BLCM – Sermon Epiphany 5C

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 2010

On Luke 5:1-11

This is a wonderful story. … Kodak moment. Almost like a poster in a travel agency: the lake, the shore, the crowds full of hope and expectation, fishing boats, in one of them Jesus – preaching, and among the listeners a group of fishermen, one of them Simon. Later a more than successful catch – enough to make the nets come undone, and the decision of a couple fishermen to drop everything and follow Jesus. Yes, all in all this is a wonderful day.

Mind you, such a wonderful story with all these beautiful pictures can evoke very different feelings. It just depends on the situation one is in. Peter just experienced one more time what “nothing” and ”empty” means. He had worked hard all night only to experience the great disappointment this morning. He had caught nothing. His nets are empty. All night long Peter and his colleagues had tried it. Hour after hour they had tried without any result.

And we know what that is like. Maybe we studied hard for a test and failed nevertheless. Maybe we applied for numerous jobs – only to experience rejection. Maybe we tried with great dedication to wrestle down an illness – to no avail. We know what it’s like: nothing caught, nothing earned… we feel trapped and overwhelmed.

Can you help me out here?” An innocent question. Simon doesn’t think too much when Jesus asks him to put out a little bit from the shore for the crowds are pressing in on him. Simon can do that. And Jesus sits down in the boat and preaches to the people on the shore…

Amen.

Jesus is done. And Simon is relieved. That was it. Life can go on. Maybe his favor to this stranger will be awarded later. Let’s go on with cleaning the nets.

But Jesus isn’t done with Simon.

‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’

For the experienced and seasoned fisherman this is almost an insult. There is no fish to catch in the deep. One knows that at the Lake Gennesaret. This is a well-proven fact and people here stick to these rules: it has to be dark, and one has to fish close to the shore. Adhering to these rules is important in order to survive, to make a living, measly as it might be.

Who is this Jesus anyway? He is a carpenter, landlubber. What does he know? Okay, Simon had been willing to give the guy a hand, had let this Jesus in his boat and put out a little way from the shore. Fine. But to be told – not even asked anymore! – to go further out now and throw the nets in broad day light? Not really.

On the other hand, they had “worked all night and caught nothing” – the fishermen’s resignation this morning is understandable – … and so familiar. To struggle without success, to be engaged without recognition or appreciation, to invest energy and time without anything in return. Who hasn’t experienced that? Many of us are caught up in such experiences.

And Jesus’ advice for the fishermen at the lake Gennesaret and for us is so backwards!

‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”

Can this be a good thing to just forget about our experiences, our routines that help us to get by in life? Can we really afford to disregard the unwritten rules of what one should and shouldn’t do?

After all, fishing in the deep water for us is like Jesus asking us to open our house and invite some kids that have no-one to help them with their homework.

It is like Jesus asking us to visit that troubled family two blocks down and befriend them.

It is like Jesus asking us to take two months of unpaid leave and volunteer in El Salvador, to help out Pastor Brian Rude in his prison and street ministry.

Insane, isn’t it? Jesus can’t seriously mean that. These ideas sound premature. A committee needs to be formed to work out the details. And overall the others can do these things so much better than I. So, don’t rock the boat, Jesus! Fish are caught in the night – not in the deep.

‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”

And Simon senses: this Jesus doesn’t just want to be in my boat, this Jesus doesn’t just want to get behind the wheel – this Jesus wants my life! No wonder, Simon is reluctant. To follow this man in his boat means to row into the great unknown! Where would it lead him? There are unknown powers in the depth of the sea, … chaos, and death. It is a scary thought. What if Jesus ridicules him in front of all these people. His reputation is at stake.

And yet… Simon, against better judgment, dares to listen to Jesus. “Yet if you say so…” And they set out into the middle of the lake, where the water is deepest. This is no longer about worrying about one’s reputation, trusting one’s own life experiences, one’s own calculation and planning, one’s own strength and abilities.

By trusting Jesus’ word Simon experiences a radically new power: the power of the One who makes God’s will his measure, the power of the One who brings God’s unconditional love.

And Simon catches more fish than he could have imagined. For Jesus leads Simon to the deep where life is abundant. Where Simon’s livelihood bursts at the seams, and his boat threatens to sink because of this radical, unimaginable abundance. And it is almost too much for Simon to bear: ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’ Simon is filled with great fear. He is overcome with doubts: “Can I exist beside this Jesus? Isn’t this all too much, too big for me? I am just an ordinary guy. I make to many mistakes.” And Simon wishes he hadn’t listened to Jesus.

