Two Kinds Of Baptism
Sermon
Humming Till The Music Returns
Second Lesson Sermons For Advent/Christmas/Epiphany
A Sunday school teacher challenged her children to take some time on Sunday afternoon to write a letter to God. They were to bring back their letters the following Sunday. One lad wrote, "Dear God, We had a good time at church today. Wish you could have been there."
That boy may become a great theologian! He may actually see more about his church than many of the older members!
Children are often naively honest, as a friend of mine found one day. He was visiting a class at his parish school. The teacher was helping her pupils memorize the names and capitals of all fifty states. They ran a drill, trying to pool their memories and recite all fifty names. Unfortunately, they only came up with 42. My friend, an elderly priest, laughingly reminisced that in his youth, he had to recite the names of all the states all by himself, with no help from the rest of the class. A young scholar raised his hand and politely reminded my friend, "Yes, but in those days there were only thirteen states!"
It may not be necessary for a U. S. citizen, whether child or adult, to memorize the names of all fifty states and capitals. Yet there are bits and pieces of information that are essential to functioning as a responsible member of the republic.
Similarly in the Church, there are many facts and figures of theology which are superfluous at best and irrelevant at worst when it comes to authentic Christian living. That is why church members can fail a Bible knowledge quiz without necessarily failing in faith itself.
Yet there are some facts of theology which are central to faith. Aquila and Priscilla found that out when they met Paul in Corinth (Acts 18:1ff). Apollos, in turn, experienced the same under the tutelage of Aquila and Priscilla in Ephesus (Acts 18:24ff). Now, some time later, a dozen young religious firebrands in that same city are about to learn it as well.
The issue at stake is baptism. That may leave us shaking our heads at the dawn of the twenty-first century, since we have graduated well beyond those simple controversies. We no longer quarrel about "infant baptism" or "believers baptism." We are no longer talking about "halfway covenants" or baptism ritual practices. The Church has settled comfortably with a variety of positions, and is more concerned about worship styles than it is about baptism theology.
Yet, for Paul, the doctrine of baptism held a central place in his perspective on the Christian life. In fact, when he met these twelve young religious zealots, the issue of baptism came immediately to the surface. Paul asks, "What baptism did you receive?"
They answer, "John's baptism."
At once Paul is disturbed. He launches into a pointed teaching about baptism, and the outcome is a new moving of the Spirit as these twelve are baptized again.
What's the point? What was wrong with their previous theology, based, as it was, on the teachings of John the Baptist? Didn't Jesus himself commend John? Wasn't John accurate in his perceptions of Jesus? Was not Jesus himself baptized by John, an event which we remember on this Epiphany Sunday?
Paul says that John's baptism is insufficient for full participation in the things of the Kingdom of Jesus. Why? Paul's short version of the problem is found in verse 4: "John's baptism was a baptism of repentance. He told the people to believe in the one coming after him, that is, in Jesus."
Let's do a little detective work on this issue.
John's Baptism
First of all, what was the baptism of John all about? According to the Gospels, John wore all of the appearance of a wild religious fanatic. He lived in the wilderness. He ate only natural foods which could be scrounged. He had no time for the niceties of "civilization," either cooking or sewing. His clothes were tattered skins that he threw around at least a part of his body. Much of the time he may have been half naked. His hair was unkempt.
The region in which he wandered was known for its cultic groups. The Essenes hung out there, as did several other communities waiting for apocalyptic destruction. There was a sparseness of the religious atmosphere, a kind of stratospheric rarity. Everything John breathed carried the intensity of kingdom conflict.
When John began to speak and yell and accuse, people stopped to observe from a distance. He was a curiosity, a remnant of an older prophetic era when men with wild eyes stormed the marketplaces, throwing dust in the air, hacking at their beards, and pointing to the locust as ominous signs.
Soon John's rantings attracted local attention. Those with tender consciences lingered to hear his warnings. Some who had violated the morals of the community too long experienced a religious conversion. They left their wanton ways and became disciples of John, living as he lived and urging others to religious revival at John's preaching events.
In the Fourth Gospel John is compared to Elijah, challenging kings and powers and calling people back to the ways of the Covenant. Jesus becomes the new Elisha, who, following in Elijah's steps, preaches a grace of the Kingdom of God that brings miracles of healing.
