Union Presbyterian Seminary
July 9, 2016, Communities of Learning Face-to-Face Worship
Genesis 7:11-12, 17-20; Psalm 69; Mark 1:4-12
High and Dangerous Waters
Have you ever been
caught in an undertow? Out in the ocean, finding yourself suddenly a lot
farther from the beach than you expected? I know some of you are beach people, so maybe you know what I'm talking about. An undertow or a rip current is a
pretty frightening thing for an eight-year-old, which is how old I was when I
had my first experience of one. Fortunately I was with an older sibling and a
cousin who knew enough to paddle our little float sideways until we escaped the
rip current and get back to dry land.
As much as water
is a frequent metaphor in the church, I wonder if at times we lose some of the
power of that metaphor in the way we use it. We’re all Psalm 23 and the Lord
our shepherd leading us by the still waters. It’s a pretty image, one that has
been reproduced in countless examples of artistic kitsch with Anglo Jesus
cuddling an adorable baby lamb or something similar (paintings that will never get into the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts). On the other hand, though,
the psalmist who gave us the psalm we just sang looked at waters just a bit differently,
in 69:1-2:
Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold; I have come into deep
waters, and the flood sweeps over me.
That psalmist is
hardly the only biblical writer who saw the waters as source of wildness and
peril. The tale of Job features none other than God boasting of the untamed
torrents of water, fathomless deeps, and the fantastic Leviathan that sported
in the deeps beyond human comprehension. The story of Jonah also evokes the terrors
of the sea, as Jonah is beset by storm, gulped up by a great fish, and finally
spat up on the shore.
These are high and
dangerous waters.
Perhaps the most
dramatic such story of water and its terrors is the account of the great flood
in Genesis. The outlines of the story itself I would imagine you know well
enough; but let the description of the rising waters sink in. “The fountains of the great deep burst
forth…the windows of the heavens were opened…” Waters so great and so deep
that the mountains were covered – and not just covered, but overtopped and
submerged. It is a terrifying picture. These are high and dangerous waters.
It’s not hard to
imagine that later descendents of those Hebrew peoples had such stories in
their heads as they made their way down to the Jordan to be baptized by this
crazy wilderness preacher John, called the Baptizer. The Jordan was neither
small nor still. Maybe it was just enough to convey the sense of danger that
tradition had ascribed to waters in various ways in Hebrew scripture.
John himself was
also a pretty good picture of wildness and danger. Mark, who is not normally
given to great detail, slows down his account long enough to give us the
“runway description” of John’s wardrobe and diet. Just imagine the fashion show: And the Baptizer is commanding the path down into the river today in an
inverted camel-hair ensemble that just oozes unpredictability and danger, with
a striking leather accessory around his waist…amazing how John keeps in
fighting trim with his patented honey-and-locust diet… . In short, there’s
no reason to think anybody saw this passage, this event, this baptism as normal or “safe”
or “tame.” Even in the Jordan, these are high and dangerous waters.
Jesus is among
these crowds, to be baptized by the eccentric wilderness prophet with the eccentric
wardrobe and diet. At this point in Mark’s story, Jesus is just this guy, you
know? Oh, except for Mark calling him “the
Son of God” back in verse one of this chapter. He himself only shows up
from Nazareth in verse 9, and like all of the other pilgrims to John’s baptism
spot, he steps into the water and is baptized.
Then things get
crazy, at least for Jesus. The heavens “torn
apart” – don’t miss that! No mere “opening” or parting like those other
wimpy gospels. “Torn apart”! The
Spirit shrieking down like a dove, the voice from heaven … the waters of the
Jordan turn out to be high and dangerous waters indeed. Oh, and then there’s a
wilderness ahead, too.
Y’all are not
doing a safe thing. You are starting an experience that, despite our best
efforts to give you a sneak peek, will challenge you in ways you’ve can’t
imagine. Your faith will be bounced around and challenged and bruised and even
broken in some places. You will wonder what you are doing here, and why, why, why you put yourself through this. You
will question your calling, your ability, and even your sanity.
And it won’t stop
when you graduate and move into your vocation. You’ll be heading into a place
where you won’t be able to leave town without wondering if the parishioner who
has been battling cancer longer than you’ve even been in the church will
succumb to it before you get home. You will go into a calling where you will see
poverty you couldn’t imagine existing in the most impoverished places on the
planet, and it will be in your own town. You may see literal high waters ravage
your community, as one of my classmates has in West Virginia of late. You will
see hatred and bigotry and cruelty to turn your stomach, and love and grace and
mercy and joy beyond your imagination.
This font may not
look like it, but it contains high and dangerous waters indeed. You have no
idea where the currents will take you, what the skies will tear open and show
you, what wilderness you’ll be driven into.
And Jesus calls
you to dive in.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Hymns
(from Glory to God: The Presbyterian
Hymnal)
#164 Down
Galilee’s Slow Roadways
#602 Holy
Lamb of God
#478 Save
Me, O God, I Sink In Floods
#482 Baptized
in Water
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