Once upon a time a student approached his teacher and announced that he was ready to assume the office of ministry.
"And what are your qualifications?" the teacher asked.
"I have mastered the art of physical discipline," the student replied. "I am able to sleep on the ground, to eat nothing but raw grains, and I can carry huge loads on my back." The teacher took the young man by the arm and led him toward a field. "Do you see the mule? He too sleeps on the ground, eats nothing but grains, and can bear large burdens on his back. Up to this point you may qualify to be an ass, but you are not yet ready for ministry."1
Today we celebrate the ministry which we all share as the people of God. Today we also set apart for particular ministries seven of our brothers and sisters through the historic laying on of hands. Now these folks that we are setting apart have already demonstrated their discipline and their ability to work hard. Otherwise they would not have been elected by you to serve as elders in this congregation. But like the student in our story, it is wise for us to remember that discipline and hard work are not the most important marks of ministry. Instead, what is moving in the lives of these candidates for ordination - and what is at work in the lives of us all - is the power, God's power, to shape and create the reign of God on earth - the power, God's power, poured into our lives at the moment of baptism and confirmation and ordination, and then sustained daily by the living grace of God.
Now, in these pre-inaugural days, the very word "power" both excites us and disgusts us. There is so much lust for power running through the fax machines and telephone lines and mailboxes of Washington that one wonders if the finite human ego can survive it all. As Christians we have always tended to frown on the word "power," and have focused instead on Jesus' special concern for the powerless. And yet, my friends, power, which comes from the Latin word posse, means simply "to be able." It is the birthright and need of every human being to be powerful, to be able, to experience both significance and influence. And power, when rightly understood, is at the very heart of the Christian gospel. Following the resurrection and before the ascension, the apprehensive disciples ask the risen Lord, "What will become of us when you are gone?" And Jesus, predicting the Day of Pentecost, answers, "You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you; and you will be my witnesses ... to the ends of the earth." It was only after these words that Jesus was able to leave the disciples, confident that his power to save would continue to be expressed through the faith and ministry of a living church.
Our New Testament lesson for this morning is Matthew's account of Jesus' baptism. It is nothing more and nothing less than a public affirmation of Jesus' very personal and very potent power. It is important to note, for all of us who are not being ordained this morning, that Jesus was never ordained to ministry either. Instead, his baptism served as his ordination. It was the single moment when he was named and set apart, so that he could use God's power in him in very particular ways.
When John pulls Jesus, drenched with the waters of the River Jordan, out of the water, the skies open and the voice of God is heard: "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am delighted." These words are taken straight from the most hopeful prophesies in Hebrew Scripture - words straight from the Isaiah text which we also read this morning. Jesus' baptism then is a baptism of public power - publicly witnessed and corporately experienced every time we baptize, every time we commission and ordain within our own community of faith. Yes, the hands of the community become the hands of God, passing on the power of the Holy Spirit, passing on the gifts and the ability to use these gifts, passing on the power to become God's presence on earth - yes, hands blessing us so that we can become a blessing to others. By quoting Isaiah 42, Matthew indicates just what kind of power Jesus is receiving - what Christian power was and is and continues to be. Let us now look and listen and hear so that we can recognize this power in our own lives.
First and foremost, Christian power is servant power - power fully and emphatically embraced so that it can be fully and emphatically given away. Isaiah's words were first penned when Israel was still in exile - without land, without influence, without hope. It would have made sense for Isaiah to pump the people up with images and encouragements of a superpower future - a vision of military and political might when the enemies of Israel would be crushed and destroyed. Instead, the image of power that the prophet presents is an image of service - the gracious and life-affirming power of justice and liberation and freedom given away to others. God says, to Israel as well as to each of us, "You are my servant, I chose you, I will uphold you, I will put my Spirit upon you. And, when you embody my power through servanthood, then you will become my delight."