And Jesus says, “Don’t be afraid.”

To follow Jesus is not an easy decision. To follow Christ’s call doesn’t spare us from disappointment and failure, from struggles and doubts.

But Jesus leads us out of the shallow ends of life, out of the comfort zone of life and out of the routines that we have come to build up over time. And Jesus leads us to find depth and abundance. Jesus leads us into the deep of baptismal waters. When God calls and claims us to follow him we have to drown first. But we don’t die alone. Jesus is with us in the sinking boat, in the bursting nets. And where we expected terror and death we experience the exuberant abundance of God’s grace and love instead. Following Jesus’ call we emerge from the life-giving waters of the font and the nets of sin and death break and are washed away. Following Jesus means new beginnings and life at its fullest. Every day anew. And this life in Jesus, this amazing good news of God’s unfathomable love is God’s gift for this world, for us in the shape of a cross.

Amen.

BLCM – Sermon 4C

On Luke 4:21-30

Remember, last week we heard Jesus preaching in the synagogue in Nazareth, his hometown. And it is still Saturday morning in Nazareth…Sabbath. Jesus had just sat down, and people were waiting with anticipation of his interpretation of the hopeful words of the prophet Isaiah. And all he says to them is “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” People are amazed.

Many here know Joseph’s oldest from his childhood. His family hadn’t had an easy life. Joseph had died early, and Jesus had to help his mom a lot with the younger siblings and around the house. He was a good boy. A son that one could only wish for. That’s what many thought in Nazareth.

But then Jesus had become an itinerant preacher, wandering through Galilee, and since then one hadn’t seen much of the boy anymore. But heard lots. Supposedly he was performing miracles. Nice to see Joseph’s boy again today. It’s been a while.

And what a fine job our Jesus has done by reading these promises of old, promises that had become trite over time. In Nazareth, too, Isaiah’s words don’t move the people anymore. They are too familiar.  But Jesus has done such a good job in reading them. Today they sound different. Look what has become of that boy – he is a true Nazarene. He is Joseph’s boy and Joseph would have been proud of his oldest…

And now we hear from Luke how the story goes on:

²¹Then he began to say to them, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’ ²²All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, ‘Is not this Joseph’s son?’ ²³He said to them, ‘Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, “Doctor, cure yourself!” And you will say, “Do here also in your home town the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.” ’ ²⁴And he said, ‘Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s home town. ²⁵But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up for three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; ²⁶yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. ²⁷There were also many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.’ ²⁸When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage.

Ok, they must have misheard. It was so nice that Jesus had come home. He had such a good reputation beyond town limits, now it was going to shine a bit on Nazareth as well. The people here want the miracle man, too. In fact, they deserve it because they are descendants of Abraham, God’s chosen people. And the Messiah would come to free them from oppression and poverty and blindness.

Instead Jesus includes all these unclean outcasts, and a detested Syrian conqueror and leper, and a Gentile woman, a widow in his promise!  This is not what they expected to hear! Dare he talk to them like that! Confronting their comfortable complacency, their prejudices and presumptions. …Gutsy, that Jesus…. But he can’t speak to them like that! They know him so well! He is one of them. They chewed together over the Torah at school. They remember him as a pimple-faced teen, and played games together. And he had helped to build their houses.

The friendliness of the people turns into anger and outrage. How dare Jesus throw all these unclean losers in one pot with them.

How about us? Aren’t we Jesus’ favorites, too? His chosen ones? The people in the synagogue are the ritual clean, upstanding citizens and fairly well off. And so are we. We here in Canada, in North America are the clean, the insiders of the world. And now Jesus is preaching about coming not just for us, but even more for the unclean, the outcasts. In order to shake up our cozy smugness Jesus says to us today that he has come to set free Naaman, the Syrian who has AIDS. Jesus says to us today that he has come to set free the widow, a Muslim woman. Jesus says to us today that he has come to release and bring home Omar Khadr from Guantanamo Bay. Jesus has come to stand by the visible minorities in our clean, upright North American culture, the First Nation peoples, those on welfare and in prison. That sounds different, doesn’t it? What sounded like good news at first doesn’t sound like it anymore.

