| To contact us: Calvary Episcopal Church 667 Mount Road Aston, PA 19014 610-459-2013 OFFICE mail@calvaryepiscopalrockdale.org |
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| SERMON 1st Sunday after the Epiphany January 11, 2009 The Rev. Kristine Hill |
| 667 Mount Road, Aston, PA 19014 610-459-2013 |
| Small Parish - Big Heart The little church you've been looking for! All are welcome! |
| Our Mission: To worship the Lord To serve the community To grow the church |
Genesis 1:1-5 Acts 19:1-7 Mark 1:4-11 |
| The Rev. Kristine Hill, Interim Rector |
Today we come to the waters of baptism, to the Jordan river and see John the
Baptist in his strange clothes, calling the people of Judea to repent of their sins
and be baptized. The hills there are rough and dusty; what trees grow are not
particularly tall because it doesn’t rain much. Mostly there is brown grass and
some shrubs. According to our gospel reading, many people were responding to
John’s call -- walking from the city of Jerusalem and the countryside of Judea to
get to the river. They gathered there so John could wash them in the shallow,
muddy waters of the Jordan. It was a ritual washing, symbolic, showing their
decision to turn from their sin and live again in the ways of God. Those who
came to John were serious. Why else would they have walked so far to arrive at
this unimpressive river and listen to this odd prophet, be dunked in murky
waters, unless they truly desired to reconnect with God, to be blessed by God, to
have some sort of change occur in their lives? So they came and they were
baptized.
They are like us, looking for hope, wanting to take a step that will truly make a
difference in their day to day living. Maybe this baptism would be it for them.
But then John told them his baptism was only a beginning. As the people walked
up from the river, still dripping, he said “someone is coming after me who is far
greater. Look to him. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the
Holy Spirit.” John’s baptism of repentance was a good thing; those who
participated had turned back to God and were washed as a sign of their
decision. However, a different baptism was coming, one that would signify God’s
decision to claim people as his own, one that would transform human lives.
Today we have the honor of welcoming two new brothers into the fellowship of
the Church, the Body of Christ, through the sacrament of Holy Baptism. Nicholas
Di Donata and Joseph Schwenger will be made new people this morning in the
waters of baptism. The-boys-they-have-been-up-until-now will die with Christ as the
water is pour over their heads, and a new boy each -- a new Nicholas and a new
Joseph -- will be born within them. They will receive the grace of God, and that
grace will be at work within them to change them into the likeness of Jesus
throughout their lives. From now on they will be called “sons of God” and
“brothers of Jesus.” They will be our brothers in the family of God’s people
throughout the world. In baptism they will receive forgiveness of sins, the
promise of everlasting life, the assurance of God’s never-ending love and mercy.
They will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. Thanks be to God!
Our gospel reading from Mark, this morning, might be seen as an odd take on
the traditional hero story. Hero stories abound in human culture, in every human
society. It is human nature to hope for someone to come and rescue us from
ourselves, from one another. We long for a hero who will save us from the
trouble we get into, from the dangers of the present, the uncertainties of the
future; from things that threaten us, things that hurt us, things that frighten us.
Some hero stories are elaborate, some are simple, but regardless, they generally
follow a similar structure. The hero is, in most ways, an ordinary person –
someone we can relate to - until he (or she) has a unique experience that sets
him apart with special powers or capabilities. Once our hero assumes his
particular strength he goes off to fight evil and save the day for the “good folks.”
It is easy to see how most “hero” tales follow this pattern. A man is bit by a
spider and he becomes Spiderman, able to build webs with his hands and scale
tall buildings to rescue people. Clark Kent is just a news reporter until he steps
into a phone booth (they’re gonna’ have to get a new prop for him; there are no
phone booths any more) and changes into his Superman outfit - then he can fly
and has super-human strength. Batman and Robin live as ordinary gentlemen until
they put on their bat suits and jump in the batmobile. I assume it is the same
with Ninjas and X-men, too. The hero always saves individuals or cities from
doom by being stronger, or smarter; a better fighter, or more clever than his evil
opponent.
This storyline is so engrained in our thinking that we expect it whenever there is
conflict and someone steps forward to resolve the situation. We assume that
person is going to be brighter or stronger or more skilled or to have superior
weapons to defeat the enemy. That’s how the story goes. And we, human beings,
yearn for someone to come and save us -- to rescue us from predicaments that
are unmanageable, to fix relationships we don’t know how to mend, to shield us
from pain, to protect us from the death that is inevitable.