There has been much talk and worry recently about the evolving role of the United States - the one remaining superpower in the world. In this post-Cold War period, when fanaticism and nationalism are causing violent outbursts all over the globe, just what should be the military and political role of our country? Should we have gone into Somalia? Were we wrong to invade Iraq and wipe out Saddam Hussein? How should we respond to the horrors of rape and murder in Africa? One columnist put it this way:
Should America act more or less with others, or should it act ... more on its own? Should the large idea of the United States be collective security which involves a readiness to find a common policy with other countries and with international institutions, especially the United Nations? Or should the large idea be national self-assertion (and self-interest), resting on a determination to keep the selection of means as well as ends mostly in American hands?2
Purely political considerations may well lead us to answers grounded in American self-interest, but a Christian answer to this dilemma is different. Christian power is only given to us so that it can build up the common good of all. It is servant power used to serve the needs of a united and interdependent world. It is power used with and for, not power used over and against.
And so Christian power is servant power. It is also gentle power. The servant described in Isaiah "does not cry or lift up his voice, a bruised reed he will not break, a dimly burning wick he will not quench." The servant uses strength and authority not to control the other, but to heal gently and release the power of life around him. Father Timothy Healy, who for a decade was President of Georgetown University, was, in the last few years of his life, head of the troubled New York Public Library system. Before his sudden death several years ago, this commanding and influential priest was the confidante of several United States presidents, a valued guest at the most exclusive dinner parties, a towering intellect who could intimidate the most famous scholars in the world. And yet, as one friend said at his memorial service: "(though) Tim was bigger than life, he was also gentle as anything. I don't know anybody who didn't feel bigger in his presence." Timothy Healey was a transparent channel for the vigorous and transforming power of God, but it was a gentle power - used to touch and encourage and bless the individual lives of thousands of people.
Finally, Christian power, as embodied by Jesus and described by Isaiah, is persistent power - power that does not grow faint, cannot be crushed - power that even a cross and a tomb cannot destroy - power that even 2,000 years of troubled, fainthearted Christianity has not been able to extinguish. It is power that permeates and inspires and nourishes life long after one's personal power is gone.
There is a folk tale from India that summarizes our thoughts this morning. It seems that there was a good king who ruled wisely and who ruled well. One day the king called his three daughters together and told them he was leaving on a long journey. "I wish to learn about God, so I will need to go away and spend a long time in prayer. In my absence I will leave the three of you in charge. Before I leave I would like to leave each of you with a gift; a gift I pray will help you learn how to wisely use your power to rule." Then he placed in each of their hands a single grain of rice.
The first daughter tied a long golden thread around her grain of rice and placed it in a beautiful crystal box. Every day she looked at it and reminded herself that she was powerful. The second daughter took one look at the common grain of rice, and threw it away, thus squandering her father's mysterious gift. The third daughter just looked at her grain of rice for a long, long time - until she finally understood what to do with it. She went outside and planted it in the ground. And it became a seed, giving life beyond itself, eventually turning into vast fields of hope and nourishment for others.
When the father returned years later, he asked his three daughters what they had done with their grains of rice. Though he was polite to his first two daughters, he did not respond to their explanations with much enthusiasm. It was only after the king saw the fields of grain resulting from his third daughter's wisdom that he responded with delight. Taking the crown off his head, he placed it on hers, saying, "Beloved, you alone have learned the meaning of power." From that day forward, the youngest daughter ruled the kingdom. She ruled long, and she ruled wisely, and she ruled well.3
Brothers and sisters, this day as we remember the blessings and power of our baptism, as we set apart brothers and sisters for particular tasks of ministry, I pray that all of us will continue to be God's delight - powerful servants - pouring out our power for the hope and nourishment of the world.
May it be so - for you and for me. Amen.
1. William R. White, Stories For The Journey (Minneapolis: Augsburg Press, 1988), p. 24.
2. Stephen S. Rosenfeld, Washington Post, January 8, 1993.
3. White, op. cit., p. 71, adapted.