First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: Matthew 10:16-23
In tallying up the numbers for my year-end pastor’s report to the Charge Conference, I discovered that in 1998 I did twice as many baptisms as I did funerals. I don’t know what that means, save for the fact that, in my little corner of Christendom, more people seem to be coming than going. Which feels good, personally….and bodes well, institutionally. It also occurs to me, professionally, that most of you would rather attend a baptism than a funeral. It’s shorter, for one thing. Less sad, for another. And it is always easier to say “hello” to someone coming into the family of God, than “good-bye” to someone who would appear to be leaving it.
Yet, if the truth be known, there is one thing about baptism that is more ominous than obvious. And that consists in the fact that life in Christ (which is what the baptizee is being baptized into) is not always going to be a bed of roses….and that the church (which is going to do everything in its power to encourage, equip and educate said child) is not necessarily going to be able to protect him. For baptism is the introductory rite of discipleship. And discipleship, in its most elemental form, is the act of following Jesus. And Jesus, more often than not, is headed for Jerusalem (geographically), and a cross (theologically). And although there will be a crown on the other side of the cross, there may not necessarily be a crown on this side.
For as much as I have talked about baptism (and from time to time, I have talked about it long and well), I suspect that half the people who come to it, look upon it as an inoculation rather than an induction. “Inoculation theology” begins when grandma (often Roman Catholic grandma) says: “You’d better hustle on down to the church and get that baby done….before something happens.” What grandma means by “something happening,” is: “What if that baby should die, unbaptized….and not be able to go where all good babies should be able to go, in the event that they ‘go’ before their time?” Grandma’s assumption is that baptism will fix that up. One watery inoculation….a few prayers….and the phrase “onto glory” is all but a done deal. Baptism performed. Grace guaranteed. Eternity assured. Sweet little Priscilla, protected.
Which is not how we Protestants look upon such things. We believe that what the church does, sacramentally, does not launch God’s grace….as if it wouldn’t be there, had we not done it. We believe that what the church does, sacramentally, points to God’s grace….which was already there, long before we ever thought of doing it.
But while you are wiping the sweat from your brow and uttering, “Well, that’s a relief,” I would remind you that while “inoculation theology” is out, “induction theology” is in….meaning that baptism is a form of enlistment, to the degree that it would be entirely appropriate to end every act of baptism with the terse liturgical pronouncement: “Now your troubles are just beginning.” No church says this, of course. But the Orthodox church symbolizes it in a rather unique way. Just before the priest admits someone to the sacrament of baptism, he whacks them hard on the chest with his pectoral cross. This is done to remind everyone present that the cross hurts, and one day the baptizee may have to pay a price for taking it up.
Perhaps each baptism certificate….which Janet so carefully letters, and I so carefully sign…. should come with a pre-pasted warning label from some spiritual Surgeon General: “Caution, this water could be dangerous to your health.” My mother always warned me about getting my feet wet. But, to my fading recollection, she never said anything about my head.
Well, we do have a warning to issue this morning. But it doesn’t come from the Surgeon General. It comes from Jesus himself. “Behold,” he says to us (which is a 50-cent religious word for “quiet down and listen up”): “Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. So be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” Which would hardly qualify Jesus as an television evangelist. For who would accept an invitation to something that all but guarantees personal discomfort? I mean, who would watch his programs? Who would fund his network? Who would buy his books? There’s not a lot of warm fuzzies in that warning. Which is why I’ve seldom preached it, and my colleagues consistently underplay it.
Still, there it is. So what shall we make of it? Well, we could try to get inside the animals involved, meaning “wolves, sheep, serpents and doves.” That might be interesting, since few of us encounter any of these species on a daily basis.
Who are the sheep? Well, they’re us. Or supposed to be us. At least the text assumes that they’re us. Which may not always be true, given that most of us have a wolf suit tucked away somewhere….which still fits us. It fits us, because it is us. Which tends to confuse Little Red Riding Hood, because sometimes the wolf really is her grandmother….her grandfather….her funny uncle….her philandering husband….or the charming woodsman who rides out of nowhere to come to her rescue. Sometimes the wolf is even Little Red Riding Hood, herself. If the suit fits, acknowledge it….(“Why yes, those are my teeth….my fangs….my fur”).
But let’s assume, for the most part, that the wolves are “out there,” more than they are “in here.” How can they be identified? In my just-concluded class on the Book of Revelation, the wolves came clearly marked as “seven headed beasts, dragons, tempters, temptresses, lions, tigers and bears.” To be a Christian in the Book of Revelation is to feel a little like Dorothy and her helpless friends, wandering through a frightening wood and wondering if she will ever make it safely back to Kansas.
Our wolves, lions, tigers and bears….the ones among which we sheep must walk….come disguised and closeted. They are far more chameleon-like, making them all the more bewildering and all the more dangerous. Somebody should pass a law that, in the presence of sheep, wolves must immediately (and clearly) identify themselves. But nobody has made such a law. Which is why few of us can tell them when we see them.
In that marvelous vision known as the “Peaceable Kingdom” (which we find in Isaiah 65), there is the image of the wolf and the lamb feeding together. Well, let me tell you a story about that. Back in the days of pre-perestroika Russia….when hers was a name that made all of us tremble….the Russians brought an exhibit to the World’s Fair that was entitled “World Peace.” In it was a large cage. And in the cage were a little lamb and a Russian wolf….feeding peaceably together. As an exhibit, it was most impressive. And as the fair unfolded, it was spectacularly attended. One day, however, somebody asked the curator the obvious question: “How in the world do you do it?” To which he replied: “Oh, it’s really very simple. We replace the lamb every morning.”