Today Jesus is initiated into his “hero-hood” you-might-say at his baptism. At this
moment it is revealed to us just who he is and why he is here. Mark’s gospel
does not have a narrative about Jesus’ birth. There’s nothing about Mary and
Joseph, angels and shepherds, nothing about the baby Jesus being born as
Emmanuel, God come to live among us. Mark begins his gospel by simply saying:
“the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Then comes
the familiar quote from Isaiah about sending a messenger to “prepare the way of
the Lord.” And that is all Mark has to say until we get to our gospel reading for
this morning. So Jesus’ baptism is the moment of revelation, the unveiling of the
hero.
Our reading notes that Jesus was baptized by John, and it says that as Jesus
was coming up out of the water he saw the heavens “rent asunder” “ripped wide
open” and the Spirit descending like a dove. [Holy Mackerel! - the barrier between
heaven and earth has been ripped in two; God is loose in the world!!] Then
Jesus heard a voice that told him “you are my Son, my beloved, and I am well
pleased with you.” That lays it out pretty clearly. This is the one – this is the
hero who has come to save us.
And yet, elements of this story are puzzling; they do not correspond to the usual
hero stories. Usually, the hero takes the leading role in the action – to show that
he is decisive and strong, someone we can trust and follow. But in this story
Jesus doesn’t “do” anything. He goes to John with all the rest of the people and
lets John baptize him. This isn’t some glorious scene, either. … Some of you may
have been to the Holy Land, to a special sight on the northern part of the
Jordan River where church groups are invited to re-enact the baptism of Jesus. It’
s very nice - the river is somewhat deep there and the water is fairly clear. But
that site is much too far from Jerusalem to be the authentic location of Jesus’
baptism. The place where John baptized Jesus was further south, in the rolling,
barren hill country of Judea, where the river is narrow and the water is dirtied by
sediment. It is not picturesque. Nor was Jesus’ baptism different from the others.
He went down into the water like everyone else. According to Mark, only Jesus
saw the heavens break open and the Spirit descend. To all appearances, Jesus
was just another citizen being washed by John. That’s not your typical “heroic”
scene.
When I was young, my favorite of the cartoon heroes was “Popeye.” Popeye was
a simple character -- a skinny fisherman, just a regular fellow for the most part.
He was always getting beat up by big ol’ Brutus. After a beating, Popeye would
lie on the ground in a raggedy heap while Brutus made off with Popeye’s
girlfriend, Olive Oil. Olive Oil would be hollering for Popeye to save her, but
Popeye would be helpless, until… he was able to open his trusty can of spinach
and pop the contents into his mouth.. (The only superhero I know of who got his
powers from eating vegetables.) Once Popeye had downed that can of spinach,
his arm muscles would bulge, he would spring to his feet and chase after Brutus.
When he caught him, Popeye would give Brutus a pounding and carry Olive Oil
safely back home. Now, that’s how a hero-story is supposed to work; that’s how
we would like to be saved.
But the true story of our salvation is altogether different. Jesus is not a muscle
man. He does not have super-human strength. His mission is not to beat up the
bad guys for us, or get us out of trouble, or shield us from pain, or fix our
problems, or protect us from having to die. He has come to live with us, to
show us how to be grown-up human beings who trust and love God, to show us
how to face death knowing we will be raised to unending life. Jesus is a
completely different sort of hero. For one thing, he is real. He is like us in our
humanity, even though he is God’s Son. He does not see through walls or leap
over tall buildings. For another, his objectives are good for everyone, not only
for a few. His aim is not to punish the ‘bad’ and reward the ‘good;’ he has come
to heal all creation. Jesus has come to bless, to feed the hungry, to find the
lost, and to confront unjust powers in this world with truth not with weapons.
We see right from this initial story, Jesus’ baptism, that this is a different kind of
salvation narrative from what we are used to hearing. We notice right away that
ours is a different kind of Savior.
When we are baptized, we become different people because our lives are joined
to Jesus forever. We die to ourselves and live to Jesus. Which is to say, once
we are baptized our own interests and desires take a backseat to God’s Word
and God’s ways. It’s a transition that just happens because of what we receive at
baptism, what God does for us. When we are baptized, God comes down from
the heavens to smile upon us, as God will, today, look lovingly upon Nicholas,
upon Joseph. In baptism, God reaches out and touches us, as God will touch
these two this morning, and says “my child, whom I love dearly.”
From your baptismal day on, you cannot possibly wonder if God’s love is only for
other people besides you; in baptism God calls your name and says “you are
mine.” You and I become new people at baptism because God becomes truly our
Father, our Mother. God lavishes gifts upon us in baptism -- forgiveness and life,
and the Holy Spirit to guide us, to strengthen us from within so we can believe
and follow. God’s love shows itself so tenderly at baptism. For it is God who
draws nearest as the child is held over the font, as the water is poured over his
head. Today God will breathe that first breath of everlasting life onto Nicholas,
onto Joseph, a promise of what is yet to come. And with our help, their family in
Christ, they will know themselves loved beyond measure, held in the goodness
and grace of God, now and forever more. amen.
