jesus

Still on Tiptoe, 150 Years Later

A sermon preached at the Community of St. John Baptist in Mendham, NJ, celebrating the 150th Anniversary of the Arrival of the Sisters from England to found the Community of St. John Baptist in America, February 5, 1874. The scriptures are Deuteronomy 11:8-12,26-27, 2 Corinthians 5:17-6:2, and Luke 3:15-16, 21-22.

St. John Baptist House at 233 E. 17th St., between 1877 and 1880.

When I was in college, I somehow came across the translation of the Bible known as the New English Bible, and it quickly became my favorite. What I love about this version (which was used mostly in England, from the 1960s until it was updated in 1989 as the Revised English Bible), was that the translators used the “dynamic equivalence” principle for translating. This meant that instead of translating word for word, they aimed to put the meaning of a phrase into the vernacular, while maintaining the essence of the message. This makes for some wonderful turns of phrase.

For example, in Jeremiah 20, when Jeremiah feels let down, if not double-crossed by God, the New English Bible has him say, “O Lord, thou hast duped me, and I have been thy dupe; thou hast outwitted me and hast prevailed.” (Jeremiah 20:7)

Psalm 104 includes the beautiful verse, “Here is the great immeasurable sea, in which move creatures beyond number. Here ships sail to and fro, here is Leviathan whom thou hast made thy plaything.” (Psalm 104:26)

But I especially love the New English Bible’s translation of the beginning of today’s Gospel. Just a few minutes ago, we heard the passage begin, “As the people were filled with expectation.” That’s clear enough. It’s direct. We understand it.

But the New English Bible announces, “The people were on the tiptoe of expectation, all wondering about John….” (Luke 3:15)

The “tiptoe of expectation.” I love that. It’s so easy to picture. We’ve all stood on tiptoe, perhaps to see over other people; maybe to reach up high for something. The other day, I was standing on tiptoe to try to pull a bit of pine garland down from up high in the choir of the church, where the garland would have been happy to proclaim Christmas all through Lent and into Easter.

The people who heard John the Baptist and were really listening, were doing so on tiptoe, as they remained grounded, but at the same time, stretched forward and up, eager for something new. They were grounded in the Hebrew scriptures. They knew the prophets and were waiting for a Messiah. But with John’s preaching, they begin to listen with new ears and look with new eyes to discern if John might be, in fact, that Messiah, or maybe the new Elijah, pointing the way. John, of course, is clear about his role, and he tells them, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” But that must have made his listeners even more curious, as they looked and leaned even more.

One hundred and fifty years ago, when Sr. Frances Constance, Sr. Fanny, and Sr. Emma left Clewer for America, they surely must have been on the tiptoe of expectation. They were grounded in Jesus Christ, in the Church, and in Community. But they were really reaching forward, leaning forward, moving forward. Sr. Helen Margaret was on spiritual tiptoe, as she so wanted to join them, but wasn’t able to do so until a year later. And yet, Sr. Helen Margaret’s vision and prayer, enabling her to dream with God, was able to make her family’s home available at 220 Second Avenue.

Also looking and praying ahead was Mother Harriet Monsell, Mother Superior, who, a little like Moses, could imagine the future, but understood her role was in supporting, equipping, encouraging, and sending forth. Like Moses, she must have warned the sisters, “The land you’re about to enter into is not like here. But I remind you of the blessing of God, and if you are faithful, know that you, too, will be a blessing.”

In his Second Letter to the Corinthians St. Paul reminds us that the “old place” or the “new place” should be irrelevant if we are, in fact, continually being made new in Christ. Just as God’s Spirit is always and everywhere doing something new, don’t take this for granted, he reminds us. Don’t assume the Spirit will manifest just like the old days. Instead, “now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation!”

What does this mean for us?

Well, in part, I think it means that this 150th commemoration should not so much be an occasion for plaques or memorials. It’s not a retirement party. It SHOULD be a renewal, a recommitment, as we all seek to follow Christ on the tiptoe of expectation.

As for the people who listened to John the Baptist and then met and followed Jesus, our calling is to be grounded while being open to the future.

