We are baptizing a child today: always a special occasion in a church, and especially so in cases like this, where one grandmother is a member and the mother grew up in this church family.

Jenny wrote the dearest letter to Betsey about why she is choosing to have her baptized at all, and why she has specifically chosen to bring Betsey to the font at Mt. Auburn. This is Jenny’s spiritual home, and she has been well-fed by the congregation here. She wants the same feast for her little one.

Baptism is a radical act of faith.

Because when we baptize a child, we recognize that the child belongs to God and is on loan to us. The promises at this font, are unlike any other promises we make.

When we enter into covenanted relationships, whether as a couple, or when we join the church, or at an ordination as officers in the church,  we make promises to one another before God.

But at a baptism we promise God, we vow to God, that we will raise this child in the faith. We promise God we will be examples of that faith and we know with trembling in our hearts that we are bold to do so.

Because there is a lot at stake here. We are the ones who are responsible for teaching little Elizabeth about the love and grace of God, the wisdom of Jesus, and the creating power of the Holy Spirit. We are called to stand with these parents and help teach little Elizabeth Briley that she is a Beloved child of God, in whom God is well pleased.

We are the ones who teach her with our lives.

She is a part of a family here. Today she is engrafted into the body of Christ.

We know that the world will not teach her of God’s great love for her. That is our job.

I have been thinking a lot about these promises as I read the letter from Jenny, written last Sunday, just after I preached about the tragic killing of the little girls in the Amish school house and the profound example of the Christian faith exhibited by the forgiveness of the Amish people toward the murderer and his family.

It was affirming to hear that Mt. Auburn had kept those baptismal promises to Jenny. Because at the same time I received an email from a friend about his conflict-ridden church. There were no big issues, mostly just petty stuff, bickering with one another, gossiping and choosing sides, criticism of almost everything, and a lack of commitment to the every day workings of the church.

My friend was really sad because the little church is shrinking in size and desperate for new members. A young family had been coming for some time and he was really hoping they would stay. They called him and met with him that Saturday to tell him they had decided against joining that church . . . they cited their reason for leaving the lack on the part of some people to exhibit grace and forgiveness towards others in the church. They tired of gossip and criticism, and were drained by the interactions. They, too, had been touched by the witness of the Amish and it had them taking a long, hard look at the church they were attending.

“We have two small children,” they said, “and this is the only place they are going to learn what it means to be Christian. We want them to learn about patience, forbearance, forgiveness and acceptance. Children learn by example. We don’t see that being practiced here. We want our kids to know God has invited them to a feast, and this is more like a food fight.”

“It would be easy to call them judgmental,” my friend said.” But I have to say, I think they were just being honest. And I had to bless them on their way, as they look for a church in which they can be fed., and baptismal promises can be kept.”

He was sad for his little congregation. That’s not to say there aren’t struggles in every church. The only church without any conflict is a dead church.

Conflict is not the problem.  It’s the way a congregation handles it. The members were more intent on tearing down than building up. I doubt if it was conscious. But then, one of the goals of faith is consciousness.

My friend wanted to remind them of the promises they make at the font. Promises that last until burial.

He wanted to remind them that each time they baptized a child and answered ‘Yes’ to that question:

Do you, as members of the church of Jesus Christ,

promise to guide and nurture this child

by word and deed,

with love and prayer,

encouraging him or her to know and follow Christ

and to be a faithful member of Christ’s church?

That they were promising to do that for one another as well. He wanted to say this doesn’t stop at 12 or 18 or 22 or 45 or 68 . . .  this promise is for a life-time. This is what we are about as a people.

It is this promise that makes us a community. 

This is what a church does together. Oh, we do other things, too. But those mean nothing if we aren’t guiding, nurturing, by word and deed, with love and prayer, encouraging one another to know and follow Christ and to be a faithful member of Christ’s church.’ This is our primary task.

He wants to tell them that. He may. He’s pretty sure it will fall on deaf ears. He’s not so sure any more if they even are still a church. “They were a social club for a long time,” he told me, “and social clubs fall apart when people can’t get along. No one knows we are Christians by our love.” he said wistfully.

All this came up in a discussion about this fellow in Mark, who came to Jesus seeking eternal life.

He was wondering if anyone is interested in eternal life anymore. It seems to have gone out of style.

These were Jews, not Baptists, so they weren’t talking about heaven or an afterlife. They were talking about a quality of life. I am not even sure we have a word for it in our day.

The best I can say is holy. Set apart. Conscious.  Those who seek to be conduits of God’s love and grace in the world. Those who love mercy, do justice and walk humbly with our God.

The fellow in this story is often called the ‘rich young ruler’ though nothing in Mark identifies him that way. Jesus later tells us he has many possessions. But no age is given, he’s just a man who comes to Jesus seeking an answer: What must I do to inherit eternal life?

He wants a quality of life that he has been apparently been unable to purchase. Something in his life is missing.

He has often been painted as arrogant, but he runs toward Jesus and he kneels at his feet, and calls him ‘Good Teacher.’

None of that sounds all that arrogant to me.

Jesus asks him some questions in much the same way a doctor might check for vital signs. I think Jesus mentions the commandments because they are important. He certainly held the ten commandments in high esteem. Like most other Jews, he saw them as a gift from God for our spiritual and physical well –being. So, Jesus was asking: “Kill anyone? How about adultery? Steal or lie or defraud anyone? How are things with your folks?” Because any of those will mess up your life. That’s not the way to peace and serenity.

“Nope,” says the man, “I have kept all these since my youth.”

Then, this amazing sentence:

“Jesus, looking at him, loved him . . . .”

