Paris marches: Feast of the Baptism of Christ

This is the season of Epiphany. An “epiphany” is literally a “setting-forth”, something that reveals a truth.

So the Feast of the Epiphany shows Christ’s divinity recognised by the wise and powerful who come upon a vulnerable human child in Bethlehem.

Today’s Feast of the Baptism of Christ shows God’s own recognition of Jesus as he comes up out of the water and the Holy Spirit descends upon him.

 

What do we see of how God is working in the world?

It’s hard to ask that question after the terrible atrocities in Paris during the last few days. After killing 11 people in the offices of the magazine Charlie Hebdo, the murderers went out into the street and at point blank range shot a policeman as he lay on the ground. They made their escape shouting that Mohammed had been avenged. The man they left lying dead was a Muslim. How did they think they were doing God’s work? Or the other terrorist - perhaps with an accomplice - who killed a policewoman later in the day and went on to kill four other people in a supermarket chosen, it seems, because it sold kosher Jewish food? Today people will march in Paris in what might be the city’s biggest ever demonstration to show their opposition to the terror which has broken out on their streets and their solidarity with those who have been its victims.

In the midst of this we need to see what goes unreported. In Nigeria in the same week, the terrorist group Boko Haram has attacked more communities in the north of the country - I’ve seen estimates that they killed over 2,000 people. Yet it’s barely been noticed here. It’s been going on for years - but nobody marches for them here.

What can we do or say? A cartoon in the aftermath of the first attack put it well: One man with a gun says to another, “Be careful, they might have pens.”

 

The pen is mightier than the sword. It doesn’t mean that it will keep people safe. But it exposes those who aren’t ready to enter into argument and disagreement by peaceful means. Not only Muslims but others besides will find reason to take issue with Charlie Hebdo; it has carried illustrations which are grossly offensive, blasphemous and obscene when it comes to depicting Christian targets. But there must be ways of response other than violence. God does not need us to defend him with bullets, bombs and rocket launchers. God does not need us to take hostages to bargain on his behalf.

The God of Jesus Christ takes the way of humility and peace. John the Baptist tells people about the coming Messiah, that “I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals.” To remove the Master’s footwear is the job of a slave - and John does not count himself worthy even to be a slave. Yet Jesus comes to him for Baptism. God’s way will be in acknowledging the message of John the Baptist. John counts himself unworthy to remove the sandals of the Messiah,… and Jesus will wash the feet of his disciples.

John the Baptist comes with a message - and it leads to his death. Jesus comes and accepts the Baptism of John - and it shows that God’s purpose is to be worked out by being human, bringing healing, exercising humility, making no demand other than love, and loving us himself literally to his death.

In all the posturing of religious extremists we need to ask, where is that word Love in their vocabulary? With those who defend the right to free speech the same question needs to be asked. How can we treat each other as human beings worthy of respect? When will people be ready to treat each other with humility? In self-giving love God humbles himself to share our humanity in Jesus. He comes, the baby of Bethlehem worshipped by shepherds, wondered at by wise men, now baptized by John. And his way is affirmed by that voice from heaven: “You are my Son…”

We are his children too - all of us. Let us listen to him.

 

 

 

from a homily for the Feast of the Baptism of Christ;
find the whole homily here.

 

Here is the Lamb of God - recognising Christ

 

 

“Look! Here is the Lamb of God,” says John the Baptist in today’s Gospel reading (John 1.35-42). Actually he says it twice.

First he sees Jesus coming towards him and says, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” And from that he goes on to speak about the Baptism of Jesus - how the Holy Spirit coming upon Jesus at his Baptism shows him to be the Son of God. John has seen it for himself - and he wants to tell people about it.

And then John says it again the next day. “Look! Here is the Lamb of God!” This time Jesus is walking past while John is standing there with two of his disciples. John points out Jesus and the two people with him decide to find out more. They leave John and follow after Jesus.

What does it mean to you to hear those words, “Here is the Lamb of God!”? We use them Sunday by Sunday, even day by day at the Eucharist. It’s the invitation which we normally use in this church to come to the altar to receive Christ’s Body and Blood - and we are reminded “Blessed are those who are called to his Supper.” Blessing is to be found by recognising Jesus and knowing him for who he is.

Perhaps though, we hear those words so often that we just take them for granted. Or we’ve never really thought through what they mean. On altars and in stained glass windows you’ll sometimes see a depiction of a lamb holding a cross. It can look cutely fluffy and pretty innocuous. But look more closely and you might see blood flowing from the lamb’s neck and into a chalice. This is about the lamb as a sacrificial victim, its blood shed and offered for a purpose.

There’s something new about the “Lamb of God” pointed out by John. Lambs and sheep were not the obvious offering for sacrifice in the Jewish Temple. Bulls and goats were offered to take away the sins of the people on the Day of Atonement. Offerings of grain and other fruits of the earth could be made especially at Harvest-time. Incense was burned as a sacrifice declaring that earth is joined with heaven in the praises of the Temple. The sacrifice of a lamb was something else - and for Jews sacrificing a lamb was not about taking away sin. It was about people and their place before God. Abel, the son of Adam and Eve, makes a sacrifice of the first-born of his flocks of sheep - and his offering is approved by God, whose lack of favour shown to Abel’s brother, Cain, leads to the first recorded murder. Abraham is turned by an angel from sacrificing his son Isaac instead to offer a ram in his place. And the Book of Leviticus made it a law that every first born son should be redeemed by the offering of a ram - though in the case of poor families like that of Jesus it could be replaced by sacrificing two doves.

