Our Scripture readings today are simply the regular assigned lectionary texts for this particular Sunday, the Second Sunday after Pentecost. However, they take on a new and special significance when read, by sheer coincidence, in the context of a baptismal service. Various shades of meaning become alive and unexpected echoes awake, and we can see more clearly than normal the baptismal pattern of the Christian life. Thus, by chance, the baptism of Ruby Warhurst this morning helps us to understand the Scripture readings, and the Scripture readings help us to understand her baptism - and ours as well.
Let's begin with the epistle, from Paul's Second Letter to the Corinthians. After noting that 'we walk by faith, not by sight' - a crucial claim that sets the stage for what follows - Paul says:
For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them. From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! (2 Corinthians 5.14-17)
Now, I freely admit that Paul does not discuss baptism in this passage, but those who know his Letter to the Romans will recognise the strong parallels with Romans, Chapters 5 and 6. In Romans 5, towards the end of the chapter, referring to the sin, or trespass, of the one man Adam, Paul writes:
But the free gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died through the one man's trespass, much more surely have the grace of God and the free gift in the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, abounded for the many....Therefore just as one man's trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man's act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all. (Romans 5.15, 18)
And then, just a few verses later, at the beginning of Chapter 6, Paul asks:
Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. (Romans 6.3-4)
Paul's flow of thought in these two passages of Scripture is almost identical: in both cases, Paul asserts that Christ died for all, and in both cases Paul says we must thus be 'in Christ' to receive life. In both he asserts that in some mysterious way, through the death of Christ, grace, forgiveness, and life are freely available to all of humanity. Somehow we can share Christ's death, in order to share in his life. But how do we do that? How do we share in the death of Christ, without physically dying ourselves? 'One died for all; therefore all have died'; 'one man's act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all.' But how, and when? Does it happen automatically? Has it already happened, without any response from us?
The passages are almost identical, but not quite, for the explicit focus on baptism in Romans is just implicit in our epistle lesson for today. And it would perhaps have remained implicit and unmentioned, had it not been for Ruby's baptism. I probably would not have thought to compare Romans 5 and 6 with Second Corinthians, Chapter 5 without that helpful prompt - so thank you, Ruby: you are already witnessing to the truth of our faith, just by your infant presence here this morning. For it is simply impossible to hear Paul's familiar words 'if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation' in the context of a baptismal service without realising and remembering that our life in Christ begins at the font. That's where, in sacramental terms, the newness of life, the new creation, the life of grace, comes into being; when - as Paul says - we are 'baptised into Christ Jesus'. That's how we share his death, that we may share his life.
Now, of course, this raises all sorts of complicated theological questions about original sin, infant baptism, personal faith and commitment to Christ, whether baptism is necessary for salvation, when and where grace begins and ends, and so forth and so on. There is a time and a place to discuss those questions, but it is not here and now. Here and now we are rejoicing with Paul and Amber that God has blessed them with the new biological life that is Ruby, and also that they are presenting Ruby to God that she may receive the new divine life of grace, a gift not of human origin, a gift that may take her through the death of Christ into his resurrection, and eventually to her resurrection as well. Whatever we may say or not say about baptism, according to the Apostle Paul 'all of us who have been baptised into Christ Jesus were baptised into his death....For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his' (Romans 6.3, 5). Thus, Ruby's baptism should also remind us of our own.
So if today's baptism helps us to see the implicit meaning of our epistle lesson, what about the other readings? Both Ezekiel and Mark tell us that small and hidden things have great and mighty outcomes. In Ezekiel the tender young twig, and in Mark the tiny mustard seed, both grow into trees or shrubs with branches large enough for birds to nest in. As a practicing Jew, Jesus obviously read the Old Testament, and it seems clear enough that his parable of the mustard seed was inspired by this passage from Ezekiel. And, just as our epistle lesson woke the echoes of Paul's Letter to the Romans, so our gospel lesson from Mark wakes the echoes of a parallel passage in the Gospel of Matthew. For in Matthew, the parable of the mustard seed, presented almost exactly the same as in the Gospel of Mark, is then immediately followed by the parable of the woman baking bread:
[Jesus] told them another parable. 'The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.' (Matthew 13.33)
Again, however, whatever meaning these texts may have on their own yet take on new life in the context of a baptismal service. Ruby is a tender young twig, and her life a mere mustard seed. We see this so clearly when we look at her, a tiny thing, but we all started out like that. All of us began life as next to nothing, and all that we have since become and accomplished over the course of our lives has grown out from that miniscule beginning. And if we remember that, we realise that everyone, no matter how humble, has achieved more in life than their starting-point could promise or indicate. We are all success stories, whatever we have done.
But the parable of the mustard seed in Mark reminding us of the parable of the baking bread in Matthew likewise has a special resonance in the context of baptism. The life of grace into which Ruby will be initiated this morning is indeed real, but it is subtle. According to the great maxim of St Thomas Aquinas, grace does not destroy, but perfects, nature. A small amount of yeast mixed into thick batches of dough is thus the perfect analogy for grace: it slowly works its transforming power on the basic material of who we are.
Although Christians should indeed be different from those who do not follow Christ, I have not noticed that baptised Christians glow in the dark. That's not how it works. Ruby will still be Ruby after her baptism, and when she gets to be about two or three I rather suspect there may be days when Paul and Amber will be tempted to doubt the efficacy of the sacrament. That's just a guess. But of course, even if Ruby never gives her parents a moment's trouble, our own lives are ample evidence that to be initiated into the life of grace and to commit ourselves to follow Christ does not eliminate the contrary matter of our sinful selves. Grace is a long, slow, subtle process that only just begins in this life. However, it sets us on a trajectory whose arc is so high that when we cross the boundary from this life to the next we have only just begun our ascent.
Sermon by: Robert MacSwain