The hymn “Of the Father’s Love Begotten” is one of my favorite Christmas hymns. We heard it as our prelude this morning, and will sing it together as the hymn of the day. I love the stark beauty of it, and when I hear it, the image that comes to my mind is of notes sung by monks, floating up to the rafters of a cold, dim stone church lit by flickering candles. Its beautiful, almost haunting movement up and down the scales matches well with the mystery conveyed by these opening verses of John’s Gospel. These words, recounting creation and illumination and shadows, call to mind for me other flickering candles - tiny pin pricks of brightness radiating outward, filling the sanctuary on Christmas Eve as this text is read out into the dim room.
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| Photo by Denis Degioanni on Unsplash |
Along with the music, the lyrics of this hymn, too, join in painting a picture of the divine: cloaked in mystery, swirling and creating before the dawn of the universe, setting into motion all life and all existence. The notes rise and fall, as the verses trace a path through time and space - at creation, through the prophets, to Mary, and finally to all people, all voices, all powers and dominions praising God.
This passage from John’s Gospel follows the same path - from creation, when all things were brought into being through the Word; to the prophet John the Baptist, sent as a witness to testify to the light; to Mary, through whom the Word became flesh; and finally, to us, who have seen his glory, the glory of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. As is typical of John’s Gospel, there is the sense of layers of meaning, words shrouded in metaphor. The repeated phrases sound both cryptic and poetic. Mystery, more than certainty, is conveyed through them.
As we think of John’s words, building and building like the hymn, what catches us by surprise is that the climax of all this divine majesty and mystery - the Word who was with God, and was God; the one through whom all things came into being - the climax of this is not a profound unknowing of a God who is far off, but rather the literally down-to-earth gift of the incarnation.
As our celebrations of the Christmas season stretch on, this is the gift we continue to ponder in our hearts: God put on flesh and lived among us. Jesus was born among us, a vulnerable, helpless baby. He grew and learned, loved and grieved, experienced suffering, rejection, and death. Jesus, close to the father’s heart, has made God known to us. This is the gift we continue to ponder in our hearts: the one begotten before the worlds began to be has also put on our pain and joy, our heartbreak and compassion, our grief and our wonder. The one who is both source and ending chose to come close to us, to be in relationship with us, to be one of us.
We have the great joy today of celebrating the baptism of Bexleigh Kate. Through these waters, she, too, will be drawn in to the divine mystery, joining Christ’s death so that she might also join his resurrection. In these waters, the one who put on flesh to dwell with us continues to draw near, claiming us as beloved children and bestowing on us the gifts of salvation, forgiveness, and new life.
This bath is not like that of Achilles of Greek myth. It is not armor against the slings and arrows of life, not a shield of invulnerability, not an assurance that everything will go right. Baptism is, instead, an acknowledgement of the danger and heartache and sin inherent in the world, and a promise that we will not face those things alone.
Filled with the Holy Spirit, and joined to God and to one another, we find ourselves surrounded by love, help, and encouragement. Alongside God’s promises, today you, also, will make a promise: to support and pray for Bexleigh in her new life in Christ. Joined together as God’s people, we give thanks and praise to the one who gave us life, and are sent to share that creative and redeeming word with all the world.
The good news this day is that the Word who put on flesh continues to dwell with us, coming near in water, wine, and word. As we gather at the font and around the table, as we hear these sacred stories of Scripture, both ancient and familiar, we see God’s glory, and experience the fullness of that grace and truth.
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