quickly when he suddenly turns to face them. 

         “What are you looking for?” he asks them.

         “Where do you live?” they respond with a second question, which is perhaps another way of saying, “We are looking for you.  We want to be with you – wherever you live, wherever you go.”

         “Come and see.”  Jesus answers simply. 

         And they do.  And Andrew must have liked what he saw because he proclaimed to his brother, Simon, whom Jesus will rename Peter, Peter the Rock. “We have found the Messiah!” he said.

         In that brief exchange, Jesus asks one straightforward question that begins to change everything.  As Scott Hoezee writes, "What are you looking for? What are you seeking? What do you want," Jesus asks. A simple question, unless the one asking it is…the Lamb of God.”  And then it becomes one of those ultimate questions.

         And so the question is posed for us as well.  What are you looking for - from your church?  What are you seeking - in your life?  What do you want in your life – and is this church – the one we call the small church with the big heart – in any way helping you figure that out?  I as your pastor may ask those questions, but, trust me, I am like John, only a follower.  There is one far greater than I who asks the same questions of you and of his church. 

         What do you want?  And what role does this church play in your seeking?  Those are critical questions to wrestle with – as individuals but also as a church family.  And this is the formal day we set aside each year to do just that.

         You see, if this church is anything more than a purely social gathering place for you, if the spiritual seeking you do in your life intersects at all with the ministries of this church, if this church enhances your spiritual seeking even one iota through experiences you have here or faith-deepening questions that are raised for you here, then, folks, you need to be at the Annual Meeting today. 

         Maybe, in the end, our answer to that question – what do you want – is as simple as the answer voiced by Andrew and the other disciple:  We want you, Jesus.  We want to be where you are and stay where you stay. But what does that really mean?  As a church, that is what we wrestle with.

         Your Council – and your pastor – and your Messiah - need your support, your suggestions, your opinions, and your voice in carving out a vision, a path we can walk down together in our collective wanting of Jesus. 

         This place is not my church – or the Council’s church – or even your church.  It is Christ’s church.  We are the Body of Christ, and we need each part of that body making Christ’s church in Raymond, Maine all that Jesus envisioned it to be.  Even if you were not planning on staying for the Annual Meeting, I invite you to stay.

         Now in the conversation with Andrew and the other unnamed follower, Jesus makes a statement as well.  In answer to their question about where Jesus is staying, Jesus responds, “Come and see.”

         There you have it - the first lesson – and perhaps the only workable lesson – in evangelizing, in witnessing, in sharing the Good News.  Now I know those words make our collective skin crawl, but if we are a church committed to growing (and that is what I keep hearing), then everyone outside these doors needs to know what is going on inside these walls.  They need to know that if they are seeking something spiritually, they might just find it here.  We – each one of us – owe those outsiders an invitation to come and see. 

         You know, virtually every study ever done on church growth finds that the churches that successfully grow do so by embracing the fact that the responsibility for growth does not lie in the pastor’s job description, but rather is a congregational challenge. 

         Lutheran pastor David Lose writes this about evangelism:  “If you really want to understand why the church is declining in North America, you need to recognize how frightened most of our people are by the word “evangelism.” For some, it comes from being on the receiving end of someone else’s evangelism. Whether asked “Have you accepted Jesus?” by a domineering brother-in-law or “Do you know where you’re going when you die?” by a well-meaning but intense co-worker, too many folks have experienced evangelism as coercive, even threatening.

         For others, the explanation isn’t nearly as sinister. It may be a conviction that religion isn’t something polite people talk about; or that one’s faith is private; or simply the desire not to be perceived as one of those people (you know, the kind we just described).

         Whatever the reason, most of our people not only have little experience in evangelism but are downright frightened of it. And that, of course, cripples our ability to reach out with the good news.

         “Come and see.”  Jesus even gives us the words to say. 

         Maybe we start small, really small (a baby step actually) – by simply noticing times where we see God working in our lives and in the world.  That way our secular and religious lives begin to intertwine again – as they should.

