That’s when I remembered the series of questions at the opening of the baptismal liturgy, questions that would have been asked at my own baptism more than a half-century ago. Questions that have, in some form, been asked for centuries through the history of Christianity:
Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?
Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?
Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God?
Yes. Yes. Yes. I renounce Satan and spiritual forces of wickedness; I renounce the evil powers of this world that murder the creatures of God; I renounce anything that draws me away from love.
Yes. I renounce them. Satan, evil, and all that is not love.
The three renunciations before baptism, the first words from generations of those who have come to water’s edge to follow, for forgiveness, for whatever reason. To be sprinkled with grace, dunked in mercy — named and washed by divine love.
And the rite starts with repudiating the devil and evil and sin. We don’t talk about Satan and evil and not-love very much in mainline Protestant churches. It has been thus for a long time, as long as I can remember. But they remain — the beginning of the our life in community, in our life with God.
I found myself repeating the renunciations all week. Every time I turned on the news.
Military incursions and bombings?
I renounce them.
A Big Lie and an Insurrection defended by Orwellian propaganda?
I renounce them.
Masked state agents rounding up human beings like animals and shooting those who protest?
I renounce them.
I renounce them all. I’m in a mood to renounce Satan, evil, and sin — on every street corner and on any podcast and even to people in the grocery store. We need serious renunciation right now.
The renunciations aren’t vaguely “spiritual” or metaphorical. These rejections of evil are followed by five practical vows of solidarity and community with others:
Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers?
Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?
Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?
Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?
Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
These are things to do. Markers on that other road home. Actions that we take. If Satan and evil and sin are more real, so are justice, peace, and love.
At baptism, the turning away from evil opens the path toward a renewed self and commitments of compassion for others. Rejecting evil isn’t enough; embracing love is the journey.
When Jesus showed up to be baptized, John was surprised. He didn’t want to baptize Jesus, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”
But Jesus insisted. Why? He sure as heck didn’t need to be baptized to get himself saved or go to heaven.
Instead, he put himself with the rest of us at the riverbank. To be baptized — to reject evil and turn toward love — was a radical act of solidarity with us, those who arrive at the river confused, hurting, angry, afraid, or even terrified. Perhaps on our own'; perhaps carried by others. But there, outside of any religious building, at this oasis in a the desert, Jesus stood with and for us, needing those waters as we do. To open the way for the kingdom of God — to create a road for, as Isaiah promised, “justice for the nations.”
Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.
With us.
I renounce Satan, evil, and sin. I vow to live with humility and love, working for justice and peace for all.
When Jesus came up from the water, there’s a miracle. A dove, a voice, a naming: “This is my Son, the Beloved.”
God’s love made manifest to Jesus, wrapped in God’s belovedness.
We tend to fixate on miracles. But the miracle only happened because Jesus stood in solidarity with us.
And that solidarity raises a question: If Jesus stood with us and for us, weren’t God’s words also for all of us?
With Jesus, we are named beloved of God.
Jesus. Us. All. At that river. Beloved.
Solidarity is that. We stand together. We are one. God with us. Unity with the sacred, with divine intention and purpose.
Renounce. Down Satan, evil, and sin into that river. Be overcome by the waters.
Rise. The skies open, the spirit descends, the river overflows its banks. The world is beloved of God. Jesus is beloved. You are beloved. All are beloved.
I need that Epiphany. Turn from evil. Turn toward love. Renunciation gives us a way forward, something to do — together.
As insisted by the ancient prophet:
See, the former things have come to pass,
and new things I now declare;
before they spring forth,
I tell you of them.
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