Eighth Sunday after Pentecost; Baptism of Lily McMaster

Service Date: 
18 July, 2010
Isaiah 43:1-3a
When they were thinking about what Lily's baptism means to them, Kirsty and Ross chose this particular passage from Isaiah, one of God's spokesmen. And it's not hard to see why. Bringing a child into the world, bringing a child up, is not easy. The news that surrounds us 24-7 reminds us of many of life's dangers for children. The risk assessments many of us have to do for work or voluntary groups also remind us of things that could go wrong in a child's life. So it only makes sense for Ross and Kirsty to bring Lily for baptism, to ask for God's help to protect her from everything bad that could happen to her. Right? Wrong! Anyone who looked to Isaiah for risk management would be horrified. Let's hear again the message he brings from God to the people of Israel, thousands of years ago, a message for us too: But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.
So far, so good. We can cope with a God who made millions of years of evolution happen, just so God could call Lily's name and bring her into being. Creation over such a long time is hard to get our minds around - but here she is; isn't it fantastic?
Being redeemed sounds a bit weird - has God given us free coupons? What for?
I'll come back to that in a moment. But first comes the scary stuff. Listen to Isaiah passing on God's promise to Israel and to us: When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.
Hang on a moment! Wasn't God meant to keep Lily safe? It's great that the floods won't drown her, but what is God doing, letting her wade in deep waters to start with? And it gets worse: When you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. Well, thanks a lot, God, but I'd rather she stayed out of the fire than walk through it unscathed. A fine protection you're turning out to be! A wonderful parent! Well, actually: yes. For as Kirsty and Ross are discovering, with Lily on the move: one of the major skills of parenting is in knowing when to be protective and when to give your child freedom to learn and grow. I hear she's discovered stairs now. If they didn't let her try to climb, she'd never work out how to do it. And I reckon God, who is a pretty good parent, must have had that problem with Jesus. Should Jesus watch his words in case he offended people, or speak the truth about God and others? Should he obey the religious leaders who could help his career, or love everyone, even embarrassing people no one else wanted to know? Should he stay alive at all costs, or be killed by people threatened by his message and live again, so we can find out how God's love is stronger than hatred or fear or even death, strong enough to get us through everything that hurts us? Because that's how God redeems us. Jesus' death, Jesus' resurrection is our voucher showing how, no matter how bad things get for Lily, God's love and forgiveness for her will never run out. In a few moments, we're going to be welcoming Lily as God's new child through the water of baptism. Don't worry, I don't plan to drown her. Her baptism doesn't mean nothing bad will ever happen to her; bad stuff happened to Jesus and happens to his followers too. But she'll wade through the floods, she'll walk through the fire. For like every Christian, every child of God, she has God's promise: I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your saviour: the one who rescues you; the light of all our lives.
Hymns: 
R&S 104: Praise, my soul, the King of heaven
The Aaronic blessing (R&S 420)
R&S 572: Colours of day
R&S 531: Lord of all hopefulness
R&S 42: For the fruits of all creation
Sermon: 
Isaiah 43:1-3a; Psalm 15; Luke 10:38-42
We've got a classic choice for Christians here, especially for Christian women: Martha or Mary? Can I have a quick show of hands: which are you: Mary? or Martha? Which would you like to be? - you don't need to say! And which - if either - do we hope Lily will become, once she gets the chance to choose?
It looks as if the right answer should be ‘Mary'. After all, that's what Jesus said. ‘Mary has chosen the better part,' he tells Martha, begging her sister for a hand with the dishes, ‘and no one will take it away from her.' But what is this better part he's talking about? Is he just flattered because Mary's hanging on his every word?
It would be easy for us to imagine Mary as a theology groupie, a yes-woman who looks adoringly at Jesus instead of taking responsibility for herself, but that's because we're used to the idea of women being students - even, these days, of there being more women in some university subjects than men.
In Jesus' day it was very different. It was men who studied God's word in the Bible. The experts in it were called rabbis. And each rabbi called disciples to follow him who - surprise, surprise - were men too. Having a woman as your disciple, sitting at your feet the way men disciples did, was weird. Being a woman who wanted to think about life, the universe and God was weirder. Mary was bucking the trend. And I believe when Lily grows a bit older, she'll discover that God has given her many gifts and abilities which she can exercise as well as any man. If God calls her, she can even become a bishop in the Church of England now, though I'm not sure I'd be glad of that calling myself!
