Readings

FIRST LESSON

The first lesson is from If God Is Love: Rediscovering Grace in an Ungracious World by Philip Gulley and James Mulholland

In his book, Beyond Words, Frederick Buechner writes, "The kind of work God usually calls you to is the kind of work: (a) that you need most to do; and (b) that the world most needs to have done." Much of the unhappiness we experience at work is because we're not doing what fills us with joy and the world with goodness. This misery is obvious in many low-status jobs, but it also plagues boardrooms. We will inevitably be miserable, no matter how high the salary, exalted the title, or generous the benefits, if we are not doing something that makes the world a more gracious place.

To be full of the Spirit is to have your heart broken by the things that break the heart of God. To be miserable is to exchange the joy of healing the brokenhearted, whether as a doctor, lawyer, waitress, or janitor, for baubles and beads. We must find that place of joy for both us and the world.

SECOND LESSON

The first lesson is from the Gospel of Mark, Chapter 1, verses 4 through 13

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven saying, "You are my Child, the Beloved; and with you I am well pleased."

And the Spirit immediately drove Jesus out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness for forty days, was tempted by Satan; and was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.

This Week's Sermon

Date: January 11, 2009

Title: A Baptism and a Broken Heart

Message Delivered By: Rev. Joe Mc Murray

A tourist saved his money for a once-in-a-lifetime vacation, and was staying at a hotel near the Grand Canyon. On his first morning there, he went to the concierge desk to ask about hiking into the canyon. The concierge told the man that there were groups that offered tours several times per day.

But the man wanted to hike alone. He told the concierge that he had done some hiking in his youth, and felt capable enough. And besides, he didn’t want to pay for something he could do by himself.

The concierge told the man to at least speak to one of the tour guides about what precautions he might take. So he called one of the tour groups, and a guide spoke to him. At first the guide tried to convince the man to go with a group, but when that failed, he told the man that the canyon could be very dangerous, and he should not go alone. He also told the man to be sure to carry a backpack with lots of water for every person because it was sometimes 10 to 20 degrees hotter the further down you hiked.

So the man stubbornly set off on his own to the top of the canyon. He had come on this trip by himself and was not in the mood to try to find a compatible companion to accompany him.

After hiking several hundred feet down one of the paths, the man realized he had veered off his course, and was unable to see the path he just traveled. In fact, the path ahead was getting so narrow, he was barely able to keep his footing, and there was a huge drop before anything would break his fall.

So the man decided to return the way he came. He tried to turn around but his backpack got caught on a rock. The man tried to reach behind to free himself, but he lost his footing and slid several feet down the canyon wall until his backpack got caught on a thick root that was sticking out the side of the canyon.

The man was actually dangling there, and he looked down and saw nothing upon which to land safely. The man realized that the more he tried to grab hold of the root, the more unsteady he became. He began to panic, and tried to claw and scratch behind to grab something—anything—to save himself.
The man was filled with terror, and called for help. Perhaps, he thought, one of the tour groups would hear his cries. He yelled and screamed, yet heard no reply. He just dangled in mid-air.

Then the man had another idea, and he called out toward heaven, "Hello, can you hear me?" Nothing.

”God, can you hear me?” he yelled at the top of his lungs. Still nothing.

Finally he said, “Oh, God help me, is there anyone there? Anyone at all?”

And suddenly, A calm, powerful voice came out of the sky, "Yes, there is someone here." The tourist pleaded, "Can you help me? Can you help me?" The calm voice replied, "Yes, I probably can. What is your problem?"

The man replied, "I slipped and fell and slid all the way down the side of this cliff, and I’m dangling in space holding to this root that looks like it’s about to let go. Please help me."

The voice from above said, "I'll try. Do you believe in me?"

“What?” the man said.

“Do you believe in me?”

"Oh, yes, yes, I believe."

"And do you have faith?" the voice asked.

“Do I have what?” the man strained to hear.

“Do you have faith?” the voice replied.

"Yes, yes. I have strong faith. A very strong faith."

