A Baptismal View, for When Things Get Rough - Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

In the before times, way back in 2019, do you remember a spoof that was going around called “Virtual Reality Church?” Clergy everywhere got a big kick out of it, and rolled our eyes because you know, online church would never be a serious option. If only we knew then what we know now. In the video, comedian John Crist narrates the fictional church product with this ad: "Tired of having to get dressed and drive across town? Introducing Virtual Reality Church! Choose your own denomination, worship leader and sermon topic, all from the comfort of your couch!” He puts on a VR headset at home in his PJs and chooses from several options. You can select whatever kind of church building and music you like. Next, VR Church will customize your avatar’s outfit based on denomination. You can customize the pastor’s outfit, too, like how skinny their jeans are. And if you’re not a people person, you can select the introvert experience and skip shaking hands, visitor cards, and coffee hour. VR Church will also post to your social media for you about how much you enjoyed the service so you get credit for being spiritual all from the comfort of your home.

That was funny back then. We had no idea that it was also prophetic. Now we know that online church is a lifeline for holding us together as this Omicron wave hits. But I will say that some of the satire that makes the spoof funny is still kind of true. We come to church in person or online for all kinds of personal reasons, thinking about what we need, and what we like or don’t like. It’s easy to forget that church is about something much bigger than each of us. 

Whether attending church in person or on the couch, we sometimes think that following Jesus and staying connected to church is primarily for our own solace or inspiration, something to make us feel better. Barbara Brown Taylor says this is a fallacy, and calls it “solar theology,” like the sun. It’s easy to think that religion is a sunny self-improvement project that will increase peace and light and love in our lives. She says that, if we’re not careful, we end up starting to rely on “a full solar spirituality” which offers only comfort or affirmation. Such spirituality promises a sure sense of God’s presence, divine guidance in all things, and reliable answers to prayer, which are all wonderful things. However, she notes, “You may have discovered that the trouble starts when darkness falls on your life, which can happen in any number of unsurprising ways: you lose your job, your marriage falls apart, a loved one dies, your child acts out in some attention-getting way, you pray hard for something that does not happen, or you begin to doubt some of the things you have been taught about what the Bible says.” To that quote we might add a global pandemic, or maybe the disintegration of public life as we once knew it. No one is immune to the unrelenting difficulty of these days. It is in such times that we enter the more spiritually complex terrain of twilight and absence and even darkness. Solar theology proves inadequate. Something more real and useful is needed when things get rough. And what emerges from that place, Taylor says, is authentic and life-giving. 

Talk of hard times might seem like an obvious downer right now, and especially on a day we celebrate the baptism of Jesus. This is a feast day, after all. At his baptism in the Jordan River, there was joy. The heavens opened and the Spirit descended upon him like a dove. A voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." What could be more full of light and joy? And when we baptize in Jesus’ name, it’s one of the most joyful acts in the church, a cause for celebration. We give thanks whenever a new Christian is made and welcomed into the body of Christ. 

Yet, in the midst of what’s joyful about baptism, there is something a bit less solar and perhaps more essential. In 1982 the World Council of Churches issued a profound statement on the nature of baptism. “Baptism is participation in Christ’s death and resurrection, an immersion in the liberating death of Christ, where sins are buried, the power of sin is broken, and the baptized are raised to a new life in Christ.” 

An Orthodox theologian added that baptism is "total immersion in the choking waters of death." The language is uncomfortable, maybe even dramatic, but the idea is a needed one. A baptized person emerges from the water, having been reminded with Christ that life is a struggle against the powers of sin and death. A profound calling is then offered to every new Christian. As followers of Jesus, we are called to name the powers of sin and death. And to declare, to believe, that, however strong, their ultimate power has been broken in Christ. Whatever the sin of this world, whatever the sin in our own lives, Christ who died and rose again has broken their grip on us. 

Baptism is personal and joyful, and it’s something to give thanks for. Stepping into those waters with Jesus means that we don’t have to be paralyzed when the hard stuff comes because it does not have any ultimate power over us. And that “us” is collective, by the way. Just like online church in 2022, baptism connects us to one another and to the people of God across time and place. I might add a public service announcement here that if you are interested in baptism for yourself or a loved one, let us know. Nothing would be more joyful than to welcome you into the body of Christ through the sacrament of baptism. And nothing is more powerful than to step into the water with Christ. As our baptismal covenant teaches, by that water we are be buried with Christ in his death. By it we share in his resurrection. Through it we are reborn by the Holy Spirit. 

Returning to that World Council of Churches’ statement, the authors ended it with something very uncharacteristic for the ecumenical council. They went cosmic. They noted that in many Christian traditions, the use of baptismal water is seen to have repercussions not only for the individual being baptized but for the whole cosmos. Imagine that. Not only is baptism good for the person and for the church, it is good for the whole of creation. Like the ripple effect when you drop a stone into water, that’s how Christian hope spreads out. Baptism must, then, be good for this world, now in the grip of some of the worst stuff. This gives me hope that renewing our baptismal vows this morning will make a difference. 

If you are finding these days difficult, friends, you are not alone. Our spiritual lives and needs in 2022 are different than they were in 2019, back when we thought virtual church was just a funny take on individualism. Superficial or pleasantly solar spirituality is no longer adequate. We’re now deep into the waters of baptism with one another, where faith insists that destructive forces are not more powerful than the love of God in Christ. That love raises us to new life, come what may. That is the bigger picture the church offers this day, which has come, as it so often does, just when we need it most.