But as well as being a Mary, if she takes after her granny Arlene, I suspect Lily's also going to have something of a Martha in her. After all, gourmet cooking must be in her genes. It'd be easy to make Martha look silly and fussy, missing out on the chance right under her nose to learn from Jesus. But as the head of a household in her own right, someone who could invite Jesus into her own house for a meal, in those days she was just as unusual as her sister. And of course we don't just know about Martha from this story, in Luke's Gospel, for in John's Gospel we hear about a later incident in the life of both sisters.
Their brother Lazarus is close to death; they've asked Jesus to come and heal him, but unaccountably he delays till after the funeral. Then Jesus and his friends turn up, and Martha goes out to meet them. She's upset. She demands of Jesus: ‘Why couldn't you come in time? Then my brother wouldn't have died.' What does Jesus say? ‘I'm sorry - there was just too much traffic; I couldn't find anywhere to park my donkey?' Or, more likely, ‘I was afraid if I did come, my enemies would get me?' After all, he's already had death threats from people who don't like the way he talks about God's love, God's forgiveness. No. ‘I'm God's new life,' he tells her. ‘If they're my friends, even people who've died will live. Do you believe me?'
Martha rises to his challenge. She recognises him as God's leader, the Messiah. She sees how closely he's connected to God, close enough that it makes sense for him to call God Father, and for her to call him God's son. She's a theologian now!
So while she was making the bread and setting the table and washing the dishes Martha must have taken in something of who Jesus was. And maybe her learning, done in little scraps between her other responsibilities, is a good model for us these days, caught between so many calls on our time, wondering whether or how there is meaning in our lives, whether or how God can make sense for us. When we reflect on our lives and the life of the world, when we ask ourselves: ‘What does Jesus say to this? What's God playing at here?' we are following Martha. As Lily grows older,
I hope she will ask these questions, and share her conclusions, within and beyond the church. For, as we sang in our last hymn, if the message of God, the message of Jesus makes sense to us, our challenge is to share it with others.
But how is Mary, Jesus' open disciple, reacting to the tragic death of her brother? Martha tells her that Jesus has come, and together they go to Lazarus' tomb. Mary, too, accuses Jesus: ‘If you'd been here, my brother would still be alive!' But where Jesus challenged Martha, he weeps with Mary. She knows how deeply he is affected by what has happened; she knows how much he cares about all three of them; she knows she can trust him enough to share her feelings of grief and anger. And he knows he can trust her enough to weep in her presence - something that was no easier for a man to do then than now. And after they weep together, Jesus shows both sisters God's unstoppable love, and foreshadows his own rising from death, by bringing Lazarus back to life.
Mary and Martha: two strong women, who could challenge and be challenged by Jesus, who could trust him enough to share their thoughts and feelings with him. Two good role models for Lily, and for each of us, women and men. But of course they had the massive advantage of knowing Jesus face to face. We have to rely on passed-down stories about him. It's not the same as sitting at table with them: talking to Mary, absorbed in the conversation till Martha digs her in the ribs to pass the bread; looking at Lazarus, wondering how he feels.
No, our church life is not the same as sitting down at table with Jesus; yet in a way, our psalm points us to how we can share our lives with God just as much as if we'd been there at Martha and Mary's table two thousand years ago, or listening four thousand years ago when Isaiah first gave God's people God's message. Let's hear that psalm through again: it's not long, but it has profound implications for us. GOD, the writer asks, who gets invited to dinner at your place? How do we get on your guest list? And God replies: "Walk straight, act right, tell the truth. Don't hurt your friend, don't blame your neighbour; despise the despicable. Keep your word even when it costs you, make an honest living, never take a bribe. You'll never get blacklisted if you live like this."
That's challenging in this economic climate where if we save ourselves from financial cuts, they will hurt others; where we're tempted to lay blame elsewhere for the mess we got into believing in endless cheap credit; where the weakest, or the most honest, may go to the wall. It's challenging for Ross and Kirsty, doing their paid work and bringing Lily up: what example are they giving her? But Kirsty and Ross, you're not on your own. You two and Lily are sitting around God's dinnertable, with all of us and many more, as like Martha we try to get our work done well, and like Mary we ponder on Jesus' words and how to follow them. That's why by baptism we're welcoming Lily not only into God's family but into this church community. Through all our days - even wading through waters, or walking through fire - we're in this together, with God, who'll get us through.

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