Water Daily

1-10-23 - Secret Agent Man

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

I don’t know why there aren’t more movies about John the Baptist – he is a strong, odd and gripping character. If I were to make a film of the scene we’re exploring this week, it would be a Mission Impossible-style spy thriller with secret agents lurking about (let’s give the soundtrack to Johnny Rivers - even if it does sound like he’s singing “secret Asian man”…). Spy thrillers come to mind when I read how John was able to identify Jesus as the Son of God:

And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.'"

I imagine John asking his handler, “So, how am I going to know my contact?” And the reply, through an encoded message, “Here’s the sign – he’s going to be in the crowd coming to the river for baptism… he’ll be the one with a dove on his head…” And, of course, John will know “dove” is code for the Holy Spirit. “He’s the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit,” the message will continue, before dematerializing into a small pile of sand.

In Matthew’s account of the story, which we read last week, John is keenly aware of who Jesus is. In Luke’s account they are cousins. John’s Gospel draws on other traditions, and he wants to establish the validity of John the Baptist’s testimony. Hence this theme of identity and recognition.

So let’s go with that. How do we identify Jesus in our lives, since he isn't walking around with flesh and bones? How do we recognize the Holy Spirit, since s/he rarely assumes that dove disguise these days? How do we perceive when we’re in Christ’s presence when we can’t rely on our five senses?

Some people feel it, a physical rush of some kind that seems connected with the Spirit. Sometimes we feel filled with joy or a desire to praise. Those are some internal ways – you might ask Jesus to bless you with presence in that way.

Or use the imagination God gave you, and ask Jesus if he would meet you somewhere in your mind's eye. Get still and wait and see what kind of scene unfolds, inside or outside, familiar or unknown… what do you see, hear, smell? If you sense Jesus joining you in that place, does conversation unfold? Don’t rush it. Be attentive to what you perceive.

The other way he said we’d know him is in other people: in other Christ-followers; in the poor, the hungry, the homeless, the sick, the lonely, the imprisoned. When you find yourself with someone in need, are you ever aware of Christ in that person? We can pray, “Jesus, let me see you.” It's a really good prayer when someone is annoying us.

John the Baptist says, “And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.” I believe God will grant us experiences that prompt us to testify too. It's just that, for some reason, Jesus usually shows up undercover – even in you and me.

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1-9-23 - You and Jesus

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

John the Baptist is front and center during Advent, and rarely seen the rest of the church year. Yet here he is in January, popping up as an eyewitness to the identity of Christ. His testimony is remarkable:

The next day [John] saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.”

The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. That’s a mouthful, signifying from the beginning of the story the sacrificial aspect of Jesus’ mission. And John is very sure of who Jesus is. “This is the one I was talking about, who I said was coming, who is greater than I. He is why I do this!” If John is unhappy about his season waning while another’s ripens, he doesn’t show it. He is clear about who he is and who Jesus is. That’s where spiritual maturity begins.

It is generally unwise to define ourselves in comparison to someone else. But if that someone else is Jesus, it can help give us a clearer picture. Here’s a prayer experiment to try today: Sit quietly, maybe light a candle, let your breathing slow and deepen, let yourself get centered. Close your eyes, and picture yourself. Where are you? What are you wearing? What do you hear, smell, see? What do you think about what you see? What do you feel?

Then bring Jesus into the picture. Imagine him sitting with you. No need to stress about what he looks like or if you have a visual sense of him – just let him be a presence. How do you look next to him? Who do you see when you look at yourself through his eyes?

If feelings come up that you want to speak, go ahead – that’s prayer, talking with God.

If you hear a response from Jesus, that’s great. That’s prayer, God talking with us. If visualizing in prayer isn’t for you, just ask God, “Who do you see when you look at me?” Wait to see if you sense a response; I often find they come quickly and are surprising. God wants us to know who we are in God’s eyes.

When we look at ourselves with Jesus in the picture, we know at least three things: We know we’re not God; we know we’re not perfect; we know we’re loved.

