I stayed up late Tuesday night, as many of you did. The
Orange Bowl - Penn State vs. Florida State. The two great
dinosaurs of college football, 79-year-old Joe Paterno and 76-year-old Bobby Bowden - the two winningest coaches in the history
of the game - pitted in an epic struggle. Not exactly a battle
to the death, but, as it turned out, a battle to see who could
stay awake the longest. The game did not end until after 1:00
AM. It also turned out to be one of the few so-called BIG games
that actually lived up to the hype. Back and forth it went.
Both teams had the chance to win in regulation, but it went to
heart-pounding triple overtime with Penn State finally pulling
through, 26-23. TA DA!!! Past my bedtime but worth it!
It was an exciting night and one that did not lend itself to
just turning off the TV and going to bed. I stayed tuned for the
late news and got even MORE exciting news. Twelve of the
thirteen West Virginia coal miners who had been trapped
underground following an explosion earlier in the day were
reported alive. Wow! Who woulda thunk it? West Virginia had
already been the recipient of one miracle the night before when
WVU had beaten heavily-favored Georgia in the Sugar Bowl. Now
this. All the reports up till now had been grim with little hope
being held out for any survivors. The explosion could have
killed them. Carbon Monoxide gas levels in the mine were at
three times the lethal limit. There had been no responses heard
by listening devices. It did not look good. But now there was
news footage of an excited young lady running toward the little
Baptist church where family and friends had gathered to
prayerfully await any news. As she ran, she yelled that twelve
of the thirteen had survived. A miracle. What else could you
call it? It was exciting enough for me to get up and go from my
office to our bedroom to tell Christie who had just turned the
light out a few minutes before. "What channel?" she asked. Six.
This was good enough to wake up for.
Over the next hour or so the news continued. Penn State's
victory was terrific, but it paled in comparison. THIS was
phenomenal. I went to sleep that night...or morning, actually...
tired, but really happy.
As you know, the next morning it all changed. The report of
twelve survivors and only one fatality had been botched. It was
the reverse - twelve dead, one alive...barely...in the hospital
in critical condition. What a tragedy! And made even worse by
the false hope that we all had been given by the reports just
hours earlier.
I watched the early morning news reports and listened as
people tried to describe the emotions that had come to the fore.
There were the shouts and joy and hallelujahs that had been the
quick reaction to the initial report, then there were equally
loud shouts of grief and anger when the truth was finally
learned. Name-calling, even fist fights in the church as people
reacted to the horror. The pastor said that folks had to rely on
God in the face of this turn of events only to hear someone
bitterly shout back, "Oh yeah, what has God ever done for us?"
How could things have gotten so messed up? Well, as West
Virginia's Governor, Joe Manchin, who was in the church and was
swept up in the initial wave of euphoria said, "I wanted to
believe."(1) The governor left the church upon hearing the good
news to go to the command post to be nearer the center of action,
and as he was heading out, someone asked him whether the report
was true. He replied, "Miracles do happen." Folks took that
offhand remark as confirmation. Everybody wanted to believe it.
I did. So who then, in the face of all that euphoria, wants to
be the bearer of bad tidings? Who wants to be the one who says,
"Sorry?"
One of the things I have noticed after years of seeing
disasters unfold, natural and otherwise, is that there are lots
of people who suddenly become theology professors in the face of
them. That is especially true in a Bible-belt mining town that
takes its faith seriously enough to count on the church to be the
center of the community and the gathering place for any news.
There is the governor's reference to miracles. There was the
premature exultation of the young youth pastor who credited the
wonderful outcome that was initially reported to the power of
prayer. We have no word on his response when he learned that the
prayers had not been answered as he had originally announced.
There was the lament of the plaid-shirted fellow on CNN who was
saddened that, after the initial fantastic report that all but
one had survived, only three or four people came at the pastor's
invitation to pray for the family of the one who had been lost.
The rest just sat and celebrated. Then there was the distraught
lady who said she was a life-long Christian but now she wondered
if there really was a Lord - they had prayed for a miracle, had
gotten one, so they thought, and now had it snatched away. There
is a lot of GOD-talk at times like this.
I feel sorry for a lot of people in the face of this
tragedy. The miners, of course. Family and friends who lost
loved ones, certainly. I feel sorry for that poor fellow who is
president of the company that owns the mine. People were furious
with him for not getting the truth out as soon as he learned it,
but I can see his perspective too. The initial report was good
news, now the new reports are bad news - which report is right?
Word of the first misunderstood report had spread prematurely; if
word of the second is spread equally quickly, will that be
incorrect as well? And as he said, "Who do I tell not to
celebrate? We did not want to put the families through yet
another roller coaster of, 'Well, some of them are dead, some of
them aren't.' We couldn't go there. There's been too much
emotional punishment already."(2) Talk about being caught between
a rock and a hard place! Yes, I feel sorry for him.