The calm voice said, "Well, in that case, simply let loose of the bush and everything will turn out fine."

There was a tense pause, probably for about 10 or 15 seconds. Then the tourist yelled out even louder, "Is there anyone else up there?"

You know, sometimes we cry very loudly for help. We are so desperate, it doesn’t matter who hears us. And sometimes, God responds, but not in the way we like or through the person we prefer.

It behooves us always to listen to the voice of God, however it comes to us, particularly when we have sought help. And it is always wise to listen most to the voice you are least likely to trust. God comes to us in mysterious ways.

Please pray with me:
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Most gracious and listening God, you hear us when we cry to you for help. You respond, but often we are discomfited by the mechanism of the deliveyr or the messenger you choose to speak through. Let us always be attuned to your presence, your direction, your desire and your voice. And may my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen.
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I don’t know if it is as incredible to you as it is to me that in a matter of just two weeks, Jesus has gone from infant through the terrible twos and is now an adult standing in the River Jordan to be baptized by his cousin, John the Baptist.

Now I have never raised human children. But I can imagine what a relief it might be for some parents to be able to skip, in a matter of weeks, the terrible twos, adolescence and puberty, the driver’s license, college tuition and those years of helping with the first mortgage.

In all seriousness, because of this particular year in the church calendar and the fact that Lent comes so early this year, we are moving very quickly from Jesus’ birth to the early days of his ministry. But before we find ourselves around the table at the last supper, let us savor this moment that marks the beginning of Jesus’ calling, the voice from heaven that establishes his position, and the prediction of John the Baptist as to how this prophet, this unique child of God, will bring others—through faith and belief—to God.

This scripture from Mark is very clear: John was baptizing people in ritualistic fashion to symbolize their own calling to live life differently, to forge a new path, and to think about their spiritual relationship with the Divine in a new way.

The earliest traces of the history of Christian baptism are found in the Old Testament. There we find multiple practices of purification by water. But it was John the Baptist who initiated baptism in the Jewish community as a way of imploring people to prepare for the coming of what John called ‘God’s kingdom.’ Baptism later became quite prominent as a Christian practice that is a common theme with regard to repentance from sin, faith and salvation, and membership in the Christian community. Baptism signifies the invitation, arrival and acceptance of the Holy Spirit.

Now it’s true there are centuries of Christian tradition that require baptism as an entry point of belief in the Christian community. But this raises serious questions, among them, how baptism is administered across Christian traditions. Though we consider baptism a sacrament, and say that we require it as one that must be administered—as many claim—in order for a person to come into that particular state of grace—or eligibility in the Christian community, in truth, baptism is a very personal sacrament. As a requirement, however, Baptism, as it is defined by our rigid standards, becomes, in some way, a litmus test about what we believe or what we say we believe.

This is, to be quite honest, in direct conflict with what we, as participants in MCC churches, say we subscribe to: that there is no litmus test, there is no specific creed that we all must speak, that we all have and are entitled to our individual and independent thoughts and beliefs about the Bible, about who Jesus was, and about our relationship with God.

For those of us who were baptized, it depends on your faith community and its practices, or perhaps the choices your parents made for you, or the individual choice you made about the sacrament as to whether or not you participated in it.

I was born and raised in the Catholic Church. I had no choice about baptism. I certainly don’t remember it because I was only a few weeks old. Nobody asked my opinion about it. For that matter, no one asked my opinion about my confirmation, either. Confirmation is another sacrament in the Catholic tradition that signified a young person’s ‘coming of age’ spiritually, and confirmed the rite of baptism they received in their infancy. That happened at the ripe old age of eleven—you know—when I really knew who I was and what life was about.

Of course, converts to Catholicism are baptized and confirmed as adults.
My father converted from his first tradition, which was Greek Orthodox, though he was already baptized in that church. And other Christian traditions provide a plethora of options about how and when baptism is to be administered. What they are all clear about, or at least they think they are, is that baptism is a requirement for entrance into the Christian community.

What does baptism mean? What does it signify? Again, it means and signifies different things for different people. Someone said to me recently, “I can’t become a member of your church because I wasn’t baptized and I don’t share a traditional belief about who Jesus is or was.”

