Matthew 5:1-12 "Was Jesus Serious?"

         Blessed are the ones who pull themselves up by their bootstraps, for they will get ahead and get what they want.

         Blessed are the ones who do not cry in their soup, but get themselves together and move on.

         Blessed are the ones who keep their mouths shut, so no one will question their patriotism.

         Blessed are the ones who look like us, act like us, think like us, and do not belong to some religious group we fail to know the first thing about.

         Blessed are the well-educated, for they will get the good jobs.

         Blessed are the well-connected, for their aspirations will not go unnoticed.

         Blessed are you when you know what you want, and go after it with everything you’ve got, for God helps those who help themselves.

         Blessed are the ones who really know how the world works, for they will not be dismissed as hopelessly naïve.

        If the Beatitudes (which is what the passage we just read is called) are supposed to be a description of reality, then what world was Jesus talking about in those verses?  Certainly not the one we live in.  We seem to live in the reality of alternative beatitudes – like the ones I just enumerated – those cultural prerogatives that lie just below the surface of “God Bless America”.

         What then are we supposed to make of the real beatitudes, the blessings that Jesus proclaimed at the beginning of what we call the Sermon on the Mount?  Unfortunately, as Biblical scholar NT Wright noted, “we hear (the Beatitudes) as a kind of religious wallpaper: …A pleasing background noise, murmuring its blessings while the business of the room goes on unaffected…Blessed are the poor? Blessed are the meek? The persecuted, the pure in heart, the merciful, the peacemakers?’ Yeah, yeah, give me a break: it sounds like the revenge of the no-hopers: we haven’t made it in the present world, so we’ll detach ourselves, escape into a private piety, and hope for a better future by and by in the sky.”

         How cynical is that?  However, for Jesus, the Beatitudes are serious stuff. 

It is like he walked up onto the dais one evening and laid his notes out carefully on the lectern, coughed a bit, took a sip of water, leaned over a smidge to catch the eye and attention of everyone in the audience, and spoke directly into the microphone. 

         Of course, Jesus did not actually do that.  Instead the Gospel writer tells us that he sat down – and, believe me, that was unusual.  You see, he did not stroll about as wandering itinerant preachers did in first century Palestine.  Consequently, Jesus immediately caught his audience’s attention.  His followers – his disciples - all but hung on his every word.  There was tremendous expectation in the air. 

         And in that charged atmosphere, Jesus’ keynote speech began – his manifesto, so to speak:  “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth....” 

         Wow!  Hold on a minute.  That was not what anyone – even the dullest clod among them - was expecting to hear.  Did Jesus really mean what he just said?

“What did he say?

I think it was “Blessed are the cheesemakers.”

Aha, what’s so special about the cheesemakers?

Well, obviously it’s not meant to be taken literally; it refers to any manufacturers of dairy products.”

         That is a bit of conversation from the Monty Python film, “Life of Brian”, but, seriously, what are we supposed to do with the Beatitudes, especially in our world where we make some pretty strong assumptions about who is blessed, happy, or even just lucky? 

         As one blogger I read this week wrote, “What does it mean to be happy? To be fortunate? Blessed? Who are the ones we regard as the lucky ones? The fortunate, the blessed ones? 

         We tend to think of those with money. They can afford to live the way they want. They never have to worry about paying their bills. If they want something, they can have it.  We think of those who can afford a nice home, a nice car. When they travel they fly at the front of the plane and not in cattle class. And who can afford whatever their heart’s desire is.

         (The blogger goes on).  We don’t just think of the rich though. We think of the beautiful, those who are so attractive. Everyone wants to be with them. If you are an attractive guy, you can get whatever girl you want (in whatever way you want, I am told).

And vice versa. The attractive woman gets the guy she wants. We can envy the beautiful people.

         We also think of the powerful. Those who have access to privilege and status. And of course, these things often go together. The rich, beautiful, powerful people. The fortunate ones, the lucky ones, the blessed ones. People like pop stars, movie stars, sports stars. Who wouldn’t want to be Tom Brady, Taylor Swift, or even Harrison Ford? Who of us hasn’t wondered why we haven’t got the lucky breaks they have? (And our blogger concludes:) Now even if we don’t go looking at famous names, who of us wouldn’t wish to be more beautiful, richer, and more powerful than we are now? “

         If we are honest, the world that Jesus describes in the so-called Beatitudes is not the one we live in – and, at first glance, is not the world most of us would want to live in.  I mean, who wants to be poor (even just poor in spirit)?  Who wants to be persecuted, or wear sackcloth and ashes all the time? 

