Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 "Marked by God"

       A young man had come forward to the altar to receive the sacrament of baptism. As he was standing before the congregation, the pastor turned and looked at him through those half-moon glasses that sat perched precariously on the very end of his long nose and said to the young man in his most preacher-like voice, “Baptism is a serious step to take; are you prepared for this?”

       “I think so,” said the young man. “My wife has fixed appetizers, and we have a caterer coming to serve the meat and the vegetables – and we had a special cake made for dessert.”

       “That’s not what I mean,” said the pastor in his deep, soul-filled voice. “I mean, baptism is a serious step; are you prepared - in spirit?”

         “Oh, most definitely,” said the young man. “We have a keg of beer and a case of whiskey just for the occasion.”

         Today is the day that we set aside in the church year to remember the occasion – the serious step - of our baptisms – or if we have not been baptized or cannot remember our own, perhaps we can remember our children’s baptisms – or our grandchildren’s. 

And if we cannot remember their baptisms either, then surely we can remember the baptism of Jesus – which, for us at least, is where it all started anyway.

         This year we look at this ancient story from the perspective of the writer of the Gospel of Luke.  Mennonite pastor Leo Hartshorn describes the event beautifully:  “Along the Jordan River John the Baptizer was drawing crowds of people. They came to hear his fiery preaching and to be dunked beneath the murky waters as a sign of repentance, a moral about face, before God bursts through the doors of time and like a farmer separates the chaff from the wheat. Some thought John to be the Messiah, the Coming Judge. John pointed his finger to the horizon and said, "I dunk you in water. The One who is coming will dunk you in the Holy Spirit and fire!"

         John's baptism was a counter ritual to the temple (purification rites). His baptism… was offered as an alternative…..(And) as the common people turned from their old lives in preparation for the coming judgment, they were marked as people identified with John and his apocalyptic message of the coming judgment.”

        One of those who came to be baptized in such a way was Jesus.  Interestingly enough, however, in this particular Gospel, John does not do the baptizing.  We know that because if we were to read the verses that are skipped in our lectionary reading, we would discover that John was in prison at the time for not being quite as supportive of King Herod as Herod’s wife wished him to be.  

         And in her hatred of John, the man from the mountains dressed in his camel’s hair and sporting that crazy diet of locusts and wild honey, she had applied some palace trickery.  It had all resulted in John’s arrest, and soon the baptizer would be executed, and his head would be served on a silver platter at Herod’s birthday dinner no less in the presence of a shocked court.  However, that is another story for another sermon.

         Back to Jesus’ baptism….“He steps waist deep into the brown water with the rest of the people. By all appearances he's just one more sinner come to repent and be scrubbed clean by the Spirit. The reeds along the shore bend in the breeze. Expanding circles spread out around him from the water drops. A crane soars over the surface of the river. (Jesus is dunked) beneath the watery skin of the river with a splash and gurgle.

         The dripping of water harmonizes with the mumbling of a prayer as Jesus lifts his wet arms to the heavens. The cobalt blue sky responds to Jesus as if opening to receive his prayer. The Spirit of holiness descends upon him as when Noah's dove finally found a resting place. A thunder clap in the sky speaks, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

         In that pivotal moment, Jesus becomes a marked man – marked as one of God (“You are my beloved son”).  But he is also marked as one of us – and that is important too.  There he is, in Leo Hartshorn’s words:  “wading right beside us through the murky waters of life.” 

         There he is – lined up for the dunking on the muddy shoreline right beside the cheaters, the oddballs, the one who stole a loaf of bread just yesterday, those who lived on the wrong side of the tracks, the ones who last week had coveted their neighbor’s wife, yelled at their mother-in-law.  There Jesus is – rubbing shoulders with the marginalized and even more so with the peasant poor.

         For the Gospel writer of Luke, the baptism of Jesus signifies the beginning of his active ministry, and the Gospel writer makes no bones about its unusual setting. 

Jesus puts himself willingly in the very midst of the lonely, the blind, the impoverished, the halt, the lame, the widows, the whores, and the tax collectors – in the very midst of all of the murkiness and muddiness of humanity. 

         The baptism of Jesus is that point in time when God affirms Jesus’ call to preach, teach, and heal in a radically different way, one that is grounded in compassion, non-violence, and justice.  It is that moment in time when God gives Jesus the strength to model in his own life and to do this ministry that so needs to be done to set the world aright. 

