Claimed for Service: a Sermon on Mark 1:1-11

“Claimed for Service”
Mark 1:1-11
The Baptism of the Lord/ Ordination of Deacons and Elders

Well I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good old day
And who could wear the starry crown
O Lord, show me the way.

O mothers let's go down
Let's go down, don't you wanna go down?
O fathers let's go down
Down in the river to pray.

Have you ever gotten to a point—the end of the line, the end of your rope—where and when you knew something had to change, something had to be different or—you just couldn’t go on? In the film “O Brother, Where Art Thou” three escaped convicts are racing around the Mississippi delta looking frantically for buried treasure. They still have the shackles on their legs from the chain gang from which they escaped. They are not innocents; they’re thieves, what you might call “common criminals.” As they meander through the woods they come upon a congregation of people headed for a river, singing that song, “Down in the river to pray.” The escapees watch, mesmerized, as people wade into the water to be baptized. Two of the men are seized with an overwhelming conviction that this is what they need, that they want to turn their lives around. They wade into the water, the congregation’s singing ringing in the air all around them, and they emerge, soaked and jubilant.

This is the kind of baptism Mark reports in these opening words from his gospel: a baptism of repentance, from the Greek word that means “turning around,” a baptism born of the conviction that one’s life is going in the wrong direction, that only a fresh start in God’s hands will make it right. This is the kind of baptism that caused people from the whole Judean countryside, all the people of Jerusalem, says Mark, to pour out of their homes in the hopes of wading into the muddy Jordan so that John could pour some water on their heads.

This is the kind of baptism not so often experienced here in the Presbyterian Church, where it’s the custom to baptize our babies and small children before it ever occurs to them to ask be baptized… people small enough that most of us would assume they can’t have had the opportunity to become sinners, or to get themselves on the wrong track. This is not the kind of baptism that comes to mind most readily for us, we who tend to think less about sin and forgiveness and cleansing, and more about belonging, identity, and incorporation into the body of believers. When we think of baptism, we tend to think of parents presenting an infant to become a member of the church, or folks who have simply not had the opportunity to be baptized in the past, offering themselves to be baptized so that they can become members.

Do we have two different baptism here? Not really. These baptisms are one and the same, even though Christians have wrangled about the subtle differences for centuries. Each and every baptism is about joining together with the body of Christ, with Jesus who, himself, was baptized, even though he had no need of repentance. Each and every baptism is about fallen humanity and our predilections for messing up the goodness of God’s creation, whether we’re talking about messing up rivers and oceans or messing up relationships. Each and every baptism is about knowing that the path you are on needs a change, even if that change is as simple as deciding to join a church.

Baptism is about repentance, turning your life around. And baptism is about binding ourselves to a community of faith, the ideal location for just such a project. The two kinds of baptism we see most commonly practiced demonstrate both these facets of the sacrament. But there is another facet to baptism, one that, perhaps, we don’t think about as quickly.

“In those days,” Mark tells us, “Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” ~ Mark 1:9-11

Something else happens in baptism, something so cataclysmic that Mark speaks of it in terms of the heavens being torn open. In baptism we are brought into a stunning affirmation of God’s claim on our lives. “You are my Child, my beloved Child,” says God; “with you I am well pleased.” It’s worth noting that, in Mark’s gospel, Jesus hasn’t really done much of anything to merit this amazing declaration of love on God’s part. The gospel has just begun… so far, it’s all prologue. Jesus presents himself for baptism, and God’s love pours out of the heavens in recognition. Jesus emerges from the water, soaked and jubilant and glowing with the love of God.

It’s like that for us, too. Something else happens in baptism: God puts God’s mark on us, God’s seal that we too are Beloved, through no merit or work of our own. Simply because we are, God speaks these words of love and affirmation to us. And that sets the ball rolling.

Baptism starts the ball rolling on Jesus’ ministry. It is in baptism, in this moment of heaven-ripped communion with God who loves him, that his ministry begins. It’s like that for us. Yes baptism is about repentance, about turning our lives around. And yes, baptism is about binding ourselves to a community of faith. But also, baptism is about being claimed by God, claimed as God’s own beloved children, claimed for service.

This is true for all of us. Every one of us has already been claimed by God, affirmed by God, called “Beloved” by God. And God has already set us on a path for service. Discerning where this path will take us is challenging and exciting and even a little scary. After all, the heavens don’t rip open every day. Some of us are called to serve God in the church, in particular offices such as deacon or elder or minister, or by other kinds of service to the community of faith. All of us are called to serve God outside the church, in God’s beautiful and broken world, and that service is as wide and varied and many-hued as God’s beloved children. We can serve God by working for safe and peaceful communities and neighborhoods, or by delivering Meals on Wheels, or by giving someone a lift to a doctor’s appointment. We can serve God by loving and caring for our aging parents or our children or even our families of choice, those who are knit together not by blood or legal contract but simply by love. We can serve God by sitting on a jury. Anywhere we can serve God’s people, we can serve God.

Today, a day on which we ordain and install deacons and elders, is a day to remember our baptisms, whether they happened within the last few weeks or months or decades ago. We remember, whether we were infants held in the arms of a parent or godparent, or we were adults who emerged from the experience soaked and jubilant and glowing with the love of God. We remember that baptism is about turning our lives around, and the opportunity to do that is always before us, always a possibility, whether we’re being baptized or remembering our baptisms. We remember that baptism is about belonging: throwing in our lot with a community of people who are striving and struggling to follow God through God’s Child Jesus. And we also remember that baptism is about being claimed by God: “You are my Child, my beloved Child,” says God; “with you I am well pleased.” Remember your baptism, and how you too have been claimed for service by the one who calls you “Beloved.” Thanks be to God. Amen.

Well I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good old day
And who could wear the starry crown
O Lord, show me the way.

O sisters let's go down
Let's go down, don't you wanna go down?
O brothers let's go down
Down in the river to pray.