Epiphany 5A 2026

THE REV. E. WAYNE ROLLINS

I often wonder if one of the problems the contemporary institutional church faces is one we’ve created for ourselves. It’s not that different ways of explaining our faith seem to contradict each other. (They do.) Nor is it that we’ve discovered through the years that words in original languages didn’t mean what we thought they did, but we’ve held onto incorrect meanings because, well, that’s what we’ve always done. (That’s true, too.) 

One of the earliest controversies of the church was about baptism. It’s our rite of initiation into the community of the faithful. In some cases, it’s a naming ceremony, too, as birth certificates are a fairly recent thing in our society, and baptismal records were perhaps the only written evidence of date of birth, parentage, and so on. We have a seal used on transcripts of those records as a mark of their official nature. 

Discussions over the effect of baptism included arguments over whether a person could be baptized a second time, and if a person sinned after baptism whether that person was doomed for all eternity. Nevermind the amount of water used, or the question of pouring, sprinkling, or full immersion in the ritual. 

These questions persist in our own time. You might recall a discussion just a year or so ago about the validity of hundreds of baptisms in a parish of another denomination in this country because the priest said, “we baptize you,” instead of “I baptize you.” And, in some instances, I have had to ask whether a person was baptized using a Trinitarian formula, our own requirement for the validity of the sacrament. Even in scripture, the question was raised whether a person received the baptism of John or in the name of Jesus. 

All of these questions, while worthy of discussion, put the emphasis on what we do instead of what God has done in the birth, life, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus. And so I also wonder whether many of these questions and debates are really about our need to control who’s in and who’s out, turning our fellowship into more of a social club than a living agent of Good News for all people. 

This isn’t new, either. In The Acts of the Apostles, Peter is called before a council to explain why he baptized a Gentile household. We hear a part of his defense every year on Easter Sunday. So, maybe we’re not just trying to control who’s in and who’s out, but we’re really denying a universal effect of God’s act of salvation. In essence, it seems we’re trying to control God. That spills over into our debates about who is worthy of ordination, even though the call stories we hear from candidates echo those made by the ones now making decisions. 

From the time of Abraham, through the prophets, to Mary and Joseph and the first disciples, we’re told that God made the first move in calling individuals to a new relationship of faithful living—a covenant relationship established by God. I suppose any of those I named could have said no, and it could be that we don’t read of initial negative responses because, well, why bother with those? The first indication I read of any choice in the matter is in W. H. Auden’s For the Time Being, where the angel Gabriel says to Mary, “You must choose him who chooses you.”

I haven’t devoted any time (yet) to a sermon on the question, “what if Mary had said ‘no’?”

But it is worth our time to consider whether in all this we have simply made things more difficult than they need to be. So much of popular discourse on religious matters seem to focus on a God who is, frankly, pretty weak. It’s almost as if the act of creation wore God out, eliminating any energy for much of anything else until the resurrection, except for that Red Sea crossing thing.
Even accepted atonement theories seem to weaken God. A penalty had to be paid. A ransom paid to the devil. An ultimate sacrifice had to be made to satisfy all beings of divine origin.

All these points, and many others, avoid dealing with a much simpler question. What if salvation is made possible for everyone, and everything, just because God says so? We might require baptism in order to be a member of our church, but is God unable to work in and through us until that happens? Is salvation only made possible through faithful church membership?

I think you know my answer to those questions, but there are those who might be thinking of channeling their inner Torquemada and looking for enough dry wood to barbecue a heretic.

I believe the Apostle Paul’s point in all his letters is that God has accomplished all that is necessary for the salvation of the world. And, even Jesus himself, when asked “who can be saved?” replied that for humans it was impossible. But, he continues, for God, nothing is impossible.

Think about that. Our “yes” to God is our acknowledgement that God is already working in, through, and for us. Nothing we do here will save us, but everything we do here is in gratitude for the gift of salvation given freely to us. We don’t show up in order to earn anything, nor do we stay away because everything has been completed. We gather to discover again what it means to be the salt of the earth, the light of the world. Children of God.

And that covers such a wide variety of expressions that our understanding of it can only be found in community. Salvation is not something we get for ourselves so that we get into heaven when we die. Salvation is the assurance that death does not have the final answer, so that we boldly proclaim life to its very face. That’s true whether it be in the face of illness, violence, greed, or individual and institutional fear.

​There exist in our own time those powers that weaken when God’s light-filled, dare I say salty children show up and name them for who and what they are. I said recently to a Wednesday gathering that evil is incapable of learning, so it keeps repeating its same mistakes over and over again. It even tried once to forever weaken God. But then God got its attention by pointing to an empty tomb.

Our darkening world needs more and more of the light that continues to shine from the many tombs of our own time. Choose to be the light that has already chosen you to bear it.