         The baptism of Jesus is that moment in time when God marks this idealistic, still wet-behind-the-ears young man with a special love that passes all our understanding.  Clarence Jordan, in the Cotton Patch Gospel, paraphrases God’s words like this: “You are my dear son; I’m proud of you.”

         And those words echo and ring and whisper and shout through every Christian baptism since the disciples themselves went out two by two to continue the ministry of this man, Jesus. Those astounding words of sacred forgiving love are for us – whether we are sprinkled with water, have it poured on our heads, or are fully dunked, whether we are an infant or an elder or somewhere in between. 

         We do not say those words often in a baptism nowadays – “You are a dear child of God, and God is proud of you” – but maybe we should because surely they lie at the heart of what we as Protestant Christians affirm about this sacrament – the holy time of baptism. 

         Like so much of what Jesus actually taught, as we understand it, baptism is not about what happens to us in the future.  It is not about making sure we will get into heaven.  It is not about a magic trick that somehow rids us of what many have called original sin. 

         Baptism is rather about the promises we make (or are made for us) to follow the way of Jesus now – in this life.  Baptism as we understand it is about the community in which we choose to do that following.  And rather than being about original sin, it would be more accurate to say that baptism as we understand it is about affirming our original blessing.  

        Baptism is when we say (or when our parents say for us until we can say it ourselves):  I have decided to follow Jesus.  I have decided to walk his way. This is the start of my sacred journey.  This is the beginning of my Christian ministry.  As it was for Jesus when he pulled himself out of the Jordan River – soaking wet, affirmed by God, and committed to the Gospel message, so it is for us.

         “I am pledging to learn more about who Jesus was and is, about his way of courage and compassion. I promise to model my own life after his. I do so, knowing that I will falter and fail in my resolve.  I know I will need God’s forgiveness and grace.”  (Kenneth Gribble) 

         I know I will need to remember again and again those words of original blessing:  You are a dear child of God, and God is proud of you.”  But I will also need to remember their corollary:  “You are a dear child of God, sent into the world to make a difference.”  That is what baptism, as we understand it, is all about.

         However, baptism is not an individual affair.  One is baptized into a community of others who are baptized as well, who are committed in the same manner to living the way of Jesus. 

 As Mary Beth Danielson wrote, “baptism is not a sacrament administered in a closet. It is not a private, holy ceremony passed down from the pious to the pure in heart. It is about belonging to a church. It is about the strengths and failures of the ordinary and extraordinary people who make up that church. It is about being rooted and joined to real people in imperfect but real ways.”  And in being rooted to those people, we are re-rooted to God in a new way.

         It is a small moment – baptism, that is – in the scheme of things.  Ten minutes of worship time.  Water sprinkled.  A few words said. That momentary feeling of wetness on the top of our head – or the water running into our eyes. 

         Oh, maybe there is a celebration afterwards - “My wife has fixed appetizers, and we have a caterer coming to serve the meat and the vegetables – and we had a special cake made for dessert….. We have a keg of beer and a case of whiskey just for the occasion.”

         Or maybe we just go home.  Either way, it is not like a wedding – or even a prom.  But sometimes, sometimes, it is these smallest moments that carry with them the deepest truths – truths about the journey we are on and who will travel with us and, most of all, who we really are – beloved and dear sons and daughters of God sent into the world to make a difference.

         Baptism is a once-in-a lifetime event.  You do not need to be baptized every time you find a new church.  Once is enough.  And when you really think about it, we do not experience many such moments. Weddings and proms often come in twos and even threes these days.

         But because of its “once is enough” and almost ephemeral nature, baptism is easily forgotten as the years go by.  And that is really too bad because those baptismal promises or vows, if taken seriously, indelibly etch on our hearts the way we have chosen to live.  They are a proclamation to God about who we intend to be.

         And so I think it is important to remember our baptism in an intentional way on this day when we remember the baptism of Jesus. To do so, in a moment I will invite you to come forward to the baptismal font.  Just take a peek, if you wish, at the stones now looking all shiny and new in the water – and remember that is like you because through your baptism you are a new person.  God has acknowledged you as a dear daughter or son. 

        And if you wish, dip your hand in and simply feel the water and remember the promises that you made or that were made for.  And if you have not been baptized?  You are still invited to come and remember that you too are a child of original blessing.  I invite you to come forward.

By Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond VIllage Community Church -  www.rvccme.org 

        

         

Luke 1:39-55 - Mary's Song

         In the Protestant church, we do not think very much about Mary, the mother of Jesus.  She figures much more prominently in Roman Catholicism.  If you have ever wandered through a great Gothic cathedral – or even ventured into a smaller Catholic church with a couple of alcoves, surely you have seen the statues, stone images of Mary the Madonna, set behind flickering votive candles lit in her honor. 

         When we were in Peru, we witnessed a full stage village procession on one of Mary’s many feast days.  Hundreds of people walked the parade route.  Some of them beat drums, others wore elaborate costumes, and still others set off firecrackers from the cliffs above the road.  The town priests and nuns were there in force, surrounding on all sides a large, highly ornate image of the BVM (Blessed Virgin Mary) which rode in a decorated basket-like thing held high on four stakes above the parading populace.

         Oh, do not get me wrong!  Mary pops up in our Protestant churches too – most often around Christmas.  We picture her in Bethlehem, looking radiant and spotless, as if she just stepped out of the pages of Vogue – or Seventeen – staring into the eyes of her newborn baby.  In addition, if we read the Gospel of John around Good Friday, we find her again, this time kneeling – a bit disheveled - at the foot of the cross, once again beholding her son.

         However, the Gospel of Luke, our focus Gospel for this coming church year, gives considerably more ink to this woman.  In fact, unlike the author of Mark who begins his Gospel with the baptism of Jesus, Matthew who embarks with a genealogy, or John who starts off at creation with the Word, the Gospel writer of Luke begins his narrative with Mary.

         In fact, the men are strangely quiet at the beginning of this gospel.  Zechariah the old priest and husband of Elizabeth has been struck mute, and Joseph – though he could - does not say a word.  We get our first clue about this Gospel writer’s perspective on the ministry of Jesus through Mary and her older cousin, Elizabeth.

       The Gospel writer tells us that God chose Mary to bear a son.  It all begins with that truth.  Imagine that!  What in the world was God thinking?  Mary was not rich.  She was not even married – though she was dating.  And she was only a teenager.  But in spite of those apparent strikes against her, God chose her.  Imagine that!

       No – Mary really could not imagine that.  I mean, what was God thinking?  Presbyterian pastor Adam Copeland puts it this way:  “There surely were better ways, right? Come as an adult and skip over those nasty cloth diapers and terrible twos — that sounds good. Or if God must be born as one of us, at least choose a respectable family. Someone married, with means; a family that has shown good parenting skills and is keeping up with the Joneses. Couldn’t God have found someone a bit more qualified than Mary?’

       She did said yes, of course – though undoubtedly with some level of shock because the news was more like a death sentence in a world where adultery was punishable by stoning.  Perhaps she wondered how many other virgins that angel had approached before he had come to her, and she had agreed. 

       On a less cosmic level, this pregnancy thing threw a monkey wrench in all her best-laid plans.  I mean, really, a young unmarried girl like herself in this shameful state!  Why – what would the neighbors say?  “Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little…”

       It is not every day either that you had to break this news to your family – and to your husband-to-be – and yes, Joseph was taking his own sweet time figuring out first whether he even believed her and second precisely what he was going to do.

       No wonder Mary struck off on her own to seek out her cousin, Elizabeth.  She needed support – and comfort.  She needed someone to give her a bit of perspective on it all – and a friend to assure her that she was up to the task. 

       And so she walked – alone, no easy feat –many miles up into the hill country of Judea.  And when she ended up on Elizabeth’s doorstep, she discovered two things.

       First, Mary found out that Elizabeth was also pregnant – and surely she felt some sense of relief in knowing that, yes, miracles do happen.  You see, her elderly cousin had given up on the idea of bearing children years ago, but here she was carrying a son who would grow up to be John the Baptizer. 

       And if Elizabeth ever wondered if it all was real, the baby gave her firm kick – perhaps one of the first she had felt – when she opened her door to find Mary standing on the stoop.  Luke describes it as the baby “leaping for joy.”       

       The second thing that Mary discovered was that everything was going to be OK.  And we know that because, even if Mary did not tell Elizabeth straight off the baby news, pregnant women can spot one of their kind a mile off, and the first words out of Elizabeth’s mouth was this affirmation:  “Blessed are you, Mary!”  Of all the women God could have chosen, God chose you – not a socialite, not a queen, but you, one of the lowly.  “Blessed are you, Mary – and blessed is the child you will bear!”

       And maybe it was just hearing those words that caused something in Mary to break open – like a floodgate.  But she did not cry like people usually do when the floodgates open.  Instead, Mary sang. 

