SERMON: Grumpy Jesus and the Pager in the Baptismal Water

I remember another baptism several years ago. I had married Sheila and Dan a little over a year ago at the Interfaith Chapel in the Presidio there in San Francisco, and there we were again at that same chapel, with a little baby girl cradled in their arms.

I love baptisms—they have all of the joy and very little of the stress of weddings. And they are completely unpredictable, because you never know what the children will do.

 

But this particular baptism wasn’t unpredictable because of the baby, but because of the godfather. There he was, holding that sweet little girl, bending down towards the baptismal font so I could do my water-pouring thing, when we all heard a loud and unexpected splash. And there, floating to the bottom of the font, was one very damp pager, which had, apparently, fallen out of the godfather’s shirt pocket.

 

Before I could censor myself, I laughed out loud. It was obviously NOT funny to the godfather who seemed poised to ditch the baby and go fishing for his precious pager, but the symbolism struck my funny bone hard, and it was all I could do to maintain my serious and pious liturgical composure. God seemed to be speaking in that unexpected moment, a moment that could have been a turning point if the godfather had been open to it.

 

Our Gospel reading today reveals another turning point, one that is not unrelated to the pager story. In this scene we see Jesus at his grumpiest—in all of his “don’t bother me I haven’t had my morning coffee yet” glory.

 

This is kind of a disturbing story because Jesus really comes off as a bit of a jerk, here. He is intolerant, rude, and outright insulting. This is not the “tender and mild” savior we love to adore, this is the “what side of bed did you get up on, and why don’t you go back to bed and try it again” savior that never really caught on in popular piety. Statues of Jesus flipping worshippers the bird were briefly produced in Florence in the 14^th century, but quickly fell out of favor after the encyclical entitled “Jesu nicitas.” I am, of course, making this up.

 

But you can’t make up the stuff in this gospel reading. Jesus is crass, crude, and NOT out to make friends and influence Canaanites.

 

But it shows us something really important about Jesus’ own understanding of his ministry. He is not interested in helping this woman because he is not here for her. His understanding is very tribal—he’s here to minister to Jews and only Jews. A Canaanite? Why should he bother?

 

Look at what he says to her: “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” I’ve often thought out parish motto should be “we give what is holy to dogs,” but while I mean that ironically and playfully and with no disparagement to canines, Jesus is not being so generous, here. He MEANS to be insulting.

 

But look at what this brave and tenacious woman does. She doesn’t slink away with her figurative tail between her legs. She’s a mother. She’s got a child at stake. She’s FIERCE. And she does not back down. She stands her ground and answers him, and you can almost here her voice dripping with hurt poison: “True,” she says, “But even dogs eat the scraps from the master’s table.”

 

And in this moment, something shifts inside Jesus. It’s not a little thing, it’s a big thing. This moment is the tipping point in the entire Gospel story, where even Jesus realizes that he’s NOT just here for the Jews, but for EVERYBODY.

 

Culturally, we are in the midst of a similar tipping point. We’ve been through quite a few of them in the past couple of centuries. We have moved from the position that “only our tribe matters” to the idea that “only our nation matters,” which is, arguably, an improvement. And we have moved from there to the idea that all white people matter. Within our own lifetimes we have seen the shift to the position that people of all races matter, and even more recently, that people of all sexual orientations matter.

 

But we’re being called beyond that as well. We’re being called beyond the arrogant assumption of human superiority to the great truth that all living creatures matter, and that the earth herself is a living body that must be respected and protected and revered.

 

In this reading we see Jesus coming to the massive realization that his ministry was not about what he thought it was about—it was about much, much more. And thankfully, he was reflective and sensitive enough to see it—that’s why we love him, even when he has an off day.

 

The jury is still out on whether we can learn the same lesson, however. And here is where Kaelin can be our teacher. In this act of baptism we are doing something very counter-cultural and prophetic. In this act we proclaim that it is not just adults that matter, that even this baby—who has earned no praise for his stunning wit or meritorious accomplishments yet—is as important to us as any one of us here.

 

In this act we do not make this child holy, but we symbolically proclaim what is already true, that he is holy by virtue of his birth, his being, and that he ministers that holiness to everyone with the eyes to see it. In other words, he makes US holy, and in this baptism we gratefully receive him and his gift to us.

 

But we also, in this rite, proclaim our responsibility: for Kaelin, for all creatures, for the world, to make it a safe place for Kaelin’s children to be born, free of poverty, hunger, disease, and environmental impoverishment.

 

Kahlil Gibran wrote in the reading we just heard that our children do not belong to us, and that is wisdom. What he did not say was that we DO belong to THEM, wholly and completely, and we have a responsibility to pass on to them this world in better shape than we found it.

 

Therefore, in this rite we proclaim that there is no separation between the church and the street, the secular and the sacred. The pager MUST fall into the baptismal font, for there is no part of our life that is not sacred, there is no part of our lives that do not impact the sacred lives of others. We are responsible for EVERY part of our lives, and we are responsible to him (Kaelin).

 

THAT is a tall order. But here we are, like Jesus, staring at the Canaanite woman, the prophetic word has been spoken, and what are we going to do? What way will we tip? Are we going to spit on her and tell her to go away, or are we going to let our hearts melt within us, dissolving millennia of prejudice and anthropomorphic arrogance and recognize all of being as worthy of our love and care and respect and reverence and ministry?

 

God loves to shock us out of our complacency, out of our ideological ruts. And he’ll use anything at hand: a plucky foreign lady, animals, children, even a pager dropped in a bowl of blessed water. What do we need to open our eyes to the blessedness of all things? This morning, we will use water and oil to recognize the blessedness of Kaelin. Let us learn from him, and carry this awareness to all the world. Let us pray…

 

You almost blew it, Jesus.

But at the last moment,

you met the Canaanite woman with that love you’re famous for.

Help us to have a similar change of heart,

as a race of creatures, as a culture, and as individuals,

To behold the blessedness of all beings,

And to act as if that sacredness mattered,

Not just in church, but in all our affairs.

For in doing so we will proclaim your good news to all creatures,

And baptize the whole of life, in holiness and wholeness.

For we ask this in the name of Mr. Grumpy-pants, our Lord. Amen.