And when we know these things about ourselves, we tend to be gentler with ourselves, more compassionate with other people, and a whole lot freer with our love. That’s what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ, an apostle of the Good News, and a saint in God's church.
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1-6-22 - Epiphany

You can listen to this reflection here. The gospel for Epiphany is here.

Until you’re there, you’re not. This is a truth of journeying we rediscover any time we’re racing to a destination, a reunion, or enduring travel delays. (I was reminded of this last week, stuck in traffic on my way to a Covid-delayed family Christmas gathering.) We can only be where we are at any given moment. Until you’re there, you’re not.

The sages who had come so many miles searching for the new king, whose star they’d seen rising in their night skies, were anxious to get there, even if they weren’t quite sure what “there” would turn out to be. They had invested a great deal in making this trip, trusting the stellar guidance as they read it. Maybe folks at home had called theirs a fool’s errand; maybe they’d read the stars wrong. This Herod fellow certainly hadn’t heard anything about a new king; he just sent them off toward Bethlehem. Until they were “there,” they weren’t.

But they had that star as a beacon: ..they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.

Hard to imagine what these star-followers felt when the guidance held true. Whether real men or mythic figures – or both – these sages from far-off lands were overwhelmed with joy when they were led to a simple house. If they were surprised to find there an ordinary young family, we see no indication in their actions: “On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”

What a way to greet a king, even one who looked nothing like a king: in a house, not a palace; attended only by his parents. Our wise travelers were unfazed. They knew they had arrived where they needed to be. They had come with three goals – they wanted to see, they wanted to honor, they wanted to gift. And when they had done what they came to do, they went home, guided by the wisdom that had brought them to Bethlehem, to be ready for the next adventure.

We can find in their goals a guide to our devotion:
To want to see Jesus. Make that a prayer; ask the Spirit to expand your faith vision to see Jesus wherever he might be in your life this week, in prayer, in other people, in the poor, at communion…
To want to honor Jesus. Offer him praises, adoration in your heart, with your voice, in your actions, in song…
To give him precious gifts. What that is precious to you do you want to offer Jesus? Your time? Energy? Relationships? Love? Maybe ask what he would like you to give… you might be surprised at the answer.

This journey of seeing, honoring, giving is one we can make over and over again, arriving “there” only to leave again. Each time we arrive we are strengthened for the next trip, which might be in five minutes, or five weeks. And on each journey we see the sights somewhat differently. And always our destination is the same – Home. Until we’re there, we’re not.

1-5-23 - Affirmation

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

We could name the "movements" in Jesus' baptism: Assent, Immersion, Emergence, Anointing, and then Affirmation. Something extraordinary occurs when Jesus comes up from that river - not only does the Spirit of God descend upon him in a visible form, there is an auditory phenomenon as well:

And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he 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 whom I am well pleased."

Here we see all three persons in the One Triune God participating in the launch of Jesus’ mission on earth: the Spirit, the Father, and the one whom the Father claims as Son. When early church thinkers were working out theological implications of the Good News, scriptural passages like this helped to inform the doctrines of the Trinity and of Jesus’ nature as fully human and fully divine. Jesus, alone of humans born of woman, is called God’s Son.

That is the only part of the baptism unique to him. The pattern in Jesus’ baptism, Assent, Immersion, Emergence, Anointing and Affirmation, is true for us as well, if more internalized. We, or someone acting on our behalf, offer assent to the Story into which we are baptized. We undergo the dying and rising symbolically, in our interaction with the water, whether it’s actual immersion or not. We receive the anointing with oil of chrism, and the affirmation of belovedness. We are adopted as members of God’s household through our spiritual bond with the Son. And we receive God’s eternal “yes," claimed as beloved forever.

When have you heard God's "yes" spoken into you? Sometimes it comes through human agents, sometimes we feel it directly, inside. Remember those moments of spiritual affirmation, of being loved by your Creator for who you are. Recall them in moments when faith seems difficult, or you can’t see your way forward. More than any other message I have ever received in prayer I have heard God say, “I love you. Rest in my love.” Those are prayer times I can return to, remember, reclaim.