We are trying so hard to be good and decent people. Don’t we deserve Jesus’ undivided attention? Well, not according to Jesus.

Because we have become so busy looking after ourselves and building fences, we are so curved in on ourselves that we don’t really see anymore what God came to do in this world. We have built these fences to protect ourselves from those others, the lost, the ethnic outcasts, the culturally unclean and the physical outsiders as much as the people in Nazareth. And now Jesus comes along and tears down the fences that we have built so carefully around us. Jesus challenges the people of Nazareth and challenges us to see beyond what we think God might approve of, and dares us to believe that God’s love and mercy and compassion is for more people than we might think, is for different people than we ever might imagine sitting next to us in church on Sunday morning.

That’s not good news! It comes awfully close to home for us. And we don’t like it – as little as the people in the synagogue liked to be confronted like that. We become defensive because God defies our fenced in attitudes. We become hostile because Jesus challenges our curved-in selves. And he shakes up our very sinful inner core.

Because God determines who is in and out. And God’s criteria are much larger than we can imagine. That is what Jesus is preaching about. Jesus sets the peoples’ and our presumptions straight. If we like it or not – he preaches that God’s promises have been fulfilled in our hearing. If we like it or not – Jesus is unseating us to remind us that our righteousness is not based on our heritage or income or good deeds or on our piety but only and entirely on the actions of God. And for us today the old words of the prophet Isaiah are as current as they were then: God speaks his promises to us and doesn’t allow us to cuddle with our complacency. God doesn’t leave us wallowing in old securities, nurturing our presumptions and prejudices. God doesn’t leave us sticking in the mud of bad habits. Instead, here in our midst, God fulfills his promises in our hearing. And we can’t hear it as good news. God’s circle is too wide for us, and we struggle with God’s promise.

From Luke we learn what happens next:

²⁹They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. ³⁰But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.

God has not come into this world to save our self-righteousness or our wealth. But God has come to those in need. God has come to offer life and grace and the forgiveness of our all captivities and blindness. And rage, fear, and indignation is our answer to this offer.

This time, Jesus escapes but eventually will face our rage. And the events in Nazareth are foreshadowing what is soon going to happen in Jerusalem: when our complacency and self-righteousness is challenged we nail God to the cross.

But it isn’t all over. Jesus comes to the disciples in the upper room and says “Peace be with you.” Jesus walks with the disciples on the road to Emmaeus and with his words sets their hearts on fire. And for us there is the bath in which God washes us from sin and death. And there are bread and wine through which Jesus forgives us our sins.

With his radical offer of life Jesus sets us free to bring hope and good news to the poor and downtrodden. With his radical offer of love Jesus empowers us to set the captives free. With his radical offer of grace Jesus opens us to straighten the battered and beaten.

Today with his radical and challenging words Jesus breaks apart our clean divisions of who is and out. And instead he names us all as forgiven, released and set free.

Amen.

BLCM – Sermon Epiphany 3C

SUNDAY, JANUARY 24, 2010

On Luke 4:14-21

Today is another special day. Another surprise in the season of surprises, the season of Epiphany. Today’s text is another outing of Jesus. One more time he reveals his identity to the people and to us.

He has come home to Nazareth. He has come to preach to and teach the people in the synagogue in his hometown.

The passage Jesus chooses is a passage from the prophet Isaiah.  It is full of powerful words, the hopeful words of a spirit-filled messenger from God who proclaims good news to the poor, release to the captives, sight for the blind, and freedom for the oppressed, and the year of Jubilee in which all debts are forgiven. The familiar words of old evoke a yearning for a better life in those who hear them. When Jesus sits down they await with great anticipation how Jesus would interpret these words.

And all Jesus says is ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’ And with that his message has become explosive. Because Isaiah and Jesus are talking about the unclean, that God punishes with poverty and that makes them outcasts and sinful. And now Jesus has just brought the reading from a distant past into the present, and he makes himself the connection between the prophetic words of old and the now. Jesus couldn’t seriously mean those downtrodden to be released together with those who are blind. Today? Now?
The people are amazed. Never had they heard anybody speak like this.

But did Jesus have to be so blunt? He could have presented his mission a bit more diplomatically. Yes, the people have hope in a better future. But this hope has become rather vague. Because Isaiah had lived hundreds of years ago, and since then the Hebrew people have read and heard the prophet’s promises of the Messiah to come.  And they believe – but likely without much conviction. They probably believe and hope like we believe in the second coming of Christ, in Judgment Day. We hear about it, we might even try to imagine what that could look like but we certainly don’t expect it to really happen in the next hour.

