Sunday, September 1, 2024

Proper 17 (Year B) - Baptisms

The Rev. Clint Brown

Early in the second century, the Roman governor of Bithynia, known to history as Pliny the Younger, wrote to the Emperor Trajan about some of his administrative problems. He had the usual troubles: workers’ strikes, scandals, disaffection, and the irritating and persistent specter of religious unrest. The temples, he reported, were becoming more and more deserted, many services had been discontinued, and the trade in the buying and selling of animals for sacrifice for the health and well-being of the emperor had dropped off. It was all the fault, he said, of some troublemakers his informants called Christians. They were secretive, which meant they were clearly up to no good, and which also meant they were almost certainly disloyal to the emperor. So Pliny had a number of these Christians rounded up and brought before him for examination. But, as it turned out, there was really very little evidence to pin on them for any criminal activities. They were zealots and cranks, perhaps, a bit obstinate and inflexible, but, on the whole, more of a nuisance than a threat.

During the course of his examination, Pliny found out something of the practices of these early Christians, what they did when they came together. They were accustomed, he learned, to meet on a fixed day of the week very early in the morning to sing hymns to Christ “as to a god,” and to bind themselves by a solemn oath, not to some nefarious crime or seditious subterfuge, but simply to keep the moral law. At the end of their gatherings, they partook of a common meal and then went home. Naturally, all this left the governor rather more confused than how he started, but, for us, we recognize something quite familiar, what appears to be a proto-version of what we now call a Communion service, and, as I speak, there are millions of Christians just like us engaged in just such a service right now. 1 And so it has been for centuries without fail – Sunday after Sunday, year after year – in catacombs and houses, great cathedrals and village churches, during war and peace, famine or abundance, persecution or comity; wherever two or three have been able to gather, we have never stopped coming together to remember.

“[Take] care and watch yourselves closely, so as neither to forget the things that your eyes have seen nor to let them slip from your mind all the days of your life; make them known to your children and your children’s children” (Deuteronomy 4:9). Thus says the prophet Moses. History is an important value in our tradition. Our faith does not rest on a set of principles like some other religions or secular institutions, but on a relationship – with a person – a person of historical fact – what he did, who he was, why it matters. Our job then is to continuously make present that past, continuously holding up before us the reality that God became flesh and dwelt among us, in time, as a part of history. That we insist on reading the Bible connects us to that past. That our bishops are ordained in the apostolic succession connects us to that past. Our recital of creeds and ancient songs connects us to that past. Indeed, the forms of the prayers and even some of the very words we speak today in this service are traceable to the very earliest documents that record such things. Yes, we Christians are very interested in remembering and maintaining continuity with our past, and so it is that, today, we carry forward that work by baptizing two new members into the Body of Christ.

1 All of the above is a paraphrase of C. H. Dodd, The Founder of Christianity (London: Collins, 1971), 3-4.

In a scene from the Gospel of John, we see, in a condensed way, how it has been for us from the very beginning.

…among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus (John 12:20-22).

Our story is the story of one person who tells another person who tells another. For every Christian there has been some Philip, some Andrew, who has made the introduction; someone who has stood as an intermediary between the claim that Christ has on our life, on every life, and our finally coming to see and know him as Lord for ourselves. For a lot of us that looked like today. Our parents were Christians who decided that the Christian way would be our way. For others of us we have taken a more circuitous path, coming to Christ on our own volition and deciding that this is what we want to be. But all of us have had our Philip or our Andrew, and all of us are a Philip or Andrew for someone else. People are watching. They are deciding whether to be a follower of Christ based on you. How would you rate yourself? Is it a little bit obvious that you are a Christian? A lot obvious? Or is this perhaps the first time you have evenconsidered the question?

So there are actually two things happening today. The first, of course, is that there are baptisms. We are making new Christians today. But the second is that we are being reminded that the purpose and promise of our baptisms is never done – never ended. We all have things to do. We are remembering. We are transmitting. We are looking back. We are moving ahead. The Church represents a continuity – and the Church goes on.