A sermon by Associate Minister Elsa A. Peters, January 11, 2009
Mark 1:4-11
I used to go to temple. I was in seminary. You might say that I was experimenting. Well, you could say that or you could just say that I loved worship. I love good worship. And there was this one temple in Midtown Manhattan that had really good worship. I loved going there. It was different. I didn’t know what was happening half the time, but it was always exciting.
And why shouldn’t it be? There was this one service. The Scripture Lesson was the story of Exodus, but they didn’t just tell the story. No. Instead, we danced through two bolts of flowing blue fabric. We all got up and danced through the parting sea. It was so exciting. And as we danced, we sang Wade in the Water which is not a song one usually sings in temple. They were uncomfortable. But not me. It was like my favorite song just came on the radio. I was ready to crank up the dial and sing along. And I did. I sang just as we called ourselves to worship together this morning.
I sang. And it was there that this song made sense. God was going to trouble the water. God did trouble the water. The sea parted. The Israelites made it to safety and a whole bunch of Egyptians drowned. That’s some troubled water. And yet, we’re supposed to wade in – to immerse ourselves in that trouble. Wade in the water, we sing.
Wade in the water for freedom. That’s where the spiritual comes from. Travelers on the Underground Railroad would wade in the water so that the dogs would lose their scent. The water led them to safety. Like the Israelites before them, the escaped slaves would wade in the water for freedom. But, today we are not telling the story of the Exodus. We’re not dancing through fabric. Today, we’re singing this song as we remember our baptisms. Is God really going to trouble the water this water? Is that what happens at baptism? Is that what happened when Jesus was baptized? Did God trouble the water?
Well, the only way to know is to wade in the water ourselves. So I invite you to immerse yourselves. Immerse yourself into this story where John the Baptizer appears in the wilderness. Mark doesn’t give us any specifics. There’s “no introduction of John, no indication of any connection between Jesus and John and no explanation of the location of the baptisms.” The Gospel simply tells us that John appears in the wilderness. Immerse yourself there. See the people are coming toward John – the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem. See those people coming. Imagine them standing on the banks of the River Jordan.
Immerse yourself. See John. See the crowds. And then, take Jesus’ viewpoint. See this scene from his perspective. Immerse yourself. John the Baptizer is standing beside you. Water up to your waist. Crowds in the distance. Mark isn’t clear about who was there. We know about the crowds before, but once Jesus is in the water, it’s not clear if they are still there. There’s a small time change. In those days, Mark tells us but this doesn’t tell us how much time has actually passed and if the crowds were still there. Personally, I find that hard to believe that the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem has just disappeared, but immerse yourself so that you can see this scene from Jesus’ eyes. See the crowds. Or if it suits you better, just see John the Baptizer.
Immerse yourself to see John baptizing you. Go under with Jesus. Hold your breath if you need to. Let the water embrace you. Feel the chill of its touch. Let the water surround you as it did for Jesus that day in the Jordan. It’s familiar enough. You’ve been immersed before. You’ve dunked into the water and allowed it to hold you. Remember how that feels. And as you do, feel the support of someone else’s hands. It was John that held Jesus. He held his back or maybe his head. He didn’t let Jesus go, just as you wouldn’t let a small child swim off by herself. Immerse yourself. Feel someone holding you there under the water. And then, feel those same hands raise you to the surface.
Catch your breath. Allow the water to roll out of your eyes – and notice right there (right there) how the light is broken. Notice how the water fractures light. Now I know that I won’t have to worry about any of you dunking your head in the baptismal font today – but try this next time you are under water. Try this in the shower or in the bath or on a really cold swim at Willard Beach.
Try to see through the water. Notice how hard it is. Notice the light breaking through. It’s almost as if the heavens are torn apart. They appear to be broken. Shattered by the water. God is going to trouble the water but you’ve already waded in. You’ve already immersed yourself enough to see that the brokenness that Jesus sees, but that’s not all. Jesus sees the broken heavens, but he also sees promise descending like a dove. Jesus sees both at once. Brokenness and promise. Wade in the water and you may see it too.
Immerse yourself. See it. Feel it. Hear that voice calling to you: You are my beloved, with you I am well pleased. “You are my beloved,” this voice calls from heaven just as Jesus is about to begin his ministry.
Jesus is immersed in these waters – there in the Jordan – before he goes to work to realize the hope, peace, love and joy that we spent all of Advent waiting for. Now is the Epiphany. Now is the time to see the possible. Now it is time to see the presence of God in all things, even ordinary things like water. It could be trouble, but we don’t know until we wade in. Only if we wade into these waters will we be able to see both brokenness and promise at the same time. This is the mystery of baptism. We trouble the waters. We wade in and trust that the freedom we need will not only call to us but assure us that with us God is well pleased.
It might not happen as it did for Jesus. In fact, I can assure you that it won’t. Our baptism is not the same as it was for Jesus. The heavens won’t tear apart for us. We won’t instantly see promise as water rolls out of our eyes. And yet, in this moment where the invisible becomes visible, we allow ourselves just enough time to be that voice for each other. We trouble the waters of the world enough to call each other beloved. This is where we see each other’s brokenness. This is where we assure each other of the promise. This is our Epiphany. Each of us is beloved. Hear it. See it. Feel it. Immerse yourself enough to be that voice for another, just as Jesus did.