Let's note that the Father’s naming and claiming Jesus as his own, "the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased," comes before Jesus has actually “done” anything. His first thirty years appear to have been spent with his family, sharing his earthly father’s carpentry craft. His public ministry is still to come – and yet already, the Father proclaims himself “Well pleased.” All Jesus has done so far is show up.

I hope and pray we can remember this ourselves in moments when we feel inadequate or less than lovable – God loves us just as we show up and offer ourselves for relationship. There is nothing we can or need to do to earn that love – God already loves us “the most.” As we are able to accept that, we are able to show that kind of love to ourselves, and to one another, and beyond. What the world needs now...

1-4-23 - Anointing

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he 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.

Nothing like being dive-bombed by the Holy Spirit! Of course, it only says the Spirit of God descended like a dove… But the literal-minded imagine a bird landing on Jesus’ head, a comical image that might obscure the power of what gospel writers describe here: the moment when the Spirit of God, present at Jesus’ conception, fully indwells him. This is when Jesus moves fully into his identity as the Christ, “the Anointed One.” (“Christ” is from the same Greek word for oil, or ointment, from which we get “chrism.”) This is the moment when his public ministry begins, when he takes up his mission of transformation and redemption.

We receive the Spirit at baptism as well. We are baptized in water and by invocation of the three-fold name of God, and then we are anointed with oil, signed with a cross on our foreheads. That oil signifies the Holy Spirit. In some early east Syrian baptismal rites, the oil was as important as the water, or more, so crucial was it to convey the power of the Spirit to be released in the newly baptized.

The gift of the Holy Spirit is often our most neglected, like a punch bowl gathering dust in the cupboard, or the wedding china left in the buffet except for “special occasions.” Yet St. Paul calls this gift of the Spirit a down-payment on our inheritance that we can access now. He writes to the Ephesians, “When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession—to the praise of his glory.”

In essence, we have a huge inheritance in the bank, which will never run out. At baptism we receive the card and the pin number. We can leave it sitting there – or we can use it to bring spiritual power to bear on all kinds of pain and brokenness and stuckness we encounter in ourselves and others. Among the gifts Paul cites are insight, hope and spiritual power, which we can exercise now.

Are you aware of the presence of the Spirit in you and around you? When do you access that power? Sometimes we can simply invite the Spirit to make him/herself known (the Spirit has no gender… but is not an “it.”)

Today you might sit quietly for a time, get comfortable, both feet on the floor, spine straight but relaxed, and pray, “Come, Holy Spirit. Fill me. Let me know you’re here.” And wait, with attention.

Or, if you’re confronted with a tense or challenging situation, invoke the Spirit into it, praying silently, “Guide me, give me the right words, protect me…,” whatever seems right. Think how engaged our churches can be in our communities when we all exercise the gift of the Spirit!

We aren’t always aware of such cosmic activity at baptism – yet I believe that each time we enact that sacrament, the heavens are opened, and the Spirit of God descends and alights on us. And once the heavens are opened to us, we have lifetime access to the God of the universe. Lifetime, and beyond.

1-3-23 - Water

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

In Robert Duvall’s great film, The Apostle, there is a scene in which Duvall’s character, a wayward evangelist fleeing an attempted murder charge, stands waist deep in a river. Slowly he sinks down and submerges himself. He’s down there awhile – we wonder if he’s coming back up. Then just as slowly he breaks through the surface. From here on he assumes a new identity and adopts a new name, “The Apostle EF.” We never quite know whether this is grace or scheming – that’s part of the power of the film. The scene infers, though, that he was baptizing himself, allowing his old identity to die and a new one to be born.

Baptism is the premiere rite of new beginnings. In the church, it has long been the entry point for life in Christ, though sometimes it comes long after faith has taken hold. One reason baptism always includes water is because Jesus was baptized in water. “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.” Some reason that Jesus in this way sanctified all waters.

