Sermon for Jan 13, 2008 - The Baptism of our Lord
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..." |
|
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. |
Isn’t that just a gorgeous poem, written with such emotional depth? Wouldn’t you just love someone special to pen something like that with your name attached—publicly express their love and devotion and sheer delight in your very being? And for those of you sitting there thinking that if anyone were to do that it would be, Oh so awkward, let’s face it, aren’t they words that you would love to have whispered in your ear in a private moment?
After all, the quest for love is as primal a human drive as the need for air, water and sustenance. Infants from the cradle will act in ways to elicit a smile, a positive response from a parent. Young people dress and act in ways to attract attention from their peers, beautiful gowns are purchased for proms, tuxedos are rented and shoes are polished in the hopes of eliciting a romantic response from ones date. Huge amounts of money are spent on weddings in the name of love. The death of a spouse or life partner is the most devastating of events in a person’s life. We spend our lives buying new clothes, learning new skills, reading self help books, losing weight, growing back our hair and purchasing pharmaceutics to make ourselves more attractive, acceptable and ultimately, loved.
I fear that in the church we replicate that which we do in life: strive and strive for the love of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Our own minds have translated those bible stories into acts of great righteousness deserving of the love of God. We imagine that the patriarch’s, prophets and kings achieved, earned, acquired, by their own might the love of God. Abraham placed his trust in God and was even willing to sacrifice his own son. Isaac was a great patriarch who fathered Jacob who fathered the 12 tribes of Israel. And then there are the likes of Moses—“let my people go.” And there’s David, slaying the giant Goliath. Solomon was wise beyond our comprehension. Of course God would love them. They’re worthy. And in our minds eye we read these stories, know of these men and their wives and their children and assume that if God is to love us, we must DO something.
Maybe if I come to church enough, God will love me.
Maybe if I help deliver meals, God will love me.
Maybe if I teach Spirit Builders, God will love me.
Maybe if I mentor a confirmand, God will love me.
Maybe if I read my Bible more, God will love me.
Maybe if I help out with office tasks, God will love me.
Maybe if I provide a coffee hour, God will love me.
Maybe if I work for Habitat, God will love me.
Maybe if I tithe, God will love me.
But for heavens sake, take a close look at those guys from the Bible. Abraham had trust issues and was willing to toss away his truly first born son, Ishmael. Isaac raised a completely dysfunctional family. Jacob was a whiny, manipulative mama’s boy. Moses most famous line was, “I can’t.” David was an adulterer. Solomon was idolatrous in his worship. Personally, I think it’s a miracle that God didn’t smite them.
And as for our need to work to earn God’s love, does it never cross our little pea brains that we already have the unconditional, ever gracious love of God? Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps, just perhaps, the God who created you, who knit you together in the womb, the God who breathed life into you, delights in you just because that’s God’s nature?
Let’s look at the story of Jesus as an example.
What story? There is no story. No real prior story anyway. The last time we saw Jesus he was a baby being hauled off to Egypt. The family returned and set up housekeeping in Nazareth. Fast forward to John the Baptist and the river Jordan. Was Jesus worthy of being loved by the father? If it’s based on a list of accomplishments, then someone please tell me what he did. Was he a great student? Was he an accomplished athlete? Was he handsome, turning the heads of all the local ladies? Had he become well versed in scripture, a child prodigy so to speak? Was he known for his amazing miracles as a young man?
I don’t know. We don’t know. All we know is that Jesus was. He was born, he grew, he existed. It’s really rather unremarkable. He tromps down to the river Jordan and there is baptized by John. And then there is an amazing scene where Jesus comes up out of the water and the heavens are ripped apart, the Holy Spirit implodes on human history, and God’s voice booms out of the heavens, “This is my son, the beloved, in him I am well pleased.”
And as far as we know, with the exception of someone who heard the story and passed it on, no one seemed to notice. Because at the river Jordan was a rather unremarkable man being baptized right alongside of other rather unremarkable people and no one expected God to make a proclamation.
But proclaim God did. “This is my beloved son, I take great delight in him.” The same words uttered over the entire created order in Genesis—and God was delighted. Delighted.
You might have heard it last night as Charlie was baptized. I don’t know much about Charlie, Pastor Kit spoke with him. He seems like a nice enough guy, but rather unremarkable. I don’t know that he’s ever raised the dead or parted waters or freed an oppressed nation. Heck, I don’t even know what he does for a living, if it’s righteous or good or admirable. All I really know about Charlie to this point in his life is that he was born and raised and now has arrived here as a man. Everything else about his story is a blank slate to me. And I don’t really care because he was washed in the waters of baptism, cleansed from all sin, and as he came out of the waters, God spoke to him, “Charlie, you are now my beloved child, with you I am well pleased.” Charlie, God said, you are my son, I have claimed you, I have redeemed you. I love you. Not for what you have done, not for what is in your past, but because you are mine.
Those are the words we spend our lives longing to hear. And right here they are. In the waters of baptism, but not only in the waters of baptism. They are spoken for you each week in the absolution following confession, in the words of the creed. They are painted for you in the colors of the worship space and sung in the harmonies of the choir. They are baked and sweetened for you in the bread and wine of holy communion.
My children, my beloved, in you I take delight. In your existence I take delight. Not for what you can do, for that comes from God alone. Not for what you offer, for that first came from God. Not for how you look or what you do or how much money you give for those things are all gifts from God.
You, yes, you were washed in the waters of baptism and God proclaimed his unending love for YOU. You, my child, are beloved, in you I am delighted.
Messiah Lutheran church, you are my children, my beloved, in you I take delight, in you I am well pleased. Amen
Copyright © The Rev. Aileen Robbins. All rights reserved; use requires permission
