Matthew 3:13-17
Baptism
Revealing what we
might not see
In her disturbing short story, “The
River,” Flannery O’Connor tells of a young boy whose mother is too hung
over to care for him. His mother, and
others, continue to smoke their cigarettes and drink from their bottles as the
woman who is to watch the boy insists upon coins to pay for the streetcar,
“It’ll be twict we have to ride the car.” she yells, into the darkness of the
foul-smelling apartment. She intended to
take the boy to a healing - out by the river.
This preacher didn’t come along very often and she wasn’t about to miss
it - even if that meant she had to take the boy along.
The boy listened as the preacher
preached, “Maybe I know why you come, maybe I don’t...if you ain’t come for
Jesus, you ain’t come for me. If you
just come to see can you leave your pain in the water, you ain’t come for Jesus. You can’t leave your pain in the river.”
“There ain’t but one river,” the
preacher continued, “and that’s the River of Life, made out of Jesus’
Blood. That’s the river you have to lay
your pain in...If it’s this River of Life you want to lay your pain in, then
come up, and lay your sorrow here. This
old red river don’t end here.” the
preacher continues, “this old red suffering stream goes on, you people, slow to
the Kingdom of Christ.”
The boy watched as a woman entered
the waters and was healed of her palsy.
The boy hid in the hems of his car-taker’s skirt, fearful of what he was
seeing.
When the boy catches the attention
of the preacher, he is asked whether he has ever been baptized.
“What’s that?” he murmured.
“If I baptize you,” the preacher
said, “you’ll be able to go to the Kingdom of Christ. You’ll be washed in the river of suffering,
son, and you’ll go by the deep river of life.
Do you want that?”
“Yes,” the child said, and thought,
“I won’t go back to the apartment then, I’ll go under the river.”
The boy is baptized, but even
though the preacher pushes him under the water, he resurfaces. He is disturbed that the river won’t accept
him.
The boy is returned to the
apartment. He sleeps, wakes the next
morning to an apartment that is hushed except for the sounds he creates by
moving the empty bottles. As he considers
how he will care for himself this day, he decides to return to the River. Thinking something must have gone wrong the
first time, he will baptize himself.
The boy slips out of the
house. He carefully retraces the route
to the River. He never hesitates as he
makes his way into the deep water. As
the red muddy water fills his mouth and nose, he gasps for air. He resurfaces, thinking that the River has
again refused to accept him. “He plunged
under once more and this time, the waiting current caught him like a long
gentle hand and pulled him swiftly forward and down. For an instant he was overcome with surprise;
then since he was moving quickly and knew that he was getting somewhere, all
his fury and fear left him.”
We often talk, quite glibly, about
baptism. Not often enough do we stop to
ask the young boy’s question, “What is that?”
We make assumptions. Or, because
no one else is asking questions, we decide that we shouldn’t either. But there may be nothing as puzzling as this
practice of ours in which persons who are fully alive and living are brought to
a pool of water and placed beneath the surface.
All of this is done with the promise that as one emerges from the river
their lives will be different, changed, altered. These are tremendous promises. Can it be said that our experience matches
the expectations?
The boy in O’Connor’s story was
promised a place too wonderful for him to imagine. He only came as close as the bottom of a
muddy river.
The Jordan River, where Jesus was
baptized, probably wasn’t deep enough nor flowing rapidly enough to suck anyone
under. It was more of silt-filled
causeway than a turbulent river. When
John sees Jesus coming, it is John who is filled with all sorts of
expectations.
Remember that John had been out
there for a while, along the banks of that river. He had been preaching on the necessity of
everyone to examine their lives, confess their sins and receive a baptism of
repentance. He had told those who came
out to hear him that he was merely a messenger, a forerunner. He was to be followed by “one who is more
powerful.” John announced, “He
will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”
We are not exactly sure how John
recognizes Jesus, when Jesus comes to John, to be baptized. When Jesus shows up at the Jordan River, it
is his first adult appearance in the gospel.
Jesus has performed no miracles, he has not healed anyone, he has told
no parables and preached no sermons.
Yet, when John sees him, he recognizes him. John already expects great things. As Jesus approaches the baptismal waters,
John begins to question whether his expectations will be matched by an equally
wonderful experience.
We make a lot of wonderful promises
- as a child of God is presented at the baptismal font. We speak, rather glibly, of a renewed life,
of a life that is transformed, of a live that is different than life could
otherwise be. Does the life that is
lived on the other side of that river of water match the promises that are
made? We would hope that it would; even
as we acknowledge that often it does not.
Our children, no less than those
who are not baptized, get caught up in drug and alcohol addition, die in auto
accidents or suffer the pains of crippling illnesses. The waters of baptism do not shield us from
the pains of body and heart.
So how, then, is our life
different, having been baptized? What
changes, as we are pushed below the surface of that muddy, red river?
When Jesus emerges from the waters
of the Jordan, his life made a dramatic change.
Each of the gospels agree, that is in the immediate aftermath of his
baptism that Jesus embarks upon his time of temptation. He leaves the river bank and enters the
wilderness where for forty days he is tempted.
Jesus’ life changes - dramatically - after he has been baptized.
What, then, of our lives? How are we changed, altered, made different as
a result of the water that is placed on our heads?
As with the characters in
O’Connor’s short story, we don’t know why Jesus went down to the river. What we do know is that as he was coming up
out of the water, he was presented with a tremendous gift. Matthew tells us that just as (Jesus) came
up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the
Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my
Son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased.”
Whatever expectations Jesus had as
he entered the water, there was no way he could have anticipated the gift that
was given to him as he emerged. The
heavens were opened, and God announced pleasure with this child.
Jesus’ baptism revealed what might
otherwise have remained hidden. On the
other side of the baptismal river Jesus was able to see what might otherwise
have gone unnoticed.
Our baptismal ceremony may not have
ended with as great a presentation as this, but the affirmation is the
same. On this side of the baptismal
river our life differs in that we know that we are the beloved - that God loves
us and that God has claimed us as daughter, as son. The waters of baptism reveal to us that which
might otherwise remain hidden - they reveal to us the great expectations our
God has for each of us.
The young boy in Flannery
O’Connor’s story went back to the river because his life was such hell. He longed for the peace that the preacher
promised. He believed that that peace
would be found in the waters of The River.
I was baptized on March 10,
1957. I don’t remember the day; I was
only four weeks old. But I recall that
day, many times in my life. I recall it
each time I need affirmation. I bring
that day to mind every time I have reason to doubt my worthiness. I recall that day and if I shut my eyes real
tightly, I can almost see that dove descending and alighting on me.
Our life on this side of the
baptismal river differs in one way and in only one way. We now live with the assurance that we too
are God’s child. We are the beloved,
with us, God is well pleased. God is
pleased, not because we are good little boys and girls. We try to be, but we won’t ever really
be. God is pleased, because God has
claimed us beloved. And in loving us,
God creates a joy that outstrips all the world’s hurts and pains.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment