Why indeed did Jesus go to this wild prophet and his mission of baptizing people in the muddy waters of the Jordan river? Whatever meaning this baptism had for anyone at the time was certainly somewhat different from the way Christians think of baptism today. 

Christ is coming alright, but not as a cute little baby, but at an unexpected time in an apocalypse where one is taken and one remains.

The Biblical poetic imagination has long pondered exactly how and who Jesus the Christ IS. John puts him squarely at and in the beginning—In the beginning was the Word—the principle of divine reason and creative order, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. John starts with a wide camera angle to encompass the entire story of the Cosmos  then focuses in on the person of Jesus, containing all that was, and is, and is to be.  How exactly does all of that work? How do we think and talk about it without ending up sounding like quintessential 60’s flower children?

Greed and worry were just part of the air I breathed in my childhood. And they’ve followed me ever since–much more difficult to shake than many of my other personality quirks.

There certainly are many places in the gospels where we are enjoined to have more faith, and are even told that faith makes all things possible. I just have trouble accepting the idea of faith as a rather passive state that doesn’t also motivate action. Faith is not an end in itself, but is an opening to a realm of possibility beyond our own power.

If you want a fabulous vision of God’s end-game for creation, there is no better place to look than the end of the Book of Revelation, with its golden streets and pearly gates—no more tears or pain. The seven plagues are over; all the trumpets have been blown. Michael has defeated the Dragon and the Beast has gone down to the dust. And behold, there is rejoicing in heaven as the new Jerusalem comes down out of heaven and all the saints of God make their way to the marriage supper of the Lamb. These verses are about the end of life, perfect for All Saints.  Bit isn’t it a little bit weird to be baptizing on a day that is focused on our end? 

For all the good our private wells and spigots do for us, they can keep us from having neighbors. They keep us from the village well, where you have to wait your turn and find ways to share things with people whose language you don’t speak. And dodge kids on laundry carts, and open the doors for people whose arms are full and hope they will do the same thing for you. Not because you know them, or like them, but because their lives, like yours, depend on this water. 

As people largely at arm’s length from the vicissitudes of nature—most of us being city dwellers—how are we to think about and talk about a relationship with the land? About the value of land, the meaning of land, the purpose of land? We tend to think more about real estate, about property, about architecture, than we do about the land itself. And this, of course, is a relatively recent phenomenon in the history of humanity. 

We live at a time in human history where we are slowly coming to an awareness of the vulnerability of the natural world. For generations, those who raise crops or rely on the availability of animals for their survival or sail the seas have been aware of the impact of weather patterns and the importance of favorable conditions for optimal outcomes. But our dawning consciousness of the precariousness of our global climate and the potential negative effects on all the earth have brought a new sobriety (among many, at least) and, unfortunately, anxiety.

Jesus said more about money, about wealth, than he did about any other moral issue of his day.  The gap between rich and poor seems to have bothered him more than stealing, lying, or any sort of sexual behavior. And this is especially true in Luke where Jesus confronts the rich four times more often than in the other gospels.