       It was as if the song was part and parcel of her DNA, and she could hold it in no longer.  The song, the one that traditionally we have called the Magnificat, was part of her.  She and the words she sang were one.

"My soul magnifies the Lord.

My spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior,

for he has looked at the humble state of his handmaid.

For behold, from now on, all generations will call me blessed."

       Imagine that – God seeking out a peasant teenager and not only transforming her but also exalting her.  It makes you wonder what God could do with us if we were as courageous in saying “yes” as Mary was.

         In essence, when Mary sings, she is a prophet – like Micah or Isaiah – because the words she sings are God’s words:  God’s manifesto, God’s charter, God’s fundamental document outlining what the world should be.  Mary’s song is God’s call to revolution and transformation.

         Her song tells us in no uncertain terms that God changes the order of everything.  The world is turned upside down.  Before Mary came along, we might have been impressed with beauty, education, intellect, and affluence.  But now, it is easy to see that the poor are on top, and the rich are on the bottom.  At the very foundation of the Gospel of Luke is the premise that God’s compassion is for the economically poor.  Therein lies true justice.

         That is the gist of the Magnificat – the glorious song that Mary cannot help but sing out.  However, do not get caught up in the poetry and how it all flows so well together.  Do not get caught up in simply the music.  This is revolutionary stuff!

“God has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts (she sings).

God has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

God has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty.”

         The song tells us in no uncertain terms that God is reversing everything.  Winners become losers, and losers become winners.  Our culture may say that the beautiful, the rich, the successful, and the secure are the ones who are blessed because they seem to have no worries.  Our culture may say that the one who dies with the most toys wins. 

         But Mary is telling us no.  God has another plan in mind.  And do not worry about Mary speaking in the past tense – as if that somehow lets us all these millennia later off the hook – because prophets always get their tenses mixed up.  As Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor notes “part of their gift is being able to see the world as God sees it--not divided into things that are already over and things that have not happened yet, but as an eternally unfolding mystery that surprises everyone."

         And if you do not want to believe this revolutionary stuff because it comes from a woman with a politically liberal bias, then remember that fellow named Jesus who came around a couple of decades later and echoed his mother’s song, “Blessed are the poor (he said), blessed are the hungry, blessed are the meek.”

         But let’s face it - these are tough words to swallow at Christmas time.  I am not sure we really want to hear this manifesto business as we make our way to Bethlehem.  To be honest, I would much rather go with the spotless Mary and the perfectly behaved stable animals. 

         I would rather start with “silent night holy night” instead of with that verse about bringing the powerful to their knees and sending the rich off hungry.  Why didn’t the Gospel writer just begin with the second chapter… “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus…”

         But the gospel writer did not do that: First things first, as the saying goes.  The Gospel writer understood that before Christmas comes Advent.  Before the birth is Mary’s song of revolution.

         And so the question for us who make our way to Bethlehem to honor the child she bears is this:  Can we sing her song?  As we teeter on the brink of the fiscal cliff, can we sing Mary’s song with the same courage and faith that she sang it 2000 plus years ago?  Can we be the revolutionaries that God calls us to be?

         Jim Wallis, a noted Christian evangelical and author of God’s Politics:  How the Right Gets is Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It wrote this about our current circumstances a couple of days ago in his blog:  “The discussion we are having about “the fiscal cliff” is really a debate about our fiscal soul. What kind of nation do we want to be? We do need a path to fiscal sustainability, but will it include all of us — especially the most vulnerable? It’s a foundational moral choice for the country…(Wallis says) I am strongly in favor of restoring previously higher tax rates for the wealthiest 2 percent of Americans — and ending their unfair loopholes and deductions — but that still won’t raise enough revenue to move us toward fiscal sustainability while protecting the poor. We must make other choices in spending cuts and new revenues— but in clearly morally responsible ways. 

         Will we choose to protect demonstrably effective nutritional programs for low-income families instead of unjust subsidies to agribusiness? Or defend things like Pell Grants to enable students from low-income families to go to college for the first time over huge subsidies to profitable oil companies? Or help refinance mortgages for struggling single homeowners instead of retaining charitable tax deductions for second and third vacation homes? 

         Will we finally have an honest discussion about military spending and national security?...The faith community must urge (decision makers) to beat those swords into plowshares….The biblical prophets say that a nation’s “righteousness,” or integrity as we might say, is determined by how they treat the poorest and most vulnerable; and Jesus said how we respond to the least of these is indicative of how we respond to him.”

