Acts 2:14a,36-41; Psalm 116:1-3,10-17; I Peter 1:17-23; Luke 24:13-35
The Rev. Candice B. Frazer
The Righteous Gemstones is an HBO television series that parodies the modern tele-evangelical movement. In the opening scene of the first episode, Eli Gemstone, a megachurch pastor, and his two sons are hosting a 24-hour baptism marathon in a wave pool in Chengdu, China. The scene begins at hour seventeen, and everyone is starting to get a little punchy. They have apparently been baptizing people non-stop, and the line isn’t getting any shorter.
At some point, the wave machine gets turned on and what was calm, peaceful water becomes a rolling nightmare of wave upon wave breaking over the unsuspecting new Christians. The lights of the water park start flashing, techno-pop music pounds through the loudspeakers, and the panda bear fresco at the back of the wave pool lights up. Mass chaos ensues. One woman throws a man off the ladder as she climbs past him to escape the terror of the watery depths. Another Chinese man seems to get sucked toward the deep end with a look of sheer panic on his face.
The Gemstones are doing their best not to be dragged under water while shouting, “Wan!”—apparently their tech guy—though the way they keep calling his name makes you wonder whether they are now mass baptizing in the name of Wan. It is a hilarious scene that sucks you right into the series. It also offers a sharp commentary on what this mass, 24-hour baptism spectacle is really about,
The Gemstones are baptizing thousands, most likely as the grand finale of an evangelical tour of China. But the baptisms themselves seem mechanical and mindless—an effort to hit a quota before the clock runs out. Father and sons do not make eye contact with the converts. There is no personal interaction, no relationship, no engagement with those who have lined up for this supposedly transformative experience. People are simply dunked one after another while the brothers bicker about technique and the father shouts out warnings to them to keep the line moving.
One imagines they kept a careful count. And surely Eli Gemstone would return home eager to tell his congregation how successful the mission had been: on that day in Chengdu, China, three thousand persons were added to the body of Christ.
Our reading from Acts tells of another day when three thousand persons were added. Peter and the apostles preach Christ crucified to the people of Jerusalem. Peter tells them that Jesus—the one they rejected and crucified—is both Lord and Messiah. His words strike home. They are, as scripture says, “cut to the heart,” and they ask what they should do. Peter tells them to “repent and be baptized…in the name of Jesus Christ…” and about three thousand persons were baptized that day.
There is, however, one crucial difference between the spectacle of the Gemstones and the witness of Peter and the apostles. After the baptisms in China, the Righteous Gemstones leave and return home to America. But Peter and the apostles stay. They do not simply deliver a message, count responses, and move on to the next city. They remain with the people. They teach them. They pray with them. They share signs and wonders among them. They help them learn how to live together as a new community shaped by the resurrection of Jesus Christ. And that is the true difference between the two.
Baptism is not a light switch. We are not baptized and instantly transformed in our thoughts, habits, desires, or understanding. Baptism is the beginning of a life being reshaped by grace. And that kind of transformation takes time. More than that, it takes community.
One of the major changes in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer was to restore baptism to its proper place as a public act within the Sunday liturgy. Before then, baptism was often a private event. Families would schedule a separate time, gather with the priest, and the sacrament would happen quietly, apart from the congregation. But the Prayer Book recognized something essential: baptism is never private. It is incorporation into a people. It is entrance into the Body of Christ. It is not magic performed on an individual simply to save them from sin. It is the beginning of belonging.
That is why, during every baptism, the congregation is asked a solemn question: Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support this person in their life in Christ?
This is not a rhetorical question. It is one of the most sacred questions the church ever asks us. When we reply, “We will,” we make a promise to God that we will do the work of evangelism in Christian community—to help form that person in faith. We are promising to encourage them, pray for them, teach them, forgive them, and walk beside them. We are not simply promising to do this work, we are promising to do ALL IN OUR POWER to support that person in their life in Christ.
The question and answer regarding our witness and support is not confined to Sunday mornings. Many of us grew up with a sharp division between church on Sunday and work on Monday, between faith in one place and ordinary life everywhere else. It often bred the suspicion of hypocrisy, because Christians could appear devout for an hour and then live no differently the rest of the week. But baptism calls us beyond this hypocrisy. We are meant to support not only the child we see baptized at the font, but one another—all Christians—in the daily work of living in Christ on Sundays, Mondays, and all the rest of the days of the week.
Our baptismal covenant commits us to continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers. It calls us to persevere in resisting evil, to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, and to seek and serve Christ in all persons. In other words, it calls us into a shared life. We do not abandon one another. We belong to one another. That is what being church is all about.
Jesus walks down a road to Emmaus. Two disciples walk in grief and confusion after the crucifixion. Jesus comes alongside them, though they do not recognize him. He opens the scriptures to them and speaks words that make their hearts burn within them. Still, they do not yet see clearly. They arrive, sit at table, and break bread together. And in that moment, their eyes are opened. They recognize the risen Christ in the breaking of the bread. He vanishes from their sight, and what do they do next? They run back to Jerusalem. They run back to the others. They run back to community. Because resurrection faith is never a solitary possession. It is lived, discovered, nourished, and proclaimed together.
Baptism and the breaking of bread are the ways Christ forms us as his people. They are not one-time transactions. They are lifelong practices of grace. Through font and table, scripture and prayer, fellowship and service, Christ is making us into his Body.
About three thousand persons were added that day in Jerusalem. But that number was not Peter’s trophy. It was not a boast for the annual report. It was not a feather in his cap. It was the beginning. It was a new way of life—the baptized life. And it still is.
Amen