This is the only time in Mark we are told Jesus loved someone. And when we are told that he looks at this man, we know he really sees him. Sees right through him. Sees and understands him. We know that when Jesus looked at him, that nothing was hidden in that stare. I get the impression that this man was being seen/ being known in the way we most fear . . . because aren’t we always afraid that if someone knows us – really knows everything about us – that they will leave us??

But Jesus loves him.

And that’s important because this all comes out of Jesus’ love for him:

“You lack one thing. . . .”

Now, here is the mystery. What one thing did this man lack? Jesus doesn’t say what that ‘one thing’ is.

We get some hints from the context, from the discussion of the commandments before and from what he tells him to do next, but we are still left wondering what ‘one thing’ is lacking.

A hint may be that Jesus didn’t ask about all the commandments. He actually didn’t mention the first four or the last one.

The ten commandments can easily be boiled down this way:
The first five are basically: I am God – you aren’t. I am the only god there is. Don’t settle for less. Don’t pretend otherwise. Don’t make your own gods. Don’t call on me unless you mean it. Take a day off once a week to remember that the world can function without you, because I am in charge. Honor your parents: I gave them to you to help you remember your humanity. You have parents, I don’t.

Then the last five: Don’t take someone’s life, don’t take someone’s wife, don’t take someone’s stuff, don’t take someone’s dignity, and don’t even want to. That’s the sum of it.

Following them won’t necessarily make life heavenly, but ignoring them can surely make life hell.

Jesus told the man to sell everything he had and give the money to the poor and come and follow him.

Had the man gotten rich by making other people poor? A lot of folks did in Jesus’ day. If so, Jesus may have thought the man was deluding himself.

Was honesty the one thing that was lacking? Was integrity? Or was Jesus also thinking about the greatest commandments: To love God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself?

Was love of God and neighbor the one thing that was lacking?

Did Jesus suspect that the man had made an idol of his possessions? In that case, perhaps some of the first four commandments were not being kept. Was faith in God alone the one thing that was lacking?

Was Jesus calling him as a disciple, which meant leaving everything and following? 

Was commitment the one thing that was lacking? Or humility? Or did he lack the community of faith that could have helped him be more fully who he was intended to be? Was desire not coupled with commitment?

We are told he was shocked and went away grieving, but we aren’t told exactly why.

I think it is one of the saddest stories in the gospel for me. Because I know I am like that man. To come so close, to lack so little, but to turn and walk away. Clarence Jordan talked about the difference between admirers of Jesus and true disciples. The difference is in doing the hard work. Taking up our crosses. Risking our lives. Moving toward the pain. Learning how to love people who drive us crazy. Becoming mature human beings. Rolling up our sleeves and hanging in there because we believe God has work for us to do. Following Jesus. Loving, forgiving, over and over and over. Dying to love everyone.

Jesus lets him go. He doesn’t say: “Wait, we can change this for you. We need you. How can we keep you? We can make it easier, less demanding. I don’t have to go to Jerusalem. You don’t have to change anything.”

No. He lets him go. Not everyone is going to follow Jesus.

Jesus still loved him.

Not only does Jesus let him go, a fact that is stunning enough, but then it seems a little cold of Jesus to say, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kin-dom of God. It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kin-dom of God.”

 I don’t like that and I am not alone.

The disciples didn’t like it either.

As a matter of fact, they were astounded. Not because they were rich (like we are) but because it flew in the face of what they had believed all their lives about reward and punishment. People were rich because God blessed them, right? If we do everything right God will bless us and we will have lots of material possessions.

This is one belief that lives on today.(If you aren’t aware of that, you haven’t listened to many televangelists. Good people get rewarded and bad people get punished, that’s the way it is supposed to be, right? Not only that, many of them take it upon themselves to actually punish the ‘bad’ people for God’s sake! An indication to me that they seem to lack both patience and faith in God to handle things.)

Job had the same kind of theology and he was angry because he was a good guy and lost everything. He was miserable and complained loudly.

The disciples thought they had done everything right and they were expecting to be rewarded. But Jesus wanted them to do the right things for the sake of doing the right things. Not in order to be rewarded.

Who can be saved if those who are rich, those who have been successful by the standards of the world have little or no chance? That’s what the disciples are asking.

(Saved, by the way, does not mean ‘spared from hell.’ Jewish theology did not involve an idea of hell as we have heard it described. One was set apart, saved not so much from something as for something. Rescued from unconsciousness. Spared from not knowing God’s love. Saved to be:  light and love and hope and faithful in a world of despair and violence and injustice and darkness.)

Who can do this? The disciples may have been thinking, “Not a chance!”

But Jesus reminded them: “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

Peter seems confused.

“Look, Buddy,” he says, “We have left everything and followed you.” 

As if Jesus didn’t know that. It isn’t a question. It’s a statement. Perhaps it is a faith statement.

It is hard to get this upside-down kin-dom of Jesus. It is hard to follow the “if you want to save your life you will lose it, to have abundance -- give everything away, turn the other cheek, pray for your enemies . . .  the first shall be last and the last will be first . . .take up your cross . .  .”  It shocks the world when it is truly lived out. It is counter-cultural.

It makes keeping the ten commandments look easy.

I think that when the man was looking for eternal life the ‘one thing’ lacking may have been dying.

In a few minutes we are going to take this beautiful little girl over to that font and join her with a people who are trusting God to help them die to their old selves so we can be as loving and forgiving as the one whose name we profess. We know it would be impossible for us on our own, but we also know that with God all things are possible. We are going to teach her the art of dying. The power of faith. The joy of love. We are going to welcome this little one, to the rag-tag band who are friends and followers of Jesus. Welcome home to the feast.