Sermon preached by The Reverend William J. Eakins on January 12, 2014, The Baptism of Christ, Year A at Grace Episcopal Church, Great Barrington, Massachusetts
Do you realize how important it is to know who you are?
Having our Say* is the memoir of two Afro-American women, Sadie and Bessie Delany, who both lived to be well over 100 and died only recently. Their father, Henry Delany, was born a slave on a plantation in Georgia on the eve of the Civil War. After the war, he successfully pursued an education during the reconstruction era and eventually became the first black man to be elected a bishop in the Episcopal Church. Bishop Delany and his wife had ten children, Sadie and Bessie being the second and third born. Their biography gives Bessie and Sadie’s own accounts of what it was like to grow up in the Delany family and in the racially segregated South of the Jim Crow era. In spite of tremendous obstacles, both women became successful and respected professionals – Sadie, the first Afro-American high school economics teacher in New York City, and Bessie, the first Afro-American dentist in that city.
What was the secret of Sadie and Bessie Delany’s success in the face of the fierce racial prejudice with which they had to contend? Well, here are Bessie’s own feisty words:
“You see, I think I’m just as good as anyone. That’s the way I was brought up. In fact, I’ll tell you a secret: I think I’m better! Ha! I remember being aware that colored people were supposed to feel inferior. I knew I was a smart little thing, a personality, an individual – a human being! I couldn’t understand how people could look at me and not see that, because it was sure obvious to me.”
Note what Bessie says: she thought she was as good as anyone (if not better) because that was the way she was “brought up.” It was from her parents that Bessie Delany learned to know and appreciate herself. Bessie and Sadie tell us that their mother and father instilled in all their children a pride in being a Delany. It was a pride that was rooted in the Christian conviction that dignity and worth are the inalienable birthright of being a beloved child of God. What greater source of confidence and courage can there be than that of knowing you have such an identity?
On this Sunday of the Church year we commemorate the Baptism of Christ. The Gospels make it clear that it was this event which marked the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. Jesus was baptized by John in the River Jordan, and from that day Jesus took up his mission of proclaiming the good news of God’s reign. The journey that would lead to Jerusalem, to the cross and to the empty tomb, that journey began with his going down into the muddy waters of the Jordan. And it is of enormous significance that the journey should begin with Jesus’ strong experience of his God-given identity. Matthew describes it like this:
“And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened and he saw the spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
“Beloved Son” was the identity that sustained Jesus through the rest of his journey to the cross. “Beloved Son, “Beloved Daughter” are the identities that sustain us too. The Good News that Jesus proclaimed is that every one of us is the son or daughter of God, we are the beloved, the ones with whom God is well pleased. At our baptism, that identity was claimed for each one of us personally. A cross was marked on our foreheads and we were given an everlasting identity: you are a child of God, one for whom Christ died and rose again, a member of God’s household, an heir of eternal life.
Do you remember your baptism? Probably you don’t, if you were baptized as a baby. But you do if you were nineteen years old and a college sophomore like I was. Since my parents were Baptists when I was a child, I had been “dedicated” as a baby, not christened. Baptism was postponed until I was old enough to decide for myself. But when I reached that age, I decided baptism was not for me. I became a rebellious, non-church-attending adolescent. It was not until I went away to Trinity College that I started going to church again. I had my first experience of Prayer Book worship in the college chapel, and I was hooked. I fell in love with the Episcopal Church and started attending the chaplain’s inquirers’ classes. So it was that I was finally baptized as a young man a few days before my Confirmation. And to please my parents, I was baptized by immersion in the tank of a Baptist church in Hartford. The minister there was a friend of the Trinity College chaplain. It was a beautiful Friday afternoon in late spring. I remember the bright sunshine, the fresh green of the grass and leaves, the pink and white blossoms on the trees, and the somber gloom of the big, empty church. The only witnesses to the event were the chaplain, my parents, and my college roommate. I put on the white Baptismal gown with its weighted hem to keep it from floating up, and I waded out into the warm, waist-deep water to meet the minister. He asked me if I wanted to follow Jesus Christ as my Savior and Lord. And I said “Yes,” knowing full well all my questions and reservations about what such a commitment might mean. But, nonetheless, following my profession of faith – my barely-burning dim wick of faith – I leaned back into the minister’s arms and was lowered beneath the water. I was then raised back up to my feet, water streaming off my head and sodden gown, and the minister declared that I was one of Christ’s own and welcomed me into the Church of God. I had hoped that I would feel dramatically different, that there would be some zap of divine energy coursing through my body, confirming the reality of the words being said and the rightness of the decision I had made. The heavens did not open for me; I heard no voice saying, “This is my beloved son.” Yet still I remember and I treasure my baptism because, looking back through the years, I can see that it marked the beginning of my adult Christian life. God took my decision seriously, and God has been with me and for me, using the events of my life to shape me into the person God created me to be, a transformation still unfolding. Above all, I remember my baptism because it gave me and still gives me the identity I hold most dear. It reminds me of who I really am: Bill Eakins one for whom Christ died and rose again; Bill Eakins, a person with purpose, the beloved child of God.
We need to remember who we are and whose we are because we have been baptized. We need to remember because the world around us is continually bombarding us with identities other than the one bestowed in baptism. There are the obvious identities defined by social and economic status, age, gender, race, education, sexual orientation and the like. But there are also more subtle identities. “You are a sensual being” say the movies, soap operas, and pop songs. “You are a maker and spender of money” say the ads and vendors; you are a consumer of high-tech sound systems and SUVs, of condos in gated communities and time-share vacation homes. “You are an independent, self-made being” says the modern secular world, “nobody will look out for you but yourself, so look out for number one.” And over against all these and other identities, God wants to remind us that our true and original identity, in the light of which all other identities must take their place, is beloved child of God. It is that identity which must inform and guide how we behave.
You, the congregation of Grace Church, need to remember who you are, especially as you search for a new priest for this parish. Like all Christian communities, you share in the great mission of proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ. Like all churches, you have a share in God’s mission of restoring a broken world. You have good news to proclaim and to put into action, good news of God’s reconciling love in Christ, love that breaks down barriers of race, class, and clan, overcomes fear, resentment, and shame and unites us into one new family. Like all churches, Grace is a missionary society, not a religious club. But freed as you re from the responsibilities of real estate, Grace is in a particular position to devote the resources of its members to its mission. You are already involved in the work of feeding the hungry through food pantries and soup kitchens and through the labors of many young people raising two acres of vegetables for the poor every summer. What else is God calling the people of Grace to do? Search for a priest who will join you un considering that question and who will inspire and sustain this congregation in its focus on mission.
The Delany sisters’ parents were always saying, “Remember who you are, Bessie Delany; remember who you are, Sadie.” And those girls did not forget, and the memory made them the happy, energetic, and productive people that they became. So, too, God is saying to each of us in our worship this day, “Remember who you are. Remember who I made you to be. Remember the identity I gave you at your baptism. Remember all of you, dearly beloved, remember who you really are.”
*Delany, Sara, Bessie Delany, and Amy Hearth. Having Our Say. Kodansha America, 1993. Print.