Will the water be warm or cold?

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

About ten days ago here in Seattle, in Coney Island, in Boulder, Colorado, in Jacksonport, Wisconsin, and in Newport, Rhode Island, and, for that matter, in scores of places across the globe, thousands of people ran into, dove into or jumped into icy waters as a way to mark the beginning of the new year. Strangely, while for many, the experience was excruciating, the numbers of people who participate in this yearly ritual are growing. Yes, more people are doing it, more groups are springing up that want to do it, and more sites are being chosen form which to do it.

What is this about?

Listen to what some of those who engage in this yearly ritual say about what they do—these all come from an article in The New York Times on the subject.

“It’s a great way to start the New Year off,” said the president of the Coney Island Polar Bear Club. “When you hit that water, (you know) you’re alive.” ….”It’s like a rebirth.”

In Boulder, Colorado, where the plunge happens at the city’s reservoir, the main organizer said: “(Maybe) a lot of people….do this after New Year’s Eve (because) it cures their hangovers quicker.”

In Jacksonport, Wisconsin., on a long finger of land jutting into Lake Michigan, the founder of the event commented “Some people take it very seriously, almost like a metaphorical baptism of sorts.”

Finally in Newport, Rhode Island, a long-time observer of the ritual commented: “It’s quite an experience….I’ve been doing it about 35 years and have no idea why.”

Today is the Feast of the Baptism of Jesus—a time when Episcopal Churches everywhere pour water over or plunge into water those who are being initiated into the Christian life, all the while remembering that the Lord of Life himself led the way on this by being baptized himself. Today we at St. Paul’s bring three children to the waters where Christ has gone before.

What question about baptism do you think I get asked the most by parents who want to have their children baptized or by adults who themselves are seeking baptism? Is it about the meaning of baptism? Is it about God? Is it about why we do baptisms the way we do them here at St. Paul’s? No, it’s not any of these questions. Instead, the questions is: “Will the water be warm or cold?” This is the most often asked question I get from people who want to have their children baptized or who themselves are seeking baptism. “Will the water be warm or cold?”

On one level this is a simple and understandable question about how the baptism will feel. But what I hear in it, what I can’t help but hear in it, is a deeper question about what about who our God is and about what kind of Christian life baptism initiates us into.

“Will the water be warm or cold?”

And so let’s explore this: what it might mean if the water of baptism were cold. Let’s explore what might it mean if the water of baptism were warm. Let’s explore what temperature of the water and the experience of that temperature might mean both about God and the Christian life we are being initiated into in baptism.

And let’s start with cold water, because, though we do baptize with warm water here, I’d like to begin by building on the words we heard earlier from those who took an icy plunge on New Year’s Day. I’d also like to end with talking about warm water!

The water of baptism should be cold because our God is the God of all creation. Our God is the one who created all the fresh, cold, and dangerous waters of this earth that nourish it and give it life. We as God’s creatures are connected to those cold and creative waters. To stand in the presence of this God is at times like being plunged into an ocean-immense, fresh, beautiful, mysterious and forbidding.

And the water of baptism should be cold because the Christian life is all about waking up, coming alive—the way that cold water wakes us up and refreshes us It’s like being given a cup of cold water at the hottest time of the day and being told that we too have a cup in our hands and water to give to the thirsty. It is Jesus at the well with the Samaritan woman asking for a drink and the woman leaving herself filled to the brim and ready to tell others about the water of life in him, it is stone jars of cool water at the wedding at Cana turned by his presence into merry-making wine for the wedding guests and for us all.

But of course, the water of baptism should also and will also be warm when we ease Jubilee down into it and pour it over Marley and Dakota this morning.

The water should be warm because the love of God comes to us like the water of the womb, surrounding us from the beginning, warm water that was the place were we were formed and nurtured, warm water that was as close to us as ourselves.

The water of baptism should be warm because God is like a good mother or a good father who cares for her children, who says “this is my son, my daughter in whom I am well pleased,” a good mother or a good father whose warmth and love is our foundation, the foundation from which we feel safe and accepted, out of which we gain our ability to stretch ourselves toward the people and into places where we do not always feel safe or accepted.

And the water of baptism should be warm because the Christian life is about the warmth of meals and friendships and fire and beauty. It’s about the warmth of joy and companionship, a place to come when everything inside us seems cold and strange and alienating. Candles on a table and the best dishes, bread and wine and welcome when the world seems to lack all beauty, all gracious food and all hospitality. It is Jesus at the table with his friends who are tax collectors and women and raggedy, down-on-their luck folk.

The water of baptism should be warm because it is this very warmth that the newly baptized and those already baptized will be asked to bring to the world—the warmth of their good hearts, when the world has lost its heart, the warmth of their hands reaching out when the world is withdrawn and conflicted, the warmth of their hope when the world is cynical or despairing.

“Will the water, should the water, be warm or cold?”

It’s a great question: one that is answered over and over again in different ways at different times as we live in the presence of God in Christ and as we live as Christians in and for the world.

In the meantime, of course, we have children to baptize. And so let’s get to it. But before we do, I’d like to share a poem I’ve shared with some of you before. It’s a poem that for me weaves together the warm and the cold--the warmth of God’s love for us that baptism is all about and the way that love prepares us to find and be found in the cold waters of our lives.

The poem is entitled “First Lesson” by Philip Booth and is told from a father’s point of view as he holds his daughter in the ocean for the first time, telling her how both how to survive and thrive.

Lie back daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you. Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls. A dead-
man’s float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you
________________________________________________

Works Cited or consulted

“Polar Bear Club Swims: New Year Parties (Don’t Hold the Ice)”
The New York Times by Nick Kaye,: December 23, 2005

Lifelines: Selected Poems, 1950-1999 by Philip Booth

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