Baptism and 150 Anniversary
1992 (Year C) 5 July / Pentecost 4
St Peter de Beauvoir Town
When I first came to St Peter’s as a very green prospective vicar, Sue and I came to one of the things that this church does tremendously well. We came to a meal. We were greeted at the door in the crypt by Albert, ‘Who are you?’ he demanded to know, ‘We haven’t got your name down on the list.’ When at last that was sorted out we were led off and put on a table with Winnie and Emmie. Winnie greeted us by saying ‘I’ve seen eight Vicars here and I fully expect to see ten!’ ‘Lord help me, I thought how long do they expect us to stay – if we manage six months here, we’ll be lucky.’
But far from it being the daunting and intimidating place we initially felt it to be, we discovered it to be a place of hope, love, energy and power. A place where God is seen to be at work and can be known by those who come to worship. I guess that most of the last 150 years have been marked by the same vitality and life which we encountered that night and have experienced since. It’s two of the things we come here today to give thanks to God for, because in the end it all comes from him.
Yet giving thanks for the last 150 years and the vitality, commitment, and hope of the people who have worked and worshipped at St Peter’s is only part of the reason we are here. We’ve come in our turn, to state our commitment to the future. To help us on our way, we have three living examples of that future in the shape of Ni-iaflah, Laura and Sabrina, the children who will shortly be baptised. They are a living, breathing parable; just by being here they point us towards the future. And moreover, they show us so clearly the reason why the church exists in the first place. It exists for those who are not part of it yet and so although we worship in a building now 150 years old, it can never become the home of a community which looks backwards. It must always look forward in hope.
These children, who at baptism, become new members of God’s family remind us that we are not a closed community. For a closed community no longer has any future. It kills the hope for life of those who stand on its periphery, and then it finally destroys itself. Hope is lived, and it comes alive, when we go outside ourselves and, in joy and pain, take part in the lives of others. It becomes concrete in open community with others. God has accepted us. He has hopes for us. In spite of all the fears that we face in our lives and are wailing for these children, God keeps us alive and gives us courage to be. And if we accept one another and hope for one another we will keep each other alive invested with the courage to live.
And Baptism is above all a time for hope. Just at the moment the parents of these children will probably be filled with quite mundane things like a good night’s sleep and an end to the incessant work that young children generate. But the church has hopes too. The church hopes that they may have the imagination and vision to see that their faith will take them beyond the confines of this world and its values. It will take them into a world where God’s own values prevail. A world where it’s not out of the ordinary to care for and give respect to the dying, the unlovely and the unlovable. The church hopes that they may have the vision to see that there is a connection between what we say we believe and how we live our lives.
May the God of hope, who caused this church to be and sustained all who have worshipped here over the last century and a half, fill us all with joy and peace, so that we can dedicate ourselves and these children to his service and glory. AMEN