Jaroslaw Baczewski/istockphoto
January 11: Mark 1:4-11
One day, soon after we got our Samoyed, Dexter, from the shelter, I took him to a park where dogs are allowed off leash. Mistake number one. He's uninhibited, curious and affectionate. He doesn't stay on the path. He doesn't cling to my side.
Mistake number two was letting him go down a path beside a pond. He looked good, standing there in the water, barking his head off. His own beam of sunlight made him look oh-so-white and, well, canine.
Then he realized he was wet. Out he came. Snow white on top. Pitch black on the bottom.” Here I am! Aren't I great? I'll just rub myself all over your pants, and sit down here on your foot! Woof!”
Here's what I learned from my baptism as the owner of a large dog: Don't wade into water, unless you know what's under it. And never go wading in white pants.
When we picture a baptism in a river, we see clear, running water. We see people in white robes. Baptism is all about cleansing, after all. In Jesus' day, Jordan flooded in the spring, and dried to a trickle in the summer. John was there when there was water, and when it was safe to wade in.
Safe, but not clean. In our part of the world, we take clear water for granted. In most of the rest of the world, water is brown. John stood in mud. People who wanted to be baptized stood beside him. John dipped water and poured it over their heads. Murky water.
People were baptized to prepare for the Messiah's arrival. When the Messiah arrived, what did he do? He was baptized too.
Not an auspicious start for the Saviour of the world. To do what any run-of-the-mill sinner might do. His mission was to usher in a new creation. He had to get ready to do that. So Jesus got baptized, too.
Jesus followed a well-worn path to meet John. The wilderness was a place of trial and trouble for his people. It was also a place of truth, a place where God's word rang out with crystal clarity.
The Jordan was a sacred river. For the Hebrew people it was the last border between lostness and home. Its waters parted to let the Ark of the Covenant lead the nation to the promised land. The prophet and hero Elijah crossed the river to wait for God's final call. After Elijah was carried away in a heavenly chariot, his student, Elisha, crossed back to begin his work.
Did John and Jesus stand in that place? Were their feet bathed in the same mud that had caked the prophets' feet? Some people actually thought John was Elijah, back from heaven!
The water that washed Jesus carried his people's history down the Jordan. The soil that stuck to his shirt was of their land, their heritage, and their faith. Jesus took it all on himself. The muck of this world squirted up between his toes, and the glory of heaven poured down on his head and shoulders.
There's something unearthly about our images of Jesus. We need to make more of him than a talking head. We need to see him in old clothes, drenched with muddy water. We need to remember he has dirty feet.
Nobody wore white pants into John's baptistry. White dogs were banned from the river. Jesus began his work in this world by plunging into this world's life. Not just Israel's life and history. Our life, too.
Baptism is all about what God gives to us, not what we can understand or give in return. We were all immersed in grace that was before us, in now, and ever shall be. We were bathed in a faith greater even than our own parents' trust in God on that day.
Like Jesus, we got wet in water that carried the whole history of our people, God's people, the church. Like Jesus, we were named children of God. We were ordained at baptism to serve God in this beautiful, troubled world.
We can't see it, but the dust of the well-worn path is all over our feet. The mud of the world sticks to our clothes.
