Good morning! Today is the Baptism of our Lord, the yearly remembrance of Jesus' baptism in the River Jordan. It’s also when we remember our own baptism and what it means in our life.
Our baptismal vows, which we'll say after this sermon (as is the custom of our church on this day) emphasize in particular our promise of service to others. So it is especially fitting that, this weekend, we are (as I like to say) "doing church" in multiple ways and places. Yesterday morning our pantry team was down at St. James Fordham preparing bags of groceries for the food insecure. That was followed by a fellowship meal with the volunteers from their congregation. This morning, we have a group of people down in New York City, handing out coats and hot food to the homeless. All of these people are carrying out their baptismal vows to "seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves.” Just as those of us here are fulfilling our vow to "follow in the apostles teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread and in the prayers."
Added to this, last Thursday was the commemoration of Julia Chester Emery, a saint in the Episcopal Church and parishioner here at St. James in the early 20th century. She founded the international aid organization--still going strong today--United Thank Offering. And then, President Jimmy Carter, whose life of service we’ve heard a lot about this past week, and who was remembered on Thursday at our National (Episcopal) Cathedral in a beautiful service.
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Every year the Baptism of our Lord, or first Sunday after the Epiphany, gives us a chance not only to remember Jesus’ baptism, but also (and importantly) to reflect on our baptismal vows and how we're living into them (or not). We're just two weeks out from making our New Year's resolutions (none yet broken, I’m sure!), but how often do those resolutions involve ways we'd like to be more spiritually engaged?
That's what today is for. This new year, what will you do to live into those baptismal promises? I say “live into” because they’ve already been made for us. God’s love is already assured. You can’t miss the theme of love in today’s readings -- it’s in the voice of God at Jesus’ baptism, “This is my son, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” It’s in the reading from Isaiah, where God says “you are precious in my sight, and I love you.”
All these people feeding the homeless or hungry this weekend, all of you sitting here in worship, you’re not, by doing any of this, adding to or subtracting from God’s love. You’re responding to it. I think that’s especially important for people in this achievement-oriented culture to hear. We don’t score points with God by showing love to others. We show love to others because of the love shown to us. The more we feel that, the greater the desire to get out there, and to do good. So before anything else today, reflect on and take in that love. Our readings immerse us in it. This day, before anything else, is about That.
I like these words from a sermon by one of my former colleagues in this diocese, Tim Schenk, commenting briefly on God’s words of affirmation to Jesus at the baptism:
With you I am well pleased. The amazing thing about these words of affirmation is that Jesus hasn’t done anything yet! His public ministry begins immediately after his baptism. Before his hair is even dry, Jesus is driven out into the wilderness to be tempted by Satan, a testing of sorts, and then his whirlwind ministry begins. And yet God is already pleased with him. Not for what he’s done or what he will do, but simply for who he is as a creature wonderfully and lovingly made in God’s image. And I think this says much about God. Whatever we do or fail to do, God is well pleased with us. That’s the baseline. When it comes to God’s interaction with humanity, love is God’s default position. We’re so quick to build upon our own self-doubts that we often forget just how much God loves us simply for being our unique selves.
And with that in mind, we can now look briefly at the vows that we’ll say just after this sermon, motivated to fulfill them hopefully not from guilt or a sense of unworthiness, but by our renewed conviction that we are loved fully by God exactly for who we are.
Will you continue in the apostles teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?
This is about connecting to community, to the church, commiting to this weekly act of gathering, learning, encouraging, and remembering where it all started, with the sharing of bread and wine among Jesus and his friends all those years ago. As I said a moment ago, we define “church” here in many ways: it’s bagging groceries for those in need, ladling hot scrambled eggs to the homeless, discussing a book in someone’s home. Bishop Matt no longer uses the metric “average Sunday attendance” to measure a church’s health, but rather “Average weekly engagement” because it includes all these other things churches do. But this, worship and the Eucharist, the breaking of bread, is our center. It connects us to each other and to the wider Christian world. It’s an unbroken tradition, and it both grounds and links all the other things we do here.
Will you persevere in resisting evil, and whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?
That’s about always being on the lookout for ways you’re drawn into thoughts and actions that harm, rather than heal, the world. And when that happens, because no one is perfect, recognize it quickly, repent, learn from it, and try again. There’s a Benedictine saying from the Rule of Benedict: Always we begin again. There’s no limit to how often we can stop, turn, and start over.
Will you proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ?
That’s about both speaking of and living out your Christian faith. Sometimes we’re more comfortable with living it, not speaking about it. Though that’s better than those who speak about it and refuse to live it. Still, it’s both: word, and example.
Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?
We know this one, which comes from the Golden Rule. The connection of “all persons” here with “neighbor” reminds us of the parable Good Samaritan, which opens when a lawyer asks Jesus, “And who is my neighbor.” Everyone, even and especially those you’ve been taught to look down on or keep at a distance. Notice how “loving yourself” is assumed; it’s rooted in the love of God and our conviction that that love is real, and it extends to each one of us, fully and unconditionally.
And finally,
Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
On Christmas Eve I quoted Martin Luther King Jr: “True peace is not the absence of tension, it’s the presence of justice.” Christian peace isn’t tepid or wan, a kind of self-help tranquility. It’s the peace that comes from doing right, of knowing you’re making the world as good a place as is in your power to do.
Today, as we stand at the beginning of a new year, we profess once again our baptismal vows. We give thanks for all those living those vows out this weekend, and above all, we remember what lies at the heart of everything we do: the unconditional, unwavering love of God.