Thursday, January 9, 2014

A Reflection and Dream on the Baptism of Jesus



A Reflection for I Epiphany (Baptism of Jesus)        All Saints’ Church, Southern Shores, N C January 12, 2014                                                 Thomas E. Wilson, Rector
Isaiah 42:1-9               Acts 10:34-43             Matthew 3:13-17        Psalm 29
Let’s start off with taking a look at the symbol of water. In literature water is a symbol of change. In affluent cultures like ours, water is a symbol of cleansing and peace, but it has to be respected for, as many of us on the shore and those who live by rivers know, water is a symbol of the possibility of destruction. Being submersed in the water is dangerous stuff. In desert countries like around the Jordan River water is a symbol of life, but if there is a lot of water it can also mean danger because desert people don’t know how to swim. Being submersed in the water is dangerous stuff. Water is a symbol of the beginning of all creation and birth for the baby is born when the water breaks and enters the river of life. How safe it was in the womb but we stretch out and go into the wonder and the danger of the unknown life. Being submersed in the water is dangerous stuff. In dreams water is a symbol of the unconscious, the unknown country, the deep current which flows underneath everything we do, and it takes courage to enter that unknown water. In our dreams when we go deep into the shadows where both our hidden angels and suppressed demons swim, being submerged in the water is both wonderful and dangerous stuff.

The Gospel story for today has a discussion between John the Baptizer and Jesus about entering the water of the Jordan. The Jordan was the boundary of the Land of Promise and people came to John at the River of God to wash the past away and enter anew. Jesus comes and when they meet, it is a moment which will change both lives.  It involves new life, leaving the old behind; it involves dying to the past and being born into a new existence; it involves a promise of peace and destruction. Then John takes Jesus into the Jordan and Jesus is submerged in the deep water coming up to hear God say, “This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased.” Being submerged in the river of God is both wonderful and dangerous stuff. He realizes that he is on a special mission in life and at the same time he is driven into the wilderness by that experience. If he had not had this experience, the chances are that he would have led a long life in Galilee, but he begins the road to his death. Being submerged in the river is dangerous stuff indeed.

One of the problems, and also advantages, of reading the Bible with you using the weekly lectionary cycles is that this is the 10th time I have spoken of the Baptism of Jesus to you. It means that I keep seeing the story in different ways because, as Heraclites suggested, “No one ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he or she is not the same person.” You, the church, the world, and I are different than we were 10+ years ago. 

This last week I got a letter from a longtime friend and former parishioner of mine. It was her second letter to me. She had written me last year to ask if I would write to her son who I knew as a child in a previous church 25 + years ago. I was fond of Nicholas. He was bright and would ask deep questions in Christian Education, and he enjoyed coming to church and being an acolyte. He enjoyed living close to the James River, and he would laugh every time at a baptism when I would suggest that, if we were serious about our baptisms, we ought to gather by the river and submerge ourselves and the newly baptized. The little old ladies, male and female of all ages, would roll their eyes, for being submerged in the James River would be a muddy experience, the water would be filthy and, in flood seasons, the river’s current could be dangerous stuff.

I left that church when Nicholas was about 14, and he went into the deeper waters of his faith, taking the Gospel seriously. When he finished school he went off to join a religious commune, got married and had five children. By a river in Tennessee, Nicholas lived a very simple life farming, with no electricity, no phone, no luxuries, staying close to nature; in some ways, his faith allowed him  to embrace the simplicity of both Jesus and John the Baptizer. I wrote to him and told him how proud I was of him for having a life in which he was able to love and make the world a better place. His mother said he would probably want to talk theology with me, but it was my belief he didn’t need to talk theology, as he was living it. In my theology, being united with God by loving others and making the world a better place is all you need to do. I did not receive an answer to my letter. This last Monday I found out why.  His mother wrote that, one day after all the children had done their chores, he took the five children with him in a canoe on the river. On the way back, the tired family’s canoe hit a submerged tree, and my friend and two of his children were swept away from the overturned canoe. Three of the children survived. Being submerged in the river is dangerous stuff
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If he had not taken that turn in his life of choosing to live by that river, he might still be alive.  If – if –if  - he had lived his life safely by the banks of the James and never gone deeper into the waters of faith; but if he had not taken that turn, he might not have truly lived. I was saddened by his death and not being able to continue our discussion in this life.  I am comforted by two thoughts: (1) the knowledge that, in God’s economy, nothing is ever lost and we will all be united again after this vale of tears is over, and (2) the assurance that his too, too short life was meaningful. We do not know the number of our days; we can only greet each day by loving God and neighbor and working to make the world a better place. Nicholas lived fully.

Last Sunday morning, a day before I got the second letter from his mother, I had a dream in which St. Joseph appeared, and I told the congregation that I would tell them about the dream because I knew it would fit the lesson of the Baptism of Jesus for today. Before I got the letter the sermon was taking shape in my mind as a “Come on in the water is fine” as a way to make a deeper commitment in tune with our annual Parish meeting held between the services. However, the events of life call me to see another level of meaning of the dream in a different way. 

In the dream I am in a church where I live in a Rectory between the Sanctuary and Parish House. However, in this dream, they are all connected to each other. On a Sunday morning I have to get ready for the service and I go, half-dressed, to the bathroom to get ready. There are two reasons to get ready - (1) to get rid of the past and (2) make myself ready for the present. After the dream, upon reflection, I understood that these are symbols of the two competing and sometimes complementary definitions of Baptism - (1) to be cleansed from sin and to die to the old life and (2) to go through the water of new life into a new birth. 

However, in the dream, the door to the bathroom is boarded up. I go through the other parts of the house and the Sanctuary and the Parish House, but all the doors were boarded. I encountered lots of blocked passages, and finally I was able to get to the outside of the building where there are steps being worked on by St. Joseph. The steps are unfinished, but he offers to help me up the half-finished steps. I tell him that I can do it myself and I start climbing on my hands and knees up the stairs. I come to a place where I see the steps look like bricks, but I see wave movement in the bricks. It is not a pool but a river, and being submerged in the river is dangerous stuff. I am aware that if I put my weight on it, I will plunge into the water and, while I am a good swimmer, I am afraid of being immersed in this water. I try to climb out of the situation, but my hand goes through the water. Joseph is holding his hand out to me, but I am afraid that if I reach for it, I will fall.  I wake up. 

When I woke up, I reflected that I was afraid because I did not want to change, to go deeper into the unknown, for being submerged in the river is dangerous stuff. In the dream I did not want to ask for help; I wanted to do it all by myself, yet Jesus asked for help from John. As foolish as I was looking half dressed, I lacked the humility to divest my pride to hear the words of love which I had not earned but was graciously given. If God said that I was a beloved child, where might the river of God’s love take me? - for being submerged in the river of God is dangerous stuff.

If the dream is a gift from the core of life for health and wholeness, which I believe, then my dream is an invitation to go beyond my anxiety by diving into, and swimming in, the unknown waters. If this were your dream, then where is your river, what is waiting for you, what is keeping you?

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