         But we cannot get stuck there.  The next step is learning to share.  It is not a big deal.  In fact, let’s try it.  Right now - turn to someone near you and share one reason you like this church, one reason you choose to come.

         But we cannot stop there either.  The final step is inviting – using those words of Jesus – “Come and see.”

         As David Lose continues, “This may at first seem the hardest of all. It can feel so intrusive, and of course it puts demands on us to follow through. And yet … think about it: we invite people to things all the time. To join a book club or play tennis, to go to an after-school event or to come over for dinner, to attend a sporting event or to go shopping.

         We’re actually quite good about inviting folks to come to things … just not to church. And, of course, we invite people to those things we really like, those things we’ve enjoyed and think others would, too. We need to ask ourselves first, what elements of our church life do we most value? That is, we’re not just going because we have to but because we enjoy it…Then, our task is simply to think about who might also enjoy this event or activity and invite them. Framed this way, it’s probably not as hard as it seems.” 

         The invitation does not have to extend to worship either.  How about a youth group movie?  How about the next concert – or the next mission effort?  And if you are uncomfortable with those ideas, how about organizing something that you would feel comfortable inviting a friend or neighbor to?  Come and see.

         Hey, look, it’s the Lamb of God.  Hey, look, we are trying to figure out just what that Lamb of God means for our lives.  Come and see.  Hey, look, it’s the one who embodies God’s dream of a world defined by justice and love. Hey, look, we try to follow him here.  Come and see.  Hey, look at all we do for the community of Raymond. Hey, look, we do not have all the answers, but we can maybe figure some of them out together, here, in this small church with a big heart.  Hey, look, come and see.  Just come and see.

by Rev.Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church UCC, Raymond, Maine

         

Matthew 3:13-17 "Unlimited Possibilities"

         Since before Christmas, we have been particularly concerned about water.  Not whether we have enough, to be sure, but rather in what form we will experience that water.  Will it be a foot of snow beginning on Saturday night and blowing its way into Sunday, so our youth Christmas service is cancelled?  Or will that water inundate us in the guise of an ice storm, so we have to postpone the Christmas cantata?  Or will it be rain – buckets and buckets of rain on top of the ice on top of the snow?

         Water is a potent force in our world.  Think about it!  Over millions of years, the persistent power of water that covers 70% of our earth carved geologic features from winding riverbeds to natural bridges.  Today, it is water that is a prime indicator of the health of our planet. Rising sea levels along with arctic melting are ways that we measure the descending spiral of global climate change.

          If water is critical to our planet, so it is also to our physical wellbeing.  Did you know that our body weight is made up of about sixty percent water?  Science and experience has validated that a person can survive without food for about three weeks. However, humans can only survive for about three days without water.

         No wonder then that water has always been an archetypal religious image – not only in Christianity, but also in Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, and Islam as well, just to name a few.  For us as Christians, water is an oft-used image in Biblical stories.  There was Noah and the flood, of course.  Likewise, we remember Moses and the Hebrew slaves crossing the parted waters of the Red Sea to escape from Egypt.  And how about the Samaritan woman at the well with whom Jesus had a delightfully theological discussion? Come to think of it, people were always meeting at wells. Coming to fetch water seemed to be where men went to find wives. After all, Isaac came across his wife, Rebekah, at a well, and that is where Jacob met his wife, Rachel, too. 

         And, of course, this powerful and persistent image of water and the sacrament (or holy time) of baptism go hand-in-hand.  Maybe that is why each year near the beginning of the season of Epiphany, we set aside a Sunday to recall the most important baptism of all, that of Jesus.  And because we never look only to the past around here, we use this worship time to also remember the meaning behind our own baptisms.

       The Synoptic Gospels, which are Matthew, Mark, and Luke, all tell the story of Jesus’ baptism.  That alone says something about its importance in our Christian story.  However, each Gospel author includes slightly different details.  In Matthew’s version of the tale, which we just read, we find that, as Presbyterian pastor Scott Black Johnston tells the tale, “a lot of people were heading down to the Jordan to listen to sturdy preaching and to pray that God would forgive their sins. (“Come on sisters, come on down, down to the river to pray.”)

