And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
-Mark 1:9-11
If you have been to the River Jordan, you know it is a muddy little river. But truthfully, with exceptions, most bodies of water offer scant visibility beneath the surface, particularly from any kind of distance. Even the Potomac, which runs a stately cool green this time of year, offers only two or three feet of visibility with zero turbidity. Looking into a river or an ocean, our vision often fails to mark the bottom and vanishes into the depths, searching for something to settle on other than the dark unknown. Sight literally is swallowed up by the deep.
Into water like this Jesus sank. Thirty years of a son, brother, friend, human; thirty years of blood and piss, thirty years of waiting, sunk in the water like a dead ship. I wonder what happened while he was underneath, the whole world groaning in anticipation, a moment that owned no time and all time. Did his limbs stretch out with the current? Did John hold him tight, or let him go? John seems like the type with a firm grip. What I wonder most is what he was thinking as the water and its darkness enveloped him. Did he have an inkling of what was coming next? That two thousand years later we would sprinkle water on each other in his name? I don’t think so. I think Jesus was wrapped in the same dark, watery unknown we find ourselves in sometimes. Waiting down below the surface. Waiting by himself. Waiting for Himself.
It could have been any river. It could have been an ocean. And let it be so. Let it be that each body of water holds for you both the unknown chaos of the deep and the living body of Christ, hiding below the surface of what is seen and known. This is what Advent is: a hungry fisherperson standing at the edge of the water, waiting and searching and yearning for a fish to break the surface. Scanning the water, attentive to the slightest quiver of the line, the smallest ripple.
And has anything broken the water like Christ? Out of the darkness and turbulence below rises Christ, glittering like a gamefish, rocketing up into view and exclaiming I am here! Look at me! Feel my life course through yours like lightning! Like a giant fish tug tug tugs, rippling its vitality through the line into the pole and into your human flesh. What was unknown and unseen is revealed. What was longed for and sought out has arrived.
But do you see it? Do you see the Spirit descend like a dove? Or are you staring at the water like it is just…water? We take so many pains to scrub the ethereal and mystical out of this life. So is it just a coincidence, a chance breeze at the right moment, just a pretty sunrise after a hard night? Or will you let yourself believe the Truth that Christ did rise? Out of Israel, out of Mary, out of the Jordan, out of the tomb, out of our darkest moments, Christ rises, rises, rises! And if you dare to listen, really listen, you might hear God respond, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased!” And you might believe that God is speaking about you too.
