The Church of St. Paul and Incarnation
January 10, 2021
Year B: The First Sunday after the Epiphany – Baptism of Our Lord
Genesis 1:1-5
Psalm 29
Acts 19:1-7
Mark 1:4-11
Remembering Who We Are, Who We Are Meant To Be
So, a number of years ago, I was born, born just about a mile east from where I am standing right now, born at the Margaret Hague Maternity Hospital.
A couple of things about that:
I don’t remember my birth, of course, but I know it happened because, well, I’m here. And, fortunately, there are a few people around who do remember my birth. And there is also a very official looking government document that records and affirms all the details of my birth.
Now, no offense to those of you who were born elsewhere, but Jersey City people know that being born in the Margaret Hague gives one a special kind of Jersey City credibility – no matter what I may do in my life, no matter where I may go, I’m really and truly from here.
This is who and what I am, no matter what.
Oh, and one other thing about my birth: through no choice of my own, through no merit of my own, at the moment of my birth, simply by being born where I was, I automatically became a citizen of the United States.
This is also who I am.
Then, a few months after my birth, I was baptized, baptized at St. Boniface Roman Catholic Church in Downtown Jersey City.
A couple of things about that:
I don’t remember my baptism but I know it happened because, well, I’m here. And, fortunately, there are a few people around who do remember my Baptism. And, there is also a very official looking church document that records and affirms all the details of my Baptism.
Just like for all of us, in the moment of my Baptism, God made a bond with me, a bond that cannot be broken no matter what I may or may not do, no matter where life takes me.
Oh, and one other thing about my Baptism: I had no say in it – as usual my parents knew what was best for me – but simply by being enrolled in this community of faith, through no effort or merit of my own, I became a citizen of the Kingdom of God.
This is also who I am.
As most of you Jersey City people know, the Margaret Hague Maternity Hospital later closed and was looted, sitting vacant and derelict for a long time. But, just a few years ago, it was restored and transformed into a fancy apartment building.
And, a while back, St. Boniface Church also closed and was also transformed into a fancy apartment building.
So, although I can stand outside the place of my birth and the place of my second birth, I can’t actually visit the precise locations, at least not without having some awkward conversations with people about why I’d like to see the inside of their apartments.
(“Yes, hi, I’m pretty sure that I was baptized in your kitchen…”)
Of course, fortunately, I don’t have to visit those exact locations in order to remember my two citizenships.
But, especially during these shocking and frightening days, it does take some effort to remember who I really am – who I am meant to be.
Remembering who we are – who we are meant to be.
After all we’ve been through, it may feel life a few months ago, but it was just a couple of weeks ago that we celebrated the birth of Jesus – and it was just last Sunday when we recounted the story of the wise men from the East following the star all the way to Bethlehem, where they found the newborn King in a most unlikely place.
As we talked about last week, there is danger lurking in this seemingly charming story, because King Herod was determined to snuff out this young royal life, this newborn rival, as quickly as possible.
And after he learned that the wise men had tricked him, Herod went on a murderous rampage, killing the children of Bethlehem, forcing the Holy Family to flee to Egypt, where they waited until it was safe to return home.
Eventually they do make it back to Nazareth, and then the New Testament is silent on all those years of Jesus’ youth and young adulthood, with the one notable exception of a story in the Gospel of Luke about the twelve year-old Jesus in the Jerusalem Temple.
Remember that one?
We’re told that after the Passover celebrations in Jerusalem, Jesus got separated from his family – or probably separated himself from his family - sending them into a panic, until after what must have been three days of frantic searching, they finally find him in the Temple, happily talking with the teachers. After he’s found, Jesus tells the people who love him so much, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”
I always think that it’s probably for the best that Mary and Joseph’s response to that is left unrecorded.
This one story of Jesus’ childhood suggests that he had at least some idea of his special identity, but I think he probably grew up like most of the Jewish boys and young men of his time, following the Law of Moses, contributing toward the wellbeing of his family as soon as he was able.
Finally, after all those years that are lost to us, the story of Jesus resumes with what I read for us today: the Baptism of Jesus by John in the River Jordan.
Whatever he might have sensed or discovered before, it’s here in the baptismal water that Jesus knows for sure who he really is.
The Spirit descends on him like a dove and the voice from heaven declares, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Like anyone baptized as an adult, Jesus has something of an advantage over those of us baptized as infants. He can actually remember his Baptism. But, I bet even for people baptized as adults, it’s still a challenge to remember, to hold on to the reality of that unbreakable bond with God, especially when times get tough.