         It is the original revival - a preacher stands by the bank of a river clamoring for repentance, then one by one contrite sinners step forward; and trusting themselves to calloused fingers which pinch their nostrils shut, they are plunged - every bit of them - beneath the moving waters. (“Come on brothers, come on down, down to the river to pray.”)

         It is a straightforward, modest ceremony, nothing more than a bath in the river really; and, yet, something about this washing beckons to people, pulling folks from their busy lives to make a trip down to the Jordan.”  (“Come on mothers, come on down, down to the river to pray.”)  John then is baptizing as a means of purification – a kind of self-cleaning, a symbol of one’s commitment to repentance, to turning one’s life around.  (“Come on fathers, come on down, down to the river to pray.”)

         And then we see “Jesus picking his way through the crowds, slowly moving down the embankment seeking his cousin, the wild-eyed preacher, and the waters of Jordan. On seeing Jesus approach, John protests, "I need to be baptized by you. Why are you coming to me?"

         John's confusion makes sense. He has just been telling us that baptism is about repentance, so why would the Messiah want anything to do with it? (After all, by the time this Gospel of Matthew was actually written, early church doctrine had rapidly developed to the point that Jesus was purported to be less like you and me and more like one without sin.) 

         The stainless one doesn't need to be washed, right? It's a difficult question. Why does Jesus request baptism at the hand of John? It concerns John deeply.”        

         For the author of the Gospel of Matthew, the answer is so that Jesus can “fulfill righteousness,” that is, can do God’s work of justice, can reflect God’s passionate commitment to set things right in a world gone wrong, can declare his readiness for the holy revolution, can affirm the endless possibilities of God’s love.  The authors of Luke and Mark, interestingly enough, are not all that concerned about the situation.

         Now we could spend our time here reflecting on the whys and wherefores of the differences among the three Gospel versions of Jesus’ baptism.  However, rather than getting down and dirty with such Christology this morning, let’s look at the ways these stories are similar.   I think if we focus on how they are the same, we are more likely to find meaning in our own baptisms and more likely to discover the relationship between our baptism and the way we choose to live our lives.

         In all three Gospel accounts of Jesus’ baptism, two similar features are clear.  First, as Lutheran pastor David Lose notes, “Jesus' baptism is accompanied by the giving of the Spirit….by a voice from heaven pronouncing Jesus' God's beloved Son, a child with whom God is most pleased.  Whatever else Jesus' baptism may mean, therefore, it certainly is the place where he learns definitively who he is in relation to whose he is. At his baptism, Jesus is given the intertwined gifts of identity and affirmation.”  In short, Jesus is named: “You are God’s beloved Son.”  And a sacred declaration is made about him:  “With you I am well–pleased.”

         Though in our imaginations, we often picture a dove gently lighting on Jesus’ shoulder with this message, in reality this was neither a gentle gift of the Holy Spirit nor a milquetoast proclamation.  After all, some Bible translations tell us that God tore open the sky.  Others say that the heavens cracked.  This was a gift and an affirmation of power, one not to be used lightly and certainly not one to be ignored or abused.

         The second similarity among the three versions of this story is that Jesus is baptized just before his ministry begins.  If we continue reading in Matthew, we will find that Jesus immediately goes off into the wilderness by himself, there to get his bearings, to focus his ministry even as he wrestles with Satan, and to prepare himself for the mission that will ultimately lead to his execution three years later. Jesus’ baptism and his ministry are deeply intertwined.

         Sometimes I think that we – all these thousands of years after the very compelling baptism of Jesus – see this same ritual through a very narrow lens.  And I have to ask myself – given what we know about Jesus’ baptism, why does baptism mean so little to us? 