Yet according to Jesus our hopes, promises, dreams are all of the sudden fulfilled.

Do we really want that? Do we really want to live in peace with our pesty neighbor? Do we really want to forgive and be forgiven? In fact, do we really want to break out of our way and stop judging and blaming others? Can we handle this lavish, exuberant offer of grace? It seems to be easier for us, as much as for the people then, to believe that God will come in a distant future, at the end of all time to bring good tidings to all creation.

No, we are struggling with Jesus’ announcement as much as the people did in his home congregation. Countless TV shows, commercials, self-help books and workshops on positive thinking, and how we can get ourselves up and going are telling! If we believed on God’s immediate work in this world we wouldn’t be so concerned about what else we must do to save ourselves. We wouldn’t be so concerned about trying to fix things and people our way. We have a hard time believing that God is among us, right here because we want to be in control.

And we fail to see that we are among the poor, the prisoners, the blind and the oppressed ourselves. We are captives to our own self-centeredness that pushes God away. We are oppressed by wanting everything and wanting it NOW. We are prisoners of credit card companies. We are impoverished when it comes to relationships because we let many things come between us and the community around us. We are blind to the needs of those around us because we can see only our own needs.

Blindness, poverty, oppression, and imprisonment have many faces. To be blind, poor, oppressed and impoverished is the human condition.

And to be suddenly confronted by Jesus with God’s coming to us TODAY, with the immediate fulfillment of God’s promise in our here and now, can be disturbing. We might even become defensive. In fact, our response to Jesus and his amazing good news to all is crucifixion.

But for now we hear that the people in the synagogue are mesmerized by his words. “I am the One to fulfill God’s promise. The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor,” he says. The Spirit of the Lord is upon Jesus to bring the good news to the poor… Gospel. The good and healing news. The liberating message for the fallen, the oppressed and the wounded.

And TODAY is the day.  Jesus short sermon is sensational. He is telling the people that he is the dawn of a new time. Filled with God’s Spirit Jesus is the direct connection to God. “As truly I am standing before and among you as truly does God live here, in my words, in me. Here and now. When you see and hear me you see and hear God. I am here. Now, and always.”

Not all his contemporaries receive this message well. And the story will turn sour. But that will be talked about at another time…

What a claim Jesus makes, what an encouragement it is! Then and now. With this revelation he surprised the congregation in the synagogue. And he surprises us, too!

With his sermon Jesus changes the direction of TODAY, of this moment. Because Jesus reveals himself. And by revealing himself to the world God has arrived in our present. In our here and now. In our reality. And Jesus continues to live among us despite our attempts to silence his announcement of the good news. Jesus continues to tell us the gospel of true wealth, of true sight, of true freedom and release that we only find in him. Through his death we have become part of the Kingdom of God, and God’s Spirit is upon us as well.

Jesus’ revelation and promise apply to every inner and outer kind of poverty, dependence, blindness and oppression. By taking our sins with him onto the cross and into his death Jesus has reconnected us to God. Jesus’ execution is not the final answer. But by overcoming death Jesus set us free from the wrath of God, from the dungeon of despair and the bondage of death. And Jesus released us into the love of God, into community with one another. Jesus restored our sight so we can see him – even in our enemies. Jesus opens us to proclaim and live his peace and justice in the world.

God’s amazing grace has become flesh and lives among us in the person of Jesus. Against all appearances of senselessness, overwhelming divisiveness and destruction Jesus proclaims the year of Jubilee, the year of God’s forgiveness of all our debts. And we hear the voice of God in our lives today. God works his promises relentlessly in our communities, in our societal structures and in each one of us. Right now the world, Christian or not, is pouring out money and care and support to the people of Haiti. The world, Christian or not, shows the people of Haiti the generous compassion of God.

God’s promises don’t turn our lives into fairy tales but by filling us with his Spirit God turns our lives into calm assurance and into a trusting wandering in his care and grace because God is Immanuel – among and within us.

A great witness to God’s presence in our world is Pastor and Theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer who wrote a poem when imprisoned, tortured and later died in the German concentration camp Flossenbürg.

