Dear Colin,

First of all, congratulations on your baptism, which happened just a few moments ago.  

You may remember the part right at the end where I described you as “the newest Christian in the entire world,” and everybody clapped.  

It’s amazing to realize that’s true. 

It is also amazing to realize that now, even just a few moments later, it’s already not true, anymore.  

You have already been at this whole thing longer than some other people—at least a few.  

In your own way, you’ve actually been at it for a while. 

You played Jesus in our Christmas Pageant this year.   

You were excellent.  

That gives you a little bit of a head start.  

The Roman Catholic calendar identifies January 7^th, the day after Epiphany, as the celebration of the Baptism of Jesus—and here you are just a few days later, getting baptized yourself.  

Be advised that the next thing would be moving to Egypt. 

(You’re not moving to Egypt, right?)

In a far less literal fashion, your baptism marks our intention that your life will follow along the path of Jesus’ own life, and that the Holy Spirit will guide you ever more deeply into the love and life of God.  

Colin, if you’re not quite sure what all that means just yet, don’t worry: it’s our job to teach you.  

And you’re already absorbing all kinds of lessons. 

Psychologists tell us that for babies, one of the most fundamental and important things to learn—and surely one of the hardest things to learn—is the place where a person and the world meet.  

For babies, it is astonishing to realize that, for example, mom is not simply an extension of themselves, but that their own arms and legs, hands and feet are. 

A little later, they begin to grapple with the idea that while they may be the center of their parents’ universe, that doesn’t mean that they’re the center of the whole universe. 

Some people really struggle with that one.  

And that’s where baptism really comes to the fore. 

Because baptism into the life of Jesus is about “waking up to a life beyond the self, a life of communion”… a life in which we are called to be “responsive to others.” (The language is Mike Higton’s.) 

In fact, the church’s traditional teaching was not afraid to call baptism nothing less than “dying to the self.” 

That may sound a little jarring at first.  

The point was not to make a morning like this into any sort of gloomy occasion. 

The point was that the church saw joy, meaning, and hope in baptism’s “rising to life.”  

It marked the start of new life.  Of true life.  Of all that awaits us as we learn to engage the world. 

Baptism has always been at pains to remind us that, while the world is so much bigger than we are, it still needs us so profoundly.  

The world needs all the love and care, the curiosity and humor, the creativity and diligence that God gives us, offered back. 

It needs us to walk in this way. 

Baptism promises that as we do, God offers us our deepest joy.  

Colin, the world needs you to walk in this way, and the church is here to invite you into its own joy.  

II.

Our Scripture this morning comes from John’s Gospel. 

In some ways, it’s an odd text to accompany a baptism. 

The gospels have a lot to say about the months before the arrival of Jesus—all those angelic visits for Mary and Joseph and for the parents of John the Baptist, Zechariah and Elizabeth. 

The gospels also have a lot to say about Jesus’ birth and days immediately afterward, which is when the magi arrive. 

But then, with the exception of one story in Luke’s gospel, the trail goes cold.   

We know nothing about Jesus’ formation as a young man, which is to say, we know nothing about how he came to recognize his own call to engage the world. (Some non-canonical gospels give us a little more detail, but not much.) 

Instead, the story picks up at his own baptism, which we think happened when he was about thirty years old, and which marks the beginning of his public ministry.   

What we’ve heard this morning comes even a little bit after that, as Jesus begins to call his disciples.  

Of course, the point is that he is inviting them to join his life and engage the world. 

Yet this particular story puts its own spin on that. 

You’ve heard that Philip is the first one Jesus approaches. 

“Follow me,” says Jesus, and Philip responds immediately.  

It’s as if he gets that invitation, and he flat out runs to his friend, Nathaniel, who may or may not be sitting under a fig tree when Philip whooshes up with a trail of dust flying behind him. 

Now, the Talmud, which is the second most important book in Judaism (and just as ancient) refers to the image of sitting under a fig tree, studying the Torah, as a particular vision of the good life.  

It’s a vision of being plugged into both the goodness and abundance of Creation as well as the goodness and abundance of a life in God.  

So back in John’s Gospel, when Philip goes and seeks his friend, Nathaniel, maybe Nathaniel really is out there under some fig tree, resting his legs for a minute.  

Or maybe the point is not so much to tell us where he is, but more about the kind of person that he is. 

A little later, Jesus will say that Nathaniel is someone in whom “there is no guile.” No deceit.  

He is particularly honest.  Particularly open.  Particularly dedicated to the big questions and not distracted by the small stuff.  

Philip goes to right to him because Nathaniel is that friend who is particularly grounded…the one who will know the real thing right away, and knows it more clearly and more deeply even than Philip does. 

Philip goes to Nathaniel because he knows that Nathaniel is one of those people who is ready to rise to life when the real thing finally comes calling.  

And he’s right.     

III.

Colin, what are we going to do to get you ready to rise to life when the real thing finally comes calling?  

How can we teach you that cherished, celebrated, cuddled, fussed over and worried and prayed about though you are, you are not the center of the universe, and that this is the best news you will ever hear? 

Because the real thing is going to come calling. 

Now, before you were born, your mom was involved with a show on Broadway called “Come From Away.”  

It’s the story of how a bunch of airplanes headed across the ocean had to land unexpectedly on an island and stay put for several days at a moment when the world was hurting and very scared.  

The remarkable thing, though, is that the people on this island were neither too hurt nor too scared to welcome all these stranded strangers into their homes—in fact, to comfort them.  

Somehow, by the grace of God, they were awake to lives beyond themselves, and in a bewildering moment for the world, they still knew how to care for the people abruptly there before them.  

When the real thing came calling, they stood up, just like Nathaniel stood up.  

Colin, they may never make a hit musical about anything that happens here at this particular church, however merrily we may roll along, but when the real thing comes calling, I hope you’ll see us stand up.  

I hope you’ll see all the love and care, the curiosity and humor, the creativity and diligence that God puts in our hearts, offered back to people who need it and to projects that deserve it.    

I hope you’ll recognize the joy we have in offering these gifts, and that this will help you to be ready when it is your turn. 

In a world that can be quick to stoop to what seems expedient, may you live into the promises made for you in baptism this morning, and be someone who rises to life…and soars.  

Amen.