There was a larger context to all of this. When Israel came out of Egypt and spent time at Mount Sinai, there was a political transaction taking place. Israel had belonged to the Pharaoh of Egypt. Now she belonged to God. God had fought the Pharaoh for the right to own and care for Israel, and he had won. Just as the Pharaoh had specified the contours of his relationship with Israel, so now God did the same. At the top of Mount Sinai God and Moses hammered out the political and social and religious covenant that would determine the character of Israel's future existence.
One element of that political landscape included the inescapable clause, "I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of bondage" (Exodus 20:1). This was the declaration of sovereign authority. There would be no ruler in Israel except the God of the Covenant.
Yet even this God would need intermediaries. God would require human spokespersons to translate his glory into Hebrew speech. The greatest of all the spokespersons, of course, was Moses. Moses stood above the common Israeli crowd, a half-god hero, a leader without peers.
Moses stood at the helm of Israel's wandering ship for forty years, bringing her to the lights of Canaan's harbor. Then Moses died, and the navigational sextant was placed in Joshua's hands. He helped Israel claim the new colonial territory on behalf of the Kingdom of Heaven. And when he died, the lines of authority passed into the care of the "Elders" of the people (Joshua 24). These older, wiser men were eyewitnesses of many of the great legends that created the nation of Israel.
When they died, the legends grew, but the faith died. Israel was adrift at sea, lost in a storm of international intrigue and factional dissension. A few powerful "Judges" managed to prevent the confederation from disintegrating all together, but it was obvious that stronger measures of leadership were necessary to bring the nation back to days of self-confidence and a place of recognition among neighboring kingdoms.
The crisis of the book of Judges precipitated grassroots calls for a king. "Give us a king!" they told Samuel. "Give us a king!" they prayed to God, so long hidden.
The outcome was the monarchy, established by Saul, consolidated by David, expanded by Solomon, ripped apart by Jereboam, and eventually whimpering into oblivion at the hands of the Assyrian empire (722 B.C.) and the Babylonian scourge (586 B.C.).
During the declining centuries of the monarchy, a strange bunch of men wrestled the spiritual leadership of the people from the hands of the political kings, with their cultic priests. These "outside-the-system" renegades were known as the prophets. Some bartered their perspectives in the marketplaces. Some became wailing fixtures in the Temple precincts. Some were used by kings as ex officio advisors, and some were hunted down as traitors to the political cause.
Yet the prophets became the de facto leaders of the people, urging spiritual chastity and calling for restoration of the religious and political and economic order established by the Covenant.
This is the picture of John the Baptist as painted by the Gospels. He stands in this wild lineage and continues the purpose developed by those Old Testament specters. This is why Paul says, of John, that his baptism was for repentance. John, like the prophets who went before him, was in the business of calling God's people back to God.
Although the prophets, and John with them, looked forward to something they called the "Day of the Lord," their main purpose was to look backward. They were conservatives of the highest order, demanding a return to an earlier form of religion and a more primitive expression of Israelite society. They were often considered reactionary in their desire to do away with the trappings of modern developments so that the wilderness purity of ancient times could reassert itself. Any look ahead toward the Day of the Lord was ringed with scare tactics, since the only way to survive that dreadful cataclysm was through this religious U-turn back to the basics.
In this context, John the Baptist's role as the new Elijah takes on particular significance. Malachi, the last literary prophet of the Old Testament, concluded his dark paragraphs with a promise that Elijah would come again and cause separation within the land. Parents and children would fall on either side of the winnowing wand; families would be divided by religious commitments. Elijah would call the nation back to righteousness before the great and terrible Day of the Lord exploded into human history.
If John's ministry is seen in this light, Paul's warnings about his baptism become clear. John's baptism is insufficient to stand as the mark of belonging in a new age. John spoke to the choir and got them to sing the right song. John's congregation was all already in the family of God -- he just tried to get them to admit it. John wanted the remnant of Israel to regroup itself and wait in righteous expectation for the firebrand that would destroy the nations around. John's preaching was for those already in the know.
