It might seem more than a little strange to have a service focused on baptism when there is no one, not even a baby, to baptize. I can’t even remark that we have thrown the proverbial baby out with the bath water. We have no baby for bathing in these waters today, nor anyone else for that matter. What we do have is one another, and a congregation on the verge of being born again, which is what the water accomplishes when someone is baptized.

That’s a bold statement, to say that you are on the verge of being born again. First of all, that’s not the kind of language Presbyterians typically use – being born again. It sounds too much like the Baptists, perhaps, or maybe it seems counter to our notion (one that I happen to like a great deal) that conversion is really a life-long process, and not just being able to recite the time and date of one’s personal new birth, if indeed one can even come up with such a moment. Secondly, you may not want to be born again; one life is enough for some people, and the thought of having to retool for a new day might seem rather daunting, if not unnecessary. Thirdly, you may not like that language of being born again because it implies a radical transformation, moving from something old to something new, and most of you, I know, are not particularly unhappy with where you are right now. It would be one thing if there were a crisis, and transformation were needed, but it is hard to get excited about change when there is no ostensible darkness, either in the present or even on the horizon.

The image God brings to you today is of the church as an ark. You know the story. It is, perhaps, the best-known story in all the Hebrew Bible, that great mythical story that sends us back to the sacred origins of who we are. If you were to rummage around in the Sunday School building long enough, you no doubt would find, somewhere, a miniature ark and miniature animals, two by two, male and female, a reminder that God never gives up on the world, despite all of our individual and collective foolishness. And even if unable to locate a physical toy ark, we all have our mental images of a balding, portly Noah and a busy-body Mrs. Noah, a ship made of cypress wood, giraffes ducking heads to climb aboard, a pair of docile lions not even licking their chops as they walk peacefully behind two little lambs, and a couple of doves about to fly into a little window cut just beneath the roof.

What’s hard to visualize, at least for me, is the water. I guess that is because water is so ambivalent, that is, it holds together different, contrary meanings. On the one hand, the water is obviously that which floats the ark, preserving that remnant of living things from which we all, at least metaphorically, have come. On the other hand, the water destroys completely and utterly, save for Noah and his motley crew. It is always hard to imagine such wholesale destruction from the hand of God, even in story-form, but here it is. “The rain falls on the just and the unjust,” as Jesus will later say when asked later about this story of the flood.

In the same way, baptismal waters declare God’s desire to save and preserve and extend life; but baptism also declares God’s judgment on what is old and worn out and God’s condemnation of people who are too full of themselves to see the new thing God is doing.

Of course, if there is an ark and if there is water, somewhere on the horizon there should also be a rainbow. A rainbow, that great symbol of hope, is also something hard to grasp, but essentially it is a sign that once God’s destruction of the world is over, then it is over for good.

The building of the ark and the rainbow provide the point in the biblical story at which the word “covenant” makes its first appearance. And covenant is a word that has to do with oath-taking, that is the making of a binding promise. At some time, most of you made such a binding promise to God. I suspect you took it quite seriously at the time, whether speaking for your self or your child, and probably still do, if asked. That original covenant you made is still binding; the baptismal water has not evaporated from your life, regardless of whatever you might think. But just in case you do need a reminder, the words will be asked of you again momentarily.

Noah had to be something of a list maker, trying to keep track of what animals were in and which were still out. Bethel now has some lists, too. The lists we have are not so radical as Noah’s with its delineation of who’s in and who’s out, who lives and who dies, but a crew does have to be recruited, people do have to be found willing to steer the ark, feed the animals, to muck it out the you know what, test to see if the waters are receding, and other such tasks. This poster board, here, up front is a way for you to say that, yes, I do want to be on this ark at this time. It is a way of saying, in a general way, that I am committed to the search for new horizons, to rising above even the rising waters and embarking on a new future. And I am willing to feel a bit crowded, even crowded out of my comfort zone about what the ark should look like who gets to use what space and other questions that have to be dealt with if you’re going to live together on the ark. If you want to be that kind of passenger on this ark, then after worship is over, you should sign your name as a visible pledge, your covenant to sail towards new horizons.

