+ In the Love of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Many of the first Christians expected that the end of the world would happen within their generation, and as time passed with no end in sight some grew discouraged. So Peter wrote a letter to a number of churches to encourage them, and this morning’s first reading is taken from that letter:
“Do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day. The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance. But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a loud noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fire. . . .”
When I read those words I immediately remembered this famous poem by Robert Frost, published in December 1920:
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
His contemporary, T. S. Eliot, published a poem titled The Hollow Men in 1925. Here are its final two verses:
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
Both men wrote their poems in the aftermath of the Great War.
A generation later, in 1952, the United States detonated the first hydrogen bomb; and six years later, in an interview in September 1958, a reporter asked T. S. Eliot if he would still conclude his poem with the words, “Not with a bang but a whimper.”
Eliot said no for two reasons.
First, because “not with a bang” wouldn’t work anymore with the reality of the hydrogen bomb.
And second, Eliot didn’t know whether the world would end with either a bang or a whimper because people whose houses had been bombed in World War II had told him that they didn’t remember hearing anything” (“T. S. Eliot at Seventy, and an Interview with Eliot” in Saturday Review. Henry Hewes. 13 September 1958 in Grant p. 705.).
But speculation about the end of the world doesn’t interest Peter. He simply takes it in stride and then asks a penetrating question:
“Since all these things are to be dissolved in this way, what sort of persons ought you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness. . . ? Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or blemish; and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation.”
Peter is telling us not to let the future distract us from the present. This morning’s Gospel tells us not to let the past distract us from the present, either:
“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,”’ John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”
The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, for Mark begins with John the baptizer. The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, for us begins with baptism. And baptism is about two things: repentance and forgiveness.
Repentance, literally, is about “turning around.” “All roads lead to heaven― all you have to do is turn around!” Repentance is something God gives us the grace to do so that we can turn from the past and embrace the present. In other words, repentance is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, for us.
Forgiveness, literally, is about “letting go.” Forgiveness is something God does for us to set us free from our past sins and failures and hurts so we can embrace the present. So forgiveness, is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, for us, too.
But at its heart, baptism is about death and resurrection. In the words of our liturgy, “We thank you, Father, for the water of baptism. In it we are buried with Christ in his death. By it we share in his resurrection” (The Book of Common Prayer, page 306).
Recently we have begun referring to our hour-long Sunday services as “practices”― “practices” for the other 167 hours of the week.
So you can imagine how happy I was when I read this passage about “practicing” just this past week from Free for All: Rediscovering the Bible in Community, by Tim Conder and Daniel Rhodes (a book I’ve mentioned before):
“Because Christ has conquered death, and because we are able to enter into his victory by practicing our own death in baptism, we can encounter the world with optimism. . .” (p. 223).
“. . . Christians should be those who are the least likely to let fear dominate our lives and the way we interact with others. Our interactions do not have to be based on a fear of death, a fear of losing our families, a fear of losing our homes or our wealth, for all of these things have been given over to Christ already in our baptism. . .” (pp. 222-3).
I have also been asking the question of “How can we do a better job of imagining how we might take the Scriptures we read in the church out into the world?”
So imagine my further delight when I read this analogy between reading the Bible and another discipline that takes a lot of practice:
“. . . reading the Bible is a lot like reading music. Anyone who has had even an entry-level course in music realizes that reading music is an exercise that cannot be divorced from its performance.
". . . To truly read music one must deploy an instrument to actualize the notes, to hit the notes with perfect pitch, and to join them together smoothly and eloquently. . .” (p. 229).
“To read the Bible as Scripture is to perform it, to be called into its mission, to learn to sing its beautiful songs. A true reading of Scripture must live in its performance . . .” (Ibid.).
“Practicing our mission . . . allows us to interpret the Word of God in the Bible because, just like the singer who must actualize the notes on the page in her voice, we must actualize this Word with our lives, making them into beautiful songs” (p. 230).
Whether the world ends in fire or ice, with a bang or a whimper or no sound at all, and whatever our past may be, baptism is our invitation to sing now a new and beautiful song to the Lord.
Amen.
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