The Living Between the Guardrails

A sermon preached with the people of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in East Longmeadow, Massachusetts on the occasion of Fiona Bess Kano’s baptism.

Video of this sermon can be viewed on Youtube.

You know – I won’t lie and tell you I was thrilled to find out that Jesus was going to be talking about murder and adultery on this particular celebratory occasion. But here’s the thing: I’ve decided it’s actually just right.

Because what Jesus is teaching this morning is that this faith of ours, this life in Christ, is just that: it is a life. It is lived. It is a way of being in the world.

And today, we get to welcome one more into that way of being, as we promise to love, and teach, and encourage, and support Fiona Bess in this wild, and scary and beautiful life.

Jesus, preaching from a hillside in Galilee, is teaching about well-known, already-ancient passages from scripture. And he’s saying, “we’ve got these rules. There are basic things we should and should not do, and that should be upheld.” But, he suggests, these guardrails that are our “dos” and our “do nots” point to a way of being in the living that happens in the space between.

So if the guardrails are “do not murder,” we might imagine the space between looks like committing to live every day with a deep and abiding awareness that every human being is a precious child of God.

If the guardrails are “do not commit adultery,” we might imagine the space between looks like advocating for an end to industries and practices that objectify, exploit and dehumanize precious children of God.

Then, we reach this bit. Jesus says, “anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery.” So, any given piece of scripture is a product of a specific time and place. And when our interpretation of scripture has become deadly in our own context, including forcing people to stay in unsafe marriages, something has gone wrong. Because Jesus is not in the death-dealing business.

So, let’s consider that on that day in Galilee, a woman whose husband had divorced her became untethered from all protection in society. She became an outcast. And her husband could do this for no good reason – no reason at all.

So, let’s make some adjustments to get to the heart of the message here, as Jesus himself was known to do[i] when interpreting scripture:

Let’s try: If the guardrails are “do not abandon committed relationships with no just cause,” we might imagine the space between looks like committing to the hard work required of maintaining any relationship, and dismantling systems of oppression that create outcasts of any kind.

And finally. If the guardrails are, “do not make false promises,” we might imagine the space between looks like remembering to live into our promises every day, to resist cynicism and to live authentically.

Easy, right? Heh, not at all. And I think that’s what Jesus is getting at this morning. This Christian living is not just about saying “yes, murder is bad” (though it is!). It’s about saying “I believe murder is bad because every human being is made in the image of God, which drives me to live my life in certain ways.”

Knowing the basics is one thing, and it’s important. But living out their meaning in our everyday lives, in how we wire our brains, how we approach other human beings, how we are present in community, how we care for ourselves, each other, all creatures, and our planet. In the little moments and the big ones. This is our life of faith. And this is our life in Christ.

In a few moments, we will make baptismal promises for and with Fiona Bess. She will be marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit. And, at that moment, she will be woven into this life in Christ. She will be woven into this way of being in the world, forever.

She will become a member of the Body of Christ – this  congregation that exists through space-time – and includes those of us here, those in Galilee so long ago, and unknown children of God yet to be born.

Some of us gathered here may never see one another again. But we are in community forever. This particular community that supports and loves this child. This community that commits to praying for and guiding her in all that living “between the guardrails.”

And what a special gathered community she has. Emily and Jake, Fiona’s godparents, are committing to playing this special role in her life. She is in fact wrapped in an outward sign of Emily’s love– a beautiful baptismal gown made by her hands. Fiona’s wonderful extended family – here, as always, showing up with their signature intense love. And crucially, the people of St. Mark’s. And whether you have been going here for decades, or you are a visitor, or this is your first time, you are the people of St. Mark’s. You, church, are reaffirming your own baptismal promises committing to support not only Fiona, but one another in your lives between the guardrails.

In just a little bit, I hope Fiona’s big brother, Auggie (my godchild), her cousins Charlie and Molly, and all the children here will help us bless the holy water.

That movement of the water is how I think of the Holy Spirit at this moment – God’s presence and the love in this room, swirling together in interlocking circles around this child of God.

As the water is poured on her little head, that love – that swirling love – will set Fiona on her path, living this faith. This way of patterning our lives between the guardrails. This way of being in the world. This life in Christ.

[i] “Jesus Rewrites Scripture and So Can We” — a sermon by the Rev. Dr. Wil Gafney