Down by the Riverside: Our Baptismal Covenant and guns, mental health care and the culture of violence

Jordan River

Today's sermon is based on Isaiah 43:1-7, Luke 3:15-17, 21-22.

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The people were filled with expectations and they were blessed and they were the beloved. May you be filled with expectations, blessings and know you are the beloved. Amen.


Listen again to the words of the prophet Isaiah: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.”

What must these people have seen and heard, standing in line at the river?

They had come from seemingly everywhere, traveling a long perilous journey across desert and mountains, to the lowest place on earth – the Jordan River Valley.

Now they stood in line, waiting to be washed in the river by a strange holy man, to be baptized into a new way of living.

Standing next to them in line was a young man from the north, from the region known as the Galilee.

Did they even notice him in line?

Or were they so consumed by their own worries, their own struggles, their own expectations, that they didn’t notice who stood with them.

He waited his turn. If he said anything to anyone, no one seems to have noticed enough to remember it or what he looked like.

Yet one man did notice. John, he was known, the one who they would call “the Baptist.”

John was an austere man of the desert, living off the land, and he attracted followers, lots of them. We can guess some of them were starving. Maybe all he could give them was insects and a little honey. It was all he ate, and it was enough.

Then there were these lines of people from all over the Judean countryside, waiting to see him.

Maybe some were fleeing from something, but I will bet most were not unlike us – searching for some sense that God is with them, that God has not deserted them in their troubles.

And there was this other man standing in line, this man from the north, and he came alone.

John, the one they called the Baptist, he noticed him. He knew exactly who he was, and he knew in an instant that the world would never – could never – be the same.

He washed this lone man in the river, baptized him like so many others. But this time it was different. This time it was the Baptist who felt like he had been washed, made new, made holy.

And he heard the voice, maybe only a whisper, saying that this man in the river is “my beloved. Listen to him.”

For countless centuries many have pondered this scene, debated its significance, wondered why on earth Jesus, the Son of God, would chose to stand in line with all these troubled people and chose to baptized.

To find the answer, maybe we need look no further than ourselves. By standing in line to be baptized, Jesus chose to be one of us, to share in the same troubles, to experience life as we experience it, and ultimately to bring the Godness within him to dwell with us, too.

He yearned to show us that we, too, are the beloved of God, that our very existence is God’s dream.

Today we are passing along this gift of God’s dream through baptism to three children: Charlotte, James, and Alice.

We will stand with them at the font in the center of our church, where so many have been baptized for decades and decades.

We will signify with the outward symbols of water and words, music and prayers, that these three beautiful children are the beloved of God.

And we will do more: We will promise to stand with them in whatever life brings them. We will declare that nothing – nothing – will separate them from the love of God. Down through the centuries, many have declared this reality in countless places, and in countless ways.

Indeed, today, by what we do, we are reaching back thousands of years to the ancient Hebrew prophets.

Listen again to the prophet Isaiah, who in a few short words proclaims the very essence of what we do today:

“You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.”

No one can be a bystander today. Baptism brings with it challenges for each one of us.

In a few moments, we will join together in renewing our baptismal covenant. We will make promises for how we will live our life in faith – promises not just for ourselves but for these three children and for every child in the entire world.

We will pledge to pray together and share in the breaking of the bread – regularly.

We will promise to love our neighbors as ourselves – regularly – and promise that when we fall into sin – as we will do regularly – that will return to the Lord, again and again.

And here is the hardest one. We will promise to respect the dignity of every human being.

By doing this, we are holding these promises in trust for these three children until they are old enough to hold these promises for themselves.

If we take seriously the promises of our baptism, that will have consequences and will change the world.

Our baptism commissions us to be servants for each other, servants of our community and servants of every nation. The only privilege of our baptism – the only privilege – is the privilege to be servants.

We can start by proclaiming in word and example that we stand for an end to the way of violence, warfare, poverty, and ignorance – and an end to the idol of guns.

I want you to know that, with 27 others from our diocese, I have co-sponsored a resolution at our upcoming Diocesan Council to join with other religious communities in calling for laws restricting the sale high-powered military weapons; strengthening our mental health system; and calling on all of us to take a critical look at our culture that glorifies violence.

My baptismal promises compel me to do no less.

People of faith can differ on the details, yet we must not shrink from doing what we can to make our world safer.

Yet know this too: Wherever we go in life, whatever good we do, or the mistakes we make, Christ Jesus stands in this line with us – joins us in the water of baptism – telling us over and over that each one of us is the beloved, each of us is God’s dream.

“Do not fear,” Isaiah proclaims, “for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.”

