And the voice from the heavens said, “This is my Son,
the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” (Matthew 3:17)
Nine-year-old
Michael is doing pretty okay these days. He’s been in the foster care of Mickie
and Joe, a young couple in my congregation, for a couple of years now. Mickie
just gave birth to her first baby, and Michael (who may likely be adopted by
this couple in the near future) seems Fruit Loops-sugar-spiking delighted about
being a big brother—even though he has no biological connection to his newborn sibling.
Sometimes
it’s not about the family you’re born into. It’s about the family you choose.
In New Testament times, the Romans considered an adopted son to be more
precious than the fruit of one’s own loins. Why? Because you’re stuck with the
kid you’ve fathered whether you love this child or not. The child you adopt,
however, is a child you’ve chosen even though you didn’t have to.
In
the gospel lesson for the Baptism of Our Lord (Matthew 3:13-17) we’re
witnessing an adoption. God is claiming Jesus as his own. God is saying, “I
picked you to fulfill all the cool stuff my prophet Isaiah talked about
back in the day. (Iasiah 42:1-9)”
So,
what does this adoption mean to you? This festival Sunday which begins the
Sundays in Epiphany, the Sundays when we read and teach about how Jesus is
revealed, is a good opportunity, I think, for us to think about the meaning of
our own baptism. There’s this wonderful little exchange in the gospel story
where John—who is pretty darn sure Jesus is the Messiah—humbly suggests that
Jesus should baptize him. But Jesus insists the righteous thing
to do would be for John to give him a good dunk in the Jordan.
I
guess there’s two ways we can look at the term righteousness. One way is doing
what’s right. If you’re a Christian, you get your baby baptized, right? It’s
what we do. The washing with water symbolizes the washing away of sin, cleaning
up our mistakes, and reminding us that God is always busy granting us
forgiveness for being the selfish and often careless people that we are. But
there’s also a deeper righteousness at work here, which goes a long way toward
explaining why Jesus gets baptized.
Baptism
is an act of adoption. When Jesus gets down into our dirty bathwater, he’s
becoming part of this whole, crazy, messed-up human family. When we get
baptized, we’re getting adopted too. We’re being asked to accept our connection
and responsibility to the traveling circus that is the human race.
In
the second lesson appointed for this festival (Acts 10:34-43), St. Peter tells
a household of Gentiles that because they fear God and practice righteousness,
they are also part of the clan. But notice, being part of the family has its
responsibilities. There’s nothing sadder than relatives who won’t speak to one
another. Sometimes being a family takes work. I recently got a Christmas card
from my first cousin, Kathy. I haven’t seen Kathy in over half a century, and I
don’t think I could pick her out of a police line-up if I had to. But she made
the decision to be family and reach out to me. It’s only right that I reach
back.
If
we accept that baptism not only promises God’s forgiveness but ritually unites
us as a family, then we have a certain family obligation. A former clergy
colleague of mine used to say that having a baby baptized and then walking away
from the Church was like registering your child for kindergarten and then not
sending him to class. Baptism promises us forgiveness and the embrace of God,
but it also calls us into relationship with one another. The first part is easy;
the second part can be a little tough. It’s easy to say to someone, “God loves
you.” The hard part is saying to them, “I love you.”
Baptism
calls us into relationship with both God and with one another. Embracing both
aspects is what turns a ritual into a sacrament.
I
hope this finds you well and enjoying this New Year. God bless. Come back and
see me next week.
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