         Really - the number of phone calls I have received over the years from parents who want their child baptized – to have him or her “done” is often the term used - is quite remarkable.  People who have no ties, or intentions of creating ties, to a faith community still want their child baptized as if baptism was a magical, protective, good luck charm that I (being ordained and all) can dispense. 

         However, it is not just first time parents, who let go of their religious ties years ago, that fail to see the relevance, import, and power of baptism.  Even we, each of us having chosen to be part of this faith community, tend to take baptism pretty lightly and interpret it narrowly. 

         Congregations these days love a baptism because it is an opportunity to see a cute little baby and possibly a chance to integrate parents with young children into an aging church family.

         Likewise, too often, we understand baptism only as a ceremony that miraculously removes our sins and gives us a first class ticket to heaven.  That line of thinking goes that if we are baptized, we are saved – whatever that means.  We are done – no need to worry or care much about the here and now.

         To me those explanations are shallow and self-serving – hardly giving the waters of baptism their due.  Baptism is so much richer.  The waters flow so much more potently and with so much more meaning.

         And so, when we are tempted to push the baptismal font to the side because it takes up too much room in an already overcrowded sanctuary, we – each one of us – ought to take a sharp look at Jesus’ baptism and ponder what it means for us as Christians today.  We need to remind ourselves – perhaps over and over again - why baptism is such a holy time, why it merits the designation of a sacrament. 

         Going forward then, let’s remember the two things that the story of Jesus’ baptism tells us about our own baptisms.  First, just as baptism affirmed Jesus as a person by naming him as God’s beloved son, so baptism affirms each one of us as a beloved child of God. 

         What’s the big deal with that, we might ask? What’s in a name?  Well, take a moment to remember the more difficult names you have been called in your life, the names that no matter how long ago they were uttered still endure and give you that same creepy, haunted feeling: Stupid, Geek, Fatso, Ugly, Nerd, Loser.

         And as you recall them, hear God respond, "No! That is not your name, for you are my beloved child, and with you I am well pleased. I affirm you, and you are baptized into endless possibilities of love and service."

         And second, just as baptism marked the start of Jesus’ ministry and his spiritual journey, so baptism marks the start of our Christian ministry and spiritual journey as well.

         There is a story of a drunk who stumbled upon a baptismal service one Sunday afternoon down by the river. It was down south, and this guy walked right down into the water and stood next to the Preacher.

         The minister turned and noticed the old drunk and said, "Mister, Are you ready to find Jesus?"

         The drunk looked back and said, "Yes, Preacher. I sure am." The minister then dunked the fellow under the water and pulled him right back up.

         "Have you found Jesus?" the preacher asked.

         "No, I haven't!" said the drunk.

         The preacher then dunked him under for a bit longer, brought him up and said, "Now, brother, have you found Jesus?"

         "No, I haven't, Preacher."

         The preacher in disgust held the man under for at least 30 seconds this time, brought him out of the water and said in a harsh tone, "Friend, are you sure you haven't found Jesus yet?"

         The old drunk wiped his eyes, gasping for breath, and said to the preacher, ..."Naw preacher, are you sure this is where he fell in?"

         Baptism is not where you find Jesus; it is what you do once you have found him.

         You are a beloved child of God, and you are baptized into the mission of Jesus.  You are a beloved child of God, and you are baptized into revolution.  You are a beloved child of God, and you are baptized into endless possibilities of love and service. You are a beloved child of God, and you are baptized into God’s dream of a just world.  You are a beloved child of God, and you are baptized into the journey of a lifetime.

         Baptism is a sacrament because it is indeed a holy time.  It is a time when God touches each one of us.  It is a time when the heavens crack and the sky is torn apart.  It is a time when, if we really listen, we might even hear God’s voice reminding us who we are and whose we are.

         Do not take your baptism lightly.  Baptism is powerful, powerful enough so you can face the challenges and unlimited possibilities of being named a Christian, powerful enough so you to take on this mission you have chosen, powerful enough so you can make a difference in the world because you are God’s beloved child.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church UCC, Raymond, Maine