Why the Water?

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January 11, 2015 -- Baptism of the Lord

Mark 4:1-11

⁴John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. ⁵And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. ⁶Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. ⁷He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. ⁸I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

⁹In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. ¹⁰And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. ¹¹And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Sermon: “Why the Water?”

I don’t mean to brag (which of course means, I mean to brag!), but as far as water goes, I’m pretty important.  I might just be the most important river that’s ever been.  You can call me Jordan. 

Oh, don’t look so surprised…rivers can talk!  It’s not hard for me to tell you my story, for water is always making noise, you know.  Gurgling, bubbling, rushing…even when frozen, we still creak.  Water is rarely silent.  So I’m going to do my favorite thing: talk about myself.

You know all that has happened in me – the Jordan River – right?  I have a long, long history.

Joshua led the Israelites across me to get to the Promised Land.  As soon as the priests bearing the Ark of the Covenant dipped their toes in my waters, I stopped for them, piling myself up in a big heap (I do like to show off) and letting them through safely.

In that land of Canaan, the tribes of Israel built an altar on my banks, recognizing it as a holy place. 

Prophets Elijah and Elisha, those wonder-workers, passed through me by making a dry path in the middle of my waters. 

The leper Naaman was healed after a soak in my stream.

In more recent time, my waters have been contested, with the need for a peace treaty in 1994 between Israel and Jordan, to guarantee that Jordan would get water from the Sea of Galilee.  People stopped fighting over me (for now).

But none of these events really changed me, or surprised me.  Water has always been seen as powerful and purifying as part of religious rituals.  And water continues to be the most contested resource in the world.   But there was one event that did something to me that I can’t really explain.

It was a baptism.  I was always something of a baptism destination – goodness, now I really am, because of what happened that day.

You see, there was a very odd fellow named John the Baptist.  I think his nickname gives you the idea – if you stood near him for longer than 5 minutes, it was pretty guaranteed you would wind up baptized.  He wore a coat made of camel’s fur and ate locusts and wild honey (you could call that the Johneo diet, I suppose).  He always had this wild look in his eye, like he was filled with some holy fire.  I saw it each time he bent his face over the surface of my waters.  He baptized so many, and I did what I did – washing them clean – and let God tend to the washing away of sin bit.

But then someone even odder than John came to be baptized by him.  His name was Jesus.  John had talked about this Jesus who would come, I remember (we waters listen well, you know, absorbing sound and all…haven’t you ever hummed under water?).

John said that he wasn’t even worthy to untie the sandals of this great one who would come.  Come, he did, this Jesus.  And his baptism could have easily blended into all the others – he was just a simple, ordinary-looking bearded fellow, after all.  But when he entered my waters with John, oh, something happened.

Something like when the Ark of the Covenant passed through my waters and I got piled up in a heap because of that great power.  Something like those ancient prophets performing wonders through me.  Something like that afflicted, aching Naaman being healed.  And something greater than all those things added together.

And, in case I missed that holy happening, the heavens had a similar experience: they opened up and a voice came along with the dove-like Spirit.  The voice said, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”  That voice was talking to Jesus.  But the strange part is, his baptism in my waters was his way of saying the same thing – to all of creation.

You see, he entered my dusty waters, thick with the sin of all those people, and he took it all upon himself.  By being baptized, that Jesus blessed all those who had come before him to the waters, and all of you who would come after him to the waters.  And in lowering himself into those waters, he named me Beloved, my waters themselves.  He named everyone who would ever enter the waters of baptism Beloved, and in his actions, he said to every single drop of my water, “I am well pleased with you.”

And so, because that divine human entered my waters to be baptized, he ended up soaking human sinfulness into himself to wash it all away.  He ended up making my waters holy in a way they had never been before.

I began by telling you (in a not-so-humble way, I’ll admit) that I might be the most holy water there ever was, or will be.  But that’s not because of me – it’s because of him.  And there’s something really essential you must realize about water: I’m not static, and I’m not new.  There is no new water on this planet.  I’m in a constant cycle of evaporation, condensation and precipitation and so, I’m not just stuck in the confines of my banks for all of time. 

I’ve gotten around.  I’m everywhere – there are drops of me that have been gathered with water from all over the world and rained down in a completely different place.  And I believe that’s why Jesus entered my waters that day.  He blessed me and, as the natural result of me doing what water does, that blessing has been showered all over the earth in unpredictable ways. 

Because holiness leaves a trace – especially the holiness of God-with-all-of-creation.  It is now impossible to decipher which drops of water are not mingled with every other drop of water on this planet.  There is a trace of the holiness that Beloved Jesus brought to my waters, in his choice to show solidarity with all the sinners being washed clean, with all those seeking belonging and community, in every single drop of water on this planet. 

The water you drank this morning. 

The water you bathed in. 

The water you brushed your teeth with. 

The waters of your baptism. 

The waters of morning dew, gentle rain and of rushing oceans. 

They are all holy, because Jesus chose to wade into my waters that day.

I suppose that is how holiness is supposed to work – it has its source in God, but then spreads throughout the earth with such generous abandon that it seeps into every patch of this dry, thirsty planet and every part of you parched people, panting for peace and forgiveness.  There are things I can do as the Jordan River to spread this sort of holiness around, but you can do more.

I can water the earth when it is thirsty, but only you can quench the loneliness in another by telling and showing them God is still with them.

I can wash away mud and dirt, but only you can remind people of the Beloved One who came to wash all sin and guilt away forever.

I can smooth a path with patience and constant movement, but only you can walk the risky road of forgiving another and smoothing over hatred and indifference with love.

I can provide a home for fish and creatures, but only you can work to ensure that no one is left out in the cold, forgotten.

I can constantly cycle as God designed me to do, but only you can ensure that my waters aren’t tainted with pollutants and toxins.

I might be important, but so are you.  The holiness of Jesus is every much a part of you as it is a part of me.  Don’t hoard that sort of holiness – follow my example.  Recklessly rain it upon all, until all come to finally know that they are God’s beloved, with whom God is well pleased.  Let’s drench this world with the compassion and grace of Christ.  I’ll keep doing my part – now you do yours.  Amen.