1 Epiphany, Year A Isaiah 42:1-9 Psalm 89:20-29 Acts 10:34-38 Matthew 3:13-17 January 9, 2005 The Rev. J. Brian Ponder, Chaplain Church of the Resurrection, Starkville, Mississippi In the Name of God's Beloved. Amen. On this, the first Sunday after the Epiphany, we celebrate the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan River by his cousin, John -- this act of epiphany to John and to those who witnessed Jesus' baptism, to him who heard the voice of God and saw the opening of the heavens, and those who beheld with their own eyes the glory of God in their midst. Only a few nights ago, many of us gathered in this very room to celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany, also known as the Manifestation of Jesus Christ to the Gentiles -- a celebration of revelation -- of God's revelation of God's self as Immanuel in our midst, of revelation that Jesus the Christ, as Messiah, Lord and Savior is for all, not just a "chosen" people. Indeed, our season of Epiphany is about revelation. It is about manifestation. Epiphany is about the "a-ha" moments in the lives of those who witnessed Jesus' ministry, and it's about the "a-ha" moments when Jesus is revealed to us in our own day. Epiphany continues our celebration of God with us -- Immanuel -- our celebration that in our very midst, our God is doing a new thing. Indeed the words of God through Isaiah ring louder and clearer to us in Epiphany: "[T]he former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare." And then God says in Matthew: "This is my Son, the Beloved, in whom I am well pleased." [Matthew 3:17] In this proclamation, as God does in several other instances within Scripture, Jesus is claimed as the Beloved, a new creation -- or rather a new manifestation -- of the relationship amongst the Godhead, a new understanding of Immanuel -- God with us … a new thing. Epiphany is one of our green seasons. Not just a seasonal, or liturgical color, but it is a marked period of time, representing freshness, budding knowledge, crisp-ness and new life. As we continue our celebration of the manifestation of the Christ into this world and his baptism, so too we celebrate on this day our own baptismal lives within the Church and the larger Body of Christ, and we mark this day of entry point, particularly for those who will be baptized [later this morning / in a few moments] into the fuller realization of relationship with God through Jesus Christ. Today, we will baptize two and receive two into not only this branch of the Body of Christ -- Church of the Resurrection in Starkville, Mississippi, part of the Episcopal Church in the United States of America, and part of the worldwide Anglican Communion, but we welcome new daughters, sisters into the larger Body of Christ, the larger body that sees no division along theological or denominational lines. On behalf of Mother Church -- the Church of Christians everywhere -- and more importantly in God's Name: Father, Son and Holy Spirit we welcome into the priesthood of all believers creatures of God's own making, children of God, beloved in their own life -- reminding us that we, too, are beloved -- those … we who share in Christ's eternal priesthood. And God says: "Behold, I am doing a new thing." We Christians understand Baptism as rebirth, fresh start … new birth … new birth into the loving arms of God … new birth into the saving grace of Jesus Christ. In it we share in an everlasting promise that we will be made new again and again and again. That our life in Christ is strengthened in this new relationship, this new way of being -- a dying to the old and what is past. And we make promises, promises for ourselves and on behalf of others, to dedicate our lives and the raising up of others within the life of the Church and Body of Christ. New things … One of my fondest memories of growing up was visiting my grandparents' house in south Jackson on Sundays. After church, we'd go over to their house for lunch and time together, and I would usually take a nap, and then we'd visit some more, and then the week would begin again. One of the rituals of those Sunday gatherings, was my going to this little desk in the crook of their hallway with shelves, displaying different porcelain and metal objects. My mom's bronzed baby shoes were there. There were other sentimental objects, too. But the thing that always drew my attention was a ceramic owl, dark greenish blue with defined feathers and eyes staring me eye-to-eye, until I grew by leaps and bounds one summer. The ceramic owl was a bank, and in it every week was some kind of coin -- a coin that had been placed there in my absence during the week, a bi-centennial quarter every once in awhile, a half-dollar, Kennedy's head and majestic eagle emblazoned one on each side; sometimes nothing more than a shiny new penny or two -- always something different. I enjoyed the ritual of pilgrimage to that place in my grandparents' house. I enjoyed coming back and telling the story of the treasure I had found there. My family enjoyed the story, too -- the excitement, the freshness, the newness of discovery again and again and again. And I would pocket the treasure, hoping that its newness would be retained, that the shininess would remain, that the tarnish would not set in, or that it would always be treasured. But back home, some coins were eventually forgotten or misplaced. Some coins for one reason or another that I had tucked away did tarnish. Some coins were well spent, and others were squandered. At some point their newness did wear off. Things just happened. … Things happen. The fondness of that memory for me is not really about the coins at all. Sure they were something tangible, something to hold, something on which to hold. But the true treasure of that memory for me was and is in the symbolic … the unspoken … yet that which was heard so loud and clear. The pilgrimage to the bank, or in our case today, to the water's edge was about re-membering. It was and is about being re-membered. It is about membership and connection. The memories of those trips to the ceramic owl are about surprise. They are about new found joys and sharing the story. They are about re-membering. Today we baptize and receive four children into the household of God, proclaiming God born, crucified, risen and glorified, and called to proclaim our common story of pilgrimage to and from the font and back again. Theirs are our same stories, all of which we are called to share with every new member received into the Body, particularly through our own renewal of vows in the Baptismal Covenant. As in our own lives, these four will most likely experience times of true brokenness, perhaps times felt far from the reach of God, when their coins as do ours become not-so-shiny, or tarnished, or forgotten or even squandered. But what we do here today confirms and roots us in the knowledge of the love of God, understanding ourselves as beloved of God -- with us here in our own day. What we do here today is our proclamation that nothing can ever separate us from the love of God -- that indeed we are spiritually reborn into that same life and death of the one who washes away all sin for all time -- an act of re-memberance -- an act of re-membering in its several senses (as memory but more importantly as regathering and repiecing ourselves to and with God and with God's most gracious help in the midst of this broken world. Today we find our treasure in that sacred movement to the waters, where we all find rebirth into Christ -- his suffering and death, his glorious resurrection and ascension. For it is at the waters that we find Jesus. Today we claim Jesus' story as our own … shared … experienced … manifest, true and real in our own lives. Today, we proclaim not only who but whose we are. Today, as from our graves, we make our song Alleluia! And for this, the Body of Christ joins in a dance of celebration, fluid, moving in time with one accord, unified, more whole than ever before and beautiful … beloved. And God says: "Behold, I am doing a new thing."