Of Water and Spirit, by Jan Richardson. Used by permission.
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We Christians are about lifting people up. We are about lifting people up, pulling them into an embrace, and drawing them close in beloved community. That’s what we’re about. That’s who we are.
Maybe you’re a little embarrassed to call yourself a Christian in these troubled times. Our public square is populated by many Christians who pointedly do not lift people up, pull them into an embrace, and draw them close in beloved community. So many Christians in our dominant culture are about tearing down, pulling apart, and destroying community.
But that’s not what we’re about. That’s not who we are.
When Jesus encounters a woman with an ailment that is bending her down, he lifts her up, and it doesn’t matter what day it is; it doesn’t matter what the social rules are; it doesn’t matter what other people will think when he takes this action, when he restores the health of a woman on a day set aside for other things.
No matter what day it is, no matter what other people’s priorities are, no matter what other people think faith in God is about, Jesus is about lifting people up, pulling them into an embrace, and drawing them close in beloved community. That’s who he is.
Now, this may sound warm and fuzzy, all this lifting and embracing, all this health and all this love. But ours is not a soft faith. We are not just sharing sweetness and cheer. Our faith is strong and muscular, sharp and assertive, courageous and dauntless. When Jesus lifted up a woman in health, and by doing so said that her health was of primary importance, he caused bitter conflict. He created controversy. The leader of that woman’s faith community was “indignant”! And Jesus responded to the critique with hard aggression: “You hypocrites!” he accused his accusers. Sometimes the simple act of inclusion is controversial. Sometimes the loving and merciful ministry we share is scandalous.
When we lift people up and embrace them as Jesus does, we inevitably will lift up the kind of people others think are the Wrong Kind of People. And when we do this on God’s time, as Jesus does, we will violate cultural rhythms and norms, and we’ll be changing things too fast, inviting a hard backlash. And sometimes it’s just … it’s not done, all this lifting and embracing, all this health and all this love. In this era of profound discord and anxiety, the love of Jesus can be – for all of its immense value right now! – deeply unsettling. It’s vulnerable work. It’s often awkward. It disrupts expectations.
But again, that’s what we’re about. That’s who we are.
Today, we Christians who lift people up – we Christians who build beloved community the way Jesus does – we are once again going down to the river to pray: [later this morning] we will proceed to the baptismal font, where it stands at the entrance to our gathering space. Our outdoor font is an icon, an object that reveals the Way of Jesus. Raúl and Harrison and Sofie will draw close to the water, and then the water will break over them, washing them, drowning them, leading them to new life in Christ. Like the prophet Jeremiah, God in Baptism will make these new saints overseers in God’s dominion, empowering them to “pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.” They will have agency, they will have power, given to them by God, to practice our assertive and muscular faith, to lift people up and to overthrow the oppressors. They will join us in building and planting beloved community here, at Grace Church, a ministry field for those who follow Jesus.
Harrison and Sofie have all of this to learn, of course, being only eight months old. But they’re already learning. Harrison is distracted by many interesting things, but Sofie watches everything and everyone with serious, intentional curiosity: they’re like Martha and Mary, these two. And we are lifting them up today, pulling them into an embrace, drawing them into beloved community, with the expectation that they will go and do likewise when they are older. We will teach them the faith, and we will be led in this ministry by Harrison and Sofie’s godparents.
But Raúl knows all about this already. He has prepared diligently for Baptism, and has reflected deeply on his call, his identity, his future. He watched us baptize a half dozen other saints earlier this year, and he took careful note of what we were saying and doing. He prepared questions for me. He listens carefully. Raúl is a good student in the school of faith. He has a wise sponsor. He’s ready.
And through all these recent months, Raúl has turned to his own family for guidance. And that includes family that has gone before us: that includes David Moen, Raúl’s father-in-law, who died in 2020 and is at rest in our memorial garden. David’s friend Janie created this banner in his memory, and like this banner, David himself remains here at Grace Church as a pillar, one of our founding members, an elder who helped us become followers of Jesus in this place.
Sunday by Sunday, Raúl and Erica take their children down to the memorial garden to spend some time with David. This is in keeping with Raúl’s family traditions, a particular practice of Catholic Christianity that reveres the presence and power of those who have died.
Sometimes that practice is more playful than solemn: families will make a day of it and have a picnic at the graves of their loved ones. Other times, these visits with their beloved dead are serious indeed. I sense that the family’s weekly visits with David are something in between: lighthearted but not silly; profound but not stuffy.
For Raúl, these trips to the memorial garden connect him again with the man who literally embraced him and welcomed him into the family. Raúl remembers first meeting David, and being on his best formal behavior as he said, “It is good to meet you, Mr. Moen.” David responded with a boundless smile, reached out his arm, pulled Raúl into a hug, and welcomed him into the family with beautiful, fast friendship.
David did that because that’s who David was, and is. He did that because that’s who we all are: we Christians are people who lift people up, pull them into an embrace, and draw them close in beloved community.
Lift, embrace, build community; lift, embrace, build community: this is the pattern we practice here, today and all days. This is what we learn in the baptismal waters. This is our mission. This is the identity that Harrison, Sofie, and Raúl are being given today. This is who we are.
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Preached on the Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 16C), August 21, 2022, at Grace Episcopal Church, Bainbridge Island, Washington.
Jeremiah 1:4-10
Psalm 71:1-6
Hebrews 12:18-29
Luke 13:10-17