We’re grounded in community, in prayer, in the Rule, in the Church, in the heart of Jesus Christ. But stretching forward, we are listening. We are looking. We are open and receiving of those who long for the love of God, especially those who aren’t even aware of their longing.

As Mother Harriet wrote to the sisters heading for America, I think her words apply to us, as well. She wrote, “[But] you have opened your soul to take in the life of God, and now He will lead you on, as and how He wills. My heart and prayers are with you.”

Let us be strengthened and encouraged that “the heart and prayers” of Mother Harriet, all the sisters, and all the saints surround us as they watch our faithfulness, on the tiptoe of expectation.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

More into Healing

A sermon for the Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany, February 4, 2024. The scriptures are Isaiah 40:21-31, Psalm 147:1-12, 21c, 1 Corinthians 9:16-23, and Mark 1:29-39.

Yesterday was a somewhat obscure date on the church calendar—unless you might happen to be a singer, an actor, or someone else who relies on their voice.  February 3 is the day for commemorating St. Blase, a fourth century bishop and physician in Sebaste, a part of present day Turkey.  As a doctor, Blase was known to have a particular gift of healing when it came to objects stuck in the throat, such as a chicken bone fish bone.  And so, on his day, throats are sometimes blessed, often with a special contraption made of two candles.  An opera singer used to always come to the church I served on St. Blase’s Day, and she affirms that in all her years of singing, she has never missed a performance due to a sore throat!

When we think about healing, we’re moving into complicated territory.  So many things come together when one feels healing—medicine, general condition of the body, the state of the soul, the community, the general condition of one’s surroundings, one’s emotional condition (whether one is worried, or anxious, or free of such burdens).  And then there is God—God stepping into our world in some way, making a miracle, and doing the unexpected, unearned, unmerited, unpredictable thing.

What we do does not replace a medical doctor.  It doesn’t make up for eating a balanced diet, getting some exercise and generally trying to live a good life.  We do not deal in superstition and we don’t offer magic.  What we offer is sacramental—a blessed combination of prayer and touch and love.  This is what the church of Jesus Christ offers when it offers healing:  it offers prayer, touch and love.

In today’s Gospel, Simon Peter’s mother-in-law is healed by Jesus.  He takes her by the hand, lifts her up and the fever leaves her.  Later that same day, people bring to Jesus those who are sick and those who have demons. The sick and the possessed were not allowed in the synagogue or the temple.   These were people who had run out of options.  They didn’t have anywhere else to turn, and so they turned to Jesus.  And he healed them.  Jesus then continues to heal throughout Galilee, in the towns and in the synagogues.  Praying, touching and loving.

Jesus healed people from sickness and from demons.  But he also healed them from and with their surroundings.  He healed public reaction to those who were feared because they were sick, feared because they were different, feared because society had labeled them “unclean.”  I wonder if we ever need that kind of healing, when we encounter another who is sick?  How do we respond to the sick?  What do we say to someone who is newly diagnosed?  What do we say when someone’s treatments are not going well?

So often, if we’re not careful, unconsciously we can begin to pull back, and to move away ever so slightly.  We might justify our distance by saying that we don’t want to say anything stupid, or we think our friend might just need a little space.

But the way of healing (for Jesus and for us) is to move forward.

Jesus always moves toward people—into their neighborhoods, into their homes, into their lives with prayer, touch and love.

Prayer is the first part, and it may seem like the easy part, but it’s the foundation, and we’ll lose our nerve to go any further if we are grounded in prayer.  When I pray for someone to get better or to be healed, I try really hard to be honest with God.  I know that part about “praying that God’s will would be done above all,” but I’m honest when I pray for someone and I ask God to make the person better, to take away the sickness, to make the person strong again.  One way I pray for another’s healing is simply to picture the person in the fullness of health—vibrant, happy, at ease.  That image of the person becomes my prayer as I hold that image in my mind for a minute or two and then imagine the person being that healthy and happy person in the presence of God.

