Remembering Love

Sermon for Jan. 9, 2021

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas season, shared with family and friends.  I don’t know what captures the essence of Christmas dinner for you, but for me, there’s just one answer: It’s the gravy.  And not just any gravy, but my mother’s gravy.  There’s a particular character to the gravy my mother used to make.  If you look at turkey gravy in jars at the store, or what you usually get at a restaurant, it’s a pleasant-enough light brown.   My mother’s gravy was darker because of the way she cooked the turkey, roasting it open in the oven, bathed in butter for hours.  In addition to the butter, the gravy’s flavor comes from the particular stuffing my mother put in the bird.   Combine it all, and there is no other gravy that tastes like this … with the possible exception of my grandmother’s gravy, which is where my mother learned it.

As my extended family gathered at our house on Christmas Day, many things were new this year.  My family had never shared Christmas at our house before.  Ann and I had never hosted 17 people for a meal before.  There was a new face at the table, a niece’s boyfriend, a young man no doubt a bit overwhelmed by it all.  And, my great nephew is in the process of transitioning from having been a great niece, and it took some work to remember his new name.  Much was different.  But there was turkey, and stuffing, and rich, dark gravy.  And with it, we remembered who we were, even though my parents’ house, where we gathered for decades, was a couple of Christmases long gone.

My mother’s gravy has the power to unlock memory.  Eating it, my family remembers who we are and what’s driven us for as long as we’ve been us.  Gathering is what matters most; showing up shows that you love someone.  Presents come and go; even particular family members come and go.  But love draws us back together again and again, uniting us as members of a family larger than ourselves or our own households.  And the gravy helps us remember that.

Today, we’re remembering the baptism of our Lord Jesus and bringing three new members into the family of God in this place.  So why did Jesus need to be baptized?  If we’d read Matthew’s account today, we might struggle with what Jesus says there about coming to the water to “fulfill all righteousness” (3:15).  In Luke’s account this morning, there’s no attempt to explain.  Jesus’ baptism just happened.  In the midst of all the other people coming forward to profess their allegiance to God, or be cleansed from their sins, or turn their lives in a new direction, Jesus had come, too.  And afterward, while he was praying, Luke says, “the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon [Jesus] in bodily form, like a dove.  And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well-pleased.’” (3:21-22)  And I imagine Jesus sighing deeply and saying to God, “Oh, yeah, that’s right.  I know that, but sometimes it’s so hard to remember.”

At least part of the reason we’re doing what we’re doing this morning is to help us remember that same truth.  You are God’s beloved child; and with you, God is well-pleased.  We may have screwed up any number of things.  We may be woefully underperforming in answering God’s call to us.  But just as a parent loves a child, so God – like the father welcoming home the prodigal son – so God reminds us there is nothing we can do to stop being God’s beloved children.

When we gather to baptize people, we’re welcoming them into the family, like the boyfriend joining my family’s table for Christmas dinner.  I don’t believe pouring that water on a child’s head makes the child suddenly more beloved in God’s eyes than he or she was before.  But it helps us know and affirm that belovedness.  When we’re baptized, we’re sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own, forever.  We receive the Spirit’s power equipping us for the journey, blessing us with “an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love [God], and the gift of joy and wonder in all [God’s] works” (BCP 308).  So when we gather here for baptisms, over and over again, we remember all this.  We sigh and say, “Oh, yeah, that’s right.  I knew that.  I know I’m God’s beloved child, filled with the Spirit’s power to face each day.  I know that – but sometimes … it’s so hard to remember.”

For me, at least, most of my prayers are about remembering.  Maybe that’s true for you, too.  It’s certainly true about what we do here, week after week, in worship.  We come to this altar, our family’s dinner table, and we re-member Jesus – we bring him back among us through our prayer, drinking in the wonder of his love, the sacrifice that brings us eternal life and the power that sends us back out into the world to embody God’s love for others.  Each week, we gather around our family’s table and remember that Jesus is with us always.

So, maybe we can do something similar with baptism.  Maybe it can help us remember – not just on these baptismal feast days but week by week, day by day, remembering that we are God’s beloved children, empowered with God’s own Spirit.  When we doubt, when we fear, when we feel alone and adrift, maybe we can draw on the power of memory to cast out that doubt and fear and isolation, and replace it with love instead.  As the first letter of John says, “Perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18).  That’s not just a nice sentiment; it’s a promise from God to you, God’s beloved child.  Perfect love casts out fear – today, tomorrow, forever.  That bond with your heavenly parent never dissolves, regardless of how long it might have been since you brought it to mind.  It can be years since I last tasted my mother’s gravy, but one bite takes me home. 

So, here’s something to try.  Look for a reminder of your belovedness that works for you.  In baptism, we’re renewed with the water of life – waters of birth, waters of cleansing, waters of refreshment, waters of resurrection.  Water is such a powerful symbol, so let it bring God’s life-giving love to mind for you.  It could be a daily practice, an act of bodily prayer every morning.  When you wash your face, or shave, or take a shower, or make your coffee or tea, let the water of daily life remind you that you are connected daily to Love far greater than the confines of your own heart.  The water in this baptismal bowl may only be a few drops from an ocean of Love, but that’s all it takes to connect us with Love’s source.  So give it a try.  Let water awaken you each day to the truth that never ceases to amaze – that you are God’s beloved child, and with you God is well-pleased.