Wet

Scripture:  Isaiah 42:1-9, Psalm 29 (insert), Acts 10:34-43, Matthew 3:13-17

In our readings from Matthew’s gospel, we’ve fast-forwarded the video a bit.  Last week we were with Joseph as he, Mary, and the babe were on the run from Herod’s enforcers.  In today’s reading, Jesus has grown up, and goes out to see a man named John who is leading a religious renewal movement, baptizing people in the Jordan River as a sign of their turning from their old lives and living according to John’s teachings.

John recognizes Jesus as the one about whom he had been preaching, the Messiah who had been promised, and he has a problem.  John is very aware of the sinfulness of the people who have been coming to be baptized, and of his own shortcomings.  He baptized people, had then go down into the waters of the Jordan River and come back up again, full immersion, as a sign that they wanted to be cleansed, wanted to leave their sins behind at the bottom of the Jordan.  But Jesus, the one who was now in front of him, had no sin to leave behind, no brokenness to leave behind.  And so he told Jesus, “I need to be baptized by you, and you’re coming to me?”  Jesus told him, “let it be so for now, for it’s proper in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”  So we’re told that John relented and baptized Jesus.  And as Jesus came up out of the water, we’re told the heavens were opened to him, and the Spirit of God descending on him like a dove, and a voice came from heaven, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  Even though Jesus had no sin of which to repent, he identified himself so completely with humankind that he was baptized – not for his sins, but for ours.

I have a confession to make:  I don’t remember my own baptism.  That’s because I was baptized as an infant, far too early for my brain to form any memories.  I’m told that my parents made promises on my behalf, to raise me up in the Christian faith, to renounce the power of evil, to live as a disciple of Christ, to resist oppression and evil, to show love and justice, and to be a faithful member of the church of Jesus Christ.  Most of us likely don’t remember our baptism either, though some of our members may remember their baptism – for Jay’s children, it wasn’t that long ago, and I’ve baptized one or two persons as adults, and they made their own promises to follow Jesus.  For those who are baptized as infants, we hope they’ll later go through confirmation class and be confirmed, and make their own promises – the same promises their parents made on their behalf – and I hope we may start a confirmation class next fall, the first this church has had for many a long year. I think it’s safe to say that when we were baptized, there were no doves, no voices from heaven – and that’s ok.  That happened for Jesus, and only Jesus gets to be Jesus.  But though our baptism didn’t come with the sound effects of Jesus’ baptism, the message is still the same, that through the work of Jesus Christ, we are children of God, disciples of Christ, members of Christ’s church.  We are all created in God’s image and, through the work of Jesus, we, too, are beloved of God. 

In the Revised Common Lectionary, the three-year cycle of readings, the text about the baptism of Jesus comes up every year, on the Sunday after Epiphany.  On this Sunday, we have a remembrance of our own baptisms.  We need to be reminded – whether we actually remember our own baptisms or not, we need to be reminded that we are baptized – because in being reminded that we are baptized, we’re reminded who we are – children of God, disciples of Christ, members of Christ’s church.  We are reminded that we are beloved of God.  And we’re reminded that we, or our parents on our behalf, made promises to follow in the way of Jesus.  We need to be reminded, because we forget.

