By Rev. Dr. Fritz Ritsch
St. Stephen Presbyterian Church
Fort Worth,TX
Communion Sunday and the Baptism of Eunice Kang
Mark 7: 31-37
James 1: 17-27
Today we’re baptizing Eunice Kang, the daughter of JC and Jung Kang. JC is the seminary student we’re sponsoring at Columbia Seminary. But we’re also performing the Lord’s Supper, which means we’re performing both the sacraments that Presbyterians believe in.
Now when yours truly was in seminary, I was taught that one of the main purposes of the sacraments is drama. When I heard that, a little light went off in my head. See, I was an actor for quite a while myself. The sacraments are dramatic—of course! When we do the sacraments, we are actors in a play. We’re reenacting events in Jesus’ life. In baptism and in The Lord’s Supper, we’re reliving Jesus’ death and resurrection. When the water is poured on Eunice’s head, it’s a reenactment of Jesus’ death and burial. But her emergence from the water alive and well and likely yelling is her reenacting His resurrection.
In early church history, the baptized would put on a new robe to symbolize that they have “put on Christ,” and that it isn’t they who live, but Christ who lives in them. That’s something actors can understand, too. In ancient times, actors put on masks to “put on” the character they were playing. It was a way of symbolically becoming the character.
So when we baptize Eunice, the Eunice who emerges has, in some symbolic way, “put on” Jesus Christ. She has in a profound way become Christ. At least, that’s the goal. It’s a key goal of all Christian life, to die to self and live to Jesus Christ. And we the church commit to her and to JC and Jung to raise her up in a way that enables her to live more and more into that role, to live out the life of Christ in her own unique personal way.
The Lord’s Supper is also quite dramatic. We’re reenacting the Last Supper, when Jesus’ disciples ate the bread that Jesus said symbolized his body and drank the wine that Jesus said symbolized His blood. This is high drama indeed, bordering on tragedy. We’re reminded that Jesus predicted that his disciples would all desert him, and they did; that Judas would betray him, and he did; that Peter would deny Him, and he did. In this little play, we actors are humbly reminded that we, too, can desert, betray, and deny our Lord.
But there’s a mystery here, and maybe it’s true in both of the sacraments, but it’s especially true in the Lord’s Supper. The central actor in this play is not you and me. The central actor is Jesus Christ. And whereas the mystery and drama in baptism is that we become Jesus, the mystery and drama in the Lord’s Supper is this: JESUS BECOMES US.
It’s sort of understandable that an actor would want to play a great part. It’s understandable at some level that each of us would like to play Jesus Christ. That way we get top billing!
But for Jesus to put on our skin, to be you and me, is like asking Laurence Olivier in his prime to play a non-speaking spear carrier type role in an Adam Sandler movie. It’s just inconceivable. But that’s what happens in the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. We eat the bread and drink the wine and that’s how Jesus puts on costume and grease paint and becomes you and me. You and me!
Apparently Jesus believes, as actors are supposed to but rarely do, that there are no small parts, only small actors.
Come to think of it, that sounds like the sort of thing He’d say, doesn’t it?
Think of it from the perspective of those who first gathered around the Table at that first Lord’s Supper, so long ago. Judas was there, the betrayer, the traitor: Jesus was saying, I want to play you, Judas. Peter, who denied him three times: Jesus was saying, I want to play you, Peter.
Think of it from the perspective of who is here today.
There’s the person across the way there that you personally just can’t stand: that’s a role that Jesus just can’t wait to play, the complex personality who has his or her flaws but is still a good person. That’s a classic role.
There’s you, struggling with some troubling moral issue or with personal doubt: Jesus is saying, what a dramatic role, the angst ridden soul; I want that role.
There’s you, dealing with a terrible health issue; and you, the faithful spouse or partner, or parent, or child, or friend of someone who has health issues: Jesus says, I have felt the pain death, and I have suffered because of the suffering of others; I can be you.
There’s you, ashamed of yourself, feeling hopeless and overwhelmed: Jesus is saying, I want to be you. I’d give anything to play that role.
But there’s another difference between baptism and the Lord’s Supper worth noting. Baptism is individual—it’s about an individual putting on Christ. But the Lord’s Supper is corporate: it’s about Christ taking on our identity together as the people of God. Every great actor has a thousand characters in her, a thousand thousand roles that she can play. Jesus plays them all at once, and in fact plays them all together, so that somehow all of us disparate and different roles that he is playing work together to create a cohesive story that gives glory to God.
What is that story? Well, it’s different for each individual and different down through the ages for each generation and incarnation of the church in its time and situation. But essentially the story is always this:
There is death. Failure or loss or disaster or conviction of sin or grief or literal death or the end of the world, at least your world, as you know it. But there is death.
And there’s resurrection. New birth, new life. A bright morning, an empty grave, a new lease on life, an opportunity to take the broken eggs of your life and make an omelette, a chance to make amends for the wrong you’ve done, an offer of help from an unexpected source, hope when you least expected it, beautiful plants growing in depleted soil, light when the tunnel seemed darkest, a way out of no way. God’s love when there seemed no love left. Resurrection.
That’s the Christian story. That’s the play we’re in. A play about death and resurrection, about hope emerging from despair, about human resilience in the face of terrible trouble, about God’s grace when we least expected it, about each of us daring to live like the Son of God, about the Son of God daring to be you and me. That’s the story we’re initiating Eunice into today.
And the thing she, and we, can all be certain of, is that in God’s eyes, even though Eunice is still small, in this play there are neither small parts, nor small actors.