We can easily say, “Well, that’s fine. You can believe what you choose. You can come here and participate in the church. We still love you, but you are still not like us. This is the prerequisite—that you believe at least this much of what we believe. Otherwise, we are watering down our system of beliefs and participation.”

This is the argument of theologians and scholars across the centuries. And this is just about baptism. Never mind what the Jewish people who formed the Jesus movement felt about non-Jews participating. They also felt it was fine to hang out with them, but they could never be full partners. Until they changed the rules.

Never mind that the church used its own moral authority to condone slavery and condemn interracial marriage. Eventually, they changed the rules.

And never mind what conformist Christianity thinks about human sexuality and same-sex marriage. I guarantee you, they will ultimately change the rules.

And so the question becomes, “What do we save, what do we gain, what do we accomplish by denying membership—and by membership, I mean full participation— to someone who lives among us, someone we love deeply and who loves us deeply, someone who participates fully in the life of the church, someone who practices the same life-giving principles of love, humility, hospitality, welcoming the stranger, and caring for the poor and marginalized?

What is the difference between this person who chose not to be baptized, and a person like me who had no choice not to be baptized? I don’t know that I have the full answer to that. But I will tell you that it merits our attention.

We say that no matter who you are, or wherever you are from, you are welcome here. The requirements of membership are that you give of yourself, you give from the gifts you possess, you give of your time and energy, and you share resources as you are able. But you must also believe in something very specific and particular or else all you can achieve is that you can almost be just like one of us.

These are all difficult yet valid questions to pose.

If we look carefully at the words of John the Baptist, “I have baptized you with water; but the one who is coming will baptize you with the Holy Spirit," it seems the Christian church missed the entire point of the Pentecost and receiving the Holy Spirit without baptism. The bible does not mention the disciples’ baptism, yet the early church, in its wisdom and authority, deemed that this would be the public statement of declaration of one’s beliefs—it would become a person’s testimonial of their faith.

Did you know that some MCC churches do not require baptism for membership? The bylaws of the Fellowship distinctly require it, yet some individual churches—many of them, actually—have changed their bylaws to emphasize the other aspects of leading a life like Jesus rather than subscribing to particular beliefs about him through the ritual of Baptism.

Our bylaws clearly state a requirement of baptism for membership. But I suggest that this is merely symbolic, because we all have witnessed at least a few in our experience who very publicly flaunt their official Christian participation, but do not live a Christian life.

Now there is something else that is as important as what we believe about the parameters of Christianity. And that can be summed up in this comment from our first reading:

“To be full of the Spirit is to have your heart broken by the things that break the heart of God. To be miserable is to exchange the joy of healing the brokenhearted—whether as a doctor, lawyer, waitress, or janitor—for baubles and beads. We must find that place of joy for both us and the world.”

We, as Christians, can choose to focus on the letter of the law or the spirit of the law.

Is it important that we have a set system of beliefs and practices and rituals as a faith community? Or is it more important to live the life Jesus implored us to live within and beyond the faith community?

Is it important to be find our ultimate happiness and to be carefree without ever experiencing pain or suffering? Or is it more important to allow suffering into our lives so that we can experience the fullness of joy, while at the same time bringing joy to others?

Is it important that we say and look and behave and claim to believe a particular thing in a particular way? Or is it more important that, as I said last week, people know who we are by what we do rather than just by what we believe?

Perhaps having our hearts broken is more of a badge of honor of our faith than learning to be or do or say or believe certain required things, while at the same time, being unable to comprehend or empathize or have compassion for the sorrow and pain of others.

I ask you to join me in pondering these things in the coming days and weeks and months. We don’t have to—which, for me, is one of the best reasons to bring it to heart and pray about it and ask ourselves, “How are we called to respond to the Christian condition; how inclusive are we and how inclusive do we want to be when we say, ‘all are welcome’; and what does ‘welcome’ really mean?”

It is worth our time to ponder these things. May we be so willing. Amen.