“By gracious powers so wonderfully sheltered,
And confidently waiting, come what may,
We know that God is with us night and morning
And never fails to greet us each new day.

By gracious powers so faithfully protected,
so quietly, so wonderfully near,
We live each day in hope, with you beside us,
And go with you through ev’ry coming year.”

Amen.

BLCM – Sermon Epiphany 2C

SUNDAY, JANUARY 17, 2010

On John 2:1-11

At first glance today’s gospel reading seems out of sync with what is going on in the world. Within a few minutes great parts of Haiti were destroyed. Entire villages have disappeared. Death might have claimed the lives of 100,000 people or more, hundreds of thousands are injured or homeless. The stench of death makes breathing difficult. People are shocked and scared. There is a shortage of food and clean water, and looting has begun. Piles of rubble and twisted metal are all that is left where there was a large city before. Immeasurable suffering and chaos reigns. Within 5 minutes the world as the people in Haiti knew it has ended.

Faced with this magnitude of destruction and suffering the wedding celebration of John’s gospel seems out of place, almost embarrassing. And the problems of the bridegroom pales against the disaster in Haiti. Okay, he greatly miscalculated the amount of wine that was needed to host the guests generously. Or he is cheap. Or more likely the family doesn’t have the means to afford the wedding. But who cares? Who cares about this wedding party in small-town Cana at the end of the world?  Had this wedding taken place in Jerusalem the shortage of wine would have been noticed. It would have been scandalous because it means that the party is over. But Cana is days away from the capitol. In fact it’s in Galilee – heathen country, the country of thieves and bandits. And it seems to be a God-forsaken place. So, do we really need to talk about this story when on the other side of the world people have lost their lives, their homes, their livelihoods? Who cares about a wedding where the wine gives out, where the family of the bridegroom is on the brink of their personal disaster.

We, here in Medstead, can relate to that… This feeling of being forgotten by the rest of the world… Because we are hours and hours away from the important places. So who cares about the declining population in this area? Who cares about our small lives? Nobody. Nobody cares that for example health care or senior housing in this area is less than ideal. Here at the church we are faced with dropping numbers, too. We miss the hustle and bustle of a flourishing Sunday School. Our teens are moving into the city, and who knows what is going to happen over time to us here at Bethel or in Medstead. And what might be a concern for us is not for anybody outside of here. We, as a rural community in Northern Saskatchewan are experiencing decline on all levels. And at times it seems like oblivion creeps in, and nobody cares.

In general we all are good at forgetting, forgetting things and people that are not immediately important to us. Only last week we barely knew where Haiti was, we had only a vague idea of the harsh living conditions in that impoverished country. But now death has struck, and now the whole world is watching. Because disaster and tragedy attract attention. Because death makes us remember.

In today’s gospel nobody has died. In fact we are witnessing a joyous, lively wedding celebration in the small village of Cana in Galilee – far away from the hype of city life. It’s not an important event because the wedding guests are only small people. And Jesus is among them. Jesus, his mother and his disciples. But nobody in Cana knows who Jesus is. And when his mother points out to Jesus that the wine is running out Jesus is rather gruff. “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me?”  Who cares? What business is it to Jesus that the party might be over? He is a guest after all. A guest at a small-town-wedding where the wine (which was in fact not very good to begin with) is about to run out. And that is a shame, an embarrassment for the families of the newly weds because the festivities are supposed to go for a week. And people will talk about this slip-up for a while.

But Mary is not fooled by Jesus’ grumpy remark and orders the servants to do whatever her son tells them to do.

And Jesus indeed turns 6 giant jars of water into finest exquisite wine. Not only that, but it is enough wine to fill all the people in Cana. Jesus provides more than anyone in Cana could imagine, provides abundance for the whole village. But this first miracle that he performs goes almost unnoticed. The servants know about it, his mother, and his disciples. And yet, even the steward has no clue of what had happened. He is just relieved. This miracle would be spectacular if it was performed in Jerusalem. Here in Cana only few people notice what’s going on. And that is where God chooses to go first.

God was born in a lowly place, a cave. The first to learn about God’s birth are the shepherds in the field – small nobodies. From the manger God touches the world. God is born into a world of darkness, hatred, sin and death. And God goes to be among the small people, the forgotten, the outsiders, the poor. Because for God it is not about the significant places or the big stuff or the important people. Because  But the first thing God does is going to a small wedding in the middle of nowhere. And here God cares, cares for the small people.