These are the promises that never, never, never end. AMEN

James Richardson, Fiat Lux

My role as co-president of IMPACT

Hopefully by now you have seen my post below about our big community meeting for IMPACT on Monday evening with members of the Board of Supervisors and City Council (look below this post for that). Many of you were there -- thanks for coming!

I was asked yesterday by a few people in our congregation about my role as co-president of IMPACT, a role I am sharing with Dorothy Jordan, a lay leader from Zion Baptist Church North Garden. A few of our parishioners voiced concern that as a priest I should not be involved in "politics."

I agree with them. I am much suspicious of clerics playing politics.

But please allow me to elaborate by sharing some of my reply:

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I accepted this position as co-president after a great deal of prayer, thought, and talking with people both in our congregation and outside, including other clergy in our community.

I share your concern that religious leaders need to be careful about "political" roles -- we see plenty of demagoguery by religious leaders these days. Nonetheless, all of us are called by our baptismal covenant to work for "justice and peace" and the "dignity of every human being," and that inevitably will lead us into public policy (carefully we pray). That must include me because I share the same baptismal covenant with you and our congregation. One of the reasons I accepted the call to be Rector at St. Paul's is because of the leadership of this parish in IMPACT. My role as a priest will take me to uncomfortable places.

While we spend a great deal of time and resources helping people in needy situations (like with food banks and soup kitchens) we also need to look at the systems that put them there, or keeps them there. There is an old saying: "When we see someone drowning in the river, we need to pull them out. But we also need to walk upstream and see who is throwing them in."

Another thing that is hugely important to me: IMPACT is the only organization that I've seen in Charlottesville that unites very diverse congregations across denominational lines, and even interfaith lines, with Christian, Jewish and Muslims participating. That is truly rare and remarkable, and is perhaps a model for the rest of the world. The issues we work on are derived at a meeting in the fall that all of our congregations are invited to participate in. All of this is done out in the open.

Candidly, the organization needs clergy leadership, and I could find no excuse to avoid that other than the uncomfortable feeling that this is somehow "political." And, candidly, I have spent much of my life involved in public policy and the media, and perhaps God is calling me to share those gifts in a new sphere.

I've written about my role with IMPACT in the latest issue of The Beacon (scroll down and look inside for the article). I elaborated further in a sermon a couple of weeks ago which you can listen to or read HERE.

I must acknowledge that serving as co-president is as much as stretch for me as it might be for you. I am more accustomed to standing in the wings as a reporter with notebook. To be on a stage in front of 1,500 people Monday night was a new experience for me, but I was also thrilled and invigorated to see so many people of so many faiths come together united in their belief we can build a better world together.

Thanks again to one and all for your support of IMPACT and your willingness to consider how my own role as a priest is continues to develop.

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

Our story: Baptism and the Baptismal Covenant

I was back in the pulpit today after a few weeks away.
Today's lesson is based on Matthew 22:34-46.

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The last few weeks you may have noticed that all of our sermons have touched on our baptismal covenant. And you may have noticed that each Sunday, instead of saying the Nicene Creed, we have been renewing our Baptismal covenant. 

Today is my turn, and next week Margaret Mohrmann will wrap up this theme.
I’d like to begin by asking you to turn to the Book of Common Prayer page 304 and take a moment to look at the baptismal covenant.  

You will notice it comes in two parts; the first half is a restatement of the Apostle’s Creed, and the second half is a series of promises. 

Please notice something else: It is not a statement of doctrine. 

It is a story. 

Here is what doctrine sounds like: “There is but one only, living, and true God, who is infinite in being and perfection, a most pure spirit, visible, without body, parts, or passions; immutable, immense, eternal, incomprehensible, almighty, most wise, most holy, most free, most absolute.” 

That is from the Calvinist “Westminster Confession” of faith written in 1646, and foundational to the Presbyterians. It has 33 chapters, ending with a jolly sounding chapter entitled “Of the Last Judgment.” Be glad you don’t have to memorize this in a confirmation class here. 

That is doctrine because it is a description of the nature and qualities of God and the terms and conditions to be saved by God. 

But we don’t have a confession of faith; we have a story. 

Our baptismal covenant is how we make the ancient story our own story. The story begins with a summary of the Bible – the creation of the universe by God; and the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus; and how Jesus goes to the very depths of hell itself to rescue us; and then the story of the Church, ignited by the Holy Spirit, and bringing forgiveness and new life. 

We call this “catholic,” a word meaning “universal,” making this story a declaration that all of us are included regardless of church brand. 

If you are stumbling over the words “I believe,” there is a more ancient understanding of the word “believe” than attesting to a set of facts. 