One of the people I do NOT feel sorry for, strangely enough,
is the pastor of that little Sago Baptist Church, the Rev. Wease
Day. No question, he is a busy man these days, and I certainly
pray for strength and sustenance for him as he goes about his
work. But I do not feel sorry for him; truth is, this is the
moment for which his theological training has prepared him. At
the candlelight vigil on Wednesday night, Pastor Day said the
days ahead will bring funerals and mourning for the victims, but
he insisted they must also include a celebration of the lives
that were lost. Absolutely. And they will also bring reminders
of the truths of the faith that get us through moments such as
these. My prayer for him is that he goes about his work in such
a way as to convey God's love and concern that we have come to
know in Jesus, and that he be the kind of messenger to that
community that gives life to the beatitude that says, "Blessed
are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted."
And just where was God in all this? Right there. With the
miners as they came to the end and scrawled notes to their loved
ones. With the families and friends as they waited for word in
the church. With the rescuers as they went about their frantic
task. Our faith never says that God will keep us from trouble,
only that when trouble comes, we are not alone. "Yea, though I
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Thou art with
me."(3)
Perhaps it is providential that the Sunday following this
tragedy is the one the church sets aside each year to remember
the Baptism of the Lord. As you Bible scholars have no doubt
noticed, for all the emphasis that you and I place on Christmas
and the birth of Jesus, scripture does not. We find the
Christmas story twice: Matthew and Luke. In contrast, there are
at least six books that talk about Jesus' baptism - Matthew,
Mark, Luke, John, Acts, and Romans. Hmm. There is a message
there.
Scholars say that Mark's gospel is probably the earliest of
the four in our New Testament. His first mention of Jesus is the
baptism. Jesus comes to see his cousin John out in the
wilderness. John is living an ascetic life amid sand and snakes
but preaching a message so compelling that he has achieved first
century rock star status and, as the text has it, "The whole
Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to
him." Standing there in the notoriously muddy water of the
Jordan River, John offered a "baptism of repentance for the
forgiveness of sins."
Did Jesus need that? No. The church has insisted from the
beginning that Jesus was without sin, so, no need for repentance
or forgiveness. No wonder John described him as one who is "more
powerful than I, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to
stoop down and untie." If anyone could skip this particular mud
bath it was Jesus. But he does not skip it. Jesus willingly
steps down into the brown water to take on the same mud as the
rest of us.
Then, as our lesson has it, "just as he was coming up out of
the water, he saw the heavens TORN APART...not just "opened," the
Greek schizomai means SPLIT, RIPPED, SUNDERED...and the Spirit
descending on him like a dove. The voice from heaven, "You are
my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased." Great image!
It is as if God the Father is watching from above at this
fantastic moment and in divine euphoria rips and tears the very
fabric of the universe to lay claim upon Jesus.
This changed everything! Jesus' baptism ushered in a new
baptism. Christian baptism became not just a washing away of
sin, as John's baptism was, but the baptism that brings a special
relationship with God. Why? For no reason other than God
chooses to do it.
Martin Luther is one of the most fascinating characters in
the history of the church. Very human, very down-to-earth. A
man subject to all the doubts and fears of any of us, and perhaps
even more so. Martin Luther had a lifelong habit. Each morning,
as he arose, he would make the sign of the cross on his forehead
and say to himself, "Remember, Martin, you are baptized." When
he found himself in the depths of despair or confusion, he cried
out, "I am baptized." Intriguing. Not, "I believe," because, as
those who struggle with what happened in West Virginia have
found, there are times when we do not know whether we believe or
not. He did not say, "I am a Christian," because that can mean
wildly different things depending upon who is making the
statement. No. "I am baptized." This is one done deal. God
did it. A relationship was established that, regardless of the
ups and downs of life, will never change. I have been claimed.
I belong to God. "I am baptized."
Back in the '90's, the dim and distant past, some
Presbyterians decided that they missed the learning opportunities
that had been provided for their parents and grandparents in the
Shorter Catechism. It had fallen into disuse because the
language was archaic and was simply not attuned to the religious
education needs of modern students. So a request was made of our
General Assembly to come up with a new catechism to meet the
needs of a new generation. The results were presented and
approved in 1998. Three catechisms were presented, actually: one
for general use, one for confirmation students, and one for
children. I love the way the catechism for children begins -
"Question: Who are you? Answer: I am a child of God."
Wonderfully simple. This is a new generation's way of saying
with Luther, "I am baptized."
It is with great sadness that we mourn today with the
grieving and angry families and friends of those who died in the
West Virginia mine. We are in this mess together with them, as
is our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. After all, we have been
baptized, an event we will recall once more in just a few
moments. That is where we find strength for the struggle,
courage for the crises, and hope for the future. We are part of
God's family, each of us God's own child, never alone, and
nothing can separate us from that love of God in Christ Jesus our
Lord all the days of our lives.
Amen!
1. New York Times, 1/5/06
2. ibid.
3. Psalm 23:4
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