The color of debate
Matthew 3: 1-2, 11-17
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
January 8, 2017
For about seven years I drove a 1995 Ford Escort sedan. It had the automatic seatbelts that everyone hated. It even had a sunroof. But the color seemed to defy definition in our family. It was a teal color, but David thought it was more green, while I thought it was more blue. We called it the color of debate because we never could agree.
Some
years later I took an online color hue test and asked David to take it as
well. Sure enough, my eyes erred on the
side of blue while David’s favored green.
Neither of us was right or wrong.
The rods and cones in my eyes are configured or wired in such a way as
to pick up on more of the blue wavelength of light, and then transmit that
information to my brain, shaped by my experiences and emotions and thoughts,
which then interprets those signals to say that there is more blue in the paint
than green. David, with his eyes and his
brain, sees more green in the paint color.
Funny thing is, now we have a new car with a color that both David and I
agree is blue, but Andrea thinks it is teal while Olivia says that it is blue.
Much
of reality is this way, in that we all perceive it differently—sometimes just a
bit, other times we wonder if we’re talking about the same thing. We want objectifiable truth, something we can
all agree on, when really each of us contributes a piece of it: our own truth, our perspective of what is needful,
real, true and good. Every religion,
philosophy, or area of study is an attempt to objectify truth and create
orthodoxy and orthopraxis—how we practice and embody that orthodoxy. Yet we’ve never really been able to, nor
should we, outlaw heresy. In both Greek
and Latin the root for the word heresy is “choose”. To be a heretic is to make a choice and a
free one at that.
In
fact, religion, or relationships or community or anything else, doesn’t grow
well without the ability to choose freely.
The United Church of Christ would not be here if not for our Protestant
heretical forebears like Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Knox, Ulrich Zwingli,
and several women such as Marguerite de Navarre and Marie Dentiere. Jesus, his disciples, and followers of the
Way were considered heretics of a sort in that they inspired others to rise up
against the Roman Empire. Abraham and
Sarah made their choice when they decided to listen to their stillspeaking God,
leave home, and follow where God would lead them.
The Greek word for repent means to think differently: to change our mind, our heart, our life. Jesus is the one who would be helping people to think differently about God, about their lives, about the world they lived in. Jesus doesn’t need to turn away from sin, think differently about his life, and follow God’s ways; he’s already there and prepared to lead others to turn their path.
The way Jesus sees it, it
is to fulfill all righteousness—justice
and mercy for all, not just for some. This
is the beginning of his public ministry, of his vocation as a rabbi, and a
mikvah bath would’ve been part of his ordination. By having John baptize him in the Jordan, on
the border, at the margins with God’s marginal people, Jesus was aligning
himself not with the establishment, not with the religious authorities but with
those whom he would be spending most of his time: the poor, the sick,
outsiders, sinners, tax collectors, drunkards, and prostitutes, those of God’s
people who needed justice and mercy the most.
Like Communion, each of
us sees and experiences and thinks about baptism differently. Each of us contributes our truth, our
experience, our thoughts and feelings, the different traditions from which we
come. Everything we touch, we
change. Everything that touches us,
changes us. Neither Communion nor
baptism are a once and over event but invitations to grow. If we want to have new life, we must be
willing to let go of the life that is not working for us. If we want to renew the church, we must be
willing to let go of that which is holding back the church from renewal. If we’re looking for calm waters, unchanging
ways, and a clear horizon, this is not the baptism that Jesus offers. Troubled, moving, living waters are part of
the good news of Jesus. Troubled,
moving, living waters are a life lived in the presence and in the care of God.
How do we, the New Ark
United Church of Christ, need to repent, that is, to think differently about our
life together? In what ways do we need
to change our minds, our hearts, our lives?
Whether we’ve been baptized or not, how does the Holy Spirit make
herself known to us? Who are God’s
marginal people now? How might we be
Church for those on the margins? How
might we practice baptism on a daily basis?
For that we can say with deep gratitude, thanks be to God.
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