That is why John's baptism is for repentance. It is not the mark of belonging to the Kingdom; rather, it is a renewal of personal initiative for the things of the Kingdom. People must not collect possessions for themselves, according to John; they must, instead, give them away. They must travel lightly. They must care for the poor. The tax collectors must only ask for what the Romans demand and not oppress their fellow countrymen. Soldiers may guard, but must not ever become violent, robbers, or coercive, abusing their authority.
In all of this, John is preaching to the choir. In fact, he is preaching to the adult choir. Children are not part of these proceedings, because they are not yet ready to take on adult commitments. The baptism he urges is one of self-cleansing, stripping away those things that might linger of prolonged contact with a godless society, and preparing oneself for the coming of the Day of the Lord.
John expected Jesus to bring the Day of the Lord. That is why he pointed to Jesus with such brutal honesty. Yet Jesus ultimately disappointed him, because Jesus never brought the fire of heaven down to burn up the evil of the world.
John, from his vantage point as an Old Testament prophet, was still looking forward to a single interruption of the Day of the Lord. Jesus, however, split that Day in two. The prophets always said that the Day of the Lord would bring judgment, while it ushered in the blessings of a new, eschatological age. In Luke 7 we read that John began to despair of Jesus when he spent so much time healing and helping. The sulfurs of divine retribution weren't evident around him.
In fact, what Jesus did was to bring the blessings of the eschatological kingdom before the refining fires of the Day of the Lord were spilled. In the graciousness of God, the world was given a second chance to find hope. John closed down the age of the prophets; Jesus ushered in the age of eternity.
The Baptism Of The Church
In this context, the baptism of the Church has different significance than that of John's baptism. About the only similarity between them is that both use water. Beyond that, they mean different things.
The baptism of John called on adult members of the Covenant community to take up the responsibilities of authentic, righteous living. Yet the Church was in the business of taking the message of the coming Kingdom beyond the boundaries of the original Covenant community. In this context baptism was not used by honorable persons as their pledge of loyalty; instead, baptism was used in the same way that circumcision had been used in the Old Testament (cf. Colossians 2:9-12): it was the mark of entrance into the Covenant community. It was the pledge of God that this person was now part of the family. It was the admission rite, declaring that this one, too, was now a part of the holy people.
In other words, instead of being a set of clothes that one put on to declare his or her convictions, as in the case of John's baptism, the Church's baptism was a mark of belonging placed upon one by powers outside of oneself.
So when the twelve young zealots told Paul that they were disciples of John, baptized by the great one as firebrands for the Kingdom, Paul needed to review the whole of theology with them. Even John would die looking for the Day of the Lord. No one will ever have the personal resources to survive that great catastrophe. Yet those who are marked with the ownership badge of Jesus will walk with him into eternity.
John fired people up to take a stand. They washed themselves to show just how serious they were. But the Church declared the coming of the Kingdom, and said that those who were in God's family needed only to be marked as belonging.
Now, the interesting thing about this controversy about baptism is that it continues in the church right up to the present day. We may be weary of the doctrinal mudslinging of the past, but we have not yet reconciled ourselves to the plurality of baptismal practices in the Church.
In fact, both the baptism of John and the baptism of the Church need expression in the community that waits for the coming of the Kingdom. The baptism of the Church is the initiation rite that brings all who belong to God's family into the visible community. Some come in as adults, through conversion. They must be baptized, not because of their dedication to God, but because of God's great dedication to them which has wooed them back to grace. Some enter the family of God as babies and children, born to those who already wear the marks of the people of God. Are these little ones to be left identity-less? No! That would be as silly as parents not giving their children names.
Can you imagine it? A child is born. The parents are elated. The relatives come by to congratulate them and ask, "What's the child's name?" and the parents say, "Oh, we're not going to give the child a name! We don't want to force any identity on this little one! We'll wait until he grows up and chooses a name for himself! After all, we're not sure how he will turn out, and we don't want to give the family name to him since he may dishonor it some day!"
A conversation like that seems ridiculous. Yet that is essentially the manner in which Christian parents express the spiritual identity of their children when they fail to mark them with the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit in the rite of baptism. They are declaring their little ones adrift on the oceans of religious identity. They expect their little ones some day to take up a name and an identity, but they will not declare the reality of that identity at birth.
