Easter 5, 2006 | Vine and Branches | John 15:1-8

In our reading from Acts today, we read a wonderful story about Philip, who is led by the spirit to go into the desert. There he meets a powerful eunuch, a god-fearer, which is what the Jews called a gentile who followed the God of the Hebrews.

He invites Philip to join him in his chariot and to explain this puzzling passage from Isaiah. This, Philip is very pleased to do, and before long, the eunuch is completely won over to Philip’s belief that Jesus was indeed the Messiah the Jews had been looking for. Then he asks a wonderful question: “What is to prevent me from being baptized?”

Now, we’ve had a rash of baptisms in our parish in the last couple of weeks, so, given today’s readings, it seemed an opportune time to talk about this sacrament. Where did it come from, and what does it mean?

Baptism is not unique to Christianity, of course. Lots of religions baptize. Most religions have some form of ablution ceremony, where water is used to symbolically cleanse a believer, whether of sin or some other impurity. Ritual baths are especially important in Hinduism, and are part of daily morning prayers.

But baptism comes to us in Christianity through the influence of Judaism, which is hardly surprising, since most of the primitive Christian tradition is bequeathed to us from Judaism. In fact, if you want to become a Jew today, you still have to be baptized, which surprises many people, not the least of which are those who are born Jewish but are not particularly religious, as they often consider baptism a uniquely Christian ritual, along with many Christians.

In fact, however, the Old Testament is filled with ritual washings, which are proscribed for everything from removing ritual impurity to cleansing visiting dignitaries of leprosy. And the last of the Hebrew prophets, John the Baptist, was so-called because he used this ritual as his primary teaching tool, and as symbolic of the people’s change of heart .

Some Jews, such as the Essenes took it to an extreme. They had to take a ritual bath before they buttered their toast, and required them so often that they had to build huge public bathing tanks so that the community members could actually fulfill all of the bathing requirements and still get something done before sundown.

Unlike the permanent prune-fingered Essenes, however, John’s baptism seemed to be a one-time event.  His project was to provide an alternative to the corrupt activities of the Temple priests. Whereas the Jews had been taught that in order to have their sins removed, they had to sacrifice several defenseless animals, John was offering them another way to be cleansed from their sin. It was certainly less expensive and less blood-intensive, and this had great appeal, especially for the squeamish and the pinko animal rights contingent in Jerusalem.

John was, perhaps, rebelling against his father, who was at one time the high priest in Jerusalem. It is very likely that he and his father had a great falling out, probably over the priesthood’s willing collaboration with Rome. Think of the outrage today that we feel toward those Lutheran pastors that cooperated with the Third Reich, and you get some idea of where John’s outrage was coming from. The Romans had publicly crucified hundreds of thousands of Jews in his lifetime, and he, along with many others of his day, considered the Temple cult’s cooperation with the Roman authorities a great betrayal.

A lot of Jesus’ earliest followers had started out as disciples of John, and after Jesus’ death it only made sense to adopt it as their own ritual of initiation. After all, a gentile has to be baptized to join him or herself to the people of Israel, it naturally follows that one should do the same to be joined to Christ, the mystical body of which is the New Israel.

Paul, ever the innovative theologian, saw in the ritual an entirely new symbol, perhaps one influenced by the many mystery cults that were popular in gentile circles in his day. He saw Baptism as being symbolic of laying in the grave one’s old life—the life dedicated to satisfying one’s own desires, and lived for the self alone—and the resurrection of the believer into a new life governed by the Good News of Jesus.

So the ritual has three main threads of meaning: to cleanse from impurity, to join oneself to a larger Self, and the death if the old life and resurrection into the new. Now, these three threads of meaning have always been present in the history of the church, but different churches have laid different emphases upon them, and this has effected the way the ritual has actually been performed.

The Western Church, the Church of Rome, has, ever since St. Augustine, been a very sin-centric religion. The Roman church has always been much more interested in sin than in almost anything else, and this obsession is reflected in how its sacraments and theology have developed. Augustine developed the theology of “original sin” which states that humans inherit the sin of Adam, which, by the way, is passed through the father, not the mother. Give yourselves a pat on the back, ladies. For once in Western theology, it’s not your fault.

Baptism emerged in the Western church as that ritual which washed away the sin of Adam, and gave a person a clean slate. Forever after, he or she would only have to account for his or her own sins. Romans for many years sprinkled to baptize, but are gradually rediscovering full immersion. Both work well with their primary symbology of washing away sin.

