The Joy of Baptism

Homily for March 30, 2024
The Great Vigil of Easter

We here at Trinity Parish have already spoken volumes to Jess and Amelia, our baptismal candidates. We’ve spoken volumes about Jesus and what it means to be his disciple, we’ve spoken about Baptism and what it means to belong to Christ’s Body, the Church.  And – to paraphrase what St. Francis said about preaching the Gospel – we’ve even used words when necessary.  We at Trinity have already spoken volumes to Jess and Amelia, who are ready – perhaps nervous, but ready – for Baptism.  My homily tonight, then, is for the rest of us; Jess and Amelia, you are welcome to listen in.  

In the May, 1991 issue of “The Atlantic,” the American poet Dana Gioia wrote a now famous (at least within poetry circles) [a now famous] article entitled, “Can Poetry Matter?”  Gioia notes that while there have never been more poets and more poetry published, and while it has never been easier to make a living as a poet, yet poetry is gradually shrinking into its own subculture and ceasing to be a priority for, or to have much of an effect on, the general culture. Gioia writes:

Poetry now belongs to a subculture.  No longer part of the mainstream of artistic and intellectual life, poetry has become the specialized occupation of a relatively small and isolated group.  Little of the frenetic activity it generates ever reaches outside that closed group… Even if great poetry continues to be written, it has retreated from the center of literary life.  Though supported by a loyal coterie, poetry has lost the confidence that it speaks to and for the general culture...

In his article, Gioia posits several possible remedies to help bring poetry back into wider awareness,including:

[Poets]should spend less time on analysis and more time on performance… Poems should be memorized, recited, and performed. The sheer joy of the art must be emphasized.  [For it is] the pleasure of performance [that]first attracts [us] to poetry, the sensual excitement of speaking and hearing the words of the poem.

As Gioia asks, “Can poetry matter?” so might we ask, “Can Baptism Matter?”  Just as there has never been more poetry and it has never been easier to make a living as a poet, so, too, has it never been easier to belong to a church.  Consider how many churches we have here in New England – or for that matter how many Episcopal churches we have just here in Newton! Consider, too, how welcoming we’ve become when somebody new walks in the door – we tend to do hospitality well. Or consider, too, how user-friendly we’ve become, no longer expecting people to juggle during the liturgy the Prayer Book, the hymnal, their children and the offering plate.  And in my experience, the preaching, the music, and the opportunities for learning and for serving have never been greater.  One could say that we are in a “golden age” of the Church.  And yet – as Gioia says about poetry – one could also say that.

Church now belongs to a subculture.  No longer part of the mainstream… church has become the specialized occupation of a relatively small and isolated group…  Even if great church continues to happen, it has retreated from the center of most people’s lives.

And even within the Church, Baptism has retreated to an even smaller subculture.  How infrequently do we do Baptisms?  If asked, how many could speak to the meaning and significance of Baptism?  Or in how many parishes has Baptism lost its connection to the Eucharist and the other sacraments?  Or how many of us are aware that most churches (including the Episcopal Church) understand Baptism to be primarily an adult rite, with infant Baptism being an exception for which the Church makes allowance?  To paraphrase Gioia:  though supported by a loyal coterie, in many places Baptism has lost the confidence that is speaks not only to the general culture, but even that it has something to say to the Church.

While I could tell us about the Church’s understanding of Baptism; and though I could preach about Baptism’s connection to the Eucharist and the other sacraments; and while I could expound on how our Prayer Book’s rite is primarily an adult rite; mercifully, Jess and Amelia have spared us all from my doing so.  Recall how Gioia said about poetry that “poets should spend less time on analysis and more time on performance.”  Tonight, Jess and Amelia offer us the opportunity not to analyze Baptism but to perform it.   

Typically at a performance there are those we might call “spectators,” those who at a distance see with their eyes the “spectacle” and, when it is over, move on.  Tonight, our call is to be not spectators but witnesses.  Witnesses do not merely see with their eyes, but are fully present with their entire selves, souls and bodies.  Witnesses, when all is over, do not simply move on; witnesses remember. And witnesses do not merely watch at a distance; rather, witnesses gather around and offer wholehearted support. Tonight, as we initiate Jess and Amelia into the Body of Christ, I invite all who are baptized to be not merely spectators but witnesses, to activate all our senses and ourselves, to turn on our memories and to pledge our support.  

Allow our eyes to take in the darkness.  Allow our ears to hear what is spoken to Jess and Amelia, what they speak, what we speak in turn.  Allow our sense of feeling to notice how we are now sitting, now standing, now speaking. Allow our sense of smell to take in the beeswax, the smoke, the incense,that “church” smell.  Allow our eyes to see Jess and Amelia come to the font and stand near the water.  Allow ourselves to feel what it’s like for us to walk to the font, making our way in the candlelight.  Allow our ears to hear the water as it is poured into the font and then over Jess and Amelia. Allow our eyes to see the water glistening in their hair.  Allow ourselves to smell the chrism as they are anointed.  At the Eucharist, allow ourselves to smell the wine, to taste the bread, and to feel what it must be like for Amelia to receive Eucharist for the first time.  

And I invite us to “turn on”our memory, to remember this night, all that has happened and will happen, what our senses noticed, what it feels like to be here.  Maybe allow our memories to remind us of our children’s Baptisms, or of our own Baptism, or of past Easter Vigils, or of loved ones who have gone before.  And going forward after tonight, maybe allow the memories of this evening to arise just as they arise, with no need to explain or make sense, giving space to the Spirit to work in our memories and in our bodies what the Spirit wants to work.  

To paraphrase Gioia’s recommendation that poems not be analyzed but performed, tonight is not about analyzing Baptism but rather performing it, and:

The sheer joy of Baptism must be emphasized. [For it is] the pleasure of performance [that] first attracts [us]… the sensual excitement of seeing, hearing, feeling and smelling Baptism.

The catechumenate team here at Trinity Parish has spent hours with Jess and Amelia.  Jess and Amelia are ready; are you ready?  Are you ready to pay attention, to turn on your senses and your memory and tonight be not merely a spectator but a witness?  Are you ready as a witness to support Jess and Amelia in their life in Christ?  Are you ready to be a witness also to take tonight’s sights, sounds, smells and memories outside these walls, having confidence that Baptism can matter and that we the Baptized do have something to say to and for the general culture?  As we witnesses support Jess and Amelia in their life in Christ, and as we witness outside these walls, remember the sheer joy of knowing Jesus and his love must be emphasized.  Maybe even using words if necessary.

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