Got water?
Easter 5B 05/06/12
Grace and peace to you from God our Maker, Christ our Savior, and from the Holy Spirit, our comforter and guide.
Can you guess what I have here? Yes, it’s a box—but can you guess what’s in the box? Wrong. It’s not a strangely shaped pizza. But nice try! No, in this box is the present that I gave to Lisa on her 20th birthday. (Pause to let you fill in your own joke.) Want to see? Well, here’s a piece of it…and here’s another, and here’s some part of it…and here’s the directions. Now can you tell me what it is? (and no answer from you, Lisa, or you’ll get it again for this birthday!)
It’s an Appalachian Mountain Dulcimer. And I got it for Lisa thirty years ago—which is, in and of itself remarkable that it’s still around. But what is even more amazing is that I bought it and gave it to Lisa, unassembled. And that’s exactly how it remains—unassembled. For thirty years. Why? You may ask?
Fear. I was afraid to try and put it together. Scared to attempt bending the wood for its sides. Anxious about cutting the frets and spacing them correctly on the neck of the instrument. Terrified that if I got confused and put it together wrong, people would laugh at me. So I put it off.
Oh, I had sound reasons, good excuses, for not assembling the dulcimer. Reasons that camouflaged my growing trepidation over beginning the project. Didn’t have the time. The correct tools. The extra wood needed for the jigs. A good workbench. I was tired. It looked complicated. I wasn’t in the mood. It would take longer than I wanted to spend. The directions were obscure. I was busy at the store, at camp, at seminary, at church. I couldn’t find the darn thing after we moved. The moon had not yet aligned with the planet Pluto, and now Pluto was no longer a planet, so there you have it—impossible!
And so here it is. Perhaps never to reach its true potential as a musical instrument—playing songs in its dulcet tones, soothing the savage breast, pleasing kings and paupers alike with its droning drone strings. Damned to spend eternity in a box, KD’ed, toted forever from state to state, house to house—but never getting “home,” never achieving wholeness, never feeling the sweet one-ness of being released from its immortal and futile bonds—instead forever the albatross around neck of an Ancient IKEA Mariner.
Oh, maybe…maybe I could…nah! Too much going on right now. Maybe this summer…
Don’t bet on it. There’s too many things preventing me from ever assembling that gift.
Thank goodness that isn’t the case with baptism! In today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Philip, one of the twelve, is led by the Holy Spirit to the road from Jerusalem to Gaza, where he comes upon a chariot carrying a foreign dignitary. Philip is instructed to run alongside—and he does. Either he was a fast runner or that was a slow chariot—anyway! Philip hears the occupant reading from the scroll of Isaiah—which was amazing not because he was not a Jew, and not because very few individuals, and even fewer Gentile individuals, possessed scrolls. What is amazing is that this guy was reading it. He had a “bible” and he was reading it. Pouring over it. Studying it. Philip asks if he understands what he is reading. And he admits that he cannot make heads nor tails of it. (That sounds more familiar!)
So, Philip climbs in the ol’ chariot, and he shows the dignitary how the scripture he’s reading—and all scripture—reveals the good news of God in Jesus Christ. And then he tells the eager scroll reader about Jesus—the whole story. Hearing Philip’s message of the love of God obviously touches this fella’s heart and mind and spirit, because as they come up upon a watering hole, the Ethiopian is moved to say, “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?”
A no brainer, right? Not exactly.
There are a few things that could have prevented him from being baptized. First off, he’s a foreigner—from Ethiopia (which is just south of Egypt)—and, as diverse as the population was in Palestine—it being an important trade route and all—people “from away” were received coolly by the people of Israel, who refused to be assimilated into the paganism of the Empire and its environs.
Second, the Ethiopian is a high-ranking official in the court of the Candace—he is the queen’s treasurer. He’s more like those in opposition to Jesus than those for him. However, he appears to be a “God-fearer,” a proselyte, which is what individuals who desired to become a part of the Jewish religion were called. There was a whole prescribed process and timeline for eventual reception, but even if this man made it through, he would be considered somewhat less than a full Jew because it was not from birth.
