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Risking the Transition to New Life

The Reverend Canon Beth Knowlton
The Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord
January 13, 2008
Mikell Chapel, 9:00 am
Matthew 3:13-17

My former rector loved to say there was no such thing as an individual Christian.  His point of course is that we discover who we are as Christians in the context of a community of believers. This is not just so we can find support to enact the promises of our baptism over and against a secular world that embodies different priorities.  It is not solely a “training ground” for service so that we can identify and express our particular gifts. 

Even though our communities do support our promises and their expressions, there is something even more mysterious that happens in community.  We are transformed and changed in the very act of choosing the communities that we are a part of.  The people we choose to let mentor us become inextricably linked with who we become.  Some are more obvious than others, but even the act of us coming together today to witness these baptisms reminds us of this mystery.  We may be here because we will be daily influences in these children’s lives, or we may never see them again after this morning.  But each of us who showed up today constitutes a thread of the community of these children’s entry into this specific community of believers.

One of the most important communities I chose as I journeyed towards ordination was Candler School of Theology.  Much of who I am as a priest is intimately connected with that campus, the parish I was assigned to for three years, and the close friendships that emerged from that time.  One of the deep influences of my seminary time was from my teacher and advisor, Dr. Ted Hackett.  Not only did he teach a number of our classes and supervise our field placements, he hosted weekly office hours that each of us used at one time or another to come and ask our existential questions.  Did we really belong here?  Did we want to pursue additional academic work?  How much should we study for General Ordination Exams?  How would we ever balance family and school demands?  What was this priesthood thing really about?

There was much good advice that came out of all those contexts.  But the thing I remember most was how deeply he took his commitment to forming new priests.  We might not have always agreed with him, but we never doubted that he was with us for the long haul.  When the time came for me to be ordained, he was the one I chose to vest me in my stole and chausable.  As I was clothed as a priest for the first time, it seemed only appropriate that he be the one to place the outward signs of all that had been forming inwardly for years.  My mother remarked after the service, “you sure can tell by watching him that he really takes the priesthood seriously.” 

The most humbling moment of the day came for me when we came to my office immediately following the service and he asked me to bless him.  While I have since learned that this is traditional, I had never heard of it before that moment.  I could not imagine blessing the one who in my mind was clearly the one who should be offering the blessing.

While I certainly don’t equate us to John the Baptist and Jesus, the role reversal is analogous to our reading for today.  Here we have the forerunner of the Christ, proclaiming the coming of the Messiah.  He is baptizing those who are willing to acknowledge their need for repentance.  But he is clear that he is not to be the final word.  He is the warm-up act, not the headliner.  One can imagine there is some comfort in knowing that this is his role.  He is ready to help others prepare for the Messiah, but it is clear that baptizing that same Messiah would have never crossed his mind.  He has already stated his unworthiness and his comfort with the role of preparer. 

But then enters Jesus.  And he asks to be baptized.  John tries to stop it.  No, he insists, it is you who should baptize me.  But Jesus says “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” It is only with this assurance that John agrees to proceed.  John, like us, needed reassurance that roles are only good insofar as they lead us towards God.  If they have become too limiting, God has a way of stepping in and inviting us to see anew.

So they enter into an unknown space.  A space where the former roles have been cast aside.  This takes great courage.  This is often a place of initial fear that precedes any appreciation of the promised grace.  Like John the Baptist we feel ourselves unworthy during times of transition.  It can be when we leave home, take that first job, end important relationships, get married, have children, lose our job, retire, or lose a loved one.  Each of these transitions can be so unknown that it can feel like a death long before new life is readily apparent.  We let go of what we have known and hope that what is coming next will eventually become familiar.

If we can tolerate the anxiety, fear, and unknown character of that liminal space, we mysteriously hear God anew.  Like jumping off a high dive for the first time, we have to trust that instructor who is waving us on with open arms will actually catch us.  There is no way to avoid that pit in our stomach that resists the invitation to new life and growth. But, if we manage finally to close our eyes and step off into the unknown we emerge from the drowning of the old.  We are mysteriously buoyed to the surface.  We come up out of the waters, the clouds part and we hear anew that we are children of God, beloved, and in whom God takes pleasure and delight.

And this is before the new role is completely solidified.  We may like John still feel unworthy for the task.  But remember, the proclamation of love comes first.  We know that Jesus will have to shortly take the journey into the desert.  Temptations will still come our way and inevitably we’ll have other high dives to jump off.  But the grace comes first.  We don’t have to earn it; we just have to trust it.

These families who are bringing these children to be baptized today are acknowledging this grace. While they have no idea what the future years of their lives will look like, they are staking their faith on that promise.  And who could possibly do that by themselves?  We’d rarely get anywhere.  But today we stand in solidarity with these children and remind their parents that they are not alone.  This community can support them and their children in these transitions.  And we are reminded that we too have those communities.  They are forming and supporting us. We are all being formed so we can be open to God’s grace in the midst of transitions.  This is what allows our growth.  And it opens us to hear the voice again.  “You are my child.”  “I love you.”  “With you I am well pleased.”

Amen

Comments? Contact Beth Knowlton at: BKnowlton@stphilipscathedral.org

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