What would it mean, what difference would it make, if as we went through our daily lives, we remembered that we are God’s beloved, that God loves us, and nothing we do, nothing we don’t do, nothing anyone else does or doesn’t do, can change that.  And what difference would it make if we remembered that the same applies to our sisters and brothers in Christ, those others who have been baptized – that they, too, are God’s beloved, and nothing can change that either.  How would it change the way we go through our day, how we treat others, how we treat ourselves.  Because this is a very different message than we get from our society.   In our society, we are valued largely by the work we do – often times, when we meet someone for the first time, after we learn their names, we ask, “well, what do you do?” – and they may tell you they’re a cashier or a mechanic or a hairdresser or such.  Or if we’re talking to an older person, they may tell us, “I’m retired now, but I used to be…” – a cashier, a mechanic, a hairdresser or such.  And we treat this information as the most important thing about that person, as if being or having been a cashier or mechanic or hairdresser defines a person, that their job is all they are, that they’re like robots or droids programmed for nothing but being a cashier or mechanic or hairdresser or such.  And, of course, if our society values us mostly by our jobs, it puts less value on those who for any number of reasons can’t or don’t work.   Whether or not we can work, and the kind of work we do, and how that work is compensated, determines our quality of life, determines whether we have enough food and clothing for our families or not, determines whether we live in a gated mansion or a rat-infested slum, determines whether we have access to good healthcare or lousy healthcare or no healthcare at all.   And so some people with Cadillac healthcare coverage can have elective plastic surgery, can go to gyms and spas and pamper themselves in any number of ways, while others can’t get any kind of medical treatment unless their condition becomes dire enough to go to the emergency room. Taken to its extreme, we wind up in the mindset of Hitler, who labeled disabled persons as “useless eaters” and targeted them for extermination – many of the measures that were later employed against Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, and other disfavored groups were tried out first on the disabled. 

But, at least in our better moments, we know better than this.  We’re human beings, with lives outside our workplace.  Our job may define what we do for a portion of our time, but it doesn’t define who we are.  As Christians, we believe that all people, baptized or not, Christian or not, are created in God’s image, have something of God inside them.  And as Christians, we believe that we who are baptized are called in a special way, reminded that we are beloved, and also called to live and act in a certain way, following in the way of Jesus, living at least somewhat as Christ lived, choosing good and rejecting evil, loving God with all we have and all that we are, and our neighbor as ourselves.  Now, let me tell you, these words are dangerous, dangerous in a good way! Imagine how our society would change if we actually believed that each person, regardless of their job or lack thereof, is of infinite value, deserving of having their basic human needs met just by virtue of being human, and that we are called by God to care for one another as we’d care for ourselves.  This would have huge implications for our society, our culture, would turn the system upside down and inside out.  To live in a way that’s mindful of our baptism has been called to “live wet” – to live as if we’ve just been baptized, with the words of baptism and the promises of God’s love still ringing in our ears.

The water defenders at Standing Rock, who fought and are still fighting against the Dakota Access Pipeline, use a phrase in their protests:  the Indian words “Mni Wiconi” and the English equivalent “Water is life”.   These words remind us that we cannot live without water, and that indeed our own bodies are largely made of water.  For us as Christians, the water of baptism is life…our journey as Christians begins with baptism.  The rest of our lives are marked by the promises we make or that our parents made for us – and are marked by God’s promise that we are God’s beloved. May we “live wet” – live in a way that’s mindful of the promises of our baptism, and God’s promise of love, for us, and for all the baptized.  Amen.

The Empire Strikes Back!

Scriptures:     Isaiah 63;7-9, Psalm 148

Ephesians 3:1-12,   Matthew 2:1-23 

Our reading from Matthew’s Gospel takes place a long time ago, in a land not quite as far away as Tatooine or Alderon, but a solid ten to eleven hour airplane flight from Philadelphia nonetheless.  On Christmas Eve we read the stories about Mary and Joseph being visited by angels, about the birth in the manger, and about visits from shepherds and wise men….all the familiar, comforting readings we associate with Christmas.  But on Christmas Eve, we also read the very discomforting story of Herod’s response to the birth of Jesus.  King Herod did not celebrate the birth of Jesus by sending out cards or hanging lights or baking cookies.   The birth of Jesus did not inspire Herod to hum Christmas carols, nor did the birth of Jesus fill Herod’s mind with tidings of comfort and joy.   No, the birth of the baby Jesus filled Herod’s mind with thoughts, not of merriment, but of murder.