Evangelical Christians today, however, emphasize the third thread of meaning, of dying to the old self, and rising into a new life goverened by the Gospel. Accordingly, they only baptize adults who are conscious enough to make a choice, who want to die to their old way of life. The method of baptism used by Evangelicals is deeply symbolic of this theology. By immersing the believer’s body completely, they enact a death and burial. In raising them up out of the water, they symbolically mirror Jesus’ own resurrection. They are raised to a new life in Christ, and it is also a foreshadowing of their own eventual resurrection at the end of time. But note that for Evangelicals, it is only a symbol. Baptism doesn’t actually DO anything, it is just a symbolic ritual that bears witness to an inner transformation that has already taken place.

The Orthodox church, however, preserves an ancient tradition which is much different. For they see the church as Noah’s ark, the place of safety. Orthodox believe that the whole earth is being divinized, is being transformed into God’s Community—indeed, into God! For them the church is both the mystical Body of Christ and the foretaste of the coming Community of God. Baptism welcomes the child into God’s Community, and begins the process of divinization in the baptized person, a work that this person carries out into the world.

The symbology of baptism does not really connect to this theology very well, which is why, in the Eastern Church, Confirmation is always performed in tandem with baptism. As soon as the person is welcomed into the mystical body of Christ in baptism, he or she is anointed with oil. “Christ” is the Greek word for “Messiah,” and both of these words mean exactly the same thing: “one who has been anointed with oil.” Thus, as the Gospel of Philip says, this ritual makes us not Christians, but Christs.

When Sean and Jenn came to me to discuss baptizing Ciara, they were extremely hesitant about it. They didn’t like all the original sin stuff the Western Church seems so obsessed with. And of course, they wanted their baby baptized, so the Evangelical understanding of baptism was out the window if only for that reason alone, let alone many other objections we might think of.

But the Orthodox meaning was much more attractive. So in baptizing Ciara we welcomed her into God’s community. We touched her with water, a symbol of life and refreshment. Just as all beings wither and die without water, all human beings likewise wither when they are deprived of community. Water is symbolic of the life of Grace we share, which nourishes us and makes us strong, and refreshes us whenever we gather together. In baptizing her we welcomed her into God’s Community, which is at one time, microscopically this church and macroscopically the glorious earth itself.

In baptizing Gina Rose we did a similar thing, but since she is an adult, I believe the emphasis was different. We ritually welcomed Gina Rose into God’s Community, yes, but more than that, she welcomed US into her life as the living embodiment of God’s Community. In baptizing Ciara, we affirmed her as one of us, but in baptizing Gina Rose, she affirmed us as the Community of Heaven.

Both actions were an act of trust, on the part of Gina Rose, Sean and Jenn, and even on the part of Ciara, who, although not suffering me to hold her, at least tolerated me getting her forehead wet.

I am deeply moved by this trust, and I am reminded of the eunuch’s words to Philip: “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” Most people’s objections to baptism, or indeed to most rituals and beliefs in Christianity or other religions is to abusive theology. Most often, it is our own theology that has barred people from participating in the Community of Heaven. And that is a tragedy. Sean and Jenn weren’t at all sure we could find a way to make baptism work for them.

But here is where the magic of theology comes in. Theology fixes things. Doing theology isn’t just the property of academics. We are all called to be theologians. We are all called to find new meanings, new combinations, new connections for these old myths and rituals, to find the ways they connect to us now. To eliminate the ways they limit us or harm us, and to embrace meanings that affirm us and give us life.

Theology isn’t dry, it’s a gas! And if it is theology that prevents you from being baptized, from enjoying the life of God’s Community, or intimacy with the divine, then maybe it’s time to jettison your old theology and find a new one.

The eunuch asked Philip, “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” Not the fact that he didn’t understand the scriptures too well, who does? Not the fact that he was a sexual minority, that didn’t seem to phase Philip at all. Not the fact that he didn’t take much time to think it over, after all, now is always a good time to follow Jesus, to choose life, to say “yes” to God.

What prevents you from enjoying the life of the spirit? Is it the sad example of other Christians? I understand that, I get it, and I understand your disappointment. Some of us don’t do a very good job of being Jesus to each other. But perhaps you can do it better, and teach us all a thing or two! Is it the lame theology you can’t swallow? Hey, invent a new one! People will only call it heresy until they accept it, then you’ll just be called a theologian! Perhaps you’re just not a joiner. That’s okay, too, because we have no formal procedure for joining this parish. Just stick around and let us love you, and before you know it, your name will show up on the roster when you weren’t looking. After all, this is the place where we are learning how to be the Community of God. And that involves not only embracing, but letting yourself be embraced. Let us pray…

Holy Spirit, in baptism you seal us as Christ’s own forever,
You fill us with grace, and welcome us into a Community
That goes well beyond the visible handful of faithful people gathered here.
Help us to embrace you and others, even as we have been embraced.
Give us the strength and will to carry the Good News into every part of our lives,
So that we might assist with the divinization of the world,
Until none are hungry, none are lonely, and none need cry for justice,
For only then will the Community we are building here truly be made manifest,
And your Community finally arrive in glory. Amen.