Baptism is God's way of marking, through the rites and ceremonies of the Church, all who are his children by grace through the work of Jesus. Jesus called the little ones to him as well as the big ones. The children of believers are holy, says Paul (1 Corinthians 7:14). Baptism is God's deal, naming us with his name as children of a heavenly father. This is the church's baptism.
But John's baptism is necessary too. It is not enough to have entered the family of grace. It is not enough to acknowledge that one belongs to the Covenant community. John, along with the prophets who went before him, knew this. All of God's people need to be called to attention, need to be challenged to consistency of faith and life, need to be motivated to service in bringing the power of the Kingdom to bear on the realities of daily life.
Then it is right and proper for the Church to exercise the urgency of renewal and ask those who already belong to the family of God to stand up and be counted in its ministries. This is the act of devotion, the act of dedication, the act of consecration. Some congregations call it Public Profession of Faith. Some call it Confirmation. Some call it Rededication. But always it amounts to the same thing -- those who are in the family take hold of their responsibilities as members of the family. God is good, and we should live as if we were as well. This is the baptism of John.
Now, the unfortunate part of all this talk of baptism is that one symbol has been used to declare two different things. The Church's baptism says that God is active in the water, marking and naming a person as a new member of the kingdom. John's baptism says that the individual is active in the water, washing himself for greater authenticity and dedication.
It is time for the Church to admit, with Paul, that there are two different kinds of baptism in the New Testament. Both are powerful. The symbolism of both ought to continue. People ought to acknowledge each. But perhaps a different form of symbolism ought to be connected with the one, over against the other.
However it might be done, let the Church learn this theology. God brings people into his kingdom, marking them, through the ministries of the Church, as children of grace. This is the Church's baptism.
But those who belong to the Church and kingdom need to act upon their place in the spiritual realities of time and eternity. They need to dedicate themselves to God, and enlist personally in the activities that make the Kingdom a reality. This is John's baptism.
Today, let those coming into the Kingdom receive from God, through the baptism of the Church, the badge of belonging. And, today, let those who are part of the family of God stand up and be counted in the ranks of John's disciples who are cleansing their lives and their communities as they anticipate God's next and terrible great act.
That boy may become a great theologian! He may actually see more about his church than many of the older members!
Children are often naively honest, as a friend of mine found one day. He was visiting a class at his parish school. The teacher was helping her pupils memorize the names and capitals of all fifty states. They ran a drill, trying to pool their memories and recite all fifty names. Unfortunately, they only came up with 42. My friend, an elderly priest, laughingly reminisced that in his youth, he had to recite the names of all the states all by himself, with no help from the rest of the class. A young scholar raised his hand and politely reminded my friend, "Yes, but in those days there were only thirteen states!"
It may not be necessary for a U. S. citizen, whether child or adult, to memorize the names of all fifty states and capitals. Yet there are bits and pieces of information that are essential to functioning as a responsible member of the republic.
Similarly in the Church, there are many facts and figures of theology which are superfluous at best and irrelevant at worst when it comes to authentic Christian living. That is why church members can fail a Bible knowledge quiz without necessarily failing in faith itself.
Yet there are some facts of theology which are central to faith. Aquila and Priscilla found that out when they met Paul in Corinth (Acts 18:1ff). Apollos, in turn, experienced the same under the tutelage of Aquila and Priscilla in Ephesus (Acts 18:24ff). Now, some time later, a dozen young religious firebrands in that same city are about to learn it as well.
The issue at stake is baptism. That may leave us shaking our heads at the dawn of the twenty-first century, since we have graduated well beyond those simple controversies. We no longer quarrel about "infant baptism" or "believers baptism." We are no longer talking about "halfway covenants" or baptism ritual practices. The Church has settled comfortably with a variety of positions, and is more concerned about worship styles than it is about baptism theology.
Yet, for Paul, the doctrine of baptism held a central place in his perspective on the Christian life. In fact, when he met these twelve young religious zealots, the issue of baptism came immediately to the surface. Paul asks, "What baptism did you receive?"
They answer, "John's baptism."