In a few weeks from now the people of Haiti will be forgotten again by most of us. The destruction and disaster will be replaced by another tragedy. And the more important issues in the world will take over the news again.

But when we have long forgotten, when we have long forgotten all the devastation God is still there. Because God doesn’t forget. God’s name is Immanuel – God with us. And God promises to us to be with us always. Today in the season of Epiphany, the season of surprises, God in Jesus is revealed to us in unexpected and abundant ways that we couldn’t imagine. Jesus reveals himself to us in our small lives and gives us hope.

God has not come into this world to remove the natural processes of this planet, to take away earthquakes or hurricanes or volcanoes. And Jesus has not been born into this world to cure and fix everything for us. But Jesus is here to be with his people, with us – the beloved children of God. Jesus cares for the small. He reveals himself at a wedding in the middle of nowhere. He cares for each one of us here at Bethel and in Medstead in rural SK. Jesus works through the neighbours who care for one another – who cater for funerals, who provide hot chocolate and hot dogs for tobogganing youth, who welcome a stranger, who visit the sick.

And Jesus walks through the destroyed streets of Port au Prince – pulling bodies out of the ruins. Jesus patches up cuts and bruises. Jesus hands out blankets, food packages and bottles of water. And for a traumatized Haitian who is sleeplessly milling around the streets of the city that is no more, for him a bottle of clean, fresh water is a miracle. It is a small miracle on the scale of important things. A miracle that is unnoticed by the world, but that is life-giving and everything for the survivor.

There are many forgotten people in the world, and we too are good at forgetting. Yet God has come in order to be in the details. God in Christ has come to give food and water to disaster stricken Haitians. Jesus has come to turn water into wine and with that rescues the wedding celebration. And Jesus has come to bless this community with bread and wine. Because Jesus remembers. Because Jesus reaches out. And Jesus cares.

Jesus took on himself all sin and death and destruction of this world and died on the cross. And on the third day he rose again into new life. On the third day Jesus turns water into wine. Jesus gives himself to us entirely. In the meal that we are about to share Jesus gives to us his body, his blood. And with his body and blood Jesus binds us together into one body, binds us together with those in Haiti, and with those in sitting in the pews right next to us.

Amen.

BLCM – Sermon Epiphany 1C

SUNDAY, JANUARY 10, 2010

On Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

It was only the third Sunday of Advent, less than a month ago that John was preaching this sermon… the same sermon about the winnowing fork, or better: shovel that gathers grain from the threshing floor! And so much has happened in the mean time. We are through Advent and the waiting is over. We are through Christmas and the Messiah is born. We heard of Jesus as a preteen in the temple. And last Wednesday we celebrated Epiphany where the three wise men have come to pay homage to the Christ-child.

Advent can seem like a long wait. Every week we add candles to the wreath, we sing and pray of waiting and watching. But once Christmas arrives, the ball starts rolling and we are onto new parts of Jesus’ story each week. From now until the end of the Easter season, we will tumble along towards the next part of the story. And while Jesus was born only a few weeks ago, and John still preaches his Advent sermon, all the stories we have heard in the last little while reveal to us Jesus, the Word made flesh. And today we hear of Jesus showing up on the banks of the Jordan River. Jesus is among the crowds who have come to be baptized.

Jesus, like the crowds, has come to see John, has come to see his cousin, this Holy Man – who is an outsider in the desert, preaching about the coming of the Messiah and who is calling the people to turn their lives around.

And now they are all standing on the banks of the Jordan River. They are scattered. Many of them are lost in life. They are considered outsiders themselves. Outcasts, those unloved by God, those without a place in the religious order.

There are the little no-bodies whom life has treated harshly. Who barely make ends meet. Who lost hope for something better in the ruts of life, and who are hungering for change.

There are the soldiers whom life has taught to be tough inside and out. Who kill and plunder and bully those around them. But who are expendable for those who make the decisions, who are mere canon fodder. And who are searching for peace.

And there are the tax collectors whom life has made crooked and dishonest. Who pitilessly cheat and lie and squeeze the livelihood out of many in order to be at the top of the food chain. But who are extorted and ripped off by the hand that feeds them. And who are longing for straight paths.

And so when they hear of John the Baptizer they go to see what he has to say. They flock to the desert to hear if maybe he will tell them something different about God, if maybe he will have a different story.

