Message Delivered at Christ Church

The Weekend of January 12th & 13th, 2008

The Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord

TEXT:  Matthew 3:13-17

Delivered by Paul A. Johnson

 

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              I had a new experience this week.  Had something happen I’d never had happen before. 

I got called for jury duty.

              I had been notified back in October that I was a potential juror during this period the Henrico County Circuit Court was in session, so I sent my forms back as you’re supposed to do, not really expecting very much to happen.  But to my surprise, last Thursday I got a call from the sheriff’s office informing me that I was being summoned for jury duty this past Tuesday.

              Now I must admit--I was not overjoyed by this phone call.  There are things going on; lots of stuff to get done; I already had two different places I was supposed to be at 10:00 o’clock on Tuesday morning.  But the way it works is that if they call you and you don’t show up, you can be held in contempt of court.  Now I don’t know if they ever actually prosecute jurors who don’t show up, but I decided I didn’t want to take that chance.  So somewhat begrudgingly I showed up at the courthouse on Tuesday to be part of a jury.

              Now the first thing you do in Henrico County when called for jury duty is sit in a room with all the potential jurors; we’re all strangers, no one’s talking to one another; and eventually you watch a video about the jury selection and trial process.  And maybe I’m a bit odd here—but I really liked the video.  I thought it was pretty interesting!

The video begins with the Chief Justice of the Virginia Supreme Court thanking us for being present, and reminding us of why we are there.  I’m paraphrasing here, but he says something like this:  serving on an impartial jury of peers is one of the greatest privileges and duties we have as American citizens.  That we have jury trials such as these—and anyone is entitled to a jury trial—is a fundamental right of our nation; it is part of what we sought and fought for in the War for Independence in 1776.  And those of us sitting in that room are part of this legacy of justice.  He said all this stuff, and listening to him was the first time that day I realized that I was doing something important.  It was more than just sitting on a jury.

              When the video finished, we were brought into the court room, and by lot some of us were chosen to sit in the juror’s box.  And then when everybody was ready, and had been sworn in, the judge addressed us.  And it was if he was working off the exact same script the Chief Justice was.  He thanked us, and reminded us that serving on a jury is one of the greatest privileges we have living in this nation.  This is a call, he said; part of what it means to fulfill the duties we have as citizens of the United States.  “Yes, you have taken time away from work or home,” he told us.  But in doing so, in accepting this call we are participating in the life of the larger community of which we are a part.

              Now I told you how I felt about all this while I was driving to the court house.  But by the end of the speeches from these two judges about what a privilege it is to do this; how being on a jury is an affirmation of who we are as a nation; that being on a jury is bigger than just being on a jury, because really to serve this way is to fulfill my responsibilities as an American citizen in a way more profound than simply casting my vote.  By the end of all this, Juror #12 in Seat #5—I really wanted to serve!  “Pick me!”

              Well, I didn’t get asked to stay.  They didn’t want me.  And I didn’t take it personally.  I guess that how it works in jury selection, especially when you’re wearing your collar.  So I was a little bit disappointed.  But I left reminded in a way I didn’t expect of what it meant to be a citizen of this land.  I had been reminded of who we are, and why we are, and what I am a part of; that I have not only rights, but responsibilities…like sitting on a jury.  The complete package of living where we live asks something of us.  And when it is we fulfill these duties, what we’re really doing is connecting with the ancient values of our ancient past; with the community that was, and that is, and that we hope will be.

              Well, I was asked to serve on a jury in a state court.  But before I am a Virginian, I am an American.  But before I am an American, I am a Christian.  I am a citizen of the United States of America, and the Commonwealth of Virginia.  But I am first a disciple in the kingdom of God.  And while it is I am an American citizen by my birth; and while it is I was brought to Virginia because, in all honesty, it’s the only place I got offered a job when I graduated from college.  What I am first is a Christian—and I am this first not because of my birth, but because of my baptism.

              I do not remember my baptism.  I was a baby.  I was not baptized in the Episcopal Church.  I was baptized in something called The Swedish Evangelical Covenant Church.  But that makes no difference.  I was not baptized a Covenanter, and the persons being baptized at Christ Church this weekend are not each baptized an Episcopalian.  In our baptism we are claimed by Christ, not a denomination, and what we’re made is Christians.

              One early Christian thinker said that Christians are not born.  They are made.  Where they are made—where we are made—is in our baptism.  And it is God who does the making.  Whether we remember it or not, it is in baptism that we are made who we are.