         Lutheran pastor, David Nelson writes, “In conceiving the child, Mary is a sign that God is in this life with us, down to the smallest, most basic, experience….a reminder that God's work gets done when otherwise ordinary people hear the voice of God and decide to say "yes."   Mary is a reminder that faith means following dreams -- dreams that begin with God - with courage and expectation.”

         And so the question for us who make our way to Bethlehem to honor the child Mary bears is this:  Can we sing her song?  Can we be the revolutionaries that God calls us to be?

         Because if we cannot, if we cannot embrace God’s manifesto, if we cannot sing Mary’s song from the depths of our souls, then we might as well forego Christmas because all the holiday will mean for us is more presents than we need and more food than we should eat.

         But if Mary’s song leaves you with a touch of hope, if Mary’s song ignites an imagination that has laid dormant for too long, if Mary’s song gives you a vision of a transformed world, and if you in the eyes of God can claim Mary’s song as your song, then come, come to the stable, come with the words of her song on your lips and with a new mother’s joy in your hearts because you are about to birth a new world, because you have made a commitment to follow the Child wherever he may lead.

         I invite you now to stand in solidarity with Mary and sing her song (Holy Is Your Name).

by Rev.Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church UCC

www.rvccme.org

                           

The Year(s) of the Pageant

            Because of special services and events at my church, I do not preach every week during Advent.  However, each year in our December church newsletter, I share a Christmas memory. Following is my 2012 memory:

            One of my fondest Christmas memories is that of the annual Christmas pageant in the UCC church where I grew up.  The script had been written in the 1940’s and was performed in exactly the same way every year until the late 1960’s when traditional Christmas pageants went out-of-style.  The pageant was always performed on the Sunday before Christmas, late in the afternoon, so it was already getting dark outside.

            Two adult men in the congregation (one being my father for a number of years) played the role of prophets who told the story of the birth of Christ, beginning each pageant with the same words – “Break forth into joy!  Sing together, ye nations of the earth!” – inspired by words from the prophet Isaiah.

            The rest of the cast was Sunday school aged youth – from a kindergartner who brought forth the Christmas star to Mary and Joseph who were seniors in high school. Those without specific roles were members of a choir that processed into the church dressed in short white robes with red ribbons, carrying long, battery operated tapers and sat in the side balconies of the sanctuary – the best seats in the house.

            I remember the odor of frankincense and myrrh that permeated the sanctuary and seemed to draw all of us back in time to the stable in Bethlehem.  Carried by censor bearers, it was received by the prophets, the smoke wafting upward reminding us that our prayers all somehow make their way to God.

            I remember the Christmas star alit as it moved down the center aisle.  Then it was gone, only to come to life again, more brilliant it seemed than ever, high above the choir loft. 

            I remember watching from the balcony with the other Sunday School choir members as the shepherds in their drab robes and bare feet came forward.  They were followed soon thereafter by three magi.  Surely these were the wise ones – not kings because they did not sport crowns but rather more like what I figured astrologers must look like.

            I remember singing the old familiar carols.  The words memorized long ago told the story too even as it unfolded visually before me.

            I remember being an angel – and one year being the speaking angel.  We stood in the window wells that housed beautiful stained glass figures during the day but were dark – and freezing cold – at dusk.  Beneath our white robes we wore heavy socks and long underwear and peeked through the tiny holes in the curtain that covered us, holes made long ago by previous angels intent on watching the beloved pageant.

            The Nativity scene itself was unveiled at the front of the church at the pageant’s climax.  It looked like a real stable when the curtain was drawn aside.  There was genuine hay and a rough wooden manger.  Mary and Joseph looked on, completely still and silent while the shepherds and kings completed the Christmas tableau.

            I remember looking out of the car window driving home afterwards and seeing a particularly bright star in the evening sky. Though it was probably Venus, I always thought that it must be the Christmas Star, come once again to announce the birth of Jesus.  Forever and always, the smell of cold cream and grease paint will remind me of the pageant too.

            It is a wonderful story we tell each Christmas – and it is our story.  It is a story that we need to keep telling even as the world becomes a crazier place, and the story sometimes seems to make less sense than ever.  We need to keep telling the story because it embodies a profound truth: that unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given….and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  

            Tell our story this Christmas – and if you know it already, tell it again – because it is a wonderful story – and because it is our story and because it embodies a truth – a truth about God’s unending love for the world.

By Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
www.rvccme.org