Sermon preached by The Rev'd Nicholas Lang

St. Paul’s on the Green, Norwalk, Connecticut

The First Sunday after Epiphany - January 13, 2008

What a difference a week makes! Last Sunday we were following a star that brought wise men to the home of the child Jesus and his parents. Today he is an adult—30 years old—and comes to John the Baptist requesting to be baptized. We have moved from that very private period of the early life of Jesus, a considerable span of time about which we know very little, to his public appearance and the beginning of his ministry among the people.

The baptism, however, on which I would like to focus this morning is not the baptism of Jesus but the baptism about which we hear in the reading from the Acts of the Apostles. What this passage is essentially is Peter’s testimony to the church about his decision to baptize a gentile. Here is a devout son of Israel who has crossed the line, a faithful observer of all the commandments around keeping kosher and not socializing with Gentiles.

The meal restrictions they observed kept Jews as Jews through all the persecution suffered at the hands of Roman occupation. Peter had not only gone to this Gentile’s home and eaten with him, he had also baptized him. Now he stands before the congregation which is fuming about this transgression—that he dared to let a Gentile into the fellowship of the Church. Peter is preaching a sermon and, not unlike what preachers still do, he is bearing testimony to how he has grown in his understanding of the mission of the church and how he has come to believe that the Good News was meant not just for some but for all. “I truly understand,” he says, “that God shows no partiality.” No partiality.

This is a core doctrine that has often been forgotten or abandoned by some churches. If we just look at the two principal Christmas stories we have heard over the last few weeks we see that, as early as in the narratives that give accounts of the birth of Jesus, there is evidence of God’s radical invitation to those whom the world might least expect would receive it or deem worthy of it. The news of the Messiah’s birth is first announced to shepherds, the lowest of the low in that first century culture: poor, smelly, simple folk, outcasts.

Then God extends invitation to the magi—a bunch of exotic pagans—to follow a star that leads them to worship the child Jesus. In both these instances, it is the outsider who is coaxed in from the margins of life and given an experience that is life transforming. So what Peter has done by extending God’s welcome to the church to an outsider is not at all a first time occurrence. God did it long before Peter. Two thousand years later, the church must learn and relearn over and over the great truth of the gospel: God shows no partiality.

Yes, two thousand years separates us from the baptism of Jesus by John in the Jordan River and from the baptism of the Gentile by Peter but we are still blessing and pouring the water, still passing the candle, a symbol of light, still sealing the newly baptized with holy oil, still marking them as Christ’s own forever. Why do we continue to do this?

Let me tell a story that might give us a new perspective. It happened in St. Petersburg, Russia, what in the communist era was renamed Leningrad. A priest was just leaving an Orthodox Church after the long Divine Liturgy. A man who looked like one of Hell’s Angels—leather jacket, jeans, boots, and bandanna around his head—approached him. He was carrying a small bundle close to his chest.

“Spacebo, Otiets,” Please, Father, I want you to baptize my child.” Somewhat taken back, the priest asked, “Are you a believer?” “No, I can’t believe,” said the man. “But I want her to”—nodding towards the bundle in his arms. The priest brought them into the church and baptized the little girl. Later, this priest told the story to a visiting American bishop. He said “That’s how it was all over Russia. People felt that they had been robbed of the power of faith for the past 75 years. They realized that they couldn’t reclaim it just by willing it, but they did want it, and they wanted it for their children most of all.”

They saw purpose in the lives of those who believe; they saw hope when they no longer had hope. A new world had opened up to them and they wanted to come in and be a part of that wonder and mystery and to have that power at work in their lives and in the lives of their children.

So we continue to proclaim that God shows no partiality; that every child created by God is God’s beloved. We continue to wash one another in the water and present the light that illuminates the darkness, and anoint with oil and mark each person as Christ’s very own forever. And, in that simple rite, one which Martin Luther once observed takes only a few minutes to do, but a lifetime to finish, we offer a new world of wonder and mystery where God’s grace is always at work in our lives.

This morning we extend the same radical invitation to Victoria and Brenden and walk them to the broad and great sea of grace that is our baptismal font. We baptize in expectation that God will work in their lives and that they will one day come to know how beloved they are in Gods eyes. But we also baptize in such a public way so that we can all remember that baptism has given us an identity and a calling, a purpose and ministry, to carry with us everyday of our lives.

Yesterday we celebrated together the 35th anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood. It was a grand and glorious occasion and I will cherish the memory for a very long time. In my office I proudly display the testimony of another memory, a framed document that certifies that I am a priest in the Episcopal Church which brings me to the story about a priest beginning her assignment as rector in a parish. The first thing she did was to hang her ordination certificate in a prominent place in her new office. Beaming, she called the parish secretary in to show her what she had done. “That’s wonderful,” the woman said. “Now can I show you my ordination certificate too?” Surprised at this suggestion, the new priest followed the secretary to her office where proudly displayed on a wall over her desk was a framed “Certificate of Baptism.” She knew what the real ordination to ministry was.

I wonder when you last looked at your own baptismal certificate. Maybe today would be a good time to go in search of it and, when you find it, sit with it a while, hold it in your hands, remember what it means, maybe, just maybe find a nice frame for it and hang it someplace where every once in a while you can glance at it and know that it proclaims that you are God’s beloved and, because you are, you have entered a new world of wonder and mystery, a world where God shows no partiality, where hope thrives, and where the power of God is at work in and through your lives.