         However, as I have already said, Jesus is serious about these Beatitudes (or Blessings).  Consequently, how in heaven’s name are we supposed to understand them?

         In our hope of getting that question answered, let me begin by saying what the Beatitudes are not.  First, the Beatitudes are not the terms under which you or I might be blessed. In other words, they are not a moral code.  For instance, when I hear "Blessed are the pure in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven," I tend to think, "Am I pure enough in spirit?" or "I should try to be more pure in spirit." Or, when I hear "blessed are the peacemakers...," I think, "Yes, I really should be more committed to making peace."  But that is not what Jesus is going for. The Beatitudes are not the criteria for blessedness.

         Second, the Beatitudes are not a list of the sorts of people whom God does bless.  It is not a case of your being on the list, making the grade – or not and facing the eternal consequences. 

         Third, the Beatitudes are not a point-by-point of pious aims and vague promises for the future.  Jesus was not concerned very much about what would happen to any of us in the next life.  His ministry was to folks like us in this life.

         Fourth, the Beatitudes are not simply good advice, like Hints from Heloise.  Jesus was no Carolyn Hax or Dear Abby.

         What are the Beatitudes then?  Simply put, the Beatitudes are the Good News.  The Beatitudes are the Gospel. The Beatitudes are the first hint that something wonderful – something momentous - has happened in this crazy, jaded, cynical, and oft-misguided world we live in. 

         The Beatitudes are evidence that the world’s values have been turned upside down.  God’s dream has been hatched into history – but not without a challenge and a call to personal responsibility. 

         As NT Wright wrote, Jesus “ is saying what millions then and now desperately want to hear, and could hear if only his followers would get off their whatevers and do what he said. He is saying, ‘Let me tell you: this world could be different. Actually, it’s going to be different. It’s going to be turned upside down – or rather, it’s going to be turned the right way up. And that process is starting right now! Why don’t you get on board and help make it happen?’ That was, and is, the challenge of Jesus’ preaching…..The beatitudes are a summons to live in the present in the way that will make sense in God’s promised future, because that future has arrived in Jesus of Nazareth. It may seem upside down (Wright concludes), but we are called to believe, with great daring, that it is in fact the right way up.”

         And until that day that we really do so, the Beatitudes are a courageous and audacious protest against the current order. Oh, Jesus cannot make us be more merciful or better peacemakers.  However, surely he can cause us to look at those who are - with new eyes and hearts and so catch glimpses of the world they live in – that we might someday live in as well. 

         And so for us, the question is simple.  What would it mean, as one blogger wrote, “if we honored those whom God honors? What would happen if we stopped playing all of our culture's games for status and power and privilege? What would it cost us if we lived more deeply into justice, and mercy, and humility?”

         Blessed are poor in spirit, the humble, the ones who know they do not have all the answers, so maybe they ought to listen to what others have to say – or maybe even listen to God.

         Blessed are those who mourn, those who love so deeply and passionately – who love people, communities, the church, the earth so much – that when the signs of death appear, they are torn up inside. 

         Blessed are the meek, the ones with integrity who live with undue patience and without resentment, who handle the pain of this world with a certain grace, not acceptance, but grace.

         Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, who fight for justice for all the world’s people – justice for immigrants, for refugees, for those in danger of losing their health insurance, who fight for dignity – the dignity of a job, of an education, of religious choice – for everyone.  Blessed are those who are outwardly focused.

         Blessed are the merciful, the ones who forgive, who can really let it go.

         Blessed are the pure in heart, the ones who deep down inside understand what it means to be created in the image of God, to be one of God’s beloved children.         

         Blessed are the peacemakers, the ones who seek to create peace and do not add to the conflict, the ones who seek first to understand before they are understood.

         Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness.  Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Blessed are the ones who embrace both the joy and the cost of discipleship.

         In the end, blessed are those who begin to live as if God’s dream is already a reality.

