Last Sunday was the feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, and in the sermon I preached, I wondered about the different ways a person might tell their life story—and what would be the best way to start, if there is a best way. I focused on the opening lines that Jesus speaks in the Gospel of Matthew—the words “Let it be so,” consenting to be baptized—and I suggested that Baptism is the heart of our identity and the key to our life story as Christians.

But the thing about good stories is they are usually followed up by a sequel, and I need to confess that I am not really big into sequels, because most of them aren’t any good, really. Okay, maybe the Empire Strikes Back and the Godfather Part II, but other than that, they are mostly a big disappointment. And so I got a little nervous when I was preparing for today’s sermon and turned to the Gospel lesson, only to realize that it’s “Jesus’ Baptism: The Sequel.” Instead of moving us along to the next chapter in the life of Jesus, the lectionary has given us the Baptism of Our Lord, Part II—as directed and produced by St. John. Thankfully, though, this sequel does not disappoint; and just as having two eyes deepens the field of our vision, having two baptism narratives right next to one another adds a depth dimension to the story. Today’s sermon, then, is a kind of sequel to last week’s—not as good, mind you, like most sequels, but a sincere attempt nonetheless.

In the Gospel of Matthew, the first words Jesus speaks are “Let it be.” In the Gospel of John, Jesus leads with “Come and see.” In both instances the context is the baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan. John the Baptist has made a name for himself, and has disciples of his own who follow after him. It seems as though John may not have recognized Jesus at first, or that he didn’t know that Jesus was the Messiah until he baptized him. But when he finally does see Jesus for who he really is, he calls him “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” And John’s own disciples hear him say it, and so they recognize that the person they should really be following after isn’t John, but Jesus. So they follow him. They want to be near Jesus—walking on the path that he walks, staying in the places he stays. “Where are you staying, Rabbi?” They want to know. So Jesus invites them. “Come and see,” he replies.

Jesus has emerged from the baptismal waters, and then people begin to follow after him, and walk in his way. His disciples follow him for years—eating and drinking with him, listening to him, praying with him, healing and casting out demons with him. On the road, they discover that his way is the way of life, but it’s also a way of danger, because it meant taking the side not of the rich and the powerful, but the side of the poor, the lowly, the meek. Following after Jesus meant that in order to find their life, his disciples had to be willing to lose it.

The former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, writes about this in his short book Being Christian. In his chapter on Baptism, Williams writes:

“… the path of the baptized person is a dangerous one. Perhaps baptism really ought to have some health warnings attached to it: ‘If you take this step, if you go into these depths, it will be transfiguring, exhilarating, life-giving and very, very dangerous.’ To be baptized into Jesus is not to be in what the world thinks of as a safe place. Jesus’ first disciples discovered that in the Gospels, and his disciples have gone on discovering it ever since.” (9)

A marvelous illustration of Christian discipleship can be found in a film that was recently released but not widely known. It’s called A Hidden Life, directed by one of the greatest film-makers alive today, Terrence Malick. The film is about the life of an Austrian farmer named Franz Jägerstätter, who witnessed the spread of Nazism in the small village where he lived, and was eventually conscripted to fight in the war. All soldiers were required to swear an oath of allegiance to Hitler, but Jägerstätter wouldn’t do it, because it went against everything in his conscience as a Catholic Christian. And so he is sent to jail, and eventually he is martyred. With the extraordinary beauty of the Austrian countryside as the backdrop, the film shows the agony that Jägerstätter went through in making this decision and the many chances that he had to just give it up, and swear the oath. The film shows that the life of Christian discipleship is costly, to use Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s phrase. For Franz Jägerstätter, it cost him his family, his friends, his standing in his community. Even the priests and bishops of the church turned their backs on him. Jägerstätter decided to follow Jesus… steps that were transfiguring, exhilarating, life-giving, and very, very dangerous. Jesus says “come and see”; Franz Jägerstätter followed. He was beatified by Pope Benedict in 2007.

Early in the film, there is a scene in a church where an elderly man is painting various images, mostly making paintings of Christ. And as he is painting, he talks about the difference between what he is painting and the reality of who Jesus was, and gives a review of his work:

“We create admirers, we do not create followers. Christ’s life is a demand. We don’t want to be reminded of it.”

The man looks up at an image of Jesus, and says,

“I paint their comfortable Christ, with a halo on his head; someday I’ll paint the true Christ.”

The task of the Christian life is to paint the true Christ by the shape of our lives, and in so doing, become not merely admirers of Christ, but followers. We do it through prayer, through confessing our sins, and through proclaiming the Good News of God’s love for the whole world in Jesus Christ. We paint a true Christ by loving our neighbors as ourselves, and by respecting the dignity of every human being. Sometimes doing these things will be risky, and will bring us into conflict with worldly authority, as they did for Franz Jägerstätter. But being Christian means believing that the way of Jesus is the way of life. That his way is not for admiring, but for following. In the words of the well-known spiritual:

“I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back; no turning back.”

Christ has extended the invitation: come and see. We are invited—not coerced, forced, guilted, or shamed—but invited. The invitation is to follow him, that we may have life, and have it to the full. And as with all invitations, we get a choice. What will we say?

Let us follow the call, as a baptized people—as though today was the day of our Baptism, as though we were still dripping wet with its waters. And let us paint a true Christ through the lives that we lead, as we walk in his way, to the glory of his Name. No turning back. No turning back. Amen.

January 19, 2020