“At this time, Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. The moment he came out of the water, he saw the sky split open and God’s Spirit, looking like a dove, come down on him. Along with the Spirit, a voice: “You are my Child, chosen and marked by my love, pride of my life.” Mark 1: 9-11 The Message
This past Sunday is what is know in the church year as Baptism of Jesus Sunday. It always feels a bit peculiar to me. We have just finished Christmas, celebrating the birth of Jesus. Some people have yet to put away all the manger scenes that dot their house. We skip right over the few verses that say anything about Jesus as a boy. Instead we jump right into the beginning his ministry, his way of showing God’s Way in the world. For this, the scriptures tell us, he must be baptized by his cousin John. Wild, crazy John. And so he steps into the river Jordan and nothing is ever the same again. He hears the voice of God echoing around him, speaking unconditional love and acceptance and off he goes.
Not many people I know can remember their baptism. I certainly can’t though I have seen pictures. Pictures of a small baby made miniature by the flowing white dress that clothes her. She is held by a beautiful young woman who stands by a smiling young man whose faces speak of unconditional love and acceptance if not down right adoration. Certainly, at the time, my baptism was not the kind of life changing experience that Jesus had. But it was the start of being marked over and over by the love of a faith community and for that I am eternally grateful.
Everyone has experiences where they have stepped into a river and their life was forever changed. In our community on Sunday people told of just such moments. Being married and learning what it means to be a partner. Having children and the joy and chaos that life shift brings. Admitting their powerlessness over alcohol. Taking the first step of healing after a parent’s death. Encountering the world through travel and feeling that connection in new found ways. The stories were rich and we could still be there hearing them all. They carried the fullness of life.
The experience caused me to think of all the ‘stepping into the river’ experiences I have had. It also allowed me to remember these pivotal events that I have seen happen in our country and our world. Depending on one’s age, these moments are different but they are the markers by which we gauge our lives. There are always the ‘pre’ and ‘post’ times. Like before the war, after September 11th. Before the recession, after the election. Before graduation, after the baby was born. The moments go on and on. They are important markers and they provide a certain balance that helps us map what it means to be human.
When have you stepped into the river and never been the same? Perhaps you are at just such a point right now. Whether remembered or about to be experienced, may you, may each of us, find in this moment an encounter with the Holy. An encounter in which we are bathed with the message: “You are my Child, chosen and marked by my love, pride of my life.”
Blessed be.