Matthew 4:12-23 "Risky Business"

         “In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing. We lived at the junction of great trout rivers in western Montana, and our father was a Presbyterian minister and a fly fisherman who tied his own flies and taught others. He told us about Christ's disciples being fishermen, and we were left to assume, as my brother and I did, that all first-class fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fishermen and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman.”  Beautiful, but…

         That is not my writing.  That is how Norman McLean begins one of my favorite novels, A River Runs Through It.  However, I always thought it was such a wonderful way to begin a sermon about Jesus calling his first disciples by the lakeshore in Galilee.  You see, in A River Runs Through It, fishing was in the blood of that family.  It touched the essence of who they were.  And so it was for Zebedee and his sons, James and John, in first century Palestine.  Fishing had run in their family veins for generations.

         On this particular day, however, Zebedee just stood on the old wooden dock, his arms raised in question.  He looked at the half-mended nets and shook his head.  His two sons had flown the coop. Gone!   And the day laborers he had hired were no help here. They could not be trusted to ensure that the nets were fish-worthy.  Zebedee was….well, he was in a pickle.

         His small, family-based fishing cooperative that managed to bring in enough money to allow them to be a whit above the poverty line had just fallen apart. It had been dismantled in a single encounter. You see, James and John had come under the thrall of the self-declared rabbi who had wandered into Capernaum. 

         Zebedee had noticed him talking to his boys this very dawn.  The young upstart’s reputation preceded him, of course.  Or, at least, rumor had it that Jesus had left his father’s carpentry business the same way James and John were leaving the fishnets.  Just walked out one day, leaving the old man high and dry. 

         And now, Zebedee had to tell his wife – and that was one conversation he was not looking forward to.

         “Honey, they wandered off with Jesus.”

         “Who did?”

         “James and John.”

         “James and John?  Our James and John?  With Jesus?  That hippie carpenter’s son who has been hanging around recently? 

         “Yup.  He’s the one.”

         “You mean, they just left their work?  Well, they’ll have a lot of catching up to do when they get back later today.”

         “Honey, I don’t think they’re coming back later today.”

         “Well, when they come back tomorrow then.  They’ll be sorry.  I made their favorite hummus spread for dinner tonight too.”

         “I don’t think they’re coming back tomorrow either.  I think they may be gone a while.”

         “A while?  Like a week?”

         “Longer, maybe.”

         “Longer than a week?  But that hummus spread will go bad if we don’t eat it right away.”

         Oh, the wife will be mad – and she will blame him.  Zebedee was pretty sure of that.  He could hear it now:  He had been too hard on the boys when they were younger.  He had not been hard enough.

         Whatever was that Jesus up to anyway? Zebedee wondered.   Clearly he saw himself as the successor to John the Baptizer, preaching the identical message of repentance.  But at least John had operated on his own, solo. 

The prophet might have been wild and crazy, but the fact of the matter was that he did not pull innocent hard-working young men into some sort of cult-like ministry. 

         Jesus, on the other hand, was looking for followers, wheedling unsuspecting sons into making risky split second decisions, ones that destroyed families and businesses.  That Jesus was bad for the local economy.    

         And it looks like he envisions himself as a real rabbi too -seeking his own circle of neophytes.  Did he not know that he was way out-of-bounds on that one?  After all, becoming a true disciple in the ancient Jewish rabbinic tradition was a long and arduous path. 

         It all began when a young boy was only four or five.  Under the tutelage of the local rabbi, he would study  - and memorize - the Torah – the first five books of Holy Scripture - until he mastered them around age 10.  That was when the weeding out began. 

         Those who were cut would either learn the family business or pick up the skills of a decent trade in the community.  Only the best stayed on in the synagogue, digging into the whys and wherefores of interpreting Scripture and continuing to memorize their Hebrew Scriptures – 39 books in all. 

         Another big cut came when a boy reached the age of 14 or 15.  Only the very best of the best would be encouraged to continue studying and would need to search for their own rabbi-mentor – maybe in a distant town or even in Jerusalem.  The ones left behind would become carpenters and fishermen – just like their fathers and grandfathers before them. 

