January 11/12, 2020
The Baptism of Our Lord
Pr. Craig Mueller
Finding Your Voice
Puberty is no fun! There can be mood outbursts and unwelcome things popping up on our faces. And weird changes in our bodies. It’s a tough time to be a human being!
And for males: it’s when your voice changes. Some kids in our church are going through it right now! It can be downright embarrassing. Some of you can still remember your voice cracking or croaking between registers. As you try to find your new voice.
Last month I went to a performance of the Chicago Children’s Choir with several Holy Trinity youth singing. I was so impressed to learn that two of the kids were in DiMension, a unique ensemble actually designed for young men with changing or changed voices. Brilliant!
Most people don’t like what their voice sounds like when they hear a recording. In finding our voice, we have to get used to what it sounds like and how others hear it. I talked to our former Vicar Noah this week as he is close to receiving a call to a church in Atlanta. Noah reminded me that often trans folk take voice lessons to help them find their new voice during their transition.
Voices feature prominently in our readings on this feast of the baptism of Jesus. In the psalm, the voice of the Lord is upon the waters. God’s voice is like a powerful storm: breaking trees, bursting forth in lightning, shaking the wilderness, stripping the forests bare. It’s the voice of God we sense when we are on a magnificent mountain or when we look across Lake Michigan today and see huge crashing waves. Nature has a power that we cannot control or harness.
Jesus surely needed to find his voice and live into his calling. The voice at Jesus’ baptism comes from the heavens. We only hear this mysterious voice here and at his transfiguration. This voice confirms Jesus as God’s son, as the beloved one. One scholar notes that both voices are an epiphany: the voice of the thunderstorm and the voice from heaven at the Jordan river. The storm says, “this is my cosmos,” the baptismal voice says, “this is my Christ.” (James Mays)
So many voices we hear in our lifetime! Yet we learn to recognize their distinct character. Before caller ID, you didn’t know who was calling. Someone could simply say “Craig,” and I knew who it was. Amazing!
So many voices! These days there are tweets and posts, so many opinions, so much ranting. The online voices can become an echo chamber or a shouting match. We try to silence or even cancel those who don’t agree with us, even when we are generally on the same political or religious page.
Fifty or more years ago, our country listened to the voice of Walter Cronkite or other network news anchors. We all heard the same basic news and interpretation. Even at the time of Watergate there was a general agreement on what had happened. No more! These days we don’t know who to trust. An email or post can give false information about the draft, or World War III, or countless other things. Hackers try to influence elections, track our lives, or stir up fear and anxiety.
Amid such turmoil and division, our country is trying to find its voice. Amid rapid changes in society and institutional decline, the church is trying to find its voice. Amid the plight of our planet, the plight of refugees, and the plight of those most vulnerable, this congregation is continuing find its voice—to discern the direction for our mission and ministry. To bring forth justice and be a light to the nations, as Isaiah puts it.
And don’t forget the voices in our heads telling us we are not good enough or attractive enough or wealthy enough. There are the voices trying to get us to succumb to groupthink and tribalism, hanging only with those who vote like us and think like us. We are tempted to think that we have God all figured out because God is surely exactly like us and agrees with us.
And that leads to the radical voice of Peter in Acts. God shows no partiality. This is the good news of Epiphany. People in every nation—and we could add every religion, every ideology, every way of life— all who fear God and do what is right are acceptable to God.
Isaiah suggests, though, that the Servant will not cry out or lift up his voice. Yet Jesus always stands with the voiceless. On the cross he cries out: “My God, why have you abandoned me.” He will fulfill all righteousness as he enters into the depths of what it means to be human, to the point of sharing our suffering and death.
We will each find our unique voice in our vocation, in our life story, and in those we love and serve.
Like it did for Jesus, this lifelong journey begins in baptism where we receive our calling and our identity. The voice of the Lord is upon the waters. Hear the words of grace. You are my beloved. You are marked with the cross of Christ. Nothing can separate you from my love and mercy.
We joke about alternative news. Yet, that is exactly what we need these days. A different story, a different narrative, a different way of looking at the world. We call it baptism.
When the voices in your head are overwhelming . . . when you don’t know what to make of the myriad voices in the news and in your feeds, come to this sacred space to listen.
When your voice cracks and croaks under the strain of life, listen to the still, small voice within. Listen to the divine voice announcing forgiveness and grace. Listen to the radical message of impartiality that proclaims all are created in God’s image. Listen to the voice of hope that envisions a different future even when everyone else is shouting that the world is falling apart.
The voice of the Lord is upon the waters. Jesus rises from the river with a voice—an identity, a calling.
And we, too, find our voice. In baptism. Here. Together.