This morning we have the great privilege of baptizing two beautiful little boys. I met with their parents and godparents yesterday for a baptism seminar. I’d like to share with you what our collective hope and prayer is for these children we are about to baptize.

As I’ve told you before, baptism is probably my favorite part of being a priest. It is so exciting to welcome a new sister or brother in Christ. And baptism itself is so, so rich with meaning and theology. It is one of the portals that takes us into the very heart of our faith.

I start baptism seminars by asking the question, "What does Baptism mean?" I’m no dummy; I make them do all the work, and I write their answers of a flip chart, then we talk about them. Yesterday, after just a bit of prodding, we had a good discussion. I’m not going to go into everything we said, but here’s something of a summary: Baptism is incorporation (literally "taking into the body") into a community of faith that will shape and mold these children so that they will grow up knowing that they are astoundingly wonderful, truly amazing, and deeply loved children of the God who created the universe. And we know that they will mess up, time and time again. We all do. But God and their new brothers and sisters in Christ will forgive them over and over and over for the mere asking. Through Jesus, they will get a worldview that tells them that real power is the power of love and peace, even though the power of hatred and violence will always win in the short run. When these newly baptized know that their identity is that they are deeply loved children of God, they will see everyone else as a deeply loved child of God, and so they will have a heart for justice. They will want to share the good news of God’s love. They will respect the dignity of every human being. And they will not be able to hate even their enemies. Instead, they will follow Jesus’ example of loving their enemies, even when that means grieving deeply for how wrong some other child of God might have gone.

And, again, when they mess these things up (and they will), they will always have forgiveness and new life available for the asking.

That is just a synopsis of some of what baptism means. It is certainly not intended to be all-inclusive, and others would say it differently. I suppose one could spend a lifetime doing nothing but exploring the meaning of baptism, and perhaps that is what our faith most calls us to do – spend a lifetime exploring the meaning of baptism.

So even though this will always be an unfinished work, a cup drawn from an ocean of meaning, it seems to me that the poetry and prayers in our Prayer Book capture a sense of it as we go through the baptism service, and especially as we recite the Baptismal Covenant. This is a worldview, a perspective, that is so different from what we are constantly exposed to outside these walls. It is how Jesus lived. It is how I want to live. I know that, unlike Jesus, I mess it up, but I also know that, through Jesus, I am forgiven again and again if I just see my errors and ask for a new start and new life.

And I love it. Baptism, to me, encapsulates everything Christianity is about. So I love nothing more than baptizing these beautiful little boys and welcoming them into this community of faith.

And I wish I could be more sentimental about it. With these cute little boys, I wish I could say this is nothing but a cuddle fest for the community. But I’m haunted. I’m haunted by the memory of yesterday, Epiphany, the day when we remember the coming of the wise men.

You remember the story, I’m sure. Wise men come from the east following the star. Everybody knows that. Every nativity scene has them in it, so even people who have no idea what it all means know that they were there. If you watch a Christmas pageant, like ours this year, you learn that they first went to King Herod, the hated puppet king whose strings were pulled by the Romans. Herod was ambitious and paranoid, and he wanted to know where the baby was, so he told them to come back after they had found him. He said he wanted to worship him. Liar!

God warned them not to come back, so they didn’t return to Herod with an address, which sent him into a "furious rage." He didn’t know exactly where the baby was, but he knew it was somewhere in Bethlehem, so — he sent soldiers — to kill every little boy in the whole town under the age of two. [Mt. 2: 1-16] It’s known as the slaughter of the innocents, and it’s the part of the Christmas story that you’ll never see in a Christmas pageant, on a Hallmark card, or in a nativity scene.

But perhaps we should see it. I can’t be entirely sentimental about baptism because that story serves as a powerful and frightening metaphor. Love comes into the world. The worldview, the perspective we affirm at baptism, comes into the world, and what is the response? Swords to the throats of babies. Could there be a more graphic and horrible juxtaposition of the worldview of love (that we affirm today) and the worldview of coercive, violent power that the world affirmed then and all too often affirms today?

I want to apologize for not being more sentimental about this. I mean, after all, these are cute baby boys. But I’m haunted. They are both cute baby boys, baby boys under the age of two.

I’m sorry for not making this a cuddle fest, but I think we need to recognize that baptism is a dangerous business, or at least, it should be. And I’m pointing this out to you because when you recite the Baptismal Covenant in a few minutes, you will be affirming this dangerous worldview.

I’ve told these parents and godparents that baptism is about incorporation into a community that holds that worldview. And these children need this community. But I want you to stop and think. Please don’t recite the Baptismal Covenant by rote. Please, ask yourself: "Am I willing to be part of this community? Am I willing to articulate this worldview? Am I willing to live this worldview, knowing that if I live it following the one whom God called his Son, his beloved with whom he is well pleased, it may very well be a dangerous endeavor?

They’re such cute little boys. It’s almost hard to want for them— so much — holy life — so much — holy danger.

The Rev. James H. Pritchett, Jr. St. John’s Episcopal Church, College Park, GA. If you would like to comment on this sermon or receive these sermons by email, contact me at rector@stjohnscollegepark.com.