We know these people. We know them well. Because we are standing with them on the banks of the Jordan River. Because we are as callused, and disillusioned, and lost as they are. Because we are those people and they are us.

There are those of us who are successful and have respectable careers. Who are somebody in the eyes of the world. But whose thoughts and time are so preoccupied that they have become estranged from those they love. And who are seeking commitment and affirmation.

There are those of us who have everything and more. But who are lost in materialism, in over-spending borrowed money or in all kinds of addictions. And who are yearning for hope and peace of mind.

And there are those of us who are independent and self-sufficient. Who don’t need anybody. But who are scared of closeness. And who are aching for someone who cares deeply about them.

We live lost lives and we are looking for answers to our searching in the wrong places. We live our lives as if we have been forgotten, as if we haven’t been claimed. We live as if we don’t know whose we are and why we are loved.

And together with the people on the banks of the Jordan River we listen to John’s preaching, this preaching with great authority. His words are blunt and frightening.  And his words are urgent and powerful. His vivid picture of God swinging the winnowing shovel sounds at first glance scary. It seems to be about separation, division into good and bad. Into those gathered together and those to be burnt in an unquenchable fire. Is John the Messiah?  The one to fulfill God’s promises of old? The one who brings about a new beginning? New life?

No, he is not. But John is preparing the crowds who are coming to listen to his crying out about a new beginning. And he is baptizing them. His words convey a hope that the people thought they had lost a long time ago.

And while we are waiting and wondering together with all the people on the banks of the Jordan River we become aware of the One. He looks like you and me. He is one of us – standing among us in the waters. And he joins us, his people in their hope for a new beginning. Not because he is in need of turning his life around. And not because he is in need of the forgiveness of sins.

Instead today Jesus is revealed. Today Jesus shows his true face. The face of God, the face of God among us. God, the Creator of the universe comes to his creatures. This almighty God comes to us lying in a feed trough. Christ seeks out the guilty and weary. He dines with prostitutes and tax collectors. Christ washes his disciples’ feet. And today he bows his head and is baptized.

And suddenly the heaven opens and – as Luke tells us – the Holy Spirit in the bodily form of a dove descends upon the man. And one more time God speaks. God speaks and his voice fills each and everyone who hears it with awe and wonder and hope and joy. “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

God has spoken into our world, into our lives. God has spoken and identified Christ as his Son, and through God’s words Jesus receives his call into his ministry. Everyone around Jesus hears the revelation and proclamation of God and sees the anointing of the Messiah, the greatest king of all, the servant king. From today Jesus sets out on his journey to the cross. And his mission is to overcome hopelessness and death, sin and the brokenness of all creation through love, forgiveness and grace. Through the baptism with water and the Holy Spirit and God’s words God shows and tells the people that Jesus is God’s beloved.

And so are we.

Because in Baptism God also calls each of us by name. When we are baptized the heaven opens for us, too. In Baptism we receive the forgiveness of sin and new life. And in Baptism God declares us his beloved. “You are my beloved child.” God calls us into new life in the body of Christ, names us into God’s family. At every Baptism we welcome the newly baptized with these words: “We welcome you into the body of Christ and into the mission we share: join us in giving thanks and praise to God, and bearing God’s creative and redeeming word to all the world.” Because Christ set out on his journey to Golgatha to redeem all creation, including you and me. By calling us by name we together with the whole universe will not perish but live on. Because in God’s memory we are alive. As beloved and claimed daughters and sons of God our lives become filled with meaning.

God gives us an identity in Christ. And with God’s declaration of love in Christ we die in the waters of Baptism and we rise again into new life. We are named and claimed children of God forever. Through God’s washing we are cleansed from sin and death. Through Baptism we receive a name and identity that can never be destroyed or broken – not even by death.

God indeed loves us for who we are and not what we do. And this love is life changing. It is radical, because to be loved for simply being us, stands against everything that our society preaches. To be brought into the inside of God, for God to collect and gather us all in, so that we are made into one family and one body is more than any fancy jobs, or amounts of money, or latest toys could ever do for us. God gives us a new identity as his beloved.

In baptism our identity has been emblazoned on our foreheads in the shape of the cross. God’s faithfulness empowers us to live in hope and courage. And “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, ³⁹nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from” this radical love of God because of Jesus, God’s beloved Son, and his cross.

Amen.