We offer prayer as a part of healing, but we also offer touch.  The touch part of healing has to do with proximity.  Mindful that we live in a complicated age, I’m not for a moment suggesting that we smother one another in hugs and holds.  Touch can be as exclusive as it can be inclusive.  But there are many, many ways of showing physical presence while allowing for personal space. 

Closeness has as much to do with an open posture, with eye contact, with fewer words and with more deeply hearing ears.

We pray, we touch, and with the two, if we’re about healing, then we offer love.  Love can be accepting and warm and soothing.  And sometimes it just needs to be present in calm, quiet ways.  But sometimes love is louder and tougher and more direct.  Soft love for an addict is called enabling.   Love always, always, always has to do with the truth.

And finally, healing often goes beyond what we first see.

With Simone Crockett’s revision of our stained glass window booklet and with the publication of George Bryant’s on Henry Holiday, I’ve been looking closer than ever at our stained glass windows. The central window over the main altar is one I usually refer to as Christ raising Lazarus in the upper section and Jesus raising the blind man.  But there’s more.  Some entitle the window, “Christ the consoler,” and note that to the upper left is the raising of Jairus’s daughter. And the bottom tier has all kinds of people in need. They represent anyone who comes to Christ.

May the Spirt help us to assist in God’s ongoing work of healing, to pray, to move closer to people, and to love as best we can.

With the help of St. Blase and all the saints, may we be healed through Jesus the Great Physician, and may we offer this healing to the world.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Healing and Faithfulness

As is my custom, on Annual Meeting Sundays, I offer the Rector’s Annual Report (of the previous year) within the context of the sermon. This year’s Annual Meeting on the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany, January 28, 2024 reflects on our life and ministry in 2023. The scripture readings are Deuteronomy 18:15-20, Psalm 111, 1 Corinthians 8:1-13, and Mark 1:21-28.

The terra cotta balustrade on the West Porch entrance to the Church, completed in 2023.

Rector’s Report for 2023

The scriptures for today can raise all kinds of questions for us. Among them, the first reading asks, “Who do we listen to?” The Epistle wonders, “What should we eat?” And the Gospel asks, “How do we respond when faced with what feel like demons or negative forces around us?” The scriptures work together to suggest that we listen deeply and closely to God. They suggest that we look to God for guidance, for direction, and especially for healing.

On this Annual Meeting Sunday, it’s this third aspect of God’s presence, healing, that I’m using as a lens for reflecting on our previous year together, the church and program year of 2023.

Last year, we continued to navigate the resurgence of Covid-19 and other viruses, but we did what we could to encourage and foster healing of mind, body, and spirit.

Healing through Worship and Programs
Every Sunday morning, Adam Koch and our choir have helped heal our souls. On Sunday nights, Calvyn du Toit and Joe Bullock have led our worship in beauty and style. I was especially grateful for Adam’s efforts and all those who sang in the summer volunteer choir, with between 20 and 30 people joining each month.

Thanks to Liz Poole, we resumed yoga in person, on Tuesdays, and each week, we’ve had between ten and twenty people come, most of them non-churchgoers.

Our programs have brought healing and equipped us to carry this sense into the community. We’ve done this through a variety of educational opportunities and especially through our summer Sunday morning meditation. Thanks again to Simone Crockett for guiding us in our centering prayer and meditation.

Last summer, Adam and I coordinated a new program we called, “Summer Sounds and Social.” At each of these hot summer nights, we felt God’s healing presence as we shared music, food, fellowship, and learning.

While I resist associating faithfulness with numbers, I am grateful that we are mostly back at pre-pandemic attendance in our worship services. Demographics shift, and some of our most loyal and faithful members have died or moved away, but we are excited to have new people finding us and making us their church home.

We were able to hear firsthand how Holy Trinity’s grant from the Global Mission Commission of the Diocese of New York is helping people in Iraq, when we had programs with SWIC (Standing with Iraqi Christians) and were able to provide hospitality and a dinner program with Father Jerjez and Mr. Kakrash from St. George’s Anglican Church, Baghdad.

