Mess
This week, in our journey along "The Way," we are looking at the baptism and temptation of Jesus, and the readings have taken me back to this past summer's trip to Israel. It was my third trip to the Holy Land, and in many ways it was the most meaningful for many reasons, not the least of which was the time of baptismal renewal we had along the Jordan River.
Pilgrims to the Holy Land are taken to one of two sites these days. The "tourist" site (as I call it) is Yardenit, and it is in the northern part of the nation, near the southern mouth of the Sea of Galilee. It's lush, green, pretty, and has been long established as a site for baptismal renewal. I've been there twice, and while it's nice, it's not authentic because we know John was baptizing in the desert, and Yardenit is anything but a desert.
Only recently have they opened a site near Jericho, near the northern mouth of the Dead Sea, in the desert. Until the last few years, this area was heavily mined because it is right on the border of Israel and Jordan. Now, we still don't know if this is the "actual" place, but it's closer. It's in the desert, near Qumran and Jericho, closer historically to the place where John would have been working and preaching.
But it's not as pretty. There are some plants, but it's not lush like Yardenit. The water, having made the long trek from the mountains, though the Sea of Galilee, past Jerusalem and into the desert, is muddy. It's dirty. It's hot (the air, not the water). But I'd still much rather go there to remember my baptism.
Not just because it's more authentic (though the historian in me likes that). But more because it's dirty, messy. In our churches, we set baptism apart as a nice, clean practice. We put babies in white gowns and children and adults in new clothes. There have even been folks who've said, "Can we just get this over with so we can get on with worship?" But baptism is not meant to be clean, neat, "pretty." Baptism is God claiming us as his own, right there in the midst of the mess and the muddle of our world. It's not about having everything together and then coming to God. It's coming to God and allowing him to put us together, to wash us clean. That's what the symbolism of baptism represents. And I find that the place in the desert reminds me of that so well. It's messy. It's muddy. Just like my life. Just like our lives.
The place in the desert was also meaningful this year because I got to participate in the renewal of many people's baptisms, especially my daughter's. I didn't baptize her when she was a baby; I asked another pastor to do that because I wanted to be Dad, presenting her to God and making promises, along with Cathy, on her behalf. But it was so very cool to help her renew her baptism, especially as it came just a few months before her confirmation. And we did it all right there in the midst of the mess.
May you find God working in the midst of your mess today and every day.
Pilgrims to the Holy Land are taken to one of two sites these days. The "tourist" site (as I call it) is Yardenit, and it is in the northern part of the nation, near the southern mouth of the Sea of Galilee. It's lush, green, pretty, and has been long established as a site for baptismal renewal. I've been there twice, and while it's nice, it's not authentic because we know John was baptizing in the desert, and Yardenit is anything but a desert.
Only recently have they opened a site near Jericho, near the northern mouth of the Dead Sea, in the desert. Until the last few years, this area was heavily mined because it is right on the border of Israel and Jordan. Now, we still don't know if this is the "actual" place, but it's closer. It's in the desert, near Qumran and Jericho, closer historically to the place where John would have been working and preaching.
But it's not as pretty. There are some plants, but it's not lush like Yardenit. The water, having made the long trek from the mountains, though the Sea of Galilee, past Jerusalem and into the desert, is muddy. It's dirty. It's hot (the air, not the water). But I'd still much rather go there to remember my baptism.
Not just because it's more authentic (though the historian in me likes that). But more because it's dirty, messy. In our churches, we set baptism apart as a nice, clean practice. We put babies in white gowns and children and adults in new clothes. There have even been folks who've said, "Can we just get this over with so we can get on with worship?" But baptism is not meant to be clean, neat, "pretty." Baptism is God claiming us as his own, right there in the midst of the mess and the muddle of our world. It's not about having everything together and then coming to God. It's coming to God and allowing him to put us together, to wash us clean. That's what the symbolism of baptism represents. And I find that the place in the desert reminds me of that so well. It's messy. It's muddy. Just like my life. Just like our lives.
The place in the desert was also meaningful this year because I got to participate in the renewal of many people's baptisms, especially my daughter's. I didn't baptize her when she was a baby; I asked another pastor to do that because I wanted to be Dad, presenting her to God and making promises, along with Cathy, on her behalf. But it was so very cool to help her renew her baptism, especially as it came just a few months before her confirmation. And we did it all right there in the midst of the mess.
May you find God working in the midst of your mess today and every day.
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