1st Sunday after Epiphany – Baptism of our Lord
January 12, 2013
Matthew 3:13-17
There was a first grade teacher who
was frustrated in her job, and seriously thinking about quitting. She changed
her mind one night while attending a night class at the local university. This
is her story in her own words:
A friendly woman who sat
next to me leaned over and said, "Say, I met an admirer of yours the other
day. I was at the bus station waiting for my son, and was noticing a Hispanic
woman and her little daughter waiting for a bus. The mother didn't speak much
English, but I began chatting with the little girl. She told me they were on
their way to Colorado to join her father. She was now in the second grade, and
she mentioned the name of her teacher. Then she opened her little purse and
took a worn picture from it and said, 'But this is my very favorite teacher. I
really love her!'"
My friend
went on, "I looked at that picture and was astonished that I knew the
person she showed me. It was you!" "Do you remember her name?" I
asked. "Yes, it was Adelina." Suddenly Adelina's little brown face
began to emerge in my mind. Adelina. Just another little first grader. But she
said, "This is the teacher I really love." She had shown my picture
to a stranger and said, "This is the teacher I really love." All the
way home that night that phrase boomed and throbbed in my mind: This is the
teacher I really love. With that kind of approval, I resolved to change, not my
profession, but my attitude.
How powerful
such simple words can be: “This is the one whom I really love!” They are words
that really can change our attitude – so much of our attitude, after all, is
shaped by how people treat us. That’s why the trend now in teaching, parenting,
and leading is to offer praise and approval, in hopes that this will encourage
people to do good work.
Unfortunately, critical words have
the same power, maybe even more. How often our whole day might take a turn for
the worse if just one person criticizes us or says something mean. I’m so
susceptible to this that if even a stranger honks at me while I’m driving, even
if I didn’t do anything wrong, I start doubting myself and wishing I had done
something differently so as not to have upset that person. We can do our best
to let problems and criticisms slide down our backs like rain off a duck, but
somehow, they can still find a way to bother us.
Why is that?
Brené Brown is a researcher at the University of Houston, and the focus of her
research is vulnerability and shame. She argues that we are a culture deeply
affected by shame, at every age. She defines shame as something different from
guilt. Guilt, she says, is, “I did something bad.” Shame, however, is, “I am bad.” It is a belief that there is
something about us that is unlovable, wrong, and worthless. So any time someone
says something to us that affirms this deep-seated and destructive fear, we
readily believe it. “You see?” we think. “I am bad. I was right. I’m worthless.
I don’t deserve love.”
So how do we
combat these feelings of inadequacy, this sense that who and what we are is
somehow lacking? How do we move from scarcity – the belief that we are not
enough, not smart enough, skinny enough, organized enough, tough enough, you
fill in the blank – to the knowledge that we are enough, that we are worthy of love?
Today’s Gospel lesson about Jesus’
baptism gives us a start. There are many images we use when talking about
baptism: forgiveness, cleansing, incorporation into the church, dying and
rising with Christ. But I have always been particularly drawn to that last part
of Jesus’ baptism, the part where the voice comes from heaven and says, “This
is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” In a world so affected by
shame and unworthiness, who doesn’t long to hear those words: “You are my child.
You are loved. I am pleased with you.” They are words of assurance. They are
words of promise. They are words of love.
And most powerfully, they are words
we hear not only in Jesus’ baptism, but in our own baptism as well. They speak
to hearts that often ache with the pain of inadequacy, with the fear of not
being enough. “You are my child, my beloved,” God says to our aching hearts. We
don’t always feel much like God’s children, do we? When we’re in despair, when
we are having doubts, when we mess up big time and hurt ourselves or people we
love, it is hard to feel like God’s children, much less like God’s beloved children! Yet even so, God says
in baptism, to us and to everyone who can hear, “This is my beloved child, with
whom I am well pleased.”
You see, in God’s eyes, we are
enough. We are loved. Yes, we mess up; yes, we fall short. We are guilty of
these things. But God’s love never fails us.
Today at St.
Martin we have the joy of witnessing the baptism of Aerianna. Before a baptism,
I usually meet with the parents of the child to be baptized and we talk about
what it means, what happens in this sacrament. At age six, Aerianna was able to
be a part of this conversation as well. Among other things that we talked
about, I told her that her baptism is God’s way of saying, “I love you so, so
much and will never let you go! You are my beloved child!” Aerianna was quick
to point out that she already is a beloved child of God, and has been all
along. Tuché! She is absolutely
right, and I told her so: she has been loved by God even since she was still in
her mom’s belly.
So what changes in baptism? Why do we
bother to baptize, and why should we bother to remember and talk about it? One
reason is that in baptism, God makes that truth public – just like when Jesus
was baptized and a voice came from heaven saying for all to hear, “This is my
Son, my beloved, in whom I am well pleased.” Today, God will say very publicly
for all to hear, “Aerianna is my daughter, my beloved, in whom I am well
pleased.” And God said that to us in each of our baptisms, calling us by name,
and telling us, “I love you, you are mine, and you are enough.”
I started this sermon with a story
about a 7-year-old who pointed to a picture of her teacher and said, “This is
the one I really love.” This heartfelt declaration changed the teacher’s whole
perspective on life. If those words are so powerful out of the mouth of a
child, how much more so out of the mouth of God? If we took time every day to
really hear these words, how might we change?
Maybe some of you made New Years
resolutions this year. By now, halfway through January, maybe you have already
given up on them! If that’s the case, or even if it’s not, I have a new one for
you. Tell yourself at least once every day, “I am God’s beloved child. I am
enough.” Let’s practice right now… Say it to yourself first thing when you wake
up. Say it right before you fall asleep. Say it whenever you start to doubt
yourself.
Say it again and again, brothers and
sisters in Christ, beloved children of God, because it is true. God made you.
God became like you in order to better know you. God promised to be with you in
all things. God took on our humanity and even died and rose again for your sake
so that you need not fear death. You are God’s beloved children. God is pleased
with you. You are enough.
Let us pray… God
of love, help us to remember the promises you make at baptism, to live into
those promises, and to remember every day that you created us good, and you
love us no matter what. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy
Spirit. Amen.
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