         Jesus was no trained rabbi, nor was James and John among the best of the best.  Jesus’ idea of training apparently was simply to beckon, “Follow me” – and then add some mumbo-jumbo about fishing for people – leaving the meaning of that up to whatever a couple of foolhardy boys might imagine.  Unlike the synagogue rabbis, it seemed to make no difference to Jesus who they were or where they were on their life’s journey.  “Follow me.”  And that was that.

         You know, when we read this passage, we almost always first focus on the demand – “Follow me.”  Without a doubt, it is pretty straightforward – with not a lot of wiggle room.  It is not like Jesus is saying:  “I wonder if you would consider the possibility of tagging along if you have the time, and it's not too inconvenient.  “

         That uncompromising demand would be enough in this day and age of mainstream secularism to make us stop in our tracks, but then, when we read the response of the two fisher boys, well, it is surprising that anyone is still sitting here in these hard wooden pews. We are told that they followed Jesus “immediately”, “at once”.  James and John not only dropped their nets, leaving their father holding the bag when it came to sustaining the family income.  They also did not even kiss their mother goodbye or take the time to pack a picnic lunch.  Instead, they made a split second decision to be all in with the itinerant rabbi. 

         Is that what we were supposed to have done?  We who profess to be followers and disciples of Jesus?  We who sense that, in some mysterious way, we have been called too – though, to what, we are not entirely certain?  Were we supposed to have made some sort of split second decision to be all in with the itinerant rabbi too?        

         Maybe we kind of get the “follow” piece and the responsibility that goes along with it.  But the “immediately”, the “at once” bit?  Surely that makes us ponder if we ought to be calling ourselves Christian at all.

I mean, how many of us were so confident that we dropped everything and declared ourselves all in, as James and John so clearly did?  I suspect that sounds a bit risky to many of us!

         Well, let me offer two points that can help us us feel more confident choosing to be here each Sunday, more confident in using the descriptor Christian, more confident in affirming our call and in embracing the inherent risk that goes along with it. 

         First, remember that Jesus chose ordinary people.  In other words, here in our faith community at least, you do not have to have it altogether to have a place among us. You do not have to have all the answers.  We are all trying to figure out what this call business actually means – but not alone, rather in community. 

         As Lutheran pastor Amy Kumm-Hanson wrote, “what we do know is that the disciples were not plucked out of some seminary or discipleship training school. There was not a job interview or a competency exam.  Jesus came to them right in the middle of what they were doing.  Jesus called ordinary people right in the middle of their ordinary lives to do extraordinary things.  

        

         They were not called based on their stellar qualifications.  And as the Gospel of Matthew moves along, we hear that the disciples are just human.  They repeatedly fail to notice that Jesus is the Messiah.  They just cannot seem to get their heads around the fact that he is a different kind of King and isn’t going to take down their enemies in some show of force.  They fall asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane when Jesus asks them several times to stay awake.  Simon Peter, one of the first disciples called by Jesus as we hear today, will go on to deny Jesus three times.  Another disciple, Judas, will actually betray Jesus.” 

         You see, we are called not to right behaviors all the time.  After all, we are human.  Instead, we are called to be in relationship with Jesus and, in doing so, to be in relationship with all the world’s people. 

         Second, around here, we do not buy into the idea that we are called once to make a split second decision – and that’s that.  Instead, we believe that Jesus calls us over and over again, every day of our lives. 

        

         Each time we are faced with a moral choice and ask ourselves the question – “What would Jesus do?” we are called.  Every time we have an opportunity to peacefully and powerfully side with the poor and the marginalized, we are called.  Whenever we hear that little voice in our head that tells us that someone – someone - needs to speak out for justice, we are called. 

         Risky?  You bet, but that is part of the reason why we affirm and act upon this call in community.  You see, each one of you has chosen this church to be the group of like-minded people in whose company you will take the risk to answer your call and support others as they answer their calls.  Each one of you has chosen this church family as the anchor where you will take the risk to be molded by one another through the Holy Spirit, molded and shaped into agents of possibility.  Each one of you has chosen this congregation as the one with whom you will take the risk to walk Jesus’ path of justice and peace. Each one of you has chosen this church to rejoice in the fact that God has given you not only a name – Beloved – but also a special purpose for good in this world.