Holy Trinity continued to be deepened through our friendship with St. Stephen’s, Rochester Row, our link parish in the Diocese of London. We shared a Lenten series on art and spirituality and co-hosted an online discussion of Artificial Intelligence and Theology. The Rev. Graham Buckle, vicar of St. Stephens, visited in the spring and parishioners from our parishes have visited each other.

Healing Spaces
I don’t think it’s too strong a term to speak of “healing” our building, and in this, we’ve been especially blessed by (“Dr.,” or perhaps “Miracle Worker”) Lu Paone and his team of “specialists.” They’ve detected leaks, repaired drains, averted electrical disasters, renewed spaces to allow income, and much more.

After a power outage zapped our old sound system, we were able to replace it last year. A former rector of mine used to say that the devil lived in the sound system at that church, and so, that sense, the sound system at Holy Trinity has been “healed,” and seems to be helping more people feel included in what we do, say, and sing.

Our columbarium addition was completed and installed last year, and it continues to allow for healing at the time of death, as the remains of loved ones are now able to rest nearby, here with friends, here with family.

Healing in the Community
The programs of Holy Trinity Neighborhood Center, Inc. offer healing every week through the Saturday Supper, regularly feeding between 85 and 100 people. Joe Lipuma and others have attracted new volunteers, and we continue to move closer to expanding programs we might offer from HTNC. I’m grateful to the HTNC Board and to our president David Liston, for all his energy and leadership.

The Thanksgiving Dinner preparation and delivery was again a great success, thanks to members and friends of Holy Trinity and St. Joseph’s: Pat Baker, Erlinda Brent, Lydia Colon, Gretchen Dolan, Mark Kushner, Jeff McCulley, Suzanne Julig, Beth Markey, Joe Lipuma, and Kristen Ursprung. Again, last year, we had a friendraising cookout that became a cook-in because of rain and featured live music by Nick Viest and his band.

Anyone who has volunteered in St. Christopher’s House basement kitchen has probably fought with the kitchen cabinets. A few of us have even been bruised or battered when one of the old steel cabinet doors fell off or one hurt a finger trying to open or close a drawer. But late last year, momentum shifted for a renovation.

A few years ago, a small gift was made and matched by the donor’s company. That money was set aside for future kitchen renovation. Last month, we learned that through the successful application of Christine du Toit, we received a grant from her company, the World Gold Council. That grant, to HTNC, was for $50,000 to be used for kitchen renovation, which means we now have $60,000 to update and renovate the kitchen. We can’t do everything, and we know that there are some obstacles we cannot overcome, short of several million—such as ventilation issues and accessibility—but we are excited about making significant improvements, and perhaps even attracting more funds for future work. Stay tuned for more information.

We continue to work closely with Health Advocates for older People, Inc., and stay in close contact with Search & Care. But our closest neighbor is obviously the Merricat’s Castle School and its parent organization, The Association to Benefit Children. They are not only our major tenants in the Mission House, but they are also friends and family. We congratulate Merricats on its 50th anniversary this year and continue to give thanks for our visions of community and the support of children and families.

Healing through Community and Collegiality
Community and collegiality offer their own healing, and again, in 2023, we have been blessed by the volunteer faithfulness of the Rev. Deacon Pam Tang, the Rev. Doug Ousley, and the Rev. Margie Tuttle.

I’m grateful to our vestry, especially Treasurer Christine du Toit, and Secretary Paul Chernick, and to the Wardens Chris Abelt and Jean Blazina. Completing terms or rotating off vestry were Scott Hess, Leona Fredericks, and Donald Schermerhorn. Thanks to Chris Abelt and Jean Geater for standing for reelection and to Christine for agreeing to be appointed treasurer, even though term limitations require she not be on vestry for one year.

We have a sharp Investment Committee led by Jean Geater. At least quarterly, Jean, Christine du Toit, Franny Eberhart, Tony Milbank, and Alden Prouty met to keep an eye on our investment advisors and portfolio management. Thanks to Alden, who has stepped off that committee. We also have a wise and careful Budget and Finance Committee. Each month Chris Abelt, Jeanne Blazina, Christine du Toit, Jean Geater, Carol Haley, Kate Hornstien, and I meet to take a close look at the numbers. With their help, we are careful with our resources and aim to improve our stewardship in whatever way we can.

