In both the stories we have read from the Bible this morning, there is a real sense of excitement. And today, for us, that is good. Because there is a real sense of excitement in our service. What we’re doing today is very special. A baptism is always special, but I think this one is especially so, because, as a congregation, we have a long connection with this family and have been with them in dark times and in times of joy, of which this is one.
 
From Luke’s Gospel, we read about two disciples, one called Cleopas, the other very possibly his wife, Mary. They were on their way home, saddened and confused by the death of their friend Jesus. They’d heard, from some of their friends, some story about Jesus possibly being alive, but they didn’t really know what to make of it.
 
But greatly to their surprise, over dinner at their home, they realised that the stranger with whom they had been walking and taking, whom they had invited in for supper, was Jesus. In great excitement, they hurried back to Jerusalem, saying, “It’s true, Jesus is risen!”
 
One of the people to whom they told this was Peter, one of the most senior of the disciples, though probably he was still quite a young man. Within a few weeks, he had taken on the leadership of this little group which believed what Cleopas and his wife and others had witnessed and were saying – that Jesus was risen.
 
On the day of Pentecost, Peter became the chief spokesperson and found himself speaking to many people about Jesus. It is a big transformation for Peter. So often in the gospels, he’s confused by what Jesus was saying. So often he declares himself bold and courageous, only to beat a hasty retreat when things got tough.
 
Not now. He has good news and he is going to share it. And he has a big audience. He has them in the palm of his hand. He’s speaking so compellingly and with such conviction and authenticity. And the people he’s addressing see that he is someone just like them. He’s an Israelite, speaking to an audience of Israelites.
 
I’m emphasising that because, where we have joined in listening to his speech or sermon this morning, we’ve got to the point where he makes a startling accusation. He tells his listeners that they are the ones who crucified this Jesus about whom he is speaking. But because he is one of them, the accusation is as much against himself as it is against anyone else. And rightly so. He’s remembering how he failed to stand by Jesus when he was on trial, how he denied even knowing him. He’s profoundly ashamed of what he did, not many weeks ago.
 
The people listening are deeply affected by what they hear. Rather than being offended by the accusation, they accept its truth and ask, “What should we do?” To them, this is all entirely new. But Peter has had time to think – not much time, but enough. He has an answer.
 
Repent, and be baptised, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.”
 
With these words, Peter describes what the church, in services like this, has done ever since. Jesus commanded it – now Peter is enacting it. This is the beginning of baptism as we know it.
 
People responded in huge numbers that day, and people are still responding to these words, seeking baptism for themselves and for their children. These words contain the seeds of all we have come to understand baptism as meaning.
 
Baptism is a call to a new life of following Jesus. Passing through the waters of baptism portrays death to the old ways and birth into new life in Christ.
 
Baptism marks all who are baptised as belonging to Christ, and belonging to the church, the body of Christ.
 
Baptism sets us on the way to lifelong participation in Christ’s mission of reconciliation and justice, transforming our lives and, though our transformed lives, transforming the lives of others.
 
Alongside being a call, which can be heard at any point in life, including in the early months of childhood, baptism is also a promise.
 
Baptism is the sign of the promise of forgiveness.
 
Baptism is the sign of the promise that God will always love us. Baptism is not a precondition for the fulfilment of these promises, but a sign, a recognition that they have already been made to us by God and that nothing we have done or nothing we will do will ever change that.
 
Finally, baptism is the sign of God’s promise of the gift of the Holy Spirit, that spark of the divine, that little bit of God which is in each one of us.
 
It is all these things that we celebrate today. It is all these things which give cause for excitement. We celebrate the promises of God in the life of Miles Cawkwell, remembering with gladness that the same promises have been made to us all. And we look forward, with joy and hope, to the life that is before Miles, knowing that because God is in him and with him, he will be able to fulfil the call of God to live his life for him.
 
Amen.

 
There was only one person who knew the whole story. Only one person who was there at the beginning and at the end too.
 
Matthew leaves open a tantalising possibility. Could the “other Mary”, who went to the tomb with Mary Magdalene, have been Mary the Mother of Jesus? The woman who had been the first to wash and dress Jesus, preparing to do this thing for the last time.
 
Mark and Luke tell us that it wasn’t, that it was Mary, the mother of James. But John tells us that Mary, the mother of Jesus was a witness to her son’s death, that she was with him on Golgotha, that he spoke to her from the cross, making arrangements for her care. Christian tradition holds that she cradled his body when it was brought down from the cross. Some of the most moving Christian art depicts this scene, the Pietà.
 
On Friday evening, we listened to the imagined voices of women, witnesses to the last days of Jesus’ life. We noted that the stories of the faith we have were written by men, and most prominently featured men, often doing things men do, seeking power, striving for advantage, resorting to violence. But occasionally, these masculine narratives are interrupted by women, often subtly challenging the way men do things.
 