         It did not matter to Jesus where James and John had been and where they were on their life’s journey.  Jesus took a risk on them.  Jesus takes a risk on us too– as individuals but also as a church.  

         As one blogger wrote, “For reasons known only to heaven, God is constantly taking risks on all kinds of people — people who fish for a living, people who are too young to have jobs, people who have retired. Every day God …takes risks on people like you and me.  But one thing is certain.  One thing the Bible makes clear about the call of Christ is that the One who calls us is the same One who gives us the strength, the resources, to follow.” 

         “The One who calls us is the same One who gives us the strength, the resources, to follow.” I do hope you will remember that as we move soon into our Annual Meeting, there to celebrate where we have been and, more importantly, where we are going and how in heaven’s name we will get there.  It is risky, and a lot of it is still in the dark, but I hope you will answer that call – and stick around for the meeting because we are all in this together – like James and John – no matter who we are or where we are on our life’s journey.

Matthew 3:13-17 "Beloved"

         I have done a fair number of baptisms during my decades in ordained ministry.  I have baptized adults, teenagers, children, toddlers, and infants – mostly in churches but a couple in the neo-natal units of hospitals.  Once many years ago, I baptized our older son.  Paddy was not quite two years old back then. 

         Joe and I held him on our arms in front of the congregation I was serving at the time.  After I had made the sign of the cross with water on his head, had said the age-old words naming him as a child of God, and had blessed him, Paddy gleefully tossed up into the air three pencils, a wadded up piece of paper, and the little pad that paper had been torn from, all items that he had, unbeknownst to his parents, been clutching in his small hands the whole time.  Looking back on it, I like to think of it as a gesture of joy.

         It was a surprise, to be sure, but somewhat gratifying.  After all, he had not sobbed through the whole ceremony, but rather he seemed to have taken great delight in its essence, that is, in knowing once and for all time that he was one of God’s beloved ones.

        I have had parents approach me about having their child “done” and parents wanting their kids baptized privately because they do not go to church and do not intend to either, and people desiring to be re-baptized because they once belonged to one kind of church and now belonged to another and someone told them that their first baptism was not the real thing because the water was sprinkled and not poured or because they were dunked or not dunked. 

         However, though baptism certainly involves water, it does not matter whether drops or gallons are used.  And, when you come right down to it, except in extraordinary circumstances, baptism is not a private ritual but has a lot to do with a church community.  And one does not need to be baptized more than once – regardless of when, where, and how it was first accomplished.  And baptism is certainly not, as Presbyterian pastor Philip McLarty reminds us, “an inoculation against sickness and death, accidents or other misfortune, but it is a reassurance that, come what may, God will be with us to give us the grace we need to overcome all adversity.”

        Christian baptism, of course, has its roots in the story of Jesus’ baptism.  It is one of only a handful of narratives that is found in all four Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John), so one must assume that it is a very important concept indeed.  It stands to reason that it was designated sacrament-status early on.

         However, given our 21^st century vantage point and the fact that baptism has become a somewhat quaint and definitely antiquated church tradition in the eyes of many and that, as proof positive, I would bet that most of us cannot remember being inspired by our children’s baptisms, let alone remember (or been told) a whit about our own, given all that, we may not see what John was doing there in the middle of the muddy Jordan River as all that impressive.  However, in first century Palestine, the common practice in Jesus’s day was for Gentiles who wanted to become Jews to be baptized.  However, those folks born into Judaism saw no need of baptism for themselves. 

         And yet, Jews by the hundreds were queued up on the shoreline, waiting to be dunked by John the Baptizer.  What gives?  As Philip McLarty continues, “Clearly, something was up.  A new day was dawning.  The Kingdom of God was at hand.  Jews of every stripe and from every corner of Judea were coming to be baptized.  But that’s not all.  Matthew says, “Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him.”    

         Baptism marked the start of Jesus’ ministry in the eyes of the Gospel writer of Matthew.  John lowered Jesus into the water, and when Jesus re-emerged, the Gospel writer tells us, low and behold the Holy Spirit descended like a dove, just like the old prophet Isaiah had said would happen:

And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him (just like that bird that came fluttering down),
the Spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and might,
the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.
(Isaiah 11:2)

         Then a voice that could only have been that of the Holy One resounded from the clouds above saying, "This is my beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

And when the voice boomed out, from that moment forward, Jesus had no doubt about who he was and whose he was:  “You are my Beloved.” 

