The Baptism of Jesus

March 4, 2007

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

PRAYER:

Mystery of many names and mystery beyond all naming, we come here this morning with smiles on our faces. If you’re not smiling then at least grin, or place your tongue firmly in your cheek.

The world is a serious place – we know this! People get blown to bits in it everyday. Children are molested, women are beaten, soldiers die horrible deaths, or they survive with terrible life-altering wounds, lovers are betrayed, dogs are run over, cats are drowned, and the trash is not taken out. And no, we are not equating any of these actions with the others!! We know violence is the foundation of cultures worldwide, but what is the point of dwelling on simply the negative?

There is a balance that struck in the body between sodium and potassium and without that balance our electrolytes – made up of positive and negative charges – would be out of whack and we would die.

So admitting the terrible we pass on today to dwell on other matters. Or maybe we simply wish to nod in the direction of the world’s failings – if the negatives of life can be said to be failings – and look upon the jewels that sparkle on the river as the sun reflects off its surface.

Sure, we know they aren’t real jewels, but that doesn’t stop our imaginations from seeing something where it really doesn’t exist and telling a story about it. Tell a child that those sparkling jewels on the river don’t exist, go ahead, explain about the sun’s rays and the reflexive properties of water – the only reaction you’ll get from a child is that look of boredom as they realize you’re trying to kill their imagination. Besides, everything manmade was once something simply imagined.

Sure imaginings are nothing more than mental notions, creations, or conceptions of a poetic mind,

– but wasn’t it Ralph Waldo Emerson in his Harvard Divinity School Address who imagined that a time would come when the miracles of the Bible would be replaced by the miracles of green meadows and falling rain,

– wasn’t it the Plains Indians who imagined that their Ghost Dancing would bring back the buffalo and make the white man disappear,

– wasn’t the imaginings of Holocaust survivors – making plans for a seemingly non-existent future – that kept them alive when others around them were dropping like flies,

– wasn’t it the imaginings of the boy Sam Clemens while rafting on the mighty Mississipp that gave birth to the man Mark Twain,

– wasn’t the imaginings of Jan Hus, as he passed the cup of the Eucharist over the railing to the common people, that led to the flaming chalice of this denomination,

– wasn’t the imaginings of a poor Galilean that all God’s children could live in peace that created a world religion that went on to pervert that poor Galilean’s message to the point of total non-recognition,

– isn’t our own imaginings that someday our lives will fall in place that keeps us going, supplies us with the energy that pushes our lives forward in spite of the entropy that leads us toward the grave?

This morning we’re here to celebrate imagination, story and the inherent silliness of all sentient beings.

We pray this in the name of everything that is holy, and that is, precisely, everything.

Amen.

SERMON: The Baptism of Jesus

as seen from the vantage point of the Jordan River – Israel’s Mississip

“The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” So begins Hal Holbrook’s one-man show concerning the life of Mark Twain. Where would Samuel Clemens have been if there were no Mississippi River. The young writer knew the lesson of a prophet not being accepted in his own homeland, so he dropped the name, the tag that had followed him thus far, and took another. There on the mighty Mississipp Clemens first heard the call of the boatswain as he swung the leaded line that gave safety and security to River Boat Captains as they navigated a river whose muddy bottom was changing daily.

Without the mighty Mississipp Twain would have been traveling by stagecoach, wagon train, cattle drive, railroad, or even possibly on foot. And what daring-do name would he have sifted from those experiences? He could have called himself, “Westward Ho!” But the later generations of freed slaves would have had a field day with that one! He might have gone under the nom-de-plume of, G. Haw, or maybe, All Aboard! – now there’s a name that gets everybody on the same track – the point is, who’s to say whether Samuel Clemens would have made it without the river, that old man river, it’s a treat to beat your feet on the Mississippi mud river, that artery of America that carried what the north made to the south, and what the south grew to the north, that equalizer of society where well-healed gentlemen, loose ladies, and cards combine to make fortunes for some, and some paupers forever!

I am the River Jordan. I know. It inspires nothing nowadays. There was a time when simply that pronouncement, I am the River Jordan, would have sent a chill of panic, pride and purpose through the listening world. But the world was smaller then. In that part of the now spacious world where I still flow, I still hold sway. There are those who remember, those who cow-tow, those who covet, those who wail as they are immersed beneath my murky waters. Yes, I make a difference to some, and am grateful for the work, but the world at large, the movers, the shakers, the prophets, the healers, the wise men, the fools, their lives still fabric the world, but their connection to me has all but ceased.

In the interest of world economy the world is being destroyed. Global warming, no longer the hex of Green Peace, but a front page New York Times reality, pollution, acid rain, raw sewage and neglect have created a disconnect between those who are two thirds water, but no longer consider the source and that disconnect is about to take its revenge.

“Now you say you love me, and if it’s true – well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river, I cried a river over you!”

You may think that my time has come and gone, and that being a river I am nothing more than a way through which water passes, but I could say the same about you.