That’s right, murder.  Why?  When the Wise Men visited Herod seeking the child, they referred to Jesus as the one who was born King of the Jews.  When we hear these words on Christmas Eve, they are just words we expect to hear at Christmas time – but to Herod, these words were a threat – because as far as Herod was concerned, the Jews already had a king, and his name was Herod.   As far as Herod was concerned, the job title “King of the Jews” was already filled – by Herod.  No others need apply for the position!  And so the words of the wise men were a threat to Herod.  Herod heard these words as a sign that his time in power was ending, and an upstart was coming to take his place.   And so it was that Herod felt his power threatened – by a baby.  And Herod sought to eliminate the threat.  The wise men – who may have been wise in reading stars and scriptures, but were not so wise in reading political leaders - had inadvertently given Herod enough information so that he knew the approximate age of the child – two years old at most - and so Herod had his thugs kill any children of that age or younger who were born in Bethlehem. Gruesome as it sounds, it was hardly out of character for Herod, who was violent, emotionally unstable, paranoid.   Indeed, during his reign, Herod had his wife and two of his own sons killed –a joke popular during his reign said it was safer to be Herod’s pig – which as an outwardly observant Jew, Herod wouldn’t touch - than to be Herod’s son – so why would Herod have scruples to hold him back from killing a few dozen babies in some dusty, out of the way village.  Herod’s act is called the slaughter of the innocents, and the Roman Catholic and Episcopal churches remember this act with a feast day, Holy Innocents, on December 28 – shortly after the feast of St Stephen, the first Martyr of the church, on December 26.   

But while Herod had lots of blood on his hands, he failed in his attempt to kill the baby Jesus.  Joseph, who like his Old Testament namesake was guided by dreams, was warned in a dream to take the child to Egypt to escape Herod – and so Joseph, Mary, and the baby essentially became political refugees in Egypt.  Later Joseph was told in a dream that it was safe to return from Egypt, but he kept his distance from Jerusalem, settling in Galilee, some 90 miles to the north.

It’s telling to notice the contrasts between Joseph and Herod.  Both Joseph and Herod felt threatened.  Joseph relied on God’s guidance, while Herod violently took things into his own hands.  Two  very different approaches to outside threats, with two very different outcomes.  And again, it has to be said that Herod’s gruesome violence was in response to a threat connected with a baby.  A baby.  Herod, with all the power of Rome behind him, was scared by a baby. 

We tend to see Christmas through a layer of gauzy sentimentality. It’s sort of as if the manger in Bethlehem is set inside one of those crystal snow globes that you shake, and the snow comes down on the beautiful scene inside. We read about Mary’s being “great with child” but don’t often think of what it would have meant for someone eight or nine months pregnant to be traveling 90, 100 or more miles on foot or by donkey.  We read about the manger, but don’t focus on the barnyard smells that Mary and Joseph would have found there.  And we certainly don’t come to church at Christmas to hear about Herod the homicidal maniac.  But they are part of the story of our salvation, as much as the angels with their messages and the shepherds tending their flocks by night and the wise men with their gifts.

I’d also like to lift up another aspect of the story, which I mentioned in passing earlier, but which I think will be crucial to how we, as individual Christians and as the gathered communities of Emanuel Church and Bridesburg Presbyterian Church live in the year ahead.  Remember that, warned by an angel, Joseph fled with Mary and the baby to take refuge in Egypt.  They went to Egypt to take refuge.  In so doing, they became refugees.  It’s not an idea we associate with Christmas, but Matthew’s gospel tells us that Jesus was a refugee. 

Let me say it again:  Jesus was a refugee.

And again:  Jesus was a refugee.