Baptist in his strange clothes, calling the people of Judea to repent of their sins
and be baptized. The hills there are rough and dusty; what trees grow are not
particularly tall because it doesn’t rain much. Mostly there is brown grass and
some shrubs. According to our gospel reading, many people were responding to
John’s call -- walking from the city of Jerusalem and the countryside of Judea to
get to the river. They gathered there so John could wash them in the shallow,
muddy waters of the Jordan. It was a ritual washing, symbolic, showing their
decision to turn from their sin and live again in the ways of God. Those who
came to John were serious. Why else would they have walked so far to arrive at
this unimpressive river and listen to this odd prophet, be dunked in murky
waters, unless they truly desired to reconnect with God, to be blessed by God, to
have some sort of change occur in their lives? So they came and they were
baptized.
They are like us, looking for hope, wanting to take a step that will truly make a
difference in their day to day living. Maybe this baptism would be it for them.
But then John told them his baptism was only a beginning. As the people walked
up from the river, still dripping, he said “someone is coming after me who is far
greater. Look to him. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the
Holy Spirit.” John’s baptism of repentance was a good thing; those who
participated had turned back to God and were washed as a sign of their
decision. However, a different baptism was coming, one that would signify God’s
decision to claim people as his own, one that would transform human lives.
Today we have the honor of welcoming two new brothers into the fellowship of
the Church, the Body of Christ, through the sacrament of Holy Baptism. Nicholas
Di Donata and Joseph Schwenger will be made new people this morning in the
waters of baptism. The-boys-they-have-been-up-until-now will die with Christ as the
water is pour over their heads, and a new boy each -- a new Nicholas and a new
Joseph -- will be born within them. They will receive the grace of God, and that
grace will be at work within them to change them into the likeness of Jesus
throughout their lives. From now on they will be called “sons of God” and
“brothers of Jesus.” They will be our brothers in the family of God’s people
throughout the world. In baptism they will receive forgiveness of sins, the
promise of everlasting life, the assurance of God’s never-ending love and mercy.
They will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. Thanks be to God!
Our gospel reading from Mark, this morning, might be seen as an odd take on
the traditional hero story. Hero stories abound in human culture, in every human
society. It is human nature to hope for someone to come and rescue us from
ourselves, from one another. We long for a hero who will save us from the
trouble we get into, from the dangers of the present, the uncertainties of the
future; from things that threaten us, things that hurt us, things that frighten us.
Some hero stories are elaborate, some are simple, but regardless, they generally
follow a similar structure. The hero is, in most ways, an ordinary person –
someone we can relate to - until he (or she) has a unique experience that sets
him apart with special powers or capabilities. Once our hero assumes his
particular strength he goes off to fight evil and save the day for the “good folks.”
It is easy to see how most “hero” tales follow this pattern. A man is bit by a
spider and he becomes Spiderman, able to build webs with his hands and scale
tall buildings to rescue people. Clark Kent is just a news reporter until he steps
into a phone booth (they’re gonna’ have to get a new prop for him; there are no
phone booths any more) and changes into his Superman outfit - then he can fly
and has super-human strength. Batman and Robin live as ordinary gentlemen until
they put on their bat suits and jump in the batmobile. I assume it is the same
with Ninjas and X-men, too. The hero always saves individuals or cities from
doom by being stronger, or smarter; a better fighter, or more clever than his evil
opponent.
This storyline is so engrained in our thinking that we expect it whenever there is
conflict and someone steps forward to resolve the situation. We assume that
person is going to be brighter or stronger or more skilled or to have superior
weapons to defeat the enemy. That’s how the story goes. And we, human beings,
yearn for someone to come and save us -- to rescue us from predicaments that
are unmanageable, to fix relationships we don’t know how to mend, to shield us
from pain, to protect us from the death that is inevitable.
Today Jesus is initiated into his “hero-hood” you-might-say at his baptism. At this
moment it is revealed to us just who he is and why he is here. Mark’s gospel
does not have a narrative about Jesus’ birth. There’s nothing about Mary and
Joseph, angels and shepherds, nothing about the baby Jesus being born as
Emmanuel, God come to live among us. Mark begins his gospel by simply saying:
“the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Then comes
the familiar quote from Isaiah about sending a messenger to “prepare the way of
the Lord.” And that is all Mark has to say until we get to our gospel reading for
this morning. So Jesus’ baptism is the moment of revelation, the unveiling of the
hero.
