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Troubled with Baptism |
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January 2006 Mark 1.1-13 I don't know about the rest of you, but John and I are barely on the other side of the twelfth day of Christmas. Like those who celebrate the "Little Christmas" of Epiphany, we leave our tree and decorations up till the Twelfth Night is past. Those twelve days of Christmas-the 26th of December through the 6th of January, traditionally celebrated as the one on which the magi arrive, together with the season of Advent, create a churchly season almost equal in length to that of Lent's 40 days before Easter. Small wonder, then, that when that season moushes with the unabashed commercialism of the "holiday season," we are noticeably stretched, often stressed, and frequently relieved to be on this side of Advent/Christmas/Epiphany/the New Year. And we are ever-so-grateful that the gods of the Superbowl do not demand their obeisance for nearly another month! Nevertheless, it is with no small amount of ambivalence that we hear the scripture which confronts us this morning. It is no babe in a feeding trough, no infant receiving gifts from foreigners, no child confounding elders in the temple, but a fully-grown man who responds to the prophetic call of John the Baptizer. John the Baptizer is making the case that the realm of Caesar is not the realm of the Lord. He is making the case that to live as Caesar's subjects is not Israel's true destiny any more than it was Israel's calling to provide bricks for Pharoah.[1,23] Embedded within that appeal to cultic memory, John calls for repentance. He calls for a turning of hearts and minds away from current thinking and practices, away from what Walter Brueggemann calls our 'script.' Our script is both large and small-large in its vocabulary of 'free enterprise' and 'great frontiers,' small in its vocabulary of 'we do it this way,' or 'my mom always.' A prophet offers a way of detaching from the script, and John is a prophet. He offers baptism as a way of ritually detaching from the script of two cultures-the Roman culture of oppression and subjugation; and the temple culture bound up in oppressive purity codes. Jesus comes to the Jordan River, apparently as one of John's disciples, and is baptized. And
then it happens. Jesus' baptism becomes an "Aha! moment,"
an epiphany, a stunning insight into God's claim upon him. Jesus
knows who he is by means of that manifestation. Incidentally,
in Mark's version, Jesus' epiphany isn't publically witnessed
or verified. No one other than Jesus experiences that epiphany,
any more than observers see the love that manifests itself in
a wedding. As Jesus' disciples, we begin with baptism. It doesn't matter if we are sprinkled, dipped, mopped, or dunked. There is no more "right" way to baptize or be baptized than there is a correct bread to break and eat at communion. There is no "right" time to baptize. Nor are the baptisms of some persons or traditions more valid than others. The fact is, our squabbles over any of these Christian fine points is a diversion, a way in which we move our focus from the foundational claims of the gospel, and undermine the force of the text. Simply put, regardless of which approach is most appealing to our sensibilities, baptism is fundamentally our point of entry into the counter-script which nearly always sets us apart from our culture. In Brueggemann's analysis, our contemporary script dominates both self and community in our society, liberals and conservatives alike. He calls it the script of therapeutic, technological, consumerist militarism which holds out the (false) promise of security and happiness. The church's task of de-scripting takes form in our intentional articulation of an alternative script that we testify will indeed make us safe and joyous. Our script begins with questions. We ask, "do you promise to be Christ's disciple, to follow in the way of our Savior, to resist oppression and evil, to show love and justice?" By inference, we are asking, will you follow the dominant script of our culture? Or the elusive counterscript of discipleship? But we do not define discipleship. Or the precise way of our Savior. We simply welcome people into the community of faith and tell our story in word and in deed. Gregory Tolle tells of a pastor who moved to a new parish. One of her members came by one morning and asks if he can give the pastor a tour of the community. She jumps at the chance, and it isn't long before they are off in the man's pickup. Soon after they start, the man pulls into a four-way stop. Most Eastern rural towns have one of these intersections. Till I moved here-good Westerner that I am-I'd never heard of the 'town square', but you all know what that is. It's the hub of the town. In this instance, there is a bar on one corner, the bank on another, a convenience store on the third, and the fourth is an empty building. The man stops the truck, and gently places his thumb on his forehead, whispering, "Been baptized." Several blocks later, he pulls over at an old house and invites the preach to join him. The two eventually are greeted by an elderly woman who gives the driver a big hug and a smile. The man introduces the woman as a "saint," then once again touches his forehead and whispers, "Been baptized." The three visit, then leave, ending the tour when the driver asks the preacher if she would like a soft drink. They pull up to the convenience story, and as soon as they are out of the truck, another man approaches the driver, wagging a finger in his face and complaining about community problems. The more he talks, the louder he gets. And once again, the driver puts his thumb on his forehead and mumbles under his breath, "Been baptized." Then the preacher and the driver buy their soft drinks and return to the church. Of course, the preacher can't stand it. She has to know. So she asks, "I hate to pry, but I can't help noticing that several times today you touched your forehead and mumble something under your breath. Why?" The driver breaks out in a grin. "It's been several years since I came to know and love God. It took me a while to understand how much God loves and forgives me. A few years ago, I went before the church and asked that they forgive me and accept me into their family. The next day, I went around and told all my friends, and even my enemies, that now I was a Christian-that because of God's love for me, I was going to serve God in all I did." "I touched my forehead and whispered 'Been baptized' at the four-way stop because the bar had been my church, and the bank was where all my work and effort went. I did the same when we stopped at Miss Hazel's because she was the first person to welcome me into the family of faith. And I did the same thing when Jones confronted me at the store because it reminds me of who I really am: a beloved child of God. I've been baptized. My old ways are gone. I must try to be Christ-like in all that I do. This is the way to live out my call."[2] Howard's baptism gives him an alternative script. So does yours. So does mine. *** |