         And only then did he begin his ministry, never forgetting that sacred bond God had forged with him.  And so, as Presbyterian pastor Stan Gockel reminds us, Jesus “reached out to the poor, the oppressed, and the downtrodden… healed the sick, raised the dead, and set people free from demonic oppression.  He did it because he remembered his baptism— remembered who he was, (whose he was), and what he was called to do.”

         You know, baptism was very problematic in the early church.  As the theology around Jesus as the Christ solidified and he was seen more and more as one without fault or shortcoming, the inevitable question arose about why in heaven’s name he needed to be baptized in the first place if baptism was all about the forgiveness of sins. 

         However, to look at the meaning of baptism only in those terms is to limit its inherent grace as a sacrament.  Baptism is so much more.  By being baptized, surely Jesus was demonstrating for us, in no uncertain terms, that not only was he part of his everyday, Jewish community, but he was also always to be counted among the greater community of all the people of God – never to be separate from you and me. 

         And now, all these eons later, we can reflect on this powerful story found in all four Gospels and acknowledge that, yes – it is true:  The Word was made flesh, pitched a tent, and moved into the neighborhood – our neighborhood – and so lives among us.  God made a choice – and has never backed away from that choice: God chose us.  God chose us to make God’s dream for the world a reality.  In Jesus, God stands with us.  We are God’s beloved ones too, daughters and sons of the Holy One. 

         As Lutheran scholar David Lose reminds us, “And this is where these stories of Jesus' baptism intersects with the stories of our own. For we, too, can only live into the mission that God has set for us to the degree that we hear and believe the good news that we, too, are beloved children of God.  As with Jesus, we discover in baptism who we are by hearing definitively whose we are. Baptism is nothing less than the promise that we are God's beloved children: That no matter where we go, God will be with us, that no matter what we may do, God is for us and will not abandon us. In baptism we are blessed with the promise of God's (Everlasting) Spirit and given a name” – and that name is Beloved.  Through baptism, we discover and affirm who we are and whose we are.

          There was once a drunk who stumbled upon a baptismal service one Sunday afternoon down by the river. It was down south, back in the day, 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, but are you sure this is where he fell in?"

         Baptism is not about being saved.  It is not some sort of magic charm that will keep you or your child from harm.  As one blogger wrote, “Baptism isn't where you find Jesus; it's what you do once you've found him.” 

         In baptism, we are named.  In baptism, we are given a new identity, one that is formed (and informed) by love.  In baptism, we are grafted to a community (that would be the church) whose very foundation is compassion and healing and reconciliation. 

In baptism, we are accepted as beloved, as children of God.  In baptism, (and this is important), in baptism, we are challenged to accept others, to understand others as children of God as well. 

         Now all of that is pretty heady and, I would say, inspirational stuff.  That being said, maybe we should be remembering our own baptism a bit more – because surely, if taken seriously, it determines how we live our lives.  It puts us on the illuminated path that will take us out of the darkness and to our destination.  In baptism, we are accepted as beloved, as children of God.  In baptism, we are challenged to accept others, to understand others as children of God as well – and surely that challenge is big on that illuminated path that takes us to the place where God’s dream for the world will come true.

         Think about that for a moment – the power of acceptance, the power of affirming humanity’s “belovedness”.  How would our lives be different if they were grounded in accepting rather than rejecting others?  How would the politics of our nation change if we dropped the labels “liberal” and “conservative” and all the posturing and finger-pointing that goes along with them, if we engaged in dialogue rather than reading our Twitter feed? 

How would our lives be transformed if we sought first to understand rather than be understood, if we were not content until we had searched and found that which we hold in common rather than that which divides us? 

         Here’s a great little video clip that I think illustrates this point.  It happens to be an ad for Amazon that went viral - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ouu6LGGIWsc

         As Christians, we look to baptism as the grace-filled affirmation of our common identity as children of God.  Baptism tells us once and for all, as human beings, who we are and whose we are – regardless of everything that might divide us - and challenges us, with God’s help, to live our lives as if that sprinkling or pouring or dunking really mattered.