In 2023, we grieved the loss of several beloved members and friends of the parish. We mourned the loss of Allison Hajnal, Stephen Kramer, Harry Martin, Slade Mills, and of course, the former rector of the parish, the Rev. Bert Draesel. At the end of February, we celebrated Bert with a full church, several bishops, his family, and much of his music. Later last year, Ada Draesel gave Holy Trinity Bert’s personal piano, which is now in Draesel Hall, continuing Bert’s legacy of creating community and healing through music. Later this year, we’ll move into the public phase of raising money to restore the bell tower and get the bells ringing again in Bert’s memory.

As we look towards the future, I pray that God’s healing presence will surprise us with that attitude found in today’s Gospel, so that we become amazed and ask one another, “What is THIS new thing God is doing?”

There’s already new healing on the horizon. The Rev. Margie Tuttle is going to help us pray, think, and reactivate a healing prayer ministry during our 11:00 AM worship service.

Over one thousand daffodils, courtesy of Simone Crockett and a bunch of volunteer planters, is expected to sprout this spring in our garden.

With new members and friends of the parish, special occasions and celebrations marking our 125th anniversary, and a new Bishop of New York, we look forward to the many ways in which we can continue to move with God’s Healing and Life-giving Spirit.

On occasions like the Annual Meeting, I’m inclined to quote the words of St. Lawrence the Deacon. In the 3rd century, as the Roman emperor was trying to take all the treasures of the church, Lawrence was summoned before the emperor. He demanded that Lawrence turn over the church’s wealth. Lawrence gestured to the people around him, all those who made up the church—rich and poor, healthy and unhealthy, and said to the emperor THESE are the church’s treasures. The church IS truly rich, far richer than the emperor.

In good years and bad years, we have each other. Thanks be to God for the previous year, and may God bless us as we move forward.
Amen.

Redeeming “Evangelism”

A sermon for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany, January 21, 2024. The scripture readings are Jonah 3:1-5, 10, Psalm 62:6-14, 1 Corinthians 7:29-31, and Mark 1:14-20.

I had a friend in college who loved to compete. Every minute he wasn’t in class he was playing basketball. He was also a devout Southern Baptist, considering going off to seminary after college. Had you asked anyone on our floor, he would have been “most likely to be a minister.”

Rick had a routine for Saturday mornings. He would drive to his hometown, about an hour away, round up a few kids from his youth group, go to a public park and play basketball. The idea was to start a pickup game and eventually draw in strangers. At some break in the game, Rick would begin to talk about the youth group, his church and his own faith in Jesus Christ. He would very casually invite any of the new kids just met to join them all for church the next day, to come and hear more about Jesus and God’s love for all people.

My friend would refer to this Saturday morning process as “winning people for Jesus.” In other words, if someone were introduced to the Christian faith in the process of hearing about Jesus, praying to God, reading a bit of scripture, and promising to pattern one’s life after the life of Jesus, then that person had been “won” to Christ.

Now, I fully understand if that sort of evangelism seems completely intrusive and makes your skin crawl. There have been times when I would have said that that sort of thing had to do with a completely different understanding of Christianity. While I have not ever, and can’t imagine ever, being called to “basketball evangelism,” there is something in my friend’s perspective that I admire and I think we can learn from. In the notion of “wining” people for God, there is a sense of urgency.

There’s an old preacher’s story about the devil and his generals trying to mount a new offensive on Christianity, to try to make Christians ineffective in the world. The generals all gather together and the first suggests and idea. “What if we try to convince Christians that there really is no God?”

“No,” says the devil. “That will never work, too many Christians already have a strong sense of God.” The next general stands up and says, “I have it. Let’s convince them that there really is no difference between good and evil, between right and wrong.” But the devil shakes his head again. “No,” he says, “too many already know the difference and think it’s important. We’ll have to think of something else.” Finally, the third general steps forward. “Sir,” he says, “my idea is a little subtle, but I wonder if we might encourage them to continue believing in God, encourage them to distinguish between good and evil, but we simply suggest to them that there’s no hurry in any of this. There’s no need to rush, no need to worry, no sense of urgency.”