At once Paul is disturbed. He launches into a pointed teaching about baptism, and the outcome is a new moving of the Spirit as these twelve are baptized again.
What's the point? What was wrong with their previous theology, based, as it was, on the teachings of John the Baptist? Didn't Jesus himself commend John? Wasn't John accurate in his perceptions of Jesus? Was not Jesus himself baptized by John, an event which we remember on this Epiphany Sunday?
Paul says that John's baptism is insufficient for full participation in the things of the Kingdom of Jesus. Why? Paul's short version of the problem is found in verse 4: "John's baptism was a baptism of repentance. He told the people to believe in the one coming after him, that is, in Jesus."
Let's do a little detective work on this issue.
John's Baptism
First of all, what was the baptism of John all about? According to the Gospels, John wore all of the appearance of a wild religious fanatic. He lived in the wilderness. He ate only natural foods which could be scrounged. He had no time for the niceties of "civilization," either cooking or sewing. His clothes were tattered skins that he threw around at least a part of his body. Much of the time he may have been half naked. His hair was unkempt.
The region in which he wandered was known for its cultic groups. The Essenes hung out there, as did several other communities waiting for apocalyptic destruction. There was a sparseness of the religious atmosphere, a kind of stratospheric rarity. Everything John breathed carried the intensity of kingdom conflict.
When John began to speak and yell and accuse, people stopped to observe from a distance. He was a curiosity, a remnant of an older prophetic era when men with wild eyes stormed the marketplaces, throwing dust in the air, hacking at their beards, and pointing to the locust as ominous signs.
Soon John's rantings attracted local attention. Those with tender consciences lingered to hear his warnings. Some who had violated the morals of the community too long experienced a religious conversion. They left their wanton ways and became disciples of John, living as he lived and urging others to religious revival at John's preaching events.
In the Fourth Gospel John is compared to Elijah, challenging kings and powers and calling people back to the ways of the Covenant. Jesus becomes the new Elisha, who, following in Elijah's steps, preaches a grace of the Kingdom of God that brings miracles of healing.
There was a larger context to all of this. When Israel came out of Egypt and spent time at Mount Sinai, there was a political transaction taking place. Israel had belonged to the Pharaoh of Egypt. Now she belonged to God. God had fought the Pharaoh for the right to own and care for Israel, and he had won. Just as the Pharaoh had specified the contours of his relationship with Israel, so now God did the same. At the top of Mount Sinai God and Moses hammered out the political and social and religious covenant that would determine the character of Israel's future existence.
One element of that political landscape included the inescapable clause, "I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of bondage" (Exodus 20:1). This was the declaration of sovereign authority. There would be no ruler in Israel except the God of the Covenant.
Yet even this God would need intermediaries. God would require human spokespersons to translate his glory into Hebrew speech. The greatest of all the spokespersons, of course, was Moses. Moses stood above the common Israeli crowd, a half-god hero, a leader without peers.
Moses stood at the helm of Israel's wandering ship for forty years, bringing her to the lights of Canaan's harbor. Then Moses died, and the navigational sextant was placed in Joshua's hands. He helped Israel claim the new colonial territory on behalf of the Kingdom of Heaven. And when he died, the lines of authority passed into the care of the "Elders" of the people (Joshua 24). These older, wiser men were eyewitnesses of many of the great legends that created the nation of Israel.
When they died, the legends grew, but the faith died. Israel was adrift at sea, lost in a storm of international intrigue and factional dissension. A few powerful "Judges" managed to prevent the confederation from disintegrating all together, but it was obvious that stronger measures of leadership were necessary to bring the nation back to days of self-confidence and a place of recognition among neighboring kingdoms.
The crisis of the book of Judges precipitated grassroots calls for a king. "Give us a king!" they told Samuel. "Give us a king!" they prayed to God, so long hidden.
The outcome was the monarchy, established by Saul, consolidated by David, expanded by Solomon, ripped apart by Jereboam, and eventually whimpering into oblivion at the hands of the Assyrian empire (722 B.C.) and the Babylonian scourge (586 B.C.).
