I Believe in the Power of Baptism
Lent 1-B-09; March 1, 2009

            Beginning in the mid-1960’s and continuing throughout the ‘70’s the Episcopal Church was engaged in a process of revising our prayer book. The process resulted in the red book that is before you in the pews, the 1979 Book of Common Prayer. Although this year marks the thirtieth anniversary of it being the official prayer book of the church, you still hear it referred to as “the new prayer book”—which perhaps is a commentary on people’s resistance to change more than anything. In “the new book” revisions such as modernizations of language (from thee and thou to you), establishing the Eucharist as the principle act of worship on Sunday, and expanding our Eucharistic prayers to six alternatives got the most attention (or flack). But those were not the most significant changes from the previous books, for flying in under the radar, so to speak was a major theological shift in the form of the Baptismal Liturgies.

            If you’re looking for the Baptismal Rite in the Book of Common Prayer you’ll find it beginning on page 299, which if you count the Psalms and historical documents and lectionaries in the back as an appendix, places Baptism almost in the dead center of the prayer life of the church. That placement was intentional. The rubrics of the new rite also called for Baptism to be celebrated at a principle Service on Sunday, preferably on one of six days—five holy days having to do with the life of Jesus, and the other one the day of the Bishop’s visitation. This resulted in a change from the custom of “having the baby done” on a Saturday afternoon (followed by cocktails at the Rectory), meaning the entire community of the faithful saw baptisms done more regularly. But even more important was a subtle shift towards emphasizing the communal nature of this sacrament and how it relates to salvation. No longer were the baptized saved from something, they were saved for something—participation in the work of the Body of Christ to complete the transformation of the world. I would argue that this was the biggest shift, and that some of what we’re arguing about in the church today comes directly from it—but that’s a class rather than a sermon.

            Baptism should be at the heart of our communal life because we are the Body of Christ, after all, and baptism was at the heart of Jesus’ own ministry. We heard the story today, how Jesus goes to the wilderness to receive Baptism at the hands of his cousin John, he enters the water, arises, and all heaven breaks loose. “The heavens are ripped apart, not just for a moment, but permanently, never to shut them again. Though this gracious gash in the universe, as Francis Moloney, the Marcan scholar puts it, God has poured forth his Spirit into the earthly realm. This gracious gash allows the Spirit of love to descend. But the Spirit does not merely descend on him; it descends into him, fully inhabiting his being and preparing him for his mission. Jesus baptism becomes the prototype for all baptisms that will follow; what happens to him happens to all—A loving Father embraces an obedient son. Union replaces separation; a new divine-human condition is revealed. (Shea, 79)

            All the Gospels note that this Spirit descends on Jesus “like a dove”—but what at dove. If it’s a dove it’s a dove on steroids. It doesn’t flutter and coo before Jesus, to lead him through green pastures to a reception in the desert equivalent of the parish hall. As Mark says it drives him into the wilderness for a forty day silent retreat, an illusion to the trials of Israel as they tried to be faithful to the God of their liberation. The baptismal gift of the spirit is not a personal privilege but the foundation for a struggle. The wilderness, like wildernesses always are, will be a place and time of testing and conflict.

            In the desert, you see, Jesus has an encounter with Satan.    Although Matthew and Luke each record three temptations Jesus wrestled with, I’m thankful for Mark’s version, which leaves them unnamed, and thereby leaves them more open ended, giving some room for “fill in the blank” with our own favorite temptation. I’ve been grateful to Sue Armentrout of Sewanee Seminary for her insight that the Church (drawing on Luke and Matthew) has tended to emphasize what she calls masculine temptations: the temptations to abuse power, authority and control. Sue points out that we should not overlook what she calls feminine (though I prefer—“passive”) temptations, such as the temptation to self-abasement or self-debasement, the temptation to overlook injustice or indignity, the temptation to fail to commend the faith that is in us. Both the aggressive and the passive forms of temptation are deadly and Satan skillfully wields both to seek our corruption.

Now, we do a disservice to ourselves if we make a caricature of Satan and think of him as something particular and external. You know, the little pointy tailed guy in red tights with a pitchfork. Satan is far more subtle and far more dangerous and far nearer at hand than that. Satan is a metaphor for the inner, invisible energy of people, groups, and social and political structures that inflict suffering on people. This adversary of God manifests itself through these people, groups and structures—and turns them into wild beasts who seek to corrupt and destroy the creatures of God. Satan lurks within, and seeks always to keep people alienated from themselves, each other, and God. Jesus mission, and ours, will be to unite. And in a way, Jesus got off easy in his encounter, for he only had to wrestle with Satan for forty days. Most of us have to wrestle with the adversary for most of our life.

But thankfully we have a weapon, and that is grace given at Baptism. This week I was introduced to an Affirmation of Baptismal Faith. It was used in a liturgy at a Christian Educators Conference held here in San Antonio. I was able to trace it to a sermon on a United Church of Canada website, but whether it was original to the preacher, something he or she got from somewhere else, or is part of the liturgical renewal taking place in the Church in Canada at this time I do not know. I simply know that it tells us something very important about what happens in Baptism and what it means to be the Body of Christ:

I believe in the power of baptism.

I believe that something deeper than I know happens

And I am bound forevermore to a life that is ancient

Yet born anew in me.

I believe in the power of baptism to transcend time and space

And call me to discipleship with Christ.

The muddy waters of the Jordan River

That swirl over him merge with the pristine waters of the baptismal font

That splash on me, and we become one as those waters are one.

I am no longer my own or on my own.

I believe in the power of baptism

To shake the heaves and my world.

I believe in the power of the spirit’s touch

And those baptized find themselves made new,

Made Beloved, made whole.

I believe in the power of baptism

To call us to ourselves and to Christ.

I believe in the power of baptism

To immerse us in the waters of blessing

And send us forth, wet and wild with hope,

To be a blessing to others. Amen.

If you’re still wrestling with whether to give up Chocolate or soft-drinks this Lent I’d encourage you to give up on giving up those things and simply to devote some time each day meditating on the Baptismal Rite in the prayer book. Maybe towards the end write your own Affirmation. And see if it doesn’t make a real difference not only for Lent but for your life. Amen.

(I am thankful for the insight in John Shea's book, "Eating With The Bridegroom: The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers; Mark, Year B" for many of the insights and language found in this sermon.  Just passin' along the tradition as I have inherited it.)