Now, if that is not where you are, then you shouldn’t fell any pressure to enlist and you should not sign it. That doesn’t mean that I or someone else is going to throw you overboard, but it does mean that you wish simply to be fed and cared for, and not to do any feeding or caring yourself, at least on these matters that are before us today. That’s ok. The ark is big enough for you, too.

And the same goes for the insert in your bulletin. Look at it with me. It offers even more specific ways that you can work to build this ark into the kind of vessel God wants it to be. Now, to be honest, we’re talking a longer period of commitment than forty days and forty nights, but we’re also not asking for a forever commitment, till death us do part. If you feel that you are too old, too tired, too busy, too whatever, then do not make a mockery of the idea of covenant by signing your name on this insert to something that you cannot do. You will always be baptized and nothing can take that water away from you. As the ship’s captain, I would much rather have a small crew genuinely committed than a large crew of the half-hearted. Sign up as you feel led. When the offering comes around, you can drop your list in, or you can wait to drop it in during one of the four Sundays of Advent. I don’t know if Noah ever passed the plate on his ark, but as you know, we do that regularly here. The church is the only organization that I can think of that does it this way – no dues, no fees, no tax, no bills, no notices, and here, not even a financial pledge card. And the same with what you do with your obligation to the covenant you have made on this matter of the list. It is all up to you.

Obviously, the ark took a while for Noah to build. He got ridiculed more than once. I am sure he got impatient with his family and even with God, and perhaps they with him. Over the generations, past and present, different ones of you have labored at different times to build this ark; some are new and some have been around a long time. Eventually, the question will come up about ownership of the ark. Those who have been around and have labored the longest might claim to have special privilege in deciding both what the ark will look like and exactly where it will sail. Others who haven’t been around as long might claim the privilege of a special angle of vision because they are not so jaded by tradition. Of course, both groups would be wrong, because ownership is really beside the point when it comes to God’s ark. No one has any special privileges; all are equally crew members doing the Lord’s work of feeding, tending, setting doves of peace loose in the world, and looking for dry land.

But, whatever the future tensions will be, and there will be tensions because the ark was a crowded place and this ark, too, remains crowded with people and agendas, whatever comes, can only be read, like the rainbow, as a sign of God’s never-failing covenant. There is something in the water that keeps the body bound together even when not everyone is doing the same thing nor has the same motive nor looks at life the same way.

Even as the ark is a gift from God, it does take human hands to build it. Many of you have had your part in building this vision for this ark, and without diminishing the role anyone has played, since this is a Presbyterian ark, it is the elders, and I am one of them, who have borne and who bear the chief obligation to ensure that the ark is water tight but also airy enough so that the wind of the Spirit can still blow through. All fifteen elders have put pen to paper and given you and God their own form of a written covenant that expresses their vision of God’s preferred future for this congregation. That booklet of statements is something you can pick up on the table in the narthex as you leave this morning. And I urge you to do so. One of the absolutely best things that has happened over the last year and a half of this Season of Dreaming at Bethel, took place earlier this month on November 5 when the session reached consensus around what should be the ministry initiatives given to you, when these statements were shared, and we did so without taking a single vote since the movement of the Spirit had become so transparent and self-evident.

In planning today’s service, I cast around for a good hymn to bridge the sermon to what will follow. I don’t know of any songs about the ark in the hymnal, but I do have a personal favorite that captures both the tone, and the texture, and the language of what this ark is to be about. So, like the waters of your baptism, let the words of the next hymn seep into and saturate your soul. And as we begin to sing, I ask the elders currently on the session to come forward, two by two, male and female, to sign your name to this covenant that launches this ark out onto the waters of God’s preferred future for the Bethel Presbyterian Church.

And then, after the service ends, others of you will want to come forward and also sign your name. For those interested in stepping on board, the ride on the ark promises a wild and liberating journey.

To God, who delivers us from all evil, and who especially saves us from ourselves upon the water of the flood, to the God of Noah and Abraham and Sarah, to the God of Jacob and Isaac and Rebecah, to the God of the old and to the God of the new, to our God alone be praise, honor, and thanksgiving, now and forever. Amen.