Did you hear the one about the child in Sunday School who always liked pleasing the teacher by answering her questions? When she asked, what is brown, furry, has a bushy tail, and likes to chew nuts, the little boy paused with a wrinkled brow. He was used to getting the answer right, you see, and it sounded like a squirrel, but this was Sunday School after all, so he finally decided to take the plunge, raised his hand to be called on, and blurted out his final answer: “Jesus!”

 

Along the same lines of one-track mindedness, when I was in seminary my classmates teased me incessantly about my predisposition to making every discussion about the Baptismal Covenant. It was my frame of reference, it was my final answer in all things…indeed, they labeled it my “war cry.”

 

So it is no wonder when I arrived at my first church, fresh from seminary and its ivory towers, and loaded with passion, energy, and a sincere naiveté, I went to work feverishly promoting the Baptismal Covenant at every turn. I developed this really nice Powerpoint presentation for the vestry, demonstrating how our life together is guided by the precepts of our Baptismal Covenant. I preached topical sermons on the Baptismal Covenant more than once in those first few months. The Adult Forum sessions that first fall were thinly veiled appropriations of the Baptismal Covenant.

 

It took me about a year to have enough space from seminary to reflect on my approach, and it was then that an image came to me—a rather humbling image—that what I was doing in all this feverish work was following a yellow brick road of my own creation: that if I just said “Baptismal Covenant” often enough, and then clicked my heels three times, we’d all be catapulted to the Kingdom of God right here and now.

 

Well, as you may have surmised, it didn’t happen quite like I figured. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I still believe our Baptismal Covenant is as clear and concise a mission statement as we’ll ever have—as individuals, as a community of faith, as the Body of Christ…I still think it is the best way for us to order our lives, but what I have learned in the process of talking about the covenant is that words do not constitute the covenant. A written covenant points beyond the words to something more existential, more compelling in our lives.

 

If it were just the words, then it would be probably more apt to call it a contract. A contract specifies elements to which the parties agree—I will do this, and you agree to do that. It’s cut and dried, and if one party breaches the contract, the other party has recourse which usually involves seeking damages and almost always involves severing the relationship. The handshake goes only so far as the contract specifies.

 

But God does not seem to be much interested in contracts. If that were the case, I think God would have severed the relationship with humanity long ago—breach of contract has been a recurrent problem. But God has chosen to establish covenants instead.

 

Covenants point beyond the words of agreement themselves; there are aspects of covenantal relationships that transcend the words themselves, because something more is involved. Ethicists call it a primal gift that is given and received in the covenant. It is this primal gift which opens the parties to the possibility of change, of transformation—such that by virtue of the relationship all else about their lives is different. In very profound ways the two become one…and the synergy of that connection can change the world.

 

The pattern is present throughout the whole of God’s Salvation History—Old Covenant and New Covenant. In Genesis, Abraham is blessed by God so that through him and his descendents, including you and me, all the families of the earth will be blessed. In Exodus, Moses ascends a mountain to engage God who is calling to him, and he is transformed by the experiences, but always for some greater purpose—so that others will be blessed by and through the relationship forged by divine intentions. The covenant is inherently life-giving, dignifying, and not just to the individual who is called, but to others as well.

 

And then on the mountain when Jesus is transfigured, and a voice comes from heaven and says This is my Son, my beloved, with whom I am well-pleased, is it possible to speak of that relationship in covenantal terms? The Father and the Son, bound together by more than just words of agreement—and surely transformation occurs, not just for those two but for the whole world.

 

You know, we sometimes speak of our baptism as an adoption by God—we are Sons and Daughters, with whom God is well-pleased…and to be sure, these are words meant for us all to hear and believe and respond to in our own right.

 

Adoption is a great metaphor really. Some of you have adopted children; we all know families who have. If a couple adopts a child, there is a contract—terms of the agreement, but I bet the first day isn’t over before someone breaches the terms—the kid screams, the parent yells, the agency fails to file something properly. Contractually, one would have the right to drop the kid like a hot potato…but the covenantal bond sees them through. Why? I’d like to think there is that primal gift involved, given and received, even if unspoken, that binds the parties together. Even if one party wants to run, the other says, hold on…let me hold onto you. And transformation occurs.

 

And so the pattern persists in our own baptisms—a covenantal experience in which more than words are at play. A primal gift of love and commitment is given and received, and we are changed, transformed because of it.

 

Oh, there are times when we may drop the ball, we turn away, but God is there nevertheless, holding on, hoping, trusting that we’ll return…refusing to walk away from the covenantal promises that God has made to us, believing in our gifts that we have to offer the world sometimes more than we even believe ourselves.

 

Which is why we continue to say the Baptismal Covenant, not as words on a page, but as a pledge—a pledge to our covenantal partner who entrusts us with the common work of the kingdom of God, who is willing to become vulnerable in the relationship, who is willing, indeed who is yearning to open the heavens to say These are my Children, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.

 

And so I invite those about to be baptized (later this morning), their parents and godparents, and all of us who will support these newly baptized in their life in Christ, I invite you to recommit to the work of the covenant, trusting that we are transfigured by water and the Holy Spirit—for some purpose.

 

Know that God claims you as Beloved, as Child of God.

 

Know that God engages you as covenantal partner because God believes in you and your gifts as one who can transform the world.

 

Know that God blesses you, so that you might in turn be a blessing to others. Amen.