Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
January 8, 2006
Mark 1: 4-11
Last year, a group of American Christian leaders visited the country of Rwanda. One morning they boarded a bus and went to the village of Nyamirambo, a small Muslim community in the midst of this overwhelmingly Christian country. Indeed, in 1990 approximately 90% of the people of Rwanda identified themselves as Christians. The tour leader informed them that the area around Nyamirambo was the only area in Rwanda that did not experience the horrific genocide of 1994, the murderous violence that left over 800,000 dead. When asked why, the tour leader responded, “Because their identity as Muslims is so fundamental, so important to them, that they could not envision killing one another. Their commitment to Allah created their fundamental identity, more important than any tribal or national identity.”
L. Gregory Jones, dean of Duke Divinity School, who was on this trip, writes, “We Christians felt ashamed. A small Muslim community, a minority of the population, had not only refused to become complicit in the genocide, but actually served as a refuge for others. We visited churches that were the sites of massacres, sometimes with the complicity of pastors and priests, and learned that more people were killed in churches than anywhere else. Yes, we also learned of heroic actions by some pastors, priests and lay people. There were stories of individuals risking their lives, and of pastors moving people from one safe house to another.”
“Even so, we could not shake the memory of the visit to Nyamirambo. Why did the Muslim community recognize its fundamental commitment of its members’ religious faith, while the Christian commitment was so spotty? We could not avoid concluding that there had been a failure on the part of the church, namely a failure to shape Christian believers so that they would have recognized their identity as Christians – their baptism in Christ – had fundamentally altered their identity. They should no longer have been primarily Hutu or Tutsi, for they had become one in Jesus Christ. Or had they?” He concludes, “What would it mean for Christians, in Rwanda or in the United States or anywhere else, to take our identity in Christ as the primary defining identity of our lives? How would we then envision our relationships and commitments?”
Today, as I joined with you in the call to worship, it occurred to me that the words, “We worship a God whose love flows through water,” may have been less than comforting. With the Russian River once again flowing through Guerneville and all the damage caused by water there and throughout Northern California, and considering that all this was happening at the same time we were marking the anniversary of the tragic tsunami in southern Asia, the idea of God’s love flowing through water may be one that right now, is a little hard for us to wrap our brains around. But isn’t that the way it is with water? That which refreshes and cleanses and gives life, can also destroy and frighten and threaten life. Water is both good and dangerous. I recall the words spoken about Aslan the lion, the Christ-figure in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. When one of the children asks if Aslan is safe, she is told, “No, he is not safe, he is not a tame lion, but he is good.”
That’s water. It’s not safe, but it is good. And I would submit that the very same thing can be said about the sacrament that uses water. Yes, baptism is good, but don’t think it’s safe. In fact, William Kincaid, a Disciples of Christ pastor in Kentucky, suggests that all of our baptismal fonts should be posted with a caution sign, similar to signs posted up and down coastlines all over the world, a sign that might read: “Caution: Don’t Come Too Near the Water.” Why do you suppose he would he say such a thing?
It is now January 8th. Make any New Year’s resolutions for 2006? Are you keeping any resolutions for 2006? These have got to be big days for places like Weight Watchers or Jazzercise as people resolve to get back in shape this year! The other day on Good Morning America Diane Sawyer held up a skirt and vowed in front of all of her viewers that she would be able to fit into this skirt before the year is over! I don’t know about you, but I can hardly wait to find out if that happens!
Resolutions are good. I make them, I break them. I guess it is a way of saying that we want to make some changes in our lives, that we would like to do better. But when the weeks speed by and ordinary life is resumed, old habits tend to reassert themselves. Come next January, the same resolutions are often made anew with plenty of hope, but no greater chance for success.
“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, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’”
This is no new year’s resolution, a little something Jesus does, say, lose ten pounds, to enhance his life and help him feel better about myself. Nor is it a nice, sentimental ceremony, something Jesus does because everybody does it. This is baptism - a defining moment in his life. He emerges from that water knowing his true identity as a child of God, an identity that nothing can take away. He emerges from that water knowing he is called to serve this God, even if it means going to a cross. Goodness and danger. That’s the way it is with baptism.
In the words of William Kincaid, “Water is dangerous and water is good. Baptism is good, and yes, there are times when baptism is dangerous. We shouldn’t come near the waters of baptism unless we are at least open to the likelihood that in those waters our lives may take a completely different direction than the one we are charting for ourselves. Baptism is not about having our plans confirmed, our agenda seconded, and our dreams blessed, but about looking to God in order to understand what we should do with the rest of our lives...It is God’s agenda. Baptism gives us something more than preoccupation with our own lives and with the triviality around us. When we follow Jesus in baptism it is an agreement that his cup and cross become our own. Our baptism places us in solidarity with Jesus and all those Jesus loves...We shouldn’t come near the waters unless we are seeking the peace that passes understanding and are willing to give up on the peace that the world gives. We shouldn’t come near the waters unless we are grounding our lives in an eternal power and a divine hope. We shouldn’t come near the water unless we are willing to cut ties to everything that holds us down and keeps us back from God’s abundant way.”
“You are my son, the beloved.” In baptism Jesus is set apart by the Divine, called by name, and claimed as God’s very own. And this morning I am arguing that the same is true for each of us. In bringing our children for baptism, in our own baptism, we are saying nothing less than, first and foremost, we belong to God, and we are open to God’s creative Spirit continually birthing us, claiming us, renewing us. You might say being born again, and again and again.
While self-professed Christians in Rwanda were slaughtering each other, often in their churches, the people of a small Muslim community were protecting each other and even offering refuge to those from outside their community. Their identity as Muslims transcended racial ties, national ties, even family ties. Their identity as Muslims meant they would not kill each other. Somehow the churches of Rwanda failed to teach and embody the life-transforming, life-giving character of Christian discipleship. When the killing began, their unique identity as baptized and beloved sons and daughters of God was quickly and tragically forgotten. I pray we don’t forget and I fear we are lost if we do.
In the words of retired UCC pastor and author, Jack Good, “Multiple forces will attempt to redefine the child after she leaves the baptismal font. Commercial messages will attempt to convince her that she is owned by a great economic machine whose purpose is to make her a voracious consumer. Other voices will tell children that they belong to no one but themselves, that individualism is the supreme god. Government will attempt in myriad ways to establish its ultimate claim on our progeny…The imprint of baptism, however, transcends all this. Those who know they are owned by God recognize their primary identity, not as cogs of some economic machine. They acknowledge they cannot thrive on their strength alone. They realize they are not born to be sinew in the government’s military muscle. The baptism service has taught them who they are and whose they are.”
I don’t need to tell you, in my own personal life I experienced this personally the entire month of December, that life has a way of “wringing us out.” It is easy to give in to hopelessness and despair and to forget that God dwells in and among us. But if we can just remember that we are baptized, if we can recall that touch of water upon our head and our lives, that just might help us recall and reclaim our identity as God’s beloved…no matter what the world may say to us or do to us. And indeed, if we are doing our job, we ought to be reminded of that here each and every Sunday.
Reflecting on her baptism, Barbara Sholis writes, “Many nights have come and gone since I passed through the waters of baptism on a warm April night. At times, life’s circumstances or my own regrettable choices, have dimmed my remembrance of God’s promise for my life. At first glance into the mirror, I still see only a rebellious creature. But if I really gaze into the mirror, I also see a water mark, a permanent tattoo, that Imago Christi, the Image of Christ, reminding me of my baptism and the One who calls me to be the beloved child of God with whom God is well pleased.” And by God’s grace, so may it be for each of us.