I am not going to ask you if you heard that. I am going to ask you if you felt that. I suspect you did if you are parents….or remember having been parents….or are still trying to get up enough nerve to become parents. Parents know all about sending lambs out to live among wolves. Nowhere seems safe. No one seems trustable. And you can’t be everywhere….every day….every minute. A parent told me, just last Sunday morning: “If we have to move to protect our kid, we’ll move.” And that parent lives here….where all kinds of parents would love to move, if only they could.
But maybe we could all go outstate….like to Muskegon. Where last week we learned that sometimes the very kids the parents thought were lambs, were really wolves….and it was the parents who cried (with their dying breath): “My God, it’s a jungle out here.” Nobody’s immune. Everybody’s vulnerable. We are all “sheep in the midst of wolves.” Or, as my favorite philosopher, Norm Peterson, once said: “It’s a dog eat dog world, and I’m wearing Milk Bone underwear.”
So….be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Two more animals. Two more strategies. Let’s start with the serpents.
The Christian faith is not now….nor was it ever….meant to be a battle plan for losers. We were not put here for the sole purpose of dying heroically, so that those who mock us, prey upon us and knowingly make sport of us, might live profitably. Jesus is a practical man. And this little warning reveals his practical side. “Know the wolf culture,” he says. “Not so as to copy it, but to defend yourselves against it.” We may not always be able to beat the wolves at their game. But we darned well better know what their game is….and be guided by a better one.
But what does this have to do with serpents? Well, I’ll tell you. Don’t make this harder than it is. This isn’t rocket science. The serpent being referenced is not some mythical monster or prehistoric reptile. The serpent being referenced is the common, ordinary snake. And one of the things that is more true of snakes (than of any other creature, save a large-antlered Michigan deer in November) is that snakes are incredibly aware of everything that goes on around them. A snake is sensitive to its surroundings because, as a slitherer, its entire body is a live wire of sensations. I am not a zoologist. But those who are, tell me that snakes survive by missing nothing about their environment that could offer a clue as to how to interpret it. Snakes are not so much sneaky, as crafty. “Go learn from them,” Jesus said. “Then copy them.” Which is not an invitation to cynicism, but an admonition to always know what is going on around you.
I would dwell more on that, but I suspect most of you find that part easy. Too easy. And too all-consuming. Craftiness, you’ve mastered. Innocence is another story. So what does it mean?
I am not sure that it means “unspoiled” (although it could). If it meant “unspoiled,” I think Jesus might have said: “Be wise as serpents and innocent as virgins” (given that the words “innocent” and “virgin” are clearly linked elsewhere in scripture). Instead, I think that the word “innocent” (rather than meaning “unspoiled”) means “unjaded.” For when you become crafty….clever…. savvy in the ways of the world….when you get enough experience under your belt so as to be able to spot the wolves a mile away, all the while devising plans to foil them at their game….then you tend to become jaded, cynical, even despairing. It is only a matter of time before people who keep their eyes peeled for the worst, find the worst. Until, eventually, they find nothing but the worst. And the sickest of these people, we call “paranoid.” While the remainder of these people, we call “sad.” For while they can spot all of the dangers, they miss most of the joys. I mean, if warnings are all you ever give to your children….your spouses….your pastors….yourselves….who needs you? But that may be the wrong question. The fact is, everybody needs you. It’s just that nobody wants you.
So….“be innocent as doves.” A dove, don’t you see, is a symbol of the Holy Spirit. The dove is not a dumb bird. The dove is not a weak bird. The dove is not a fragile and endangered bird. The dove, biblically understood, is a bird that reminds us that God is very much at work in the world….our world….this feisty, fleshly, jungle-like, wolf-infested world….doing God only knows what. Which means just what it says, don’t you see….that when we think we know everything….and much of what we know is bad….we are saved by what we don’t know….what only God knows….and may be trying to reveal. But we can’t see it. Because we look through snake’s eyes rather than dove’s eyes. And you know where snakes tend to hang out…..versus where doves tend to hang out….don’t you?
I wrote this sermon up north (where I went for a day to write it, along with half of next week’s). Thursday morning, I am in my favorite Elk Rapids coffee shop having a “morning special.” That’s eggs (scrambled), bacon (lean), hash browns (extra crispy), toast (whole wheat), and several cups of coffee (all for $3.85….the cheapest way to a heart attack in northern Michigan). There are only two other people in the place. Both are old-timers….regulars….born-and-bred northerners. They are the kind of people who hate “fudgies.” And, as a 12-year irregular who shows up once every other month, I am just one step removed from a “fudgy.”
So they talk, while I listen. One of my best skills is eavesdropping. And this is what I overhear.
Yeah (says one to another), they make a lot of money down there….move up here….build a huge house….install security lighting all around the perimeter….and then they go outside at night and complain that they can’t see the stars.
Mental note to myself: “Ritter, no security lighting. Ever.”
It’s the serpent, you see, that tells me I need security lighting. For security lighting is savvy….crafty….clever….wise. But it’s the dove, don’t you see, that tells me I need the stars.
And correct me if I’m wrong. But this is star season, is it not?
Note: I am indebted to the usual biblical sources for scholarly commentary. But I acknowledge a special debt to Peter Gomes and his publication Yet More Sundays at Harvard.