The faith, as we have received it, has been profoundly shaped, and sometimes misshaped, by men. But perhaps, on a deeper level, it has been formed by women, and by one woman in particular, Mary the mother of Jesus. We have to retune our eyes and our ears to see and hear how deeply she is the mother of our faith. For she was there at the beginning. As a young woman, it was she who had been approached by an angel, telling her that she had found favour with God, that the Lord was with her.
 
She was the first to hear that God was about to inaugurate the never ending reign of his son on earth. It was she who, after the initial shock, had rejoiced that God was about to do new things in the world, lifting up the humble, filling the hungry with good things, extending his mercy to all the descendants of Abraham. It was she who heard from the shepherds that her son was born to bring peace to all humanity, with whom God was well pleased. Luke tells us she remembered these things and thought about them often, long, long after.
 
Is she the source of these early stories of Jesus? No one else is more likely to be.
 
Why does this matter? Why talk about annunciation and Christmas on Easter morning? Because you can’t properly understand the end of the story without understanding the beginning. And if you hold the beginning together with the end, and the middle, as one story, it leads to quite a different understanding of Easter from one which is, perhaps all too often, offered.
 
It has become standard to say certain things about the events of Good Friday and Easter and to offer particular interpretations in a way that implies they are beyond question. Such as that the purpose of Jesus life was to die. Such as that there was no other way to save sinful humanity. Such as that the cross is the culmination of the gospel. Many people sincerely believe these things, and these beliefs nourish their faith, but they are not the only way to understand the gospel. Others find them profoundly off-putting, a barrier to faith; because they start from the premise that God is angry with humanity and needed a sacrifice to mitigate his wrath.
 
But is this true? Is God’s predominant feeling towards us a deep and burning anger?
 
Long, long before Jesus was born, there is a story about God being angry and, at the end of it, God is profoundly sorry for his anger and, with the sign of the rainbow, promises never to be angry to the point of destructiveness again.
 
And, as we have just seen, the Christian story does not begin with anger. Quite the opposite. The angels say nothing about God being angry, but tell the shepherds, as Gabriel told Mary, not to be afraid. They spoke of good news, of great joy, of rejoicing in God, of peace on earth, of God’s great pleasure in humanity. It seems that God sent Jesus, that God gave us Jesus, not because he was angry with humanity, but because he was pleased. His coming in human form is a gift motivated by the most profound love possible.
 
It doesn’t stop there. There are all sorts of other good objections to the idea that the purpose of Jesus’ life was to die. The Old Testament tells us that God utterly detests human sacrifice. If the point of Jesus was his death, what value should we place on his teaching? Why did he do so much and say so much that was life enhancing if death was all he was for? And what did Jesus himself say about the purpose of his life? He said, “I have come that you may have life, and have it to the full.”
 
It is time, in the brightness of Easter morning, when Jesus rose and faith was born, to affirm that Jesus came, not to die, but to show us how to live.
 
And he showed us how to live by showing us God. He showed us that God wants us to live lovingly because that is how God lives. He showed us that God wants us to act justly because that is how God acts, and there can be no justice in killing your own entirely innocent son. He showed us that the ways of God are truth and beauty, kindness and compassion, gentleness and meekness. He showed us that God is love, not anger.
 
Jesus calls us to live godly lives, lives in imitation of God. Never once does he tell us to do something but that God will do the exact opposite. He showed us that we are not to repay evil with evil, not to retaliate when we are sinned against, to be kind to the ungrateful and wicked. He shows us that God can stand with sinners and say, “Neither so I condemn you,” because that is what Jesus actually did. He shows us that God can forgive even those who try to destroy him, because that’s what Jesus did, praying forgiveness for those who nailed him to the cross.
 
Yet the fact is that Jesus died. He died because too many people, jealous of and fearful for their own power, opposed him. He died too because death, like birth, is an inescapable part of being human. Jesus’ birth and death equally show God’s commitment to entering completely into humanity.
 
But death could not have the last word. Resurrection had to follow so that humanity could enter into divinity.
 
Early that first Easter morning, two women, two Marys, approached the tomb. Twice over, they hear the words that Mary, the mother of Jesus, heard, back when it all began. Do not be afraid.
 
They were filled with joy as, in the emptiness of the tomb, they began to glimpse the very truth of Jesus, the reason he came to us.
 
They saw that love is stronger than death. They saw that life was triumphant and death was vanquished. This morning of resurrection, they were the first witnesses to the ultimate truth of God, that God is the God of life, that God will always overcome death with life, that God will always overcome evil with good, that God will always overcome hatred with love, that God will always overcome violence with peace. The resurrection of Jesus confirms the truth first demonstrated by his birth, that the Christian story is a story of love, not anger.
 
The killing of Jesus was the most hateful act humanity could commit against God. The raising of Jesus was the most loving act God could perform towards humanity,     the ultimate non-retaliation towards being sinned against, for it says to us, even if we do our absolute worst, God will still love us, God will never abandon us, God will always come back to us and for us.
 
Amen.