(Acts 2:1-21; Ps. 104:25-35, 37;Romans 8:14-17; John 14:8-17, 25-27)
Good morning, Sam. Obviously I know you can’t understand anything I’m saying right now, so you go right on looking around or sleeping or fussing (you almost certainly won’t be alone in any of that, here this morning); but someday maybe you’ll be able to read it, so I’m going to speak to you, as I speak to everybody else here, which is an appropriate thing to do: because today, you become the newest member of our church. That is St. John’s, New Milford; that is the Episcopal Church; and – of course – most importantly of all, that is the body of Christ: all the faithful people all around the world – past, present, and future, in their infinite variety – we who follow Jesus Christ as our Lord and our Savior. And I’m going to try to say a little something about what that means, because we keep growing into the understanding of that all our lives.
I’m going to start with a little story. Becoming a priest in the Episcopal Church involves a process of formation that takes about three years. It happens in stages, and there are exit ramps along the way (you can bail, or you can get nixed.) When I was about two years in there was a study session one day at Diocesan House in Hartford. There were two ordained leaders, and eight or nine candidates, who were all at different stages of the process. We were working on the baptismal covenant in the Prayer Book, line by line, talking about its meaning.
One of the candidates there was a guy I’d seen several times at group sessions like this one. He was not quite as far along the pipeline as I was, and I have to confess something to you, Sam (one of the things we do here is confess our sins): even though I barely knew him, I didn’t like him. I thought he was vain, arrogant, and frankly a bad advertisement for the church. And that was mostly because of the sense of superiority he just seemed to exude, not simply his own, but what he saw as that of our church, in a badly misconceived way. And at one point that day he made a comment about some particular thing in the liturgy of baptism that was in that direction, and I spoke up: I said, I have to say that sounds kind of exclusive to me. And he instantly answered – very emphatically – We are exclusive! We say, This is what we believe! And he stabbed the prayer book with his finger.
Well. I didn’t take it any further; it wasn’t the right time, and I wasn’t sure exactly how to articulate what I thought. I never saw him again after that day; I don’t know what happened to him. Probably he’s a great priest in another diocese somewhere, on his way to being a saint. But I did think about it afterward, about exactly what our disagreement was, and this is what I came up with: as Christians, we do say what we believe (we Christians), but that doesn’t mean we’re exclusive. It means we’re trying to be specific, as far as that’s possible. And there’s a big difference between saying, This is what we believe – if you don’t agree, there’s the door; and saying, This is what we believe: it’s all about the love of God that is in us and among us, and we believe that that’s true for everybody; so come join us, as we try every day to see what that means about how we should live our lives. And if there are things you don’t understand, welcome to the club: let’s work on it, and maybe we can help each other (I’m serious.)
To show something about how this works, I’m going to take a little example from the beginning of the baptismal liturgy, which we’re going to do in a couple of minutes (I know you’re excited.) It’s the part that’s called the “Examination of the Candidate[s]”. There are six questions the priest asks of the candidate for baptism (or his or her representatives, don’t worry). The first three ask the candidate to “renounce” specific things: “Satan, and all the spiritual forces of wickedness”; “the evil powers of this world”; and “all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God.” Modern ears are very suspicious of that language: it sounds like bogeyman stuff, mythology that’s a throwback and that nobody believes any more. It also sounds threatening and manipulative: the language of power, using fear. (It’s actually not about fear, at all – I’ll get back to that in a minute.)
But in fact what these questions actually ask us to do is to turn away from the illusions this world is constantly offering (and they can be vary attractive ones), illusions which divert us from seeing the truth, and therefore from the true fulfillment of who we really are: who God created us to be: one human family living in joyful communion with each other.
Those three questions asking us about what we are to turn away from are followed by three about what we are to turn toward: “Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?” “Do you put your whole trust in his grace and love?” “Do you promise to follow and obey him as your Lord?” The answer that the Prayer Book gives to those questions is simple: “I do.”
But the truth is that – if we have our wits about us – we keep finding out just what those questions – and that answer – mean, our whole lives long: the questions present themselves, new and fresh, every day. And I can tell you, Sam, from my personal experience, that when I stay turned in the direction these questions ask me to – even in my ignorance and confusion – by the grace of God, it works out; and life is better, and fuller, and more real: because these questions direct us to the truth.
And the basis of it all – and what we’re doing here with you today – is expressed in a verse we heard today in the passage from Paul’s letter to the Romans – to the church that he has recently founded there, so he’s talking to new Christians (maybe not quite as new as you, but still new); as we heard: “For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption.” We are all children of God. In Christ, we know this; in Christ, we have received this spirit of adoption: the knowledge that God embraces us all as God’s children. Paul says this in the very next verse: “When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God….”
So we are free: we are no longer slaves to the illusions this world is always offering about what’s really real. So we need not fear; because we know the truth.
It’s not that we don’t lose sight of this sometimes: that we don’t backslide, that we don’t make mistakes. We all do. But we have this home to come back to: we have this Jesus Christ to remind us, and refresh us, and renew us. This is why we call Christ our Lord, and our Savior. Isn’t that great? Welcome, Sam, and may the peace of Christ always be with you. Thanks be to God.