And to top it off, the Ethiopian was a eunuch. A castrated man. Part of his job description. Which, besides the obvious drawbacks of that condition, ultimately excluded him from the Jewish community by not allowing such full participation in the assembly (Deuteronomy 23.2). So, the Ethiopian would probably not even be on Philip’s radar as someone to evangelize to—the mission was to the lost sheep of Israel. Peter had not yet met Cornelius, and Saul, later known as Paul, was far from opening the mission to the Gentiles.
Look, here is water. What is to prevent me from being baptized? Plenty, but they all boil down to fear. Fear that somehow letting just anyone in “waters” down the purity of the group. If the Ethiopian gets baptized, then we’ll have to baptize all the Ethiopians. And if we baptize all the Ethiopians, then we’ll be baptizing eunuchs left and right. And then the lame will come and the deaf, and the poor and pretty soon we’ll have to baptize anyone who happens to be standing near some water and asks for it! Who was it—Rodney Dangerfield, who said, “I’d never want to be in a club that would have me as a member. Fear. Fear…
Luckily, we read in 1 John 4 that God is love. And that abiding in Christ both gives that love to us, and perfects that love in us. And love made perfect by Christ Jesus casts out fear. So as Jesus reached out to the ones marginalized by the world, forgotten by the world, reviled by the world—and enfolded them in his Father’s love, so too are those who follow him bound to be radically inclusive and accepting of those who seek transformation by the Holy Spirit.
When the Ethiopian eunuch asks Philip then, “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” Philip doesn’t hesitate—he goes down into the water with the man and baptizes him. (Although in one of the ancient copies of Acts—not the earliest or best—a verse in which Philip extracts a statement of faith from the eunuch first, was added later!) There is nothing to prevent baptism—except what we concoct or invent to muddy the waters.
Now. You’re probably wondering why I told that long story about this (the box). It was not to illustrate the fear that could prevent our welcoming people into faith by baptism. Although it’s good for that. But no, the story doesn’t go with what’s to prevent baptism, for we have learned that nothing does. It goes with this question—our question, as individuals and as the church. Got water? Then what is there to prevent us from living out our lives as ones baptized?
Plenty, it seems. There’s petty jealousy that gets in the way of walking with Jesus. There’re old wounds and feuds that flare up at unrelated moments, masquerading as small disagreements. There’s the complacency that dampens others’ enthusiasm. Apathy that immobilizes mission. Priorities that supersede worship. Distractions that make the passing on of the faith, so very important and so very well illustrated by Philip, making it into something you only do when you have time and no better offer.
Yes, there are a plethora of things to prevent us from living out our destiny as the baptized—again, all of our own making. Again, all born out of fear. Fear of failure, fear of success, fear of those we are called to witness to, fear of calling our brothers and sisters to accountability even in a loving way. We are so afraid that we are not equipped or trained well enough for our mission, that we don’t have the right tools, the correct program, the proper number of volunteers, the most up to date surveys and data, the newest technology, and exactly what everyone needs for their spiritual life. We’re even scared out of our gourds that what we think is the mission may not actually be the mission!
And all that results in our taking the box and the directions and putting them way up on the top shelf of the basement shelves, where we can’t see them. Out of sight out of mind, right? Out of mind, out of guilt.
But before you do that, before you deny your birthright and trade your future for your comfort in the present—before you do that I would like you to say just two little words.
Got water?
The waters of baptism never dry out, and the relationship that was formed between you and God cannot be broken, no matter how broken you or I or the church gets. God is for us—who can be against us? God pours out his saving grace once and for always in baptism, and he continually washes us clean from all that prevents us from living as followers of Jesus. Each day new. Every morning another chance. Which is good, because we need it. It’s like the little saying that used to be on Lisa’s bulletin board in her office – Well, Lord it’s another day and I haven’t swore or envied my neighbor or cut anyone off on the freeway…but it’s only 7 am and there’s a whole lotta day to go—so please be with me!
We got water. The water of baptism. The water of relationship with God. The water that washes us clean each day, each month, each year. So do not fear. And don’t put it aside anymore. You got water. So wash, and be clean. And let’s get to it. AMEN
