From Watery Voids, Life

 
 

Mark 1:4-11

So John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And the whole Judean region and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him and were baptized by him in the River Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the strap of his sandals. I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”  In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

__________

I often wonder if we’ve failed at teaching the significance of the creation story in Genesis; what do you think? I ask myself this question because it usually appears that we conduct ourselves in a way that runs opposite of the narrative we find in the opening words of Scripture. Instead of believing that life bursts up from the watery voids, we believe that death, disappointment, injustice, and cynical views about our fellow neighbors are the only things that can break through into our world. Where did we go wrong in our understanding of the story of what to expect from the unknown waters of creation?

If we were Babylonians, I would say that we were heading in the right direction and didn’t need to change our line of thought. After all, the Babylonian creation story (originating around the time of Genesis) tells a tale that paints a bloody battlefield, with the bodies of the conquered gods used to build the earth beneath our feet and the dome that holds the stars in the sky. While the Babylonian mythos might seem far fetched and distant from the account of Genesis, is it far from what we actually practice in our day-to-day living? 

We live as though we expect to be betrayed, that we will get hurt, that war is inevitable, that poverty and greed are unavoidable, and that things will be as they are until we pass from the earth. If you don’t believe me, turn on the news, read a local paper, and you’ll discover that something is quite wrong. It is not life that is springing forth from the watery voids but death. And it is this point here, where we must realign (reorient) ourselves in order to live as people who are beloved, claimed, and sealed in the love of God. 

God disrupts the watery voids that we think only bring destruction; God disrupts our complacency and belief that this is how the world operates. With one word, God brought forth light that dispelled the fog and vapors that engulfed the chaos of the watery globe. With one word, God established a new order that flips our understanding of how things work upside down. No longer are we expected to live in the shadows of fear and death, but instead called to live in the light of God that disperses the murky gloom that tries to linger and cling to our weary hearts. 

In our reading from the Gospel of Mark, we hear that people flocked to John the Baptist. The people gathered around knew the yoke of oppression, knew the dread and terror of the Roman Empire and occupying forces, and knew hopelessness, and in their baptism, they were asked to turn and repent. They were asked to turn and repent at their baptism so that they would no longer be silent or complicit in maintaining the status quo. This message from John is reinforced by the God of all creation, who broke through the heavens once again at Jesus’ baptism (the Greek literally says that God cleaved open the heavens) to declare that there is a new way for us to live. 

And this new way of life is subversive to what we think we know.

Just imagine what it was like to receive a baptism in those early days. Standing on the bank of a river, you go down and are submerged. You feel the water enter your nose, you hear swirling water around you, and you are then brought up. You exit the other side and are given a set of new clothes. You are leaving behind a life that is held hostage by an Empire, by a market-driven life, and by vain promises of glory and fame.

By putting on the new clothes, you are turning away from your old life and dedicating yourself to living as a disciple of the living God, a turning away of the old to the new, a new way of living. Most of us were not baptized in a river, stripped naked, or in fear for our lives, but for many of us, we were baptized into the same enduring community. We are called in our baptism to be a community that breaks through silence and is no longer complicit in allowing death to have its way, a community that voices its Creator’s great displeasure that we have allowed the murder, demise, and passing of this earth, of innocence and belief that God will turn the world around.

The waters of baptism are a liberating force that breaks down, tears down the barriers that divide us, calls for a permanent revolution in our way of thinking, waters that remind us that the first shall be last, the widows and the orphans shall inherit the kin-dom of God, the strangers, the foreigners shall be welcomed, and all of this is and much much more. The waters of baptism remind us that God is here. That God is here right now in this very place, setting before us a way of life that runs counter to everything we were ever taught about how to be successful.   

In what ways are you living your baptismal vow to God? How are the waters of the font filling your senses in a way where you cannot help but see the world anew? Do not think for one moment that your baptism has no bearing on your life, for the life-giving waters of God have shown us a better way to live. The life-giving, saving waters of God bring life and call us to spread this life so that it covers every square inch of creation. It means that we cannot be silent, that we cannot view faith as a private practice, and that we cannot let our faith keep us from speaking out for those who need a voice that cries out for justice and healing. 

If we live and lean hard into these life-giving waters, we might (if we are listening carefully enough) hear the voice of God cleave through the heavens and affirm the mission set on our hearts. 

Now more than ever, we need to believe that from the watery voids comes life. And I cannot help but think that in the reframing of our faith, we will see that the watery voids, the waters of baptism, hold more than what we could possibly know. They are waters that hold our omissions; they are waters that hold our fears, our doubts, our faults. They are waters that do not consume the unjust, but quench their thirst, that breaks through, that cleaves through, their known world to reveal what life in the kin-dom of God really means. Keep your heart attuned to the waters that flow from the hearts of God, knowing that they are not so much watery voids as much as they are portals that spring forth life for you and all creation. 

For you were birthed from waters that brought forth life; you were birthed from waters that claim you and wrap you in the love of God. You are a child of God with whom the Lord is pleased (for you are perfect just the way you are). And you now know (or are reminded) the story of God’s creation and redemption. So let these waters carry you and me to a new frontier where life flows abundantly into a world that is waiting and yearning.

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