For example, the Gospels of Mark, Matthew, and Luke all agree that right after his Baptism, Jesus endures the forty days and nights in the wilderness, where Satan will tempt Jesus to use his power – to use his identity – for his own benefit, and not for the wellbeing of the world.
And, isn’t that always Satan’s temptation?
And then, after successfully resisting temptation, Jesus begins his ministry. He makes his way around Galilee and beyond, gathering a ragtag and often clueless band of disciples, teaching and healing, convincing some that the Kingdom of God was at hand, but failing to make the case to most people.
Throughout his ministry, I’m sure there were many times when Jesus had to remind himself – or had to be reminded - of his Baptism, remembering the voice from heaven:
“You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
And, at the end, or at what sure seemed like the end, after he was arrested like a common criminal, after he was abandoned by just about everybody, after he was tortured, and as he hung on the cross, feeling life drain away, I hope Jesus remembered his Baptism:
“You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
But, in those final moments of pain and despair, even if Jesus couldn’t remember, well, we know for sure that the Father did not forget.
Remembering who we are – who we are meant to be.
Last Wednesday was the worst day of our national life since September 11, 2001.
To repeat the metaphor from my weekly message, some toxic streams of our history – white supremacy, Anti-Semitism, a love of violence, profound ignorance – those terrible old streams crested at the United States Capitol.
You know, looking back at the last few years, something like the storming of the Capitol was probably inevitable.
For years now, not just one leader, but many of our leaders, have refused to use their power and responsibility for the wellbeing of all, especially the most vulnerable among us.
Instead, for years now, not just one leader, but many of our leaders, have sought to divide us – Red and Blue, Republicans and Democrats, whites and everybody else, citizens and those who desperately want to join us for freedom and a chance at a better life, just like my ancestors did just a few generations ago – making journeys that made possible a citizenship that I did nothing to earn.
Many of our leaders, not just one leader, have sought to divide us for their own cynical reasons – insatiable greed and lust for power, wealth, and attention.
And they’ve also sought to divide us for reasons that they would be loathe to admit, and maybe even for reasons they can’t recognize – fear and insecurity, a haunting sense of inadequacy and failure.
And, tragically, people all across our country – let’s be honest: white people, mostly - have been caught up in the frenzy, pinning the blame for all their troubles on the usual scapegoats: immigrants, Jews, the press – they’ve chosen to believe the most outlandish conspiracies, placing their trust in the least trustworthy people among us.
Much of the Church has not distinguished itself during this time. Instead of siding with the poor and oppressed and despised – you know, Jesus’ people - much of the Church has given into the old temptation of worldly power, trying to justify, or turning a blind eye to, so much cruelty and suffering.
Every week here we pray for the children and parents separated at the border but the hard truth is that some of them will never be reunited.
Well, after years of this poison, thousands descended on Washington this past week – some looking like they just wanted to take selfies in the Capitol, while others were clearly equipped and willing to kidnap or kill.
Some well-meaning people say this is not who we are.
But, unfortunately, that’s just not true.
No, this is who some of us are, at least right now – but what we saw on Wednesday: the anger, hate, violence, and gleeful destruction - that’s not our true identity.
We need to remember who we are – who we are meant to be.
It took us a long time to get into this mess, and there are no easy fixes for our predicament.
Today, as we are overshadowed by a cresting wave of fear and hate, the long and difficult way back to the Light is going to require courage and accountability and justice and repentance.
The long and difficult way back to the Light begins by remembering – by remembering who we are, who we are meant to be.
The long and difficult way back to the Light begins by remembering that no matter where we were born, we are human beings who all screw up, yes, some more than others, but for the most part we all need and want the same things – love, security, respect – though sometimes we are prevented from having those things, or we don’t know how to get them, or we go about getting them in destructive and self-destructive ways.
The long and difficult way back to the Light begins by remembering the words of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, “In a free society, some are guilty, but all responsible.”
The long way back to the Light begins by remembering that we are all so deeply loved by God, loved by the God who makes an unbreakable, indissoluble, bond with us in the water of Baptism, the God who gives us Jesus, the Beloved, the Light that always shines, guiding us out of even the deepest shadows.
So, no matter what happens in the days and weeks ahead, remember who you are – remember who you are meant to be.
Amen.
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