Sermon, January 7, 2001
The Feast of the Baptism of our Lord
The Rev. Lowell E. Grisham,
St. Paul's Episcopal Church Fayetteville, Arkansas

Gospel  Luke 3:15-16, 21-22 - The Baptism of Jesus by John

I once got to know a gifted and wonderfully odd priest named John Westerhoff. You may be familiar with some of his books on Christian education and formation. John was on the staff of the Chapel of the Cross in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. The rector there was a pretty savvy fellow, and whenever he ran across a particular kind of family seeking the baptism of their child - the kind of family that had enough maturity and innate confidence that they could take on somebody as offbeat as John Westerhoff - he would assign John to their pre-baptismal preparation.

The unsuspecting young couple would come to the church and be brought to John's office. He would look at the baby, say nice things about it, hold it and coo a little bit. Then he would turn on the parents suddenly and ask them with a shocked expression, "Why in the world would you want to do something like baptism to such a sweet, innocent child?"

Typically the parents would look back at this priest with incredulous confusion showing on their faces. And John would continue. "Let me tell you what you are proposing to do to this beautiful baby. You are going to give this child to me as a representative of God and Christ's Church," and John would take the child protectively in his arms. "By that act you will give up all claim upon this child as it's parents. You are voluntarily giving this child to God and the Church, and I don't have to give it back. You are saying you aren't good enough to go it alone as this child's parents." "And let me tell you what I'm going to do to this child as soon as you hand it over to me. I'm going to drown it, brand it like cattle, and give it a new name that has nothing to do with you and your precious family! Now what I want to know is why in the world you would want something like that to happen to your sweet, innocent baby?"

In the domestic beauty of our lovely ritual of baptism, with proud parents and grandparents and godparents beaming joyfully at the innocent charm of a white-gowned child, it can be hard to recognize the radical nature of the act of baptism. But if your nostrils were spiritually energized, they would be filled with the smell of death.

Baptism begins with dying. It begins with parents who recognize that without divine intervention and grace, they cannot bring their child into the fullness of life. They do not have the power to raise this child into wholeness of life. So they give up. They die to their claim to this child as their own possession, and in an act of courageous faith they surrender title to that child to God. In the name of God, the priest receives this child and like a federal witness protection agent, destroys its former identity.

The waters of baptism are a ritual drowning. Here¹s where the Baptists have it all over us. I wish we could restore the feeling of danger that must have been present for some of our ancestors as they witnessed complete immersion under the swift-flowing brown waters of a river swollen by spring rains and thaw: a place where you must hold on tightly to the minister or risk being swept downstream by the unpredictable currents. Here in our tame little font with its silver appointments it takes some exercise of imagination to recognize that a life is going under and drowning in those ancient holy waters.

What is being ritually killed is an identity. In your baptism your primary identity with your family of origin was annulled. An old way of being - independent, self-sufficient, autonomous - was sacrificed. Beneath the waters of baptism your old self died, and within those deathly waters Christ joined you through his own death and sacrifice. Sharing death has made him your brother. At your baptism God's Spirit entered you in a new way, and you rose from that water a new person: God's beloved child and a joint heir with Christ of a new quality of life that the scripture describes as eternal life. You were filled with the abundance of the Holy Spirit, God¹s own life within and around you. You were made a member of Christ's Body the Church and marked as Christ's own possession forever.

I began my baptism as Lowell Edward Grisham, Jr. My primary identity with the Grisham clan and all its princes and horse thieves was my familial inheritance. I emerged from my baptism as Lowell Edward Christian; my Christian name was given to me. I died and was reborn with a new primary identity as a beloved child of God, grafted into the very body of Jesus Christ, filled with the life of God's Holy Spirit, made an heir of eternal life and a brother to every Christian of every age. The heavens opened and the Holy Spirit entered into me and a voice came from heaven saying, "You are my Child; with you I am well pleased." On that day I began a new and more real life, dependent no longer upon self but upon the ever-present blessing, grace, love, and demand of God. So it is, whenever anyone enters the baptismal waters of death and resurrection. Whenever someone is baptized, the entire universe shudders with joy.

Each of you who is baptized bears a mark from that day like an indelible tattoo. If we could see with the eyes of God, we would see the sign of Christ upon each forehead, an immutable branding of ownership marking you as Christ's own forever. You may deny your own identity, but Christ will never deny you. There are heavenly Christians and there are hellish Christians, but once Christ has claimed you the union is forever; it can be defaced but never abolished.

When a child is baptized, that child now belongs to Christ. And the church then chooses to return that child to its parents with the charge that they raise God¹s child within the promises of they have made in the baptismal ritual. Parenthood now becomes their ministry; raising a child becomes an act of stewardship of God¹s creation. There are godparents there working as intermediaries between the church and the family to assure that the promises are carried out. In the Christian life there is no autonomy. All are subject to the will of God. Parents have no rights over their children except as they are derived from God¹s will; we have no rights over our own lives except in dependence on the constant gift and challenge from God.

In baptism everything changes. It is a radical act of death and resurrection. It is not to be entered into lightly or unadvisedly, but reverently, deliberately, with awe and humbleness.

Today at this church there is a baby killing. Lara and Brent Henry have decided to surrender their newborn son Payne Bryant. He gives up his primary identity with the Bryant and Marinoni clans, and they are willing to do this. He is drowned, reborn, branded, and renamed. The heavens open upon him and the Holy Spirit descends to dwell with him. A voice shatters the universe crying "This is my child, my beloved; with him I am well pleased." All creation sings with joy; you and I receive a brand new little brother. And none of us will never be the same.

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