Proper 13C2
Eccles.1:2, 12-14; 2: 18-23;
Col. 3: 1-11; Lk 12: 13-21
Baptism of Harrison Alec Micko
Good morning all, and grace and peace. Turning the page on another month of the
summer and looking forward--I think just a couple of weeks away—to our return
to good old St. Andrew’s. Following the
joke, moving from the Church “without any flaws,” to a Church with “new flaws!”
With continued thanks to George Knight and Murray Rust, our Campaign Committee,
and all the team overseeing the first stages of our renewal. And as a mailing and general solicitation is
being prepared in the office now, a reminder of deepest thanks for those who
have already and for those who will soon be indicating pledges of support to
make all this good work possible. A new
page, a new chapter for a 176 year old congregation, and with all of us to be a
part of turning that page and opening new accessibility and resources for
mission and ministry in the new century ahead.
The sign to me of that new century couldn't be more vivid and lively,
the baptism of Harrison Alec Micko this morning. Baptism #13 in the register for St. Andrew’s
in 2013, and I know that we’re not finished yet by a long shot. Max Kampmeyer scheduled in September, for one. More beyond him. A banner year for baptisms!
Harrison this morning. Fresh
water poured into the font, the ancient promises and prayers, a blessing with
the sign of the cross marked in aromatic oil across his forehead. And echoing the words of decision and commitment
and promise that his parents and godparents speak over him, and
all of us together, in affirmative response to the questions that are the key
questions and the bottom-line questions not simply of baptism but of the whole
of our lives.
Do you turn to Jesus Christ and
accept him as your Savior? Do you put
your whole trust in his grace and love?
Do you promise to follow and obey him as your Lord?
The answer to those questions, the answer that will make all the
difference. For Harrison, and for each
and every one of us here this morning. Our response to the
one critical invitation.
The future life and ministry of this congregation, represented here in
Harrison. And at the same time
as we gather in prayer and remembrance at the death of our beloved friend Rae
Brooks, as we offer our prayers in our biddings this morning. Who arrived with the beginnings of her young
family here in Highland Park in February of 1960, in the last year of the
Eisenhower administration (!), as her husband was called to serve as the 14th
Rector of this great parish. Just to
begin to recollect so many memories and so much love over half a century and a
lifetime. A woman of such intelligence,
grace, strength—through all the ups and downs of life, of which of course there
were many. And so appropriate to be
remembering her in prayer also as we hold the past in our memories but also
celebrate the future that God has in mind for us. For each of us individually, for this parish
and community.
Memories of the past. Hopes for
the future. Christian people always in
the mode, “already but not yet.” A
spirit of Advent all the year long. As
we wait expectantly for the one who has already accomplished his great
victory.
The three readings this morning coordinated as it were on the pivot of
Colossians 3, verse 2, right at the beginning of our second reading: Set your
minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.
We hear this morning the wind blowing across the vast emptiness of the
universe in the deep sighs of the Preacher, the speaker in the Book of
Ecclesiastes, reflecting perhaps what we would call the “wisdom of
Solomon.” The wisdom of the one who
steps back from the busyness and noise and frantic activity of the world, the
pursuit of success and prosperity, the ins and outs and ups and downs of
transient human relationships, conquests and prizes, the search for reputation
and accomplishment. So easy for that all
to be simply self-medication. Vanity. Vanity.
Emptiness.
Shakespeare of course preaches on
the same text. Macbeth in the fifth act,
as he learns of his wife’s death. “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps
in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time; and
all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief
candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his
hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot,
full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
Then here in Luke 12. In this
dramatic procession through the Galilee Jesus has been healing the sick and
casting out demons and calling out the authorities for their hypocrisy—ostentatious
religious rituals and public gestures of adherence to ceremonial law, all while
ignoring personally and corporately God’s call for personal faithfulness of
relationship, holiness of life, and an offering of justice and compassion founded on his
Word. Speaking to the crowds of the
coming Kingdom of God and of the costs of faithful discipleship.
And someone in the crowd has a question for Jesus. Since you’re so committed to the justice of
God, speak to my lousy relatives and tell them that they need to be sure I get
my fair share of the family inheritance.
All the usual messy scramble of material life, I suppose. And
Jesus replies with this parable about the man whose wealth was so great
that he had to build new warehouses to hold it all, the man who had
everything. And then of course with the
ominous chords in the background, the Grim Reaper arrives for HIS fair
share. And you know the rest of the
story. “A poor player that struts and
frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.” So it is with those who store up treasures
for themselves but are not rich toward God.
The bumper sticker says, “The one who dies with the most toys,
wins.” What are we worried about? What is our bottom-line concern?
I remember shortly after we moved to Pittsburgh driving across
Lawrenceville with my son Daniel, and turning to cross through the Allegheny
Cemetery, with all the great monuments and family mausoleums especially up on
the Penn Avenue side. As Dan saw them
for the first time he said, “wow, there sure are a lot of rich dead people in
this cemetery.”
This is just exactly the right context for Harrison’s baptism this
morning. And with our memories of
Rae. For what we do in our minds and
hearts as we renounce the Lord of Darkness and dedicate and rededicate
ourselves to Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior.
What is there to trust in this
world of ours? In whom shall we place
our trust? What is the foundation to build on that isn’t
the foundation of sand, to wash away when the storm comes?
Do you turn to Jesus
Christ and accept him as your Savior? Do
you put your whole trust in his grace and love?
Do you promise to follow and obey him as your Lord?
Exactly the right context for sure, for Harrison’s baptism, for our
prayers for Rae, sanctifying our memories and our hopes, and to hear St. Paul
to this Christian congregation 2,000 years ago, and also very much to us and
for us here this morning. Going back to
that Steven Covey line that I repeated while we were thinking about Paul’s
letter to the Galatians a few weeks back: the main thing is to keep the main
thing the main thing.
The word of God for us to hear with our ears and in our hearts: If you have been raised with Christ, seek the
things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not
on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with
Christ in God. When Christ who is your
life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.
And now I would invite Harrison Alec Micko and his parents and
godparents to come forward, as we would celebrate together the Sacrament of New
Birth in the life of Christ.
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