Christopher Thomas
Sermon for the First Sunday after the Epiphany, Baptism of Our Lord, Year B – 1/10/21
Genesis 1:1-5
Psalm 29
Acts 19:1-7
Mark 1:4-11
“I love to tell the story
of unseen things above,
of Jesus and His glory,
of Jesus and His love.
I love to tell the story,
because I know ‘tis true;
it satisfies my longings
as nothing else can do.
I love to tell the story,
‘twill be my theme in glory
to tell the old, old story
of Jesus and His love.”
– Katherine Hankey, William Fischer
Listen…to the story.
“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness God called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the very first day.” – Genesis 1:1-5
In the beginning, the beginning of our “old, old story,” our journey, as creation, as humanity, with our God.
In the beginning…
That moment when God inspirated chronos, time, into being. Light splits dark; day and night separate into two halves of an equal, chronological whole. In that moment, that initial, starting-gate moment, for creation, chronos and Kairos intersect. The veil is established, the ritual set forth, the timing of these ever-happening, sometimes witnessed Epiphanies of chronos and Kairos intersecting when Creator and Creation come together in great theophanies that span time, and space, and yes, even place.
The great chronological “stage directions” like “In the beginning,” and “The End,” indicate, by virtue of all this, that something was going on BEFORE “In the beginning,” and AFTER “The End.” Kairos operates outside of chronos, remember. God creates chronos with God’s aspiration of Epiphany light. Order and form are brought to chaos. Kairos, God’s time, was, is, and will always be, hard at work outside the confines of anything we can think of as chronological beings.
I love to tell these stories, because I know ‘tis true.
How do I know ‘tis true?
Because I’ve seen it, for myself! If you’re paying attention, I bet you have seen them too!
You’ve experienced those moments, you’ve had these Creator/Creation Epiphanies, where time, and space, and place line up, and the veil between light and dark, heaven and earth, day and night, open up, where chronos and Kairos seem to line up, if only for a split second.
That moment you slip the ring on your beloved’s finger, and say “I do;” that instant after nine long months of gestation, when your newborn emerges and you hear that life-affirming cry. You walk across a stage, receiving a diploma after years (and years) of hard-fought work on education furthering your passion and goals. Your oncologist tells you after years of treatment that you are cancer-free.
Oh how I love to tell these stories, the stories of the great goodness of God, when I can feel God moving throughout God’s Creation!
And then there are Epiphanies that lack that same sort of lustrous quality. The veil peals back in a way that reveals something much different, and yet ever-necessary, because Epiphanies, too, speak to the sometimes fragile relationship between Creator and Creation, time collisions between chronos and Kairos. Epiphanies can be corrective, adjusting, reasserting, who is who, and what is what, in this great relationship.
And so, we have these stories to tell, as well. Many, many (some might say far too many) of these kinds of stories to tell. And these stories MUST be told as well. Because they too are Epiphanies, holy revelatory collisions of time, and space, and place. We must bear witness. We simply must.
These revelations, these “peelings-back” of the veil, shine light, showing us Epiphanies of who we are, as humanity, often shocking.
Between April 3 and May 10, 1963, in Birmingham, Alabama, peaceful protests by law-abiding people of color result in scenes of renegade “justice” as high-pressure hoses and dogs are released on citizens of our country.
On September 15, 1963, four children of color are murdered by white supremacists in the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in that same city.
On March 7, 1965, “Bloody Sunday,” 600 peaceful protesters are mercilessly beaten back across the Edmund Pettus Bridge with a level of force typically exhibited for those threatening violence.
On May 25, 2020, in under 9 minutes, life-ending force is used against an unarmed person of color, Mr. George Floyd.
On January 6, 2021, the Feast of the Epiphany, a band of white supremacist insurrectionists attempt a coup of our democracy, the one some proclaim “ordained by God.”
In all of these things, a veil is pulled back, torn, rent asunder. None of these events would hold the revelatory power of the light of day without the great gift of photography, moving pictures, video. Because, these images are now beamed directly into our homes, and onto our phones, the self-respecting (privileged) citizens of the United States of America. We must not flee from these images. This IS who we are.
450 years of slavery, of institutionalized social and economic racism bears out that this IS who we are. Simply saying that we are “the shining city on the hill” does NOT make us “the shining city on the hill.” It doesn’t!
The sooner we accept this Epiphany, the sooner we can get on with the business of doing something about it. Denial will NOT help us. Saying “that’s not us, that is them,” will not help us. That is not the light that needs to be shined in this darkness.
There is a diagonal red-line of racism that divides the City of Dallas that was established in 1937, its purpose was segregation, and the denial of wealth, and it had to do with the attainment of home mortgages, and who could get loans and who could not. The effects of that line burn as brightly as the torches of white supremacists to this very day. The average lifespan above that line, us, is 90. Below that line is 63. Above that line, food and healthcare are plentiful; below that line food deserts abound. COVID-19 disproportionately affects, and deals death, to those below that 1937 red line. It was not until challenged by the reality that over two dozen COVID-19 vaccination sites exist above Interstate 30 and only ONE below, that leaders finally decided something was wrong with this picture!
Institutionalized racism IS who we are in this country. It is. It is what we have accepted. From our leaders, those who govern us, and if we are honest, from ourselves.
Some Epiphanies are difficult to bear witness. Ask Martin Luther King.
Where in heaven’s name, do we, as humans, as citizens of this republic, as Christians, as the faithful of St. Thomas the Apostles, Doubters of Great Faith, go to find redemption, our redemption, in all this?
I look to the heavens, and I cry out as I search for that natal star, the star that guides wise people, people who are willing to look and to listen, for their “axis-mundi.” I told you on Christmas Eve where I think that star is for us, where it is guiding us, where the baby resides for us, St. Thomas the Apostle. And that is in the radical other – she/he/they who do not look like us, or sound like us, or smell like us, or live like or near us. That may be in our very back yard, or it may be in downtown Dallas, or it may be South of Interstate 30. We will be in relationship with they who are NOT us! And by virtue of that, they will offer redemptive hope to us!
What does that baby, Immanuel, look like? She may be on crack cocaine, or hungry, or homeless. He may be abandoned, or uneducated, or maybe not. They may be none of or all of those things! We won’t know until we get there with our gifts, the very best of what we have to give. But I know we must go, for our own sakes, not for theirs.
If you have questioned why St. Thomas the Apostle needs a banner in the front yard that reads #BlackLivesMatter, as some have, this institutionalized racism that was revealed again this week should be a clue. It is only a starting place, a marker that says we own our part in the history of this country, and we want to find and intend to seek redemption, and we will find redemption. Our story, the old old story of Jesus and his love does not end here, with a bunch of marauding white supremacists.
In his book How to Be an Antiracist, New York Times best-selling author Ibram Kendi makes it crystal clear that there can be no neutral ground in this. Being a “non-racist” is not an option. You are either a racist or an antiracist. You are either actively pursuing racist goals and policies, or you are actively pursuing antiracist goals and policies. You can’t sit on the sidelines of this one!
And our Christian identity, the identity that we all assumed on the day of our baptisms, and that we are about to reaffirm here in just a few minutes, demands that we not sit on the sidelines. You cannot answer those five questions and then claim a neutral position.
Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?
Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
I will, with God’s help!
“And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, saying “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” – Mark 1:10-11
Amen!