The ancient definition of “believe” is to say, “I am in relationship” with the story, and therefore this ancient story is my story, too. 

We enter into the story through our baptism, and through the promises we make for living into the baptismal story in a very particular way: 

We pledge to continue journeying with each other in the tradition of all those who came before us – we call them apostles, and there are many down through history into our own time. 

We pledge to gather in fellowship, in joy and sorrow, in the breaking of the bread, and we pledge to always pray together. 

We pledge to resist evil, and when in our own arrogance we turn away from God, we pledge that we will “repent” by turning back to the way of our baptism – the way of God. 

We pledge to proclaim our life in Christ through our own words and actions. There is an old Franciscan expression for this: “Preach the gospel, and only when necessary, use words.” Actions speak louder than words. 

We pledge to walk with Christ by loving our neighbors as ourselves, by working for justice and peace by respecting the dignity of every human being, and especially those who live on the margins, and especially those whom we have the most difficulty. 

It is a tall bill this baptismal covenant. 

We say we will do it “with God’s help,” and how else could we do that except with God’s help? 

We baptize young and old alike, babies and adults; people who are beginning life, people in the prime of life and people who come to the story late in life. 

When we baptize babies and children, we are affirming loud and clear that they, too, are part of this epic story of God’s people, and we carry these pledges for our children until they are old enough to carry these pledges for themselves. 

We enter into this story with our whole being. We call this a “sacrament” because we experience everything through our human senses – our touch, our hearing, our taste and our sight. 

We have no other access to the Holy except through the humanness of our physical senses.
God made our bodies good, and that goodness allows us to experience the divine, and that makes us sacramental beings. 

We use the physical outward elements of water, bread, wine, words, music, and prayers, to give us entry – a window if you will – into the sacred presence that is inside all of us, surrounds us and connects us to the holy – and to each other. 

St. Thomas Aquinas once said that we are not souls inside a body, but bodies inside a soul. By that he meant that our souls are connected to each other and to God in ways that we can’t describe, but in ways we can touch, see and hear through sacraments. 

When we baptize people we are saying through physical symbols that God is already at work in them. 

We are also doing something more – we are welcoming the newly baptized into the “household of God” – the Body of Christ. We are declaring that this household of God needs everyone, of every age and every gift, and no one will be excluded. 

It is true that religion, faith and belief is an intensely personal thing. You believe what you believe, you journey where and how you will, and it doesn’t get more personal that that. 

Yet the religious experience is more than personal. It is about all of us experiencing the divine together as a sacramental community. When I falter, when I doubt, when I cannot pray, I rest assured in knowing you will do that for me. I cannot do this alone, and neither can you. Faith is personal, but it isn’t private. 

We come together around this Holy Table to be connected to each other in the sharing of the bread and wine, and hearing once again the story of salvation that is our story. 

The Church has long taught that baptism is the gateway to the other sacraments, including the Holy Eucharist, and that is true. 

But as you may know, in this parish we welcome all who enter these doors to share in the bread and wine of our Holy Eucharist. We invite everyone who is drawn here to bring with them their faith, their doubts, the longings of their hearts, their brokenness and wounds, and their hopes and joys, and bring all of that to this feast of the divine. 

We don’t check baptismal certificates at the railing because Jesus didn’t check the certificates either. Nor does it matter if you’ve led a saintly life or a sinner’s life, or both. 

Yet the Holy Eucharist finds its fullest meaning in baptism. It is not so much that baptism is a ticket to the table, as it is that coming to the table is an expression of the fullness of baptism. Everything we do emanates from the center of our baptism. That is why the baptismal font is placed in the center of the church and why symbolically you pass by it on your way to the Holy Table. 

It may be that coming to this table may lead you to baptism, and I know many people for whom that is true. 

They asked to be baptized precisely because they had been welcome share in the Holy Eucharist. 

Gathering at this table, Sunday after Sunday, is foundational to living fully into the promises of our baptism. 

How do we live fully the sacramental life of our baptism? There are many ways, many techniques, many practices, yet all of them come down to what you hear this morning proclaimed by Jesus in the gospel lesson from Matthew: 

“ ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ ” 

To love God and to love our neighbors as ourselves is to write our story differently than we might have otherwise – to live a life of giving to others motivated not by guilt but by love.
Think of giving itself as a sacramental action. 

Giving is not just about pledging money to the church, though I hope you do. Giving is really about leading a life that is marked by generosity in all that you do, in your daily life, in your home, in the classroom, in your work, in your church, and everywhere you go and with everyone you meet. 

How? With God’s help; by finding your passion for how God is calling you to build a world brimming with love and generosity, and then following your passion wherever God leads, and writing your story large.
AMEN.