Each of these sacrifices is about a personal offering - and one where the lamb stands in for an individual. The whole person needs to be redeemed before God. Except there is one particular time when the sacrifice of lambs meant something more. It's at the time of the Feast of the Passover. Lambs were offered and their blood smeared above the door of Jewish households as a sign of God’s love for his people, his care and rescue of the Israelites as he freed them from slavery in Egypt before leading them to their own Promised Land.

Now John the Baptist points out Jesus and says, “Here is the Lamb of God!” God is doing something new for his people - and in the course of things we will discover it’s not merely another Exodus, God’s care for people of one particular race and nation. It’s a new Passover which shows God’s redeeming love for the world - for all its people. “Here is the Lamb of God!” Are we going to recognise how God is at work in Jesus?

You can miss it through a sense of familiarity… “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” We sing about that every Sunday before we come to Communion in the words of the Agnus Dei.  

Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world, have mercy on us.

Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world, have mercy on us.

Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world, grant us peace. 

Do we take in what we are saying and singing?

For some people, talk about “sin” is a bit of a turn-off. Its reality escapes us. It’s something we might see in other people rather than ourselves - or it gets associated with sexual wrongdoing, and these days pretty well anything between consenting adults is reckoned to be OK. Problems that many people have in recognising what is entailed by talk about sin have led to proposals for some changes in the Baptism service. Predictably some parts of the media (notably the Daily Mail and Bishop Michael Nazir Ali) have started shouting about the Church getting weak about its own convictions through the proposal to drop the word “sin” itself in the Decision made before Baptism. Talk of “dying to sin” and the question, “Do you repent of your sins?” get removed from the text.

But that doesn’t mean the Church is getting wishy-washy. The attempt is to produce something more meaningful than those bits of the service which provoke a response of blank, bored looks. Something more than words is necessary. Baptism is God’s way of addressing us as whole people and asking for a response which will change the whole of our lives.

The first followers of Jesus discover this when John the Baptist points out Jesus as “the Lamb of God.” First time round he declares “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” - but we just hear John talking; no one does anything about it.

But the next day when he again points Jesus out - “Look! Here is the Lamb of God!” - there’s something that moves two of his disciples to do something that will lead to their being changed for ever. They follow Jesus. Jesus asks them, “What are you looking for?” - and they don’t know. But they ask “where are you staying?” And then they take up the invitation, “Come and see.”

“Come and see” is Jesus’ invitation to us as well. His first followers spend the day with him. Then they go and tell other people about Jesus - and they come to find out for themselves.

That’s what we need to do.

The new proposals for the Baptism service don’t drop sin and its consequences. They require the rejection of evil as “all that destroys” - not just “evil” as a short word you can easily say, but “all its many forms” and “all its empty promises.” The challenge is to make the response, “I turn to Christ” - and to keep on doing so: “And to put my trust in him… And to promise to follow him for ever.”

That’s a challenge to anyone who is thinking about being baptised or having their child baptised. It’s a challenge to all of us here. “Look! Here is the Lamb of God!” Are we ready to learn more about this man, Jesus? Are we prepared to take the trouble to spend time with him? How will we respond to his invitation? - “Come and see.”

 

From Rome to (more) ice and snow

I took my post-Christmas break last week - and maximised my time by flying off to Rome after the Sunday Eucharist on 2nd January, returning on Saturday. I dressed a little too lightly on a couple of days, but as the week went by things warmed up.

In the parish we kept the Feast of the Epiphany before I left - on Sunday 2nd January as the Lectionary permits. But it was great to find Christmas and the lead-up to Epiphany on its proper feast day of 6th January in full flow in Rome. Lights abounded in the streets - and a profusion of Crib Scenes. Notably a depiction in lights on the roundabout of the Piazza Venezia in front of the Victor Emmanuel Monument (and reindeer on the other side!), life-size and huge at St Peter's Basilica, and a walk-in stable amongst a collection of crib scenes in the cloister of the Church of San Lorenzo fuori le Muro. The Sant'Egidio Community had its own particular take on the Nativity at the entrance to Santa Maria in Trastevere. And perhaps most moving is Il Presepe dei Netturbini, "The Sanitation Workers' Manger Scene," between the San Pietro Station and St. Peter's Square. This scene has developed over the years as the Street Cleaners add to it. The figures are tiny, the stable scene just one small part of a huge project, and around the stable people get on with the humblest of tasks. As in many of the other crib scenes, the stable is not centrally placed. This is something that needs to be looked for. But it's saying that God is here, even if apparently hidden or not obvious - and he honours the lowliest and humblest.

As for the Feast of the Epiphany, it's a public holiday in Rome. The place was heaving, especially in and around the Piazza Navona, which was in fairground mode. And the Via del Corso was packed with thronging crowds - it took at least three times as long as I'd estimated to walk along it (the few motorists who ventured onto the street couldn't move) as we went to Mass at Santa Maria del Popolo. There was a choir of choirs, a marvellous sound with a fantastic acoustic for a short Mozart Mass (strangely the Agnus Dei was said, not sung), and although there were about 700 in church with about half receiving Communion, the whole thing was over in 50 minutes - though the choir then moved into the nave for a performance of sacred music.

I came back to ice and snow - and Church Bank was officially closed at the weekend with a barrier to prevent traffic entering. Our numbers were well down on normal, but a surprising number made the effort to get down to us in the almost the most treacherous conditions I've known. Lots of falls - and I'm afraid one fractured wrist.

No more snow pictures. But you can find lots more pictures from Rome here.

And here's a link to a sermon by our Reader, Rosie Junemann, for yesterday's Feast of the Baptism of Christ.