              In our baptism we are claimed, and we are made, and the Lord declares to us “You belong to me.”  “You are my beloved.  My beloved.” “There are many things you might be,” says the Lord.  “But first you are mine, and in me.  First, you are a disciple.  After that, you are everything else.” Whether we remember that water running over our head or not; whether we are confident in our relationship with God or not; whether we are sure of who we are or still seeking…we are, first, followers of Jesus, and claimed by Christ.

              It’s a covenantal relationship God offers us.  God’s part of the covenant is the promise that no matter what, we cannot escape being God’s beloved; we can never not be marked as Christ’s own forever.  A long time ago I once had someone ask me to do a liturgy to undo their baptism.  I couldn’t, because there isn’t one.  And there isn’t one, because it can’t be undone.  We can turn away from Christ; we can turn away from the Church; we can lose our faith, if that’s the proper term to use.  But we can’t do anything to make God stop coming after us and claiming us.  That’s God’s promise in the covenant of baptism.

              But this covenantal relationship would mean little were nothing ever asked of us.  It wouldn’t amount to much if it were all privilege, and no responsibility.  Because life in the kingdom does ask something of us, and in a few minutes we’ll remind ourselves of what those things are.  We’ll ask a bunch of questions, and we’ll give a bunch of answers.  We’ve done this before, and we’ll do it again today to remind ourselves of what it means to be claimed by Christ and be a disciple of Jesus, and what it is that defines us.

              The first questions we’ll ask are these:

• “Do you believe in God the Father?”
• “Do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God?”
• “Do you believe in God the Holy Spirit?”

The answer we give is the words of the Apostles’ Creed.  We answer these three questions with the ancient words of the Church to lay claim to the tradition of our faith; they are how we declare that we are part of something bigger than our individual whims and convictions.  It is possible that we may have difficulty giving intellectual assent to one or more of the propositions of the faith as they are stated in the creed.  But we say it anyway, together, because it is the creed with which we, and every other worshiping community, started; the statement of identity by which we are bound to the Triune God, and all the saints of today, yesterday, and tomorrow.

              “Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers?” When we give our assent to this question, we claim our scriptural heritage.  This question is a quote from scripture.  It’s Acts 2:42.  When Luke describes what the first group of believers does, he says they do these four things:  continue in the teaching of the church; be in community with one another; participate in the holy meal; and that together, we say our prayers.  That’s what they did, so that’s what we do.

              “Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?” In other words, will we try to live according to how God asks us to live, and when—not if, but when—we don’t, will we take God up on the offer that no matter what, we can always come back?  Because we can always come back.

              “Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?” In other words, will we let other know how much God loves them, and to paraphrase St. Francis, when necessary, use words?

              “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?” and “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” These are the micro and the macro questions about love:

• Will we look for Jesus in everybody, including, even, the people we don’t like, or who offend us, or with whom we disagree?  And will we love them the way Jesus asks us to?  Will we love particular human beings in our occasionally greasy, smelly, and exasperating particularity?
• And then, will we allow our hearts to be moved by the suffering of others; and when we can, amend that suffering by helping to create justice, peace, and dignity…recognizing that justice, peace, and dignity are really just what love looks like in the aggregate.

Now really, what we ought to do is sit down and ask one another what it looks

like in our lives to live out these questions.  We’d learn more by hearing one another’s experiences than we would having one person lecture about it.  Because how we try to live them out really matters. 

There is no physical sign of our identity as disciples.  There is no mark on our bodies indicating to whom we belong.  These things that we say, and that we try to live into…they are the signs that we have been changed, and that it is to God’s kingdom we belong first.

              That there is an impermanence to the culture in which we live is a truism.  Things come and go.  And it may be that we are more rootless than we’ve ever been.  It used to be our families lived close together.  My family now stretches from LA to New Jersey.  And while being connected is as easy as pressing the “send” button, it’s a form of connection more contrived than what happens leaning across the fence.

              Roots and responsibilities are sometimes hard to find.  So every once in a while, we remind ourselves that we are part of something greater; something that stretches beyond what we see and that reaches beyond our nationality.  What we are part of is the kingdom of God, whose roots and branches reach beyond eternity.  And we are part of it—we are who we are—not because of where were born, or how we feel, or how much of anything we might think we are.  We are part of it because of our baptism…a simple act with eternal consequence; through which God makes claims on us, because in it, God claims us forever.