I think there is some hurry, and there is a certain urgency– because too many people are being lost. I’m not talking about church statistics, nor am I worried about denominational statistics. I’m talking about something much larger—about losing more and more people to violence— violence in the streets, violence in the home. We lose too many people to addictions, addictions of habit or need. We lose people to lives lived in compulsion, those who are never happy no matter how many things they may buy; happy no matter how many places they have traveled; happy no matter how many people they have used.

There are just too many people living lives that seem to have no purpose, lives lived in a hopeless circle of meeting immediate needs but never making space to recall why it is we might work, in the first place.

Evangelism has to do with sharing our faith. It has to do with sharing good news. It has to do with sharing a bit of ourselves with other people, whether it involves saying something about Jesus Christ through words, through prayer, or through actions. Evangelism, at least as I see it, is a matter of winning and losing. It’s not about church growth or meeting the goals of the budget or putting people on committees—it’s often life and death. It’s about life lived as fully as possible.

In today’s Gospel, the urgency shines through. Jesus calls Simon Peter and the Andrew. These two brothers are busy fishing, casting their nets, making their livelihood. But Jesus makes another offer. He raises the stakes. “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Jesus calls James and John and invites them to drop what they’re doing, but even so, to use the skills they already have and apply them to a larger purpose. This new purpose will carry them into dangerous waters, indeed, as they are led into messy, untidy, uncontrollable and unpredictable places of faith.

We, too are called to “fish for people” or rather, we’re called upon to use whatever skills, abilities, or gifts we might have in order to help others know the love of God through Jesus Christ. We may be called to teach for people, to cook for people, to build for people, or to listen for people. Whatever it is we may do, in meeting Christ, we have the potential for our everyday work to become ministry and mission. In our teaching, in our cooking, in our building, in our talking and praying and listening, we offer Christ; we fish for people.

At Holy Trinity, we’re pretty good fishers, fishermen and fisherwomen. Some of our members, as individual fishers, are outrageously successful. But it seems that, as a church, our style has not been so much to go out on the high seas or the deep water, but rather to be a little like a lobster trap. If one should wander our way and come inside, then one finds we have quite a lot to offer.

For a few years, we’ve used a slogan on our website and elsewhere that simply says, “The Church of the Holy Trinity: To show and share the love of God.” That’s a great mission and a holy mission. But to what extent do we really do that?

Lobster traps work. But I wonder if, at some point, we aren’t called to respond to that sense of urgency, the urgency of the gospel and the urgency of our own world. What would it look like if we were to fish for people in new ways?

For some, if might look like inviting a neighbor to church some time. It might look like getting involved in a new mission project and bringing people from church with you. It might look like our forming new mission relationships with some of the new refugees who have come to New York City. Or maybe others who need friendship and support around us, or further away—in Central America, the Middle East or Africa. Fishing for people might look like our sitting at a table in our garden on a hot, summer Saturday, just offering water to people who go by. Fishing for people can involve mission and hospitality, evangelism and publicity, music and ministry in all shapes and forms.

Jesus has promised to be with us always. He has told us we should never fear. With hope, and faith and joy, let’s go fishing. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Baptism and Defying Gravity

A sermon for The Baptism of Our Lord Jesus Christ, January 7, 2024. The scriptures are Genesis 1:1-5, Psalm 29, Acts 19:1-7, and Mark 1:4-11.

You may have seen the news this week as Governor Hochul and Mayor Adams announced plans for a new swimming pool. This summer, a floating, self-filtering pool in the East River is going to be tested, and hopefully can be opened free to the public next year. New York City needs more swimming pools and we need more swimmers. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has cited drowning as the leading cause of death among children 1 to 4 years old.  The Governor added, “If you don’t know how to swim, what you think is a refuge, that break, can become a death trap in an instant.” (NYTimes, “Floating East River Pool May Open to Public Next Year Under Hochul Plan,” January 6, 2024.)