During the declining centuries of the monarchy, a strange bunch of men wrestled the spiritual leadership of the people from the hands of the political kings, with their cultic priests. These "outside-the-system" renegades were known as the prophets. Some bartered their perspectives in the marketplaces. Some became wailing fixtures in the Temple precincts. Some were used by kings as ex officio advisors, and some were hunted down as traitors to the political cause.
Yet the prophets became the de facto leaders of the people, urging spiritual chastity and calling for restoration of the religious and political and economic order established by the Covenant.
This is the picture of John the Baptist as painted by the Gospels. He stands in this wild lineage and continues the purpose developed by those Old Testament specters. This is why Paul says, of John, that his baptism was for repentance. John, like the prophets who went before him, was in the business of calling God's people back to God.
Although the prophets, and John with them, looked forward to something they called the "Day of the Lord," their main purpose was to look backward. They were conservatives of the highest order, demanding a return to an earlier form of religion and a more primitive expression of Israelite society. They were often considered reactionary in their desire to do away with the trappings of modern developments so that the wilderness purity of ancient times could reassert itself. Any look ahead toward the Day of the Lord was ringed with scare tactics, since the only way to survive that dreadful cataclysm was through this religious U-turn back to the basics.
In this context, John the Baptist's role as the new Elijah takes on particular significance. Malachi, the last literary prophet of the Old Testament, concluded his dark paragraphs with a promise that Elijah would come again and cause separation within the land. Parents and children would fall on either side of the winnowing wand; families would be divided by religious commitments. Elijah would call the nation back to righteousness before the great and terrible Day of the Lord exploded into human history.
If John's ministry is seen in this light, Paul's warnings about his baptism become clear. John's baptism is insufficient to stand as the mark of belonging in a new age. John spoke to the choir and got them to sing the right song. John's congregation was all already in the family of God -- he just tried to get them to admit it. John wanted the remnant of Israel to regroup itself and wait in righteous expectation for the firebrand that would destroy the nations around. John's preaching was for those already in the know.
That is why John's baptism is for repentance. It is not the mark of belonging to the Kingdom; rather, it is a renewal of personal initiative for the things of the Kingdom. People must not collect possessions for themselves, according to John; they must, instead, give them away. They must travel lightly. They must care for the poor. The tax collectors must only ask for what the Romans demand and not oppress their fellow countrymen. Soldiers may guard, but must not ever become violent, robbers, or coercive, abusing their authority.
In all of this, John is preaching to the choir. In fact, he is preaching to the adult choir. Children are not part of these proceedings, because they are not yet ready to take on adult commitments. The baptism he urges is one of self-cleansing, stripping away those things that might linger of prolonged contact with a godless society, and preparing oneself for the coming of the Day of the Lord.
John expected Jesus to bring the Day of the Lord. That is why he pointed to Jesus with such brutal honesty. Yet Jesus ultimately disappointed him, because Jesus never brought the fire of heaven down to burn up the evil of the world.
John, from his vantage point as an Old Testament prophet, was still looking forward to a single interruption of the Day of the Lord. Jesus, however, split that Day in two. The prophets always said that the Day of the Lord would bring judgment, while it ushered in the blessings of a new, eschatological age. In Luke 7 we read that John began to despair of Jesus when he spent so much time healing and helping. The sulfurs of divine retribution weren't evident around him.
In fact, what Jesus did was to bring the blessings of the eschatological kingdom before the refining fires of the Day of the Lord were spilled. In the graciousness of God, the world was given a second chance to find hope. John closed down the age of the prophets; Jesus ushered in the age of eternity.
The Baptism Of The Church
In this context, the baptism of the Church has different significance than that of John's baptism. About the only similarity between them is that both use water. Beyond that, they mean different things.
The baptism of John called on adult members of the Covenant community to take up the responsibilities of authentic, righteous living. Yet the Church was in the business of taking the message of the coming Kingdom beyond the boundaries of the original Covenant community. In this context baptism was not used by honorable persons as their pledge of loyalty; instead, baptism was used in the same way that circumcision had been used in the Old Testament (cf. Colossians 2:9-12): it was the mark of entrance into the Covenant community. It was the pledge of God that this person was now part of the family. It was the admission rite, declaring that this one, too, was now a part of the holy people.
