Monday, January 18, 2010

BAPTISING JESUS, OR: ENTERING THE ARENA

10th January 2010 : Baptism of our Lord : Year C
9:30am Camillo
Isaiah 43:1-7 : Acts 8:14-17 : Luke 3:15-22


For a while now I’ve been working my way through a book called The artist’s way by American writer, journalist and film-maker, Julia Cameron. The basic premise of Ms Cameron’s book is that all people are creative but that most of us are “blocked” for reasons that seem to be as numerous as they are complex.

These blockages usually come from childhood and family experiences of discouragement – what we might call the voices of doom and gloom that spring to life to convince our vulnerable and susceptible minds and souls that we are not good enough, or over-reaching our abilities, or might or will suffer terrifying consequences if we dare to pursue our creative dreams.

I’m reminded of all this as we come to Luke’s version of the baptism of Jesus, an event that has caused the Church considerable angst because it appears to contradict the doctrine of Jesus’ divinity and therefore also his sinless nature. In other words, why would the sinless Jesus approach John the baptiser to receive a “baptism of repentance”?

On the surface this is a reasonable question – apart from the nagging suspicion that it’s the wrong question.

It’s a question that is so reasonable that it becomes, paradoxically, a way of blocking the truly creative outpouring of the Living God acting in and through Jesus. It’s the theological equivalent of saying to an aspiring sculptor, “What makes you think you can support yourself sculpting busts of The Chipmunks?”

I’m sure it’s unintentional but it still functions to draw us away from what may be the more important elements in the story of Jesus’ baptism.

Hold that thought and its implied question while I go on to mention an MP3 download with the title Reflections on The artist’s way, which is a two-part talk that the same Julia Cameron presents. During the course of this presentation she begins to talk about engaging one’s creativity no matter how absurd it may seem to do so. At one point she begins to say, “…Something happens when you enter the arena…” And it’s that phrase that I find sticking and refusing to shift – entering the arena.

Because that, I think, is precisely what Jesus – the notionally, theologically sinless Jesus – does when he comes forward to be baptised. He enters the arena – and it’s because of that entry that “something happens”.

It’s reminiscent of the old internet joke about the man who complains bitterly to God that the wealth God has promised has not materialised. God’s response is that everything necessary has been given to the man – but he still hasn’t gone out and bought the lottery ticket… In other words, he hasn’t actually entered the arena, therefore nothing has happened.

“Something – rather than no thing – happens when you enter the arena.”

According to all four gospels – not just Luke – that “something” appears to be the activation of the Holy Spirit, the One with whom, John the Baptiser tells us, Jesus will baptise, in contrast to John’s baptising with water.

And in case anyone is wondering, all the gospels confirm that Jesus did the “right” thing because God indicates pleasure at what Jesus does. The mysterious voice that supplies the confirmation also closes the Trinitarian circuit, giving us Jesus, Spirit and God all together in the one place.

But before anyone has time to miss the point in that instant, the Spirit is driving Jesus into the wilderness to undergo a time of testing.

Let me suggest that God is not especially interested in the question of why the sinless Jesus should undergo a baptism of repentance. It’s the wrong question. It’s a blocking question.

What it blocks is primarily our ability to move beyond the text and to begin to explore what lies beneath. It’s a question that effectively stops us entering the arena.

…Because one of the hidden, unstated implications of the question is that something fairly obvious and discernible ought to happen if/when we find an answer. Theologically again, it’s the equivalent of saying, “I’ll take up painting if I can get some guarantee that my art will sell, or people will recognise my talent and reward me sufficiently.”

But that isn’t the “something” that happens when we enter our arenas, whatever they may be. For followers of Jesus entering the arena – the important action of engagement with the world in a real, human, open, generous, loving and compassionate way – does not and will never offer any guarantees, whatever our desired guarantee may be.

We need to be absolutely certain of that. We don’t even know what the “something” will be, let alone that entering the arena will provide us with all the good things we secretly and not-so-secretly covet.

But the question remains begged – what is the arena God invites us to enter? One answer would be that the arena is everywhere we go; that the opportunities for being kind and compassionate people whose words, thoughts and deeds speak of God’s love are always before us. Another would be to point across Lake Road at Lakeview Caravan Park. And another – equally valid – would be that we can’t know until we find ourselves in a situation that invites our goodness.

Ultimately, the arena is less a geographical or quasi-geographical entity than an attitude of willingness. And it’s a willingness freed of the burdens of expectation. It is not a transaction in the sense of a trade-off between my action and some reward. It is not doing for the sake of doing.

It is about responding to the invitation when it comes. And it will come. It will come because we all have gifts that God invites us to use. God invites us to use those gifts creatively, willingly, openly, freely.

When Jesus wades into the Jordan he isn’t thinking, I know I don’t need to do this, being sinless and all. But, heh – it’ll look good on my CV… We don’t know what he’s thinking at all. But it appears that he did.

And what we learn from Jesus’ action is the significance of entering the arena without knowing what the outcome will be but trusting that something will happen.

The only question is only one we can answer individually – are we willing to enter our arena?

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