Swimming might seem simple to those who learned early, but if you think about it, swimming is kind of amazing. Swimming gives us power and agency in the water. We’re not defenseless. We don’t have to be victims. We may have to struggle, but there’s a way forward. Swimming is a way that we have of dealing with the uncertainty and danger of water.

Throughout the biblical story of our salvation, water plays an important role, is often dangerous, scary, and threatening. In Genesis, “darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.” But God creates form and matter and order out of the water. The disciples fish on the water, but the smallest storm leaves them terrified. Jesus walks on the water, not just doing a kind of magic trick to amaze, but more to show that the God of Creation always has, and always will have power over the unruliness and the deadliness of water. And so, swimming overcomes the chaos.

A little like swimming, Holy Baptism represents God’s movement through creation, and the sanctifying grace that not only saves us from sinking but gives us new life. Baptism not only enables us to swim in faith, it picks us up to surf!

When Jesus asked John the Baptist to baptize him, he was simply doing what some other faithful Jews might have done—immersion in naturally sourced water cleansed and purified. It could mark an important change or a conversion. It prepared one for presentation at the Temple. But for Jesus to be baptized, it meant even more.
It meant that the Son of God, the human expression of God in our world, was taking on himself the uncleanness and sin of others, falling into water, but raising out again. Baptism and the cleansing of sin foreshadows resurrection and the renewal of life.

Though baptism can seem like a sweet custom to do whenever there’s a new baby, the words and prayers we say remind us of the radical nature of baptism.

In baptism and in the renewal of baptismal vows, we say that we will resist evil and the ways of the devil, and that when we fall down, we’ll get up again and turn to God.

In baptism, we affirm that all people are made in the image of God, and so we refuse the hierarchies and pecking orders of the world, and work to seek and serve Christ in each other.

In baptism, we remind ourselves and the world that there is more to life that what we do for work, or where we went to school, or how much money we make.  We name the injustices and wrongs in the world, and we pledge to strive for justice and peace. We refuse to go along with stereotypes and prejudice and instead, aim to respect the dignity of every human being.

More than swimming, more than surfing, even, baptism, gives us power over the currents that shift and challenge. We could say that baptism helps us defy gravity.

“Defying gravity” is the title of the well-known and much-loved song from the musical Wicked. A recent podcast on BBC4 talks about how important that song has been for so many people. It has provided strength, encouragement, and hope. [Soul Music: “Defying Gravity” from Wicked.]

[You can listen to the song here.]

You may remember the story of Wicked. The so-called Wicked Witch of the West, whose name is Elphaba, was born with green skin.  Being green, looking different, she feels the pain of growing up different and she longs for acceptance. Since the musical premiered in 2003, Elphaba’s story has hit a chord with anyone who has ever felt marginalized, left out, or looked down upon because they were different. And so, Elphaba’s song at the end of Act I marks a change in her, a defining point where she decides no longer to be ruled by the expectations of others, the perceived laws of nature, the prejudices and fears of the people around her. The song, “Defying Gravity” becomes a victory song, a kind of ALLELUIA, as Elphaba claims her voice and begins to forge her own path.  

Though the song is not religious in a traditional sense, it touches the human spirit, and I think, has much of the spirit of God within it.

Elphaba experiences a kind of conversion, a coming to her true self, an acceptance of a Higher Power, as she sings,

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I’m through with playing by the rules
Of someone else’s game

Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap

And then, almost with wings of faith (I think) she sings

It’s time to try defying gravity
I think I’ll try defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye, I’m defying gravity
And you won’t bring me down.

As followers of Jesus Christ, as baptized people, something has changed within us. We’re done playing by the rules of culture or political expediency. We seek justice and life for all. It’s too late to go back to sleep. Time to trust our God-given, and Spirit-infused instincts, and with faith, close our eyes and leap.

Fear can’t bring us down. The news of the world can’t bring us down. Temporary setbacks, health challenges, and those with no faith or hope—won’t bring us down.

With Christ always at our side, we’re defying gravity.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.