Romans 6:3-1

In preparation for every baptism, I sit down with parents and share this passage from Romans and explain how in baptism we are joined to the death and resurrection of Christ. I draw a little picture of a hot tub, with steps going down on one side and out the other and describe how in the early church people were baptized by full immersion. Most people didn’t know how to swim, so it was a visceral experience of death: going under the water was like descending into the tomb, and coming up on the other side was like being born from the waters of the womb. The way baptisms were practiced emphasized this meaning — the end to an old way of life, and the beginning of the new.

Imagine my excitement when, after 28 years of telling this story, I got to see one of these hot tub like baptistries in Turkey this past January. The font is built into the floor, and it is in the shape of the cross – dying and rising with Christ. There are steps leading down into the water. I saw rainwater there, but back in the day, it would have been filled to waist deep. Here people experienced in the baptismal rite the spiritual truth Paul writes of in Rms: We have been buried with Christ by baptism into death, so that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life.

Martin Luther taught in his Small Catechism that we are to remember our baptism every day. In doing so, we make every day a new beginning – dying to the things that do not serve us or people around us, rising to new possibilities. But there are times when we have a more significant encounter with loss: death of loved ones, loss of a job or a deeply held hope, a changed relationship or health condition. Times when our old life explodes in catastrophe or simply runs out like a sigh. We have to start over, reinvent ourselves, open ourselves to a new beginning. To bury an old life, and start a new one with Christ. I’ve invited Lori to tell us one such story.

(Lori speaks about taking a half-day vacation on her wedding anniversary after months of living alone since July and soaking in the beauty of the day. While driving south on the highway, a sense of peace washed over her — the sun, the mountains, and a quiet voice inside reassuring her that she was going to be alright. After lunch at Cracker Barrel and an impulsive stop for towels in Kentucky, she returned home forever changed, her coworkers noticing the shift in her spirit.)

I love Lori’s story. It is the story of a death of one life, the still small voice that says, “It isn’t over yet.” It is the story of new life that God offers us again and again. And the towels? Well, that detail was just too perfect, because this is a baptism story, a life from death story. And what do you need after you have gone down under the waters of baptism, the waters of sure death, and to your utter surprise come out the other side whole and alive? A full body towel!

Baptism is the center of this Vigil we share tonight, because we aren’t here simply to imagine Christ in the tomb and coming back to life. We are here to do it ourselves: to walk from darkness to life, and from death to life; to be “united with him in a death like his that we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his,” as St Paul says. Lori’s story reminds us that we don’t do this resurrection business by ourselves. It is the pattern of God’s work in the world, first through Jesus and now in us. We are not alone in the deaths of our lives. We have one another, fellow companions: Lori, who was baptized this past fall in this very place; me, baptized 55 years ago; all of us. We are joined to Christ, made free, given a fresh start, a new life – Jesus’ resurrected life in us. Because Christ is risen. He is risen indeed! Alleluia, and Amen.