Sermon January 13, 2013
Please pray with me… Gracious Lord, bless the hearing and bless the speaking, that your Word might take root in our hearts and bear fruit in our lives, for the healing of the world you so loved, and to the glory of your holy name. Amen.
When I first got to Seattle, I tried to go swimming in Puget Sound. I know, to you, who have lived here all your lives or many years, this seems ridiculous, but I had no idea this wasn’t very smart. You see, I’m used to the fresh water lakes of Michigan, where, though cold, the water still gets up to 65 degrees by August, and even warmer, like 75 or 80, in the shallow swimming beaches near my home town. So why should that blue body of water on the map be any different? You remember back on August 5th, when you welcomed we with “pounds of gifts,” LeeAnne had given me a “pound of information” about her favorite places in Northwest Seattle, including a map of Carkeek Park, with its public beach. It was a sunny, 85 degree afternoon, and swimming seemed like an entirely reasonable thing to do. So, I got my swimsuit together, packed a towel in my bag, and headed down to the park. There were lots of people out and about, and the beach was full of kids and adults, grooming the sand and rocks for sea creatures and pretty shells. But not many of them were actually swimming, actually no one was swimming, which should have been my first clue. As I took my shoes off, I remember seeing that no one else was barefoot, and I couldn’t understand why. Not heeding any of these signs, I walked straight into the water, and as soon as my feet felt that cold, wet, chill, you can imagine what happened … goose bumps burst out on my skin, and chills ran up my legs. The water was so cold! I was shocked. A week or two later that I found out from a tour guide along the waterfront in downtown Seattle that Puget Sound maintains about a 49 degree temperature year round. Brrr. And I didn’t even know about the jellyfish and other sea creatures either.
Well, now that I have stopped my attempts at swimming in the Sound, I still like to go to Seattle’s many parks and watch the waves lap up on the shore. It’s really beautiful and relaxing to watch. Another thing I’m not used to from the fresh water of Michigan is the foam that builds up on the waves, those bubbles, you know, that churn onto the shore. Whenever, I see, it, I think of a red-bearded German professor of mine from college, who at some point, told us that the word for that white water/air stuff on top of the waves is Gischt, and it’s from this word that the word Geist comes, which in German means spirit, like the Holy Spirit, der heilige Geist. When I watch the “spirit” emerge on the crest of the waves, I am reminded that that water is full not just of salt and sea creatures, but it contains Spirit. I am reminded that water is a place where God, the Holy Spirit, likes to show up. The Spirit is in the water.
Today we hear of Jesus’ Baptism in the river Jordan. This is the first moment we hear of in Luke’s Gospel of Jesus as an adult; it isn’t until after this moment of Baptism that he begins his work of leading disciples and healing the sick and setting the oppressed free. He is just emerging in his ministry; he is only beginning. Jesus has entered the water to be baptized by John like all the others, but the Spirit descends upon him like a dove, and says, “You are my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” In this moment, the Spirit confirms two things: that God the Father is behind Jesus’ work, and that Jesus is the beloved one. Jesus’ public ministry begins in the water at his Baptism, and the Spirit would now give life to his work. The Spirit was in the water.
In the church, we continue to baptize because it is Jesus’ Great Commission, “Go out into all the world to proclaim the Good News and baptize them in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit,” and we trust that the Spirit is still in the water. Holden Village’s newsletter recently featured a large cover photo of a baby being baptized, not in a Baptismal font, but in the chilly river, as the pastor, in his robe, stood barefoot in the water, the child in its mother’s arms, water dripping from his bare little head. Just as Jesus receives his identity as the beloved Son of God, in Baptism we are all claimed as God’s beloved children, and we come to belong to the big family of God we call the church.
Though Baptism is about bringing children and people of all ages into the community of faith, Baptism is also about what happens when life has a way of catching us off guard, like I was by the chilly water on my sunny swimming adventure. A seminary professor asked his class to talk about why Baptism was important and, he wrote this about their response: “One student reflected on the baptism of his own daughter and stated that his chief concern was with her future. The time would inevitably come when she would directly confront the reality of sin. His daughter would do something of which she was consciously ashamed; she would find herself helpless in the face of a loved one’s suffering; she would become aware that her inherited way of life was inextricably entwined with unjust and contemptible practices. And she would have a language to give expression to the experience, a community to help her make sense of it, an inexhaustible source of strength from which to draw in recovering her peace and rekindling her hope. That time comes for every one of us.”
And isn’t that the case? Things fall apart, friendships turn bitter, marriages end, the people we love die and leave us, we learn that the world is crazy, violent, and rough. In the reading from Isaiah, we hear the prophet speak to God’s people when everything is falling apart, “when you pass through the waters, when you walk through the fire.” Like when wildfires threaten our homes, or when the waters rise, flooding our homes or creating dangerous erosion and mudslides. And when the fire of addiction comes to burn the bridges of relationships and disrupt our lives, or when cold, mind-numbing waters of depression, the overwhelming presence of a diagnosis or job loss surround us. Sometimes, we find ourselves deep in situations we cannot control, that we didn’t want to find ourselves in, and that create incredible fear and anxiety. We all know these times, because they do inevitably come for everyone of us. Life isn’t just a walk in the park; sometimes the water rises and shocks us with its sudden chill.
When we baptize our children, in some sense we acknowledge that, though we wish we can, we can’t protect them from the pain and suffering that comes from being human. Which is exactly why the seminary student wanted his daughter to be baptized. He said when life became difficult, she would “have language to give expression to the experience, a community to help her make sense of it, an inexhaustible source of strength from which to draw in recovering her peace and rekindling her hope.” Baptism means a community of faith that supports and loves and serves one another, Baptism means a relationship with God that God has initiated and will never reject, and Baptism means the Holy Spirit guiding us to peace and healing and hope. Baptism means that when those times do come, we hear the words God speaks in Isaiah, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, and you are mine.” Baptism means that when the waters threaten to overwhelm us, the Spirit is there, too, reminding us that we are not defined by the world’s judgment, but by God’s redeeming, ever-present love.
The Spirit is in the water, just as it was for Jesus, and will be for our children. Today, as we heard the Spirit descend to claim Jesus as God’s beloved Son, we also remember that in the waters of Baptism, all of us have been claimed as beloved children of God. When the waters of life are colder than we expect, it is in these real places of trials and difficulties that God reminds us: I love you, and you are mine. So for the gift of Baptism, for the gift of the Spirit in the water, I say, thanks be to God. Amen.
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