We all begin life in the water, the amniotic fluid in which we grow before birth. And, of course, water can also be a place of death – imagery which our baptismal texts emphasize as the drowning of the old self and the rising with Christ of the new, eternal soul. Christian baptismal rites emphasize both birth and death – some early baptismal fonts were designed to suggest wombs, tombs or both.

I find it a great blessing that an element we encounter numerous times each day should be the sacramental sign of our new life in Christ, for we can be constantly reminded of our status as beloved of God. Martin Luther is said to have instructed followers, “When you wash your face, remember your baptism.” I would go further and say, “When you have a bath or a shower, remember your baptism. When you go swimming or pass a puddle, or fill your coffee pot or water glass, remember your baptism.”

If you can’t remember yours, spend a little time today imagining it in prayer. What water source would you choose? A font, a pool, a beach, a water fall, a fountain?
Would you like to go into the water or have it poured over you? In your imagination, can you see those waters as healing? What do you want healed? Regenerated? Renewed?

There was a time when my prayer life consisted of meeting Jesus on a beach in my imagination – sometimes he had a fire there and we talked. More than once, he invited me to wade into the sea with him, a profound reminder of my baptism.

Wherever and whenever you were baptized, and whoever was there, remember that Jesus also was there through his Spirit, sanctifying the water in which you were born anew. That birth process takes a lifetime – and we can dip into those waters any time we want.

1-2-23 - Submission

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

This coming Sunday we explore the story of Jesus’ baptism. For many decades in the early church, Epiphany was when Jesus' birth was celebrated (Christmas didn't come around till the 4th century and did not become prevalent until the 9th), and was considered the holiest time of the year for baptisms. Baptism is where our formal life in Christ begins – and baptism is where Jesus of Nazareth formally became the Christ. Yet this momentous blessing almost didn’t occur:

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”

Maybe the evangelist Matthew was a lawyer; so often he seems to be citing precedent, marshalling supporting arguments, and anticipating objections. He alone of the Gospel writers tells us that John was uncomfortable having Jesus submit to his ritual of repentance. After all, by the time Matthew is writing, Jesus is already risen and ascended, worshiped as the sinless Son of God. Matthew is getting out in front of those who would question why Jesus should have undergone a baptism of repentance. So here John objects to what he perceives as the lesser baptizing the greater.

But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfil all righteousness.” Then he consented.

Jesus recognized that, if he was to share fully in our humanity, he needed to undergo this rite of cleansing. He willingly submits to this ritual, as later he submits to a corrupt trial and unjust sentence and hideous death. Over and over Jesus submits – and so subverts the sin and death from which he came to free us. Indeed, his Incarnation itself – God taking on the limitations of human flesh and nature, of boundedness in time and space – is submission, freely submitting in order to set others free.

Some in our churches, reacting to centuries of forced submission endured by women, people of color, enslaved and oppressed persons, would remove the language and rituals of submission from our liturgies. Though I understand the sentiment, this may be throwing out the baby with the bathwater. I suggest that the art of voluntary submission is at the heart of following Christ. It is central to the self-emptying love Jesus taught and lived. In following him, we voluntarily submit our prerogatives, our priorities, our time and resources, our wills, to the cause of self-giving love that heals and transforms the people around us. We might even say that submission is the heart of spiritual growth – learning to gradually submit ourselves to the love of God, overwhelming as that can be.

Where in your life do you submit – voluntarily, or not. (Not all submission is life-giving… yet in choosing to submit, we can often give life.)

And where do you sense yourself hanging on to avoid submitting? What might be asked of you? To trust more? To give more? To spend time with someone difficult? To change careers? Ask Jesus to show you where he is inviting you to submit more of yourself, your agenda, to his. How do you respond? Our “yes” sometimes takes awhile…

Jesus does not ask of us anything he has not already done – perhaps that’s why the sinless one chose to go into the water that day. It was the beginning of his taking on the burden of our repentance. It was the beginning of life for us, there in that river.