Why am I hammering on this point?  Because as a culture, we don’t much like refugees.  We feel threatened by them.  Scripture is very clear on the duty to care for the stranger and the alien – going all the way back to Leviticus 19:33-34, which states:  “When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien.  The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” Leviticus wasn’t talking about space aliens, not talking about little green men in flying saucers, but about people from other countries.  But while our leaders sometimes like to quote other parts of Leviticus, they tend to skip over these verses.  But, as the church, we are called to be counter-cultural, to stand against our culture when it is unfaithful.  And, as it happens, we have not only Scripture, but the example of one who came here as a refugee – Isaac, who came here to flee the violence of the civil war in Liberia that dragged on for years and caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of men, women, and yes, children.  In Liberia, Herod was hard at his murderous work, operating under names like Doe and Taylor…and Isaac has shown me even fairly mild photos of the violence from which he fled, and the photos are stomach churning, heartrending.  The violence of these Herods reached Isaac’s own family.  We here at Emanuel Church have shown and continue to show hospitality to Isaac, and I think we’re a better church for it.  The year to come may bring other opportunities to provide hospitality to other outsiders, to the “least of these” whom Christ claims as his own sisters and brothers, other opportunities to “entertain angels unawares”.  I only hope and pray we’re up to the challenge.

Two weeks ago, on the 4^th Sunday of Advent, I preached that the story of Christmas is about making room for Jesus.  The characters in the Christmas story are defined by whether they made room for Jesus – as Mary did within her own body, as Joseph did within his household, as the shepherds and wise men did within their schedules and travel plans – or whether they didn’t, as the innkeeper made no room, and in today’s reading Herod decreed that there was no room, that all of Judea wasn’t big enough for both Herod and Jesus.

Two weeks ago, I asked whether we have room for Jesus.  I ask the same question again – do we have room for Jesus, in our church and in our lives -  and follow it up with another question:  In the year ahead, will we line up with Joseph, or with Herod?  Will we provide refuge and hospitality, or seek to eliminate it?   There’s no place of neutrality, no place to turn away and pass by.  By our actions or our inactions, inevitably we’ll line up with Joseph, or with Herod – and I pray we choose wisely. 

Because, evil as he was, Herod was right about one thing: there wasn’t room in Judea, isn’t room in all the world, for both Herod and Jesus.   There isn’t room for the ways of Herod – the ways of empire doing business as usual, where might makes right, where the only golden rule is that he who has the gold makes the rules, where as the African saying goes, the elephants battle and the grass gets trampled – there isn’t room for all of that – and the way of Jesus, the way of self-giving love, the self-giving love of Jesus that operates like yeast in a lump of dough or a mustard seed in a field, a small but powerful thing that eventually takes over everything.  These two ways of living are fundamentally incompatible.  For the Trekkies among us, think of them as being like matter and antimatter – if you put them together, the results are explosive.  The ways of Herod and the way of Jesus, the way of Empire and the way of the Gospel, are unalterably opposed.  And as Christians we are committed to the way of Jesus, the way of self-giving love, the way of making room for Jesus in what Mother Teresa called his distressing disguise of the poor.

My prayer for this first Sunday in 2017 is the same as my prayer at the end of 2016 – that we will make room for Jesus, in our hearts and in our churches.  Let every heart, every church, every home, prepare him room. Amen.

"Who Am I? Why Am I Here?" (Pastor's Message, January 2017 newsletter)

Dear Emanuel Members and Friends –

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:
“And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
   are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
   who is to shepherd my people Israel.” ’
 Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.  (Matthew 2:1-12)

As I was considering this passage and reflecting on the start of another year, I was reminded of a famous (or infamous) moment from the 1992 presidential campaign.  Ross Perot, running as a 3^rd party candidate, had selected Admiral James Stockdale, a political unknown, as his vice-presidential running mate.  At the vice-presidential debate, in his opening statement, Admiral Stockdale introduced himself to the American public by flashing a goofy-looking grin as he uttered the words “Who am I?  Why am I here?”  He intended these as rhetorical questions, and indeed he answered his own questions, talking at length about his experiences in the Vietnam War, which he called the centerpiece of his life.  But as often happens, the press took Stockdale’s opening words “Who am I? Why am I here?” out of context, ran with them, and turned them into a punch line that haunted Stockdale throughout the remainder of the campaign. 

“Who am I?  Why am I here?”  These are good questions to consider as we begin another year.  It’s easy just to go from day to day, waking up, eating, working, spending time with our families, sleeping, and beginning the cycle anew the next day.  But there are times when we have to take stock of our lives, and now – as one year ends and another begins – is an excellent time to do so.  What have we done with the year that just passed?  What plans have we for the year to come?  What are our goals, our priorities?  To answer these questions, we need to answer two other questions first:  “Who am I?  Why am I here?”    Our goals and priorities should flow from our answers to these two basic questions.

“Who are you?  Why are you here?”  These are questions the Magi encountered as they went to Herod, seeking “the child who has been born King of the Jews.”  The Magi knew their mission, and were willing to follow their mission, as they followed the star, over many miles.  While they were a little vague on the exact location of the newborn King, they persisted in their search until they found the one whom they were seeking.  They did not allow themselves to be intimidated by the splendor of Herod’s court, nor misled by Herod’s deceptive words, but held fast to their mission.

“Who are we?  Why are we here?”  These are questions on which I hope Emanuel can focus as we begin another year.  Our congregation does a number of things – we maintain our property, hold weekly Sunday worship (plus extra services from time to time), hold two fundraising auctions a year, give away backpacks, provide counseling space for the Second Chance organization, welcome visitors, provide genealogical information, and help people who approach us for assistance – and there are seemingly more seeking assistance with every passing year.   These are all valuable activities in and of themselves.  However, all manner of other community groups maintain buildings and cemeteries, raise funds, provide meeting space, answer genealogical queries, and help those in need. What makes us and other churches unique is that we do what we do as an expression of our commitment to be disciples of the Risen Christ, our commitment to follow in the way of Jesus.   To answer the questions “Who are we? Why are we here?” I hope we can say the following:  as human beings we and our neighbors are persons created in God’s image.  As individual Christians and as the gathered community of Emanuel United Church of Christ, we are disciples of Christ, and we are here to follow in the way of Jesus, loving God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and our neighbors as ourselves.  We should be able to link any activity we do to our mission as followers of Jesus – and indeed, if an activity doesn’t contribute to that mission, we may need to rethink whether to continue it.  Certainly, anything decision we make as a church should take into account our identity and mission as followers of Jesus.

Church consultants sometimes make a distinction between “Great Commission” churches and “Great Commandment” churches.  The term “Great Commission” refers to Jesus’ parting words to his disciples in Matthew’s gospel,
“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:19-20)  The term “Great Commandment” refers to Jesus’ words in Matthew 22:34-40, Mark 12:28-34, and Luke 10:25-28, in which Jesus identifies love of God and love of neighbor as the two great commandments.  Churches may tend to emphasize one of these over the other – perhaps putting more effort into witnessing to the Gospel (Great Commandment) than helping those in need (Great Commandment), or perhaps the reverse.  Ultimately, though, both are necessary, and both are connected.  As Christians, we need to be able to tell our neighbors about Jesus, to “give an account of the hope that is within us” (I Peter 3:15), to make disciples, baptize, and teach.  But any teaching about Jesus has to include the great commandments of love toward God and neighbor.

How about Emanuel Church? Who are we?  Why are we here? Are we a “Great Commission” church or a “Great Commandment” church?  Or both? Or neither?  I would say that we are both – some new believers have come to faith in Jesus here at Emanuel Church, and we have helped a number of people in the community.  At the same time, I would say there is much more we can do.  As Jesus said, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few, therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”  (Matthew 9:37) I pray that in 2017 we can challenge ourselves to be more effective in making disciples, to be more generous in loving God and neighbor – because that is who we are, and that is why we are here. 

Happy New Year!  See you in church!

– Pastor Dave