Belovedness

In the fall of 2022, before the fire, before I knew more about in, I would walk through the Sanctuary with my daughter every day after school. Each day we would hold hands as we walked through the hallway of the preschool, and as we made our way into the Sanctuary, Nora’s grip on my hand would get looser and looser. By the time we stepped into the Sanctuary, Nora would let go of my hand and make a b-line for the baptismal font.

On the top of her tippy toes, Nora would reach up with her hands, grabbing hold of the inside of the bowl, trying to lift herself higher than her four-year-old frame would allow.

“Pick me up, up, up!” she would shout. Her voice echoed through the Sanctuary as parents and caregivers hurried their children home for a snack and afternoon nap.

Every day I would walk over to Nora, place her unicorn backpack and lunchbox on one of the pews, and pick her up. As I lifted her, her hands would plunge into the water. At first, her hands would be gentle, but as her curiosity grew, the movement of her hands became stronger and faster. Then, usually without notice, water would splash on me as though I was seated in the Splash Zone during a Shamu show at Sea World.

Eventually, her hands would slow down, returning to a curious swirling of the water, and we would depart for our afternoon snacks and naps.

Each day after school, Nora asking her dad to show her where Pastor Ed and Bishop Will “got her all wet.” Each day a curious swirl turned into a joy-filled splash.

One afternoon, as Nora was poking her fingers into the water, I heard a voice from the door of the Sanctuary. Nora’s giggles echoed too much for me to hear what the person was saying.

“Excuse me,” I said as I set Nora down.

“I said, ‘what do you think you are doing?’”

“Oh,” I replied, “we were just playing in the water.”

“You’re playing?! In the baptismal water?! This is the church’s Sanctuary. I don’t think the church, or the pastors would appreciate you using their baptism water as your personal water table.”

“If I were you,” she continued, “I would stop before one of the pastors catches you and ask you to leave.”

I took a breath, looked at Nora, and said, “I don’t think the pastors would mind.”

But before I could introduce myself as Rev. Jeff Goodman, I was interrupted. The concerned preschool parent or caregiver, whom I had never met, said I should be ashamed for not teaching my daughter how to behave in a holy space. She said I should consider actually attending church so that I could learn what the water in the bowl meant.

“Yeah,” I reluctantly said, “I’ll consider that.”

John the Baptizer was a wild character. He lived in the wilderness and proclaimed a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. John was extending an invitation to all who would hear to prepare for the coming of the Messiah. Wearing clothing made of camel hair and sustained by a diet of locusts and wild honey, John’s invitation and baptism was a ritual act of turning away from a sin-filled life and reorienting one’s life on the righteousness of God found in the Law.

John’s baptism was a reminder of Israel’s baptism in Exodus when Moses parted the Red Sea as they escaped to freedom. Dr. Stanley Hauerwas writes, “Israel had to face death as it walked across the dry land between the walls of water. John’s baptism calls Israel again to face death so that it might live again. Repentance is about the life and death of the people of Israel.”[i]

The late Joseph Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI, wrote for John’s baptism, “the goal is truly to leave behind the sinful life one has led (until now) and to start out on the path to a new, changed life.”

Jesus arrives in the wilderness at the Jordan River, and John rebukes Jesus.

“I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” John said.

Speaking for the first time in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus tells John that he, Jesus, must be baptized by John so that all righteousness is fulfilled. Jesus, the fulfillment of the Law, submits himself so that we might see the righteousness of God fulfilled. Jesus is placing himself under the Law, becoming like us.

Then, as Jesus resurfaces and the water breaks across his head and torso, the heavens break open, and the Holy Spirit descends like a dove. A voice called out, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

And with that, the ministry of Jesus was unleashed on the world.

Submitting to John’s baptism, just as he will submit to his crucifixion, Jesus acts with the singular goal that we might know the goodness, the grace of God, and God’s rule over creation.

Just as Jesus became like us in every way, in our baptism – as an infant, child, teen, or adult – we are buried in a death like Christ’s. Dying to ourselves so that we can begin to live like Christ in every way, justified and innocent before God.

Just as the heavens opened and God declared, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased,” at your baptism, the same was declared.

“This is my child, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Righteousness is a gift to each of us through the grace and faithfulness of Jesus Christ, and we are sealed with a declaration that you are beloved, in spite of what a sin-filled world says about you. The pressures of a world where our worth, our “belovedness,” is determined by how well we produce or perform, how well we hide our anxieties, or how well our children behave in public can cause us to forget that when Jesus’ ministry was unleashed on the world, the ways of the world took a backseat to the ways of God. And the ways of God begin with water.

Baptism is not reserved for those who have unwavering faith, those who perfectly understand the church's doctrines, or those who have accomplished every act of works righteousness declared to be required by someone wearing a robe or headset attached to a mic pack. The “belovedness” bestowed upon the baptized is for everyone.

Every single one of us.

For those we forget or say are unworthy.

For those in the cheap seats and those who sit in the front row.

For the scoundrels and losers.

For the sinners and saints.

Your “belovedness” is to be celebrated with childlike wonder and awe.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote, “Baptism is not just a ritual; it is a way of life. It is not just about getting wet; it is about being reborn as a new creation in Christ.”[ii]

A new creation that sings and praises, proclamation and dancing, and giggles and splashes.

Baptism is not about securing a place for yourself in heaven. Baptism, as Rev. Fleming Rutledge wrote, “is about being sent into the world to live for Jesus right now.”[iii]

So go into the world, enjoying your “belovedness” so much that it causes people to stop, stare, and wonder what is happening.

Your “belovedness” is sealed. It is yours. Filled with childlike wonder and aw, remember your baptism and be thankful, and as you come forward in a bit to receive communion and remember your baptism… don’t be afraid to splash a little.

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[i] Hauerwas. Matthew.

[ii] King. “Loving Your Enemies”

[iii] Rutledge, Fleming. Crucifixion.