9th Sunday after Pentecost, 7 August 2022, The Rev. Dr. John D. Golenski
Genesis 15:1. Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.
Hebrews 11:1. Do not be afraid, little flock.
Luke 12:32.
On the island of Torcello in the northern reaches of the Venetian lagoon, stands a Romanesque basilica built by the Veneti people over several centuries. They had left their cities on the mainland to seek refuge from the ravages of the Huns. There they worshipped with their bishops until malaria drove them to the group of islands we know now as the city of Venice. The basilica remains on the almost-deserted island, a relic of earlier Christian worship.
Directly in front of the central doors of this basilica, which is really a museum, are the
ruins of an octagonal building which was pillaged for marble and bricks for constructions in Venice. It served as the baptistry, a separate building which opened into the basilica’s narthex. Looking into the eight-sided ruin, which had been topped by a dome, one quickly realizes that the structure focuses on the exact center where a large stone basin would have been placed. We know a good deal about the practices of the first centuries of the Church through the writings of hierarchs and scholars of the time, but also from the structure of buildings, many in ruins like Torcello’s baptistry, built around the liturgies of baptism and the Eucharist.
We know that those who had asked to be incorporated into the Christian community,
having gone through the process of scrutiny, orientation to the faith, and spiritual guidance by the deacons, were welcomed through the rite of baptism in buildings created solely for this rite. Usually on the night of the Easter Vigil, catechumens, the folks accepted for membership in the community, when ready and stripped, were led to the basin where deacons either would three times immerse them (by holding them fully under water) or pour water on their heads, as the bishop invoked the Trinity. When they had been led up out of the basin and clothed in white robes, they joined the procession through the great double doors into the basilica for the Eucharist. This was the first time that they were allowed access to Communion with their new community.
Baptizing by immersion literally intentionally created a near-death experience by drowning. When the catechumens were brought up out of the water, early theologians speak of them experiencing a second birth into a truly new life. The Vigil Eucharist entailed processions, singing, and dancing—a joyous celebration of welcome for the new Christians into a new world with God’s promise of eternal life. Not only is baptism a rite of cleansing, it is a rite de passage, a ritual, symbolic welcoming into the community of faith. Very early in the Church’s history, communities chose to baptize children and infants as well as adults, not because they needed cleansing from sin, but because the community wanted to welcome them into the new life of our Resurrection Faith.
In a few moments, we will carry out this ancient rite of cleansing, recognition, and
invitation. We are welcoming young Nathan Malone Casavant into our Resurrection Faith. Most of us were welcomed into the Christian faith as infants and children. We were raised in the vast, complex web of a culture which evolved in relation to what we call “Judeo-Christian values”. While in many ways this cultural environment is comforting and familiar, its very familiarity prevents us from experiencing how extraordinary the Faith is.
In the portion we heard from Genesis 15, Abram and Sarah, nearing the end of
life, experience God’s extravagant, wildly-impossible promise of bearing an heir who will become the progenitor of a vast nation that will extend into an infinite future. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews, invoking the memory of the fulfillment of the promise to Abram and Sarah, tells us that God promises an even more extravagant future for humanity. And Jesus in Luke’s twelfth chapter, makes the promise of God’s reign in the here and now. This is what we are welcoming Nathan into—an invitation to trust that the Creator is crafting the reign of Love.
This Resurrection Faith, seems hard to believe. In our own time, we seem to be awash in the consequences of sin. Do we need a catalogue of the causes of anxiety, fear, and terror? In Nathan’s life, he and his generation will face climactic threats on a planetary scale. Devastating warfare within and among nations seems imminent and spreading. Political and cultural divisions within prosperous nations threaten the stability of our lives. The recent pandemic seems a prelude to repetitive assaults on the basic health of peoples around the globe. Almost all the structures of leadership seem to have lost all credibility. The forces of disintegration seem inexorable; and, the temptation of authoritarianism is widespread, even here.
Bringing a child into the world is itself an act of faith. Welcoming that child into the
community of Resurrection Faith, even more so. The author of Hebrews tells us that the world is transformed, the Reign of Love is established when we make the choices to trust. Nathan’s parents, his family, his community invite him to live a life of faith, of trust that the Creator is building the Reign of Love. Three times in the beginning chapters of the Gospel, the author of Luke tells the story of angels, those terrifying manifestations of God, who appear and say, “Do not be afraid!” to Zechariah, Mary, and the shepherds. All have to do with welcoming a newborn. There are so many choices we make whether to trust—to trust our spouses, our children, our friends, our families, our co-workers, ourselves; but, the most extravagant is to bring your child into this world.
We are a community of faith. We try each day to trust that our Creator is building the
Reign of Love. We try at this community of Emmanuel to make choices which grow the reign of love within and among us. And so, we promise to support you, Nathan Malone Casavant, as you grow and develop in this community of faith we call the Church.