The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Exodus 14:10-15:1, Romans 6:3-11, Luke 24:1-10
It was one of those typical family vacations to a faraway destination. Each day had some new activity on the agenda. On this particular day, my friends were headed in their rented car up a mountain to a wilderness preserve. It was supposed to be spectacular with plenty of hiking trails and beautiful scenery. This was one of the key destinations of their entire trip. Unfortunately, the map didn’t indicate just how winding the road was. It was switchback after switchback up the side of a steep mountain, hairpin curves every 15 feet. Soon their youngest, who always gets carsick, was begging them to stop. What began as a joyful family outing became tedious and unpleasant. They had to give in. They had to give up. They would not reach their planned destination. In great disappointment, they sought another route home. Along this unplanned route they encountered an old stone observation tower. With nothing better to do they stopped to explore. Beautifully built, in a way that no one would take care to now, it boasted stone turrets and all. From its top they could see for miles and miles, and its castle-like construction lent itself to much imaginative play by the children. At the end of the day, they all had to agree that while it had not been day they expected, it hadn’t been so bad. It had turned out all right after all. Upon later reflection, they began to value more and more the treasure they had found.
It occurs to me that the roadmap of life often fails to clue us in on just how winding and treacherous the road ahead will be. We may have some idea—or a very certain idea—of where we are going and how we want it all turn out. It just doesn’t work out that way. Sometimes (many times) we find ourselves at a point along the way when we have to give in and give up what we thought was our destination. We have to regroup, redirect, reorient ourselves. Parenting is like that too. Even when the parenting books, friends and family, and our own experience warn us that there are sharp curves ahead, we don’t really know what the road is like until we get there.
I am sorry to tell you here tonight, on this most sacred nights of the Christian year, that baptism is no different. Now you may be new to the church or a life-long member. Either way, you may have been led to believe that the church is somehow different than the rest of life. You may have thought that the road to salvation is one you can be sure of and if you follow all the signs there will be no treacherous curves along the way. You may have been lead to believe or hope that a life in Christ is one that has a very specific road map with all the curves and pitfalls clearly marked so that you can avoid them (or one with no pitfalls at all). Or perhaps you believe that if you are just a good enough driver, one well schooled in prayer and scripture, that the path of Christian life is always smooth—as long as you stay on the straight and narrow. Folks, I am here to tell you…I do not know a single person on that path. Not a one.
I’ve met some people who think they know that way. There are people who believe they carry a perfect road map to God’s Kingdom. But I have yet to meet any one, faithful or not, who has not encountered a real detour. Our bible is not a roadmap predicting what life will be. Our church traditions and creeds do not spell it out. Even our Baptismal Covenant, which we are about to renew, is a wonderful guideline but not a prescription for a worry free journey. None of these show us just how winding the road actually is, or guarantee our arrival at a destination of our choosing.
Nevertheless, here we all are, engaged in our Christian Pilgrimage. And here is Zachary, whose parents and godparents are willing to stand up here in front of all of you and commit Zachary to this life in Christ—even though they know through experience that life is unpredictable to say the least. They are going to present Zachary to all of us and promise some outrageous things. And so are we. Then we are going to talk over to that font, and pour water over Zachary’s head, and baptize him with ancient words, and mark him as Christ’s own…and all that won’t tell them what is ahead. Why in the world would they do this? Why would anyone? Why would anyone choose to pass through the waters of baptism if the road ahead is so difficult and baptism doesn’t change it or make the way clear?
When the Israelites crossed through the waters of the red sea to escape certain death at the hands of the Egyptians, they encountered the desert. While they greeted their rescue from the Egyptians with songs of joy and a great big party, the celebration did not last long. They were soon back to their old song of complaining. The desert was not their planned destination. They thought they were heading for the Promised Land. Apparently the map God gave Moses didn’t indicate just how hard the desert would be. After all it took them 40 years to travel 400 miles (or 600 miles of they took the circuitous route, even so). But what did they discover in the desert? What treasures were there for them?
Are you familiar with Calvin and Hobbes? Not the philosophers, but the cartoon. Calvin, the young boy, is digging for buried treasure in his backyard with Hobbes, his stuffed Tiger and best friend. Hobbes excitedly asks Calvin if he has found anything.
“A few dirty rocks, a weird root and some disgusting grubs.”
“On your first try?”
What treasures are there for us to discover along the unexpected turns of life? Do we always recognize them when we see them?
You know, not one of the disciples had a road map that indicated all the curves, even though there had been plenty of signs: Warning: dangerous teaching. Slow: betrayers at hand. Caution: crucifixion ahead. Jesus had even told them the outcome: Watch: resurrection coming. But Jesus’ death was not what they planned for and the resurrection was not what they were expecting. A risen Lord was certainly not what Mary Magdalene, Joanna and Mary were looking for that morning. Even with a helpful guide to redirect them, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?”, we have to wonder if they really grasped what they had discovered. After all they didn’t get to see Jesus just then. Real encounters with the risen lord didn’t take place at the empty tomb in Luke’s account. It wasn’t until evening, as they all gathered and shared the accounts of their strange day—the women at the tomb, the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, Peter—that Jesus suddenly appears among them and they began to perceive the real treasure they had found. It would take them years to realize the implications. Perhaps 2000 years. Perhaps longer.
Baptism doesn’t change the road ahead. It changes us. We are broken open in baptism and bathed in the Holy Spirit so that if we are ever broken again, when we are broken again, we still have our life in Christ. And baptism come gifts for the road: the gift of this paschal light that conquers the dark, the gift of this community, companions along the way, the gift of Holy Spirit. Among Zachary’s baptismal gifts is not the perfect road map. But we have so much more for him. As he comes up out of the baptismal waters, we will pray over him this wonderful prayer asking that God give him an inquiring and discerning heart, courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love God, and the gift of joy and wonder. Joy and wonder in all of God’s works. Joy and wonder at treasure discovered along the way. Joy and wonder in unexpected watch towers to play on, and perhaps even the joy and wonder of having to take another road.
We are about to head up the road to the Baptismal waters tonight. You have a map of the liturgy in your hands. But I have to warn you, even though I spent a good deal of time on it, I’m not sure all the curves are clearly marked. There is a good likelihood we will not end up exactly where we planned. I’m game…are you?
Copyright © 2007 Anne E. Kitch