In other words, instead of being a set of clothes that one put on to declare his or her convictions, as in the case of John's baptism, the Church's baptism was a mark of belonging placed upon one by powers outside of oneself.
So when the twelve young zealots told Paul that they were disciples of John, baptized by the great one as firebrands for the Kingdom, Paul needed to review the whole of theology with them. Even John would die looking for the Day of the Lord. No one will ever have the personal resources to survive that great catastrophe. Yet those who are marked with the ownership badge of Jesus will walk with him into eternity.
John fired people up to take a stand. They washed themselves to show just how serious they were. But the Church declared the coming of the Kingdom, and said that those who were in God's family needed only to be marked as belonging.
Now, the interesting thing about this controversy about baptism is that it continues in the church right up to the present day. We may be weary of the doctrinal mudslinging of the past, but we have not yet reconciled ourselves to the plurality of baptismal practices in the Church.
In fact, both the baptism of John and the baptism of the Church need expression in the community that waits for the coming of the Kingdom. The baptism of the Church is the initiation rite that brings all who belong to God's family into the visible community. Some come in as adults, through conversion. They must be baptized, not because of their dedication to God, but because of God's great dedication to them which has wooed them back to grace. Some enter the family of God as babies and children, born to those who already wear the marks of the people of God. Are these little ones to be left identity-less? No! That would be as silly as parents not giving their children names.
Can you imagine it? A child is born. The parents are elated. The relatives come by to congratulate them and ask, "What's the child's name?" and the parents say, "Oh, we're not going to give the child a name! We don't want to force any identity on this little one! We'll wait until he grows up and chooses a name for himself! After all, we're not sure how he will turn out, and we don't want to give the family name to him since he may dishonor it some day!"
A conversation like that seems ridiculous. Yet that is essentially the manner in which Christian parents express the spiritual identity of their children when they fail to mark them with the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit in the rite of baptism. They are declaring their little ones adrift on the oceans of religious identity. They expect their little ones some day to take up a name and an identity, but they will not declare the reality of that identity at birth.
Baptism is God's way of marking, through the rites and ceremonies of the Church, all who are his children by grace through the work of Jesus. Jesus called the little ones to him as well as the big ones. The children of believers are holy, says Paul (1 Corinthians 7:14). Baptism is God's deal, naming us with his name as children of a heavenly father. This is the church's baptism.
But John's baptism is necessary too. It is not enough to have entered the family of grace. It is not enough to acknowledge that one belongs to the Covenant community. John, along with the prophets who went before him, knew this. All of God's people need to be called to attention, need to be challenged to consistency of faith and life, need to be motivated to service in bringing the power of the Kingdom to bear on the realities of daily life.
Then it is right and proper for the Church to exercise the urgency of renewal and ask those who already belong to the family of God to stand up and be counted in its ministries. This is the act of devotion, the act of dedication, the act of consecration. Some congregations call it Public Profession of Faith. Some call it Confirmation. Some call it Rededication. But always it amounts to the same thing -- those who are in the family take hold of their responsibilities as members of the family. God is good, and we should live as if we were as well. This is the baptism of John.
Now, the unfortunate part of all this talk of baptism is that one symbol has been used to declare two different things. The Church's baptism says that God is active in the water, marking and naming a person as a new member of the kingdom. John's baptism says that the individual is active in the water, washing himself for greater authenticity and dedication.
It is time for the Church to admit, with Paul, that there are two different kinds of baptism in the New Testament. Both are powerful. The symbolism of both ought to continue. People ought to acknowledge each. But perhaps a different form of symbolism ought to be connected with the one, over against the other.
However it might be done, let the Church learn this theology. God brings people into his kingdom, marking them, through the ministries of the Church, as children of grace. This is the Church's baptism.
But those who belong to the Church and kingdom need to act upon their place in the spiritual realities of time and eternity. They need to dedicate themselves to God, and enlist personally in the activities that make the Kingdom a reality. This is John's baptism.
Today, let those coming into the Kingdom receive from God, through the baptism of the Church, the badge of belonging. And, today, let those who are part of the family of God stand up and be counted in the ranks of John's disciples who are cleansing their lives and their communities as they anticipate God's next and terrible great act.