Our reading notes that Jesus was baptized by John, and it says that as Jesus
was coming up out of the water he saw the heavens “rent asunder” “ripped wide
open” and the Spirit descending like a dove. [Holy Mackerel! - the barrier between
heaven and earth has been ripped in two; God is loose in the world!!] Then
Jesus heard a voice that told him “you are my Son, my beloved, and I am well
pleased with you.” That lays it out pretty clearly. This is the one – this is the
hero who has come to save us.
And yet, elements of this story are puzzling; they do not correspond to the usual
hero stories. Usually, the hero takes the leading role in the action – to show that
he is decisive and strong, someone we can trust and follow. But in this story
Jesus doesn’t “do” anything. He goes to John with all the rest of the people and
lets John baptize him. This isn’t some glorious scene, either. … Some of you may
have been to the Holy Land, to a special sight on the northern part of the
Jordan River where church groups are invited to re-enact the baptism of Jesus. It’
s very nice - the river is somewhat deep there and the water is fairly clear. But
that site is much too far from Jerusalem to be the authentic location of Jesus’
baptism. The place where John baptized Jesus was further south, in the rolling,
barren hill country of Judea, where the river is narrow and the water is dirtied by
sediment. It is not picturesque. Nor was Jesus’ baptism different from the others.
He went down into the water like everyone else. According to Mark, only Jesus
saw the heavens break open and the Spirit descend. To all appearances, Jesus
was just another citizen being washed by John. That’s not your typical “heroic”
scene.
When I was young, my favorite of the cartoon heroes was “Popeye.” Popeye was
a simple character -- a skinny fisherman, just a regular fellow for the most part.
He was always getting beat up by big ol’ Brutus. After a beating, Popeye would
lie on the ground in a raggedy heap while Brutus made off with Popeye’s
girlfriend, Olive Oil. Olive Oil would be hollering for Popeye to save her, but
Popeye would be helpless, until… he was able to open his trusty can of spinach
and pop the contents into his mouth.. (The only superhero I know of who got his
powers from eating vegetables.) Once Popeye had downed that can of spinach,
his arm muscles would bulge, he would spring to his feet and chase after Brutus.
When he caught him, Popeye would give Brutus a pounding and carry Olive Oil
safely back home. Now, that’s how a hero-story is supposed to work; that’s how
we would like to be saved.
But the true story of our salvation is altogether different. Jesus is not a muscle
man. He does not have super-human strength. His mission is not to beat up the
bad guys for us, or get us out of trouble, or shield us from pain, or fix our
problems, or protect us from having to die. He has come to live with us, to
show us how to be grown-up human beings who trust and love God, to show us
how to face death knowing we will be raised to unending life. Jesus is a
completely different sort of hero. For one thing, he is real. He is like us in our
humanity, even though he is God’s Son. He does not see through walls or leap
over tall buildings. For another, his objectives are good for everyone, not only
for a few. His aim is not to punish the ‘bad’ and reward the ‘good;’ he has come
to heal all creation. Jesus has come to bless, to feed the hungry, to find the
lost, and to confront unjust powers in this world with truth not with weapons.
We see right from this initial story, Jesus’ baptism, that this is a different kind of
salvation narrative from what we are used to hearing. We notice right away that
ours is a different kind of Savior.
When we are baptized, we become different people because our lives are joined
to Jesus forever. We die to ourselves and live to Jesus. Which is to say, once
we are baptized our own interests and desires take a backseat to God’s Word
and God’s ways. It’s a transition that just happens because of what we receive at
baptism, what God does for us. When we are baptized, God comes down from
the heavens to smile upon us, as God will, today, look lovingly upon Nicholas,
upon Joseph. In baptism, God reaches out and touches us, as God will touch
these two this morning, and says “my child, whom I love dearly.”
From your baptismal day on, you cannot possibly wonder if God’s love is only for
other people besides you; in baptism God calls your name and says “you are
mine.” You and I become new people at baptism because God becomes truly our
Father, our Mother. God lavishes gifts upon us in baptism -- forgiveness and life,
and the Holy Spirit to guide us, to strengthen us from within so we can believe
and follow. God’s love shows itself so tenderly at baptism. For it is God who
draws nearest as the child is held over the font, as the water is poured over his
head. Today God will breathe that first breath of everlasting life onto Nicholas,
onto Joseph, a promise of what is yet to come. And with our help, their family in
Christ, they will know themselves loved beyond measure, held in the goodness
and grace of God, now and forever more. amen.