Afloat (Epiphany 1A)

Afloat
Homily delivered the First Sunday after Epiphany (Epiphany 1A RCL)

The Rev. Fr. Tony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.
8 January 2017; 8:00 a.m. Said Mass; 10:00 a.m. Sung Mass
Parish Church of Trinity, Ashland (Oregon)
Readings:  Isaiah 42:1-9; Acts 10:34-43; Matthew 3:13-17; Psalm 29

God, give us hearts to feel and love,

take away our hearts of stone
 and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.

When I was very small, our family went on vacation to a warm spring in the Rocky Mountains, and spent an afternoon at a swimming pool there.  I remember very clearly, because I almost died there.  I loved the water.  My family sat on the edge, talking and watching me as I played on the steps going into the shallow end.  On the middle step I could splash and play, and put my face under. But I stepped too far back, off the steps. I took a breath, and sunk down.  Standing as tall as I could, I was about 4 inches short of the surface.  I bounced up and took a breath, and sank again.  I tilted my head back because that was the only way to get air when I bounced up.  I got disoriented, and the only plane that seemed to remain in the world was the surface of the water, there inches above my eyes.   I had not gotten enough air.  I could see my father through the surface, but he was looking at my mother and not at me.  I bounced up again.  Again, not enough air.  I started to panic.  I couldn’t breathe.  I bounced again, gulped, but to no avail.  I looked up just as things started to go dark, when my sister started pointing to me.  My father’s strong hands were at once around my arm, pulling me into the air, sputtering and gasping.  

I went on later to become a competitive swimmer, lifeguard, and swimming instructor.   But that early experience left a mark.  Though I quickly learned to swim, I really did not like being face up in the water. Panic came invariably, whenever I was on my back.

I had a very hard time learning how to float on my back, perfecting it only when I was 14 years old.  All my teachers said, “Oh, but it’s so easy! All you have to do is put your head back and relax!  Let the water hold you up!”  But try as hard as I could, every time I put my head back, it felt like I was falling.   I tensed up and sank, the water rushing up my nose.  I had learned from that earlier experience fear, and the need to be in control.  And to float, I had to learn to relax, stop worrying and projecting my fears, and give up control. 

Today’s Gospel tells us about the baptism of Jesus. Jesus is plunged into the waters of Jordan.  In the Eastern tradition’s Great Blessing of the Waters we hope to celebrate this afternoon in Lithia Park, weather permitting, when Jesus is baptized in Jordan, the river’s waters turn back in wonder at the humbling of God for our sake, just as they turned back for the returning people of Israel coming out of Egypt. 

Baptism became the rite of Christian initiation, the sign of our start of life in Christ and in the Church.    Early Christians borrowed John’s symbol of full immersion into water as a way of marking and helping along the process of death to past wrong-doing and exploitation and birth to a new life.  Only later was this full symbolism reduced for convenience’ sake to effusion or pouring and the baptism of children introduced as a sign of its importance for all, regardless of capacity. 

The first Christians saw it as a burial in the water.  Paul writes, “[We] who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death… so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead … we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:3-4).  Paul is imagining being pushed backwards into water, with that feeling of falling, with that feeling of drowning. 

Many different Biblical images describe what baptism seeks to embody: turning back from wrong-doing, surrendering to God, being washed clean, becoming a child, getting married to God, finding a treasure buried in a field and selling everything to buy the field,  being sprinkled with purifying water, new creation, new life, waking up from a deep sleep, coming to one’s senses, regaining eyesight, forgiveness, healing.   

In the Gospel of John, Jesus talks to Nicodemus about a new birth, being born from on high, rather than a death.  He says this new birth is not only “of water” but also “of the spirit,” that is, of God’s breath or the wind.  He adds, “The wind blows where it wills; the breath breathes where it wants.” 

All of these images are about giving up control.  The lesson is learning to let go and let the waters bear you up. 

Learning to relax and give up control, go with flow, accept who we are and what we are presented with—all this is important in spiritual growth.  It is essential in learning to live in the Spirit, and have a sense of serenity and purpose.  It is key if couples are to remain together happily and grow in love, if communities, including churches, are to prosper and grow in their common life, worship, and ministry. 

This does not mean simply giving up and letting yourself go, or letting others exploit or manipulate you.  I had to keep trying to learn to swim.  I had to keep trying to learn to relax, to put myself in the right position, to float on my back. 

It’s hard.  How can I learn to relax?  How can I embrace the thing I fear?  Can anyone breathe underwater?  Can you defy gravity?  How can I achieve the impossible? 

We have to open ourselves to God, trust God fully.  We need to give each other the benefit of the doubt, or better, the benefit of believing.  It is that simple. It is that risky. 

It may feel like drowning until God reaches down and pulls us into the breath of  new life.  Because ultimately, it all comes down to a gift from God. 

What happens when we do learn to let go and let God wash like water over us?  What happens when we let ourselves be borne up on the wind of God? 

We are more sure of the love of God, but less sure of our own formulations about God. 

We are not peevish or annoyed at the unexpected, or the unfamiliar. 

We can look at true horror in the face and not be afraid. 

We stop trying to use rules to limit God or control others.

We begin to notice God where we least expect Him.  

Our heart is more and more open, and our mind less and less closed.

We love others as we know God loves us.

We do good out of this love, not because it is required, but because it is a joy.

Sisters and Brothers, we are damaged goods, all of us.  We are like the people John the Baptist called to baptism.  We are like Nicodemus coming to Jesus in the night asking how we can be right with God.  We are like the Israelites on the banks of the Jordan, wandering in the desert and desperately seeking a home.   The waters of Jordan are deep and dangerous. 

But on the bank, God appears. God humbles himself, empties himself, and reaching out to us in love, submits to John.   He is baptized with us.  Jesus, God made flesh, shows us the way of how to let go of control.  And the dangerous waters of Jordan take note, stand up, and roll back in awe. 

Jesus not only showed us the way, he is the way.  He accepted and opened himself to the will of his Father, risked all.  He accepted the instruction and authority of the Baptist.  He let himself be covered in Jordan’s flood.  He let himself be borne away on the wind, even to the point of being lifted high upon the cross.  Through this and his glorious coming forth from the grave, he is reaching down to pull us from the deep water.  

In the coming week, I invite all of us to identify one thing, just one, where we have been insisting on our own way, or demanding at the expense of someone else because it is our right.  Once we have identified it, let us let go of it, just let go.   

Let us all learn to relax as we let ourselves fall back into the mysterious love of God.  Let us lose our lives so that we may find them.   Let’s not struggle as he buries us in the waves and pulls us up again, sputtering, into new breath and life.  Let us allow ourselves to be borne up on his waters and carried away on his wind.

In the name of Christ, Amen.