Rather I will tell you of my life, what I have seen, those that I have touched, blessed, baptized, and when I’m through you can babble like that Greek idiot Heraclites and swear that you never stepped into the same stream twice, but in the end you’re still all wet. You do not understand that my touch can heal, my touch can aid armies, my touch can bring the dove of God descending upon the head of one of his sons – my touch can confer the crown of eternity – not knowing this, you turn aside, uninterested.

But who am I to boast? I’m just babbling on here, running on as it were, seeking my own level, so much water under the bridge, a stream of consciousness, if you will.

They say that there are no more great ones. They say that those who rule now, both politically, and economically are but the midget children of a race of giants.

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. (Genesis 1:1&2 NIV)

Imagine if you can, maybe you’ve felt this in a dream, or maybe someone you really loved delivered this feeling to you with the intimate touch of their body to yours, or maybe you just have a good imagination, but think of it – the Spirit of God hovering over you, close as a breath, caressing the wetness of oblivion – oh yes, darkness was over the surface of the deep – imagine you and God like this! (Show them your crossed fingers)

I know. I know. I’m in a Unitarian Universalist Church, okay, okay so most of you could care less about God and you being like this (show them the crossed fingers again). Yeah, yeah, I get it. There’s a tendency among liberal religionist to take those two fingers and have the index bow to center, but you’ve forgotten something when you raise those contorted fingers to God, you have forgotten that an index is something that serves to guide, point out, or otherwise facilitate reference. When you flip off God, all you’re really doing is bowing to the center – and you call yourselves leftists, liberals!?

The point is God exists whether you like it or not. If you have the word in your vocabulary, if you know what the word God means, then the existence of God cannot be denied. To say that you don’t believe in God, well, that’s tantamount to saying you don’t believe in words, and you do, you do believe in words. Even atheists define themselves as being “without God.” UU’s may not have creeds, at least not ones that they have written down and repeat religiously, excuse the pun, but UU’s do have patterns of thinking and those patterns are represented in catch phrases – the seven banalities – and those phrases repeated often enough become a liturgy – ceremonial rites that invoke, remember, give thanks, bless, praise and present offerings. Within traditional liturgy these rites center on God – if not God, then what do these rites center on in this church?

In the 19th Century one, John William McGarvey, preached a sermon entitled The River Jordan. In that sermon he noted several wonderful things about me that makes me stand head and shoulders, or should I say headwater and banks, above all other rivers in the world. And if you were thinking that this man was exaggerating then I would draw your attention to one of his biographers who said concerning Reverend McGarvey, He relies almost exclusively on facts and has very little imagination.

I, the Jordan River, am mentioned approximately 175 times in the Old Testament, and about 15 times in the New Testament. You can see a pattern there, I’m sure. Interest in me waned as time went by. For example, how many of you can tell me which direction I flow in? Where do I begin, and where do I end?

I begin in the heights of Mount Hermon north of Galilee and from multiple sources I flow south to Lake Huleh. From there I flow into the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus is reported to have preached, calmed storms and walked on my waters. From the Sea of Galilee I descend 65 miles to the Dead Sea, which is so called because it has no outlet.

From my beginnings in the north around the heights of Mount Hermon to my terminus in the Dead Sea I drop 2,380 feet and I have a winding course, making its way nearly 200 miles, approximately twice the actual distance between Mount Hermon and the Dead Sea. Unlike every other river in the world, the majority of my navigation lies below sea level and ends in a body of water, the Dead Sea, which is the lowest lying body of water, other than the oceans, on the face of the earth.

There are four miracles that are associated with my waters that I will speak about today. Please don’t flinch when I say the word, miracles. Miracles don’t have to be acts of God; they can also be events or circumstances that give one a sense of admiring awe, or maybe even a literary devise?

The first incident is found in the book of Second Kings. A man named Naaman, a Captain in the Syrian Army, and a mighty warrior who fought and won many battles was also a leper. Now, a young girl who worked in Naaman’s house was an Israeli slave who spoke of a prophet, one Elisha, who could cure Naaman of his leprosy.

So Naaman went to Samaria where Elisha lived to ask him to rid him of his leprosy. And Elisha wouldn’t even leave his home to see Naaman, he simply sent a servant to tell Naaman to go to the River Jordan and bathe there.

Naaman got angry when he heard this because he knew there were plenty of nice rivers in Syria where he might have bathed, and besides he had traveled far to see this prophet, and he was looking forward to the prophet’s efforts to cleanse him, even if they didn’t work.

Naaman’s own servants had to convince Naaman that since they were already in Israel and the River Jordan was there, what harm would it do him to have a bath.

He dipped himself 7 times into my waters and when he emerged his flesh was again like the flesh of a little child.

The second incident that concerns my holy waters, was recorded in the book of Joshua. After Moses had wandered with the people of Israel in the desert for forty years. Every woman knows why it took them forty years – just like any man Moses wouldn’t stop and ask directions.

Moses died before he could enter the Promised Land, so Joshua was chosen to lead the people across the Jordan River and into the land of milk and honey. But it was the time of harvest, and the banks of the River Jordan were overflowing as they always did at harvest time, so Joshua had the ark of the covenant brought down to the river side and when the ark was carried into my waters, it is reported that I stopped flowing and the people of Israel were allowed to pass over into the land promised them.

The third miraculous thing reported in the Bible concerning me was when Elijah and Elisha were in need of getting on the other side of the River Jordan and Elijah took his cloak from his shoulders and hit my waters with it and again, I dried up, and the two prophets were able to pass on dry land. Shortly after that Elijah was taken up into heaven in a fiery chariot. Conveniently, the good prophet dropped his cloak and Elisha picked it up and was able to smite my waters with it again, and pass back over the

Jordan on his way home.

The fourth incident that happened of great spiritual significance was, of course, Jesus’ baptism in my holy waters.

I understand that you’ve heard from John – the one they called the Baptist – in an earlier sermon and it was John who baptized Jesus.

A word about John. He not only baptized his followers in my waters, but he also bathed there, drank my water, and when there was a crowd for baptisms and he couldn’t take a break he relieved himself in those self-same waters. He was not a man of clean habits, but what can you expect from a man who insults his visitors, “You brood of vipers, who warned you of the wrath to come?” and eats bugs, and steals honey from bees?

There has been a great deal written about Jesus? baptism. It has been reported that a dove descended from heaven and lighted on Jesus? head. It has been reported that John declared that this was the one he’d been talking about all along, the one whose sandal he was not worthy to tie. It has been reported that the heavens opened and a the very voice of God spoke saying, “This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased.”

I can’t verify any of these happenings because I’m just a river, just passing through, just hurrying on my way, and besides, you know the way things sound to you underwater, that’s the way things sound to me above water.

What I can tell you is that when John baptized Jesus he held him under for an ungodly amount of time. To the eyes of the world it may have looked like a baptism, but to me, the River Jordan, it looked a great deal like John the Baptist was trying to drown Jesus. That would have made sense, Jesus was the new kid on the block when it came to prophets, John’s popularity was waning, surely John knew that Jesus would take his place, and that the followers he’d gathered would eventually go over to the Nazarene. Why do you think that Jesus ran off into the desert right after his baptism? He wanted to get as far away from water, as far away from me, as he possibly could!

Conclusion: Now, I wish to comment on all these extraordinary things that have been recorded in the Bible and that supposedly happened along my banks and in my waters.

First of all those who do not understand story have difficulty with elements of story. Mark Twain was absolutely right when he said, “Why mess up a good story by sticking to the facts?”

Stories are not about facts. Stories are about the weaving of meaning into this life. Stories take what happened and ask, “What if?” Besides as has been proven time and again, even when there are eyewitnesses, their accounts of what happened are varied to the point of seeming to be about different events.

Within psychological circles this is known as the Rashomon Effect. This psychological effect is named after the first Japanese film to bring Akira Kurosawa to the attention of the viewing public of this country. Rashomon, the film, was released in 1950 and received an Oscar for Best Foreign language film in 1951.

Rashomon presents a morally complex and multifacitited story in which different characters tell their versions of the same “factual” events, and although each sounds plausible, and possible, none are the definitive take on what happened that afternoon in the grove of trees as a Samurai and his new wife are accosted by a bandit and the entire affair is witnessed by a woodcutter who is hiding in a grove of trees.

Now, some of you may wonder why I would know of Akira Kurosawa, so I will explain. He was known as “Emperor” for his dictatorial directing style. At one point while directing a film he demanded that a stream that was to be in a shot be redirected to flow in the opposite direction – and so it was!

In the process of telling a visual story, Kurosawa thought the story would best be told if nature were reversed, and for the story he was telling it was reversed. And you say you don’t believe in miracles!?

Things happen in this world, and it is up to us to make sense of them. Meaning is the function of story telling. For the culture and time of Naaman the Syrian it was important for me, River Jordan, to be a place where miracles could happen, even to non-Israelites and so they did.

When Joshua and the Israelites entered the Promised Land that so-called Promised Land belonged to other peoples from other cultures. The Israelites supposedly murdered those people and took their lands. It was important for that particular Israelite culture to know that God was on their side and it was God’s will not their avarice, which was the cause of those supposed genocides. Truth is, they probably intermarried and told these genocidal stories to pretend ethic purity. Hence, the story is told that God dried up the River Jordan so that the battle of Jericho could begin. We all need signs, and stories are places where signs can be inserted.

Sometimes when one prophet takes over the work of another prophet, it seems appropriate that the new prophet should have equal powers with the old, hence the tale of Elijah’s cloak being passed on to Elisha.

And Jesus? baptism what of that? I played such an important part in the story of Israel, that for a prophet to be properly introduced that prophet must come to terms with my holy waters. Besides, Jesus was to be the new Moses, and if Moses had water miracles, then it was paramount that Jesus have water miracles, too, and even better ones. Moses parted the waters, but Jesus walked on water. Did he really walk on water, or was it simply a metaphor of power explained in hyperbole? I think you know the answer.

And do rivers talk? Can the River Jordan preach?

I suggest that the next time you’re near a body of moving water, you sit facing the water and listen. Sit long and quiet, and you will hear the whispers, the overtones, the shouts and the murmurs of the stream that you are making conscious. Listen carefully, for it is up to you to tell the story of what the river of your life is disclosing.