Torn

  It was the middle of January, I was in the fourth grade, and I was wearing my brand new, recently unwrapped from Christmas corduroy pants.  They were tan.  They made that swooshing sound with every step I took.  They were awesome.  They were supposed to be reserved for Sunday mornings only, but I decided just this once I would wear them to school and to show them off to my friends.  Looking back, I don’t think anyone was impressed or even noticed.  After school my friends and I were playing, and we went to climb over a chain link fence.  I reached the top, I swung my leg over, and my guess is that you already know what happened next.  My beautiful, brand new corduroy pants got caught and I tugged to get free.  I don’t know which was louder, the ripping sound of the fabric or the sound of my heart breaking as I realized what had happened.  I raced, ran home, tears in my eyes, which because it was January in Iowa my face was half frozen.  My mom calmed me down, gave me some hot chocolate as I tried to tell her what was the worse day ever.  Torn.  Ripped apart.  Ruined forever…ever…ever.  Mark may have the briefest account of Jesus’ baptism but in a few words he creates a compelling and challenging scene.  He takes and tells us about baptism which is a profoundly powerful and poignant moment that we still claim as the central act of welcoming a person into the faith.  This baptismal moment, Mark paints the scene. Jesus cradled in the arms of John the baptizer.  Jesus being slowly lowered beneath the surface of the Jordan River, that was where centuries earlier Joshua having taken the mantel of leadership from Moses; Joshua parted the Jordan River and led the people after forty years of wandering in the wilderness into the Promised Land.  The Jordan is a sacred site with history.  And because water is constantly recycled, some of the water that Jesus felt soaking and saturating, dripping from his drenched hair and beard could have been the same water that his ancestors touched and they walked through into the land flowing with milk and honey.  It is a beautiful scene, just like my corduroy pants.  But as Jesus breaks the surface, gasps and takes a gulp of air, we are told that the heavens are torn.  Ripped apart. 
We know that feeling.  I have spoken words that have torn asunder relationships.  I have felt the pain of losing someone who I loved and even though their fingerprints were on my heart, it wasn’t the same.  I feel that right now every time I turn on the news.  Writer David Fitch puts it this way, “We’re living in angry times.  Wherever we go, whether to church, school, city hall, or Washington, DC; whatever we watch, whether cable television, Facebook or the local theater; however we do things whether by email or Twitter or telephone, in person, or in a meeting – in it all, our culture is rife with conflicts. Politics is full of strife.  Everybody is caught up with warding off yet another enemy.   And so many of us are just keeping our heads down, hoping to get through another day, causing as little trouble as we can.  Something is wrong and we don’t know what to do about it.”   All this leads us to say things like, “This is the worse time ever.”  But, let’s be clear that Jesus’ day wasn’t all chocolate rivers and pony rides.  Jesus lived in a time when the Roman Empire oppressed the people.  It was an angry time.  People played for political power and favor.  King Herod is said to have killed his own sons and wife because he saw them as a threat, and you thought your family had issues.  Some in the Jewish faith wanted to fight, some wanted to flee, and many were just trying to survive.  We have more in common with the emotional and spiritual state of the world Jesus lived in, we just don’t always realize it.
To be torn apart is often seen only in a negative light.  What possible good could ever come from something that is ripped and won’t ever be the same again?  Yet, you and I both know moments in life pain can either break us open or make us bitter.  You and I both follow one who hears today this baptismal claim of beloved-ness but will eventually question those words from the cross.  The torn and tattered parts of life are not easily fixed.  After I calmed down and finished my hot chocolate, mom took out her trusty needle and thread to mend the torn part of my corduroy pants.  She worked carefully and slowly, with each stitch trying to repair the rift of the rip.  When she was done, she pronounced that they were good as new.  I wasn’t so sure.  I could always see where the tear had been.  I knew that the thread wasn’t quite the same color.  But I am pretty sure no one else ever noticed or knew.  We are called in our lives to reconcile, repair, and work alongside God restore God’s realm.  What God is breaking open in baptism is a sense that our identity is tied to our net worth or position or power.  What God breaks open in baptism is the truth that you are God’s beloved too. We are called to let grace be a thread woven into our words, to let love be the connection that ties our lives together.  There will be many today who would rather say that it’s too late or that the brokenness is too bad.  They would rather cynically stand on the sidelines commenting than actually committing to act with the truth that God is not finished with us yet.  From the very beginning we have the choice.  We can decide each day whether we will let love win or let our political viewpoints stream roll over others.  We decide each day whether God’s grace makes a difference, or we’d rather get ours while the getting is good.  We decide if the baptismal claim that was spoken on your life will be lived or we rank and rate others.  Of course, in some ways, it is a false choice.  Those who have been compelled by Christ’s teaching and preaching and healing know that we can do no other that live with a compassion and care for all, all creation.  Those who have had their hearts strangely warmed by the mysterious presence of the holy need to share that with others.  Those who long to help work toward a world where all are loved, know that we have to pick up the needle and thread and get to work.  What was torn in us and around us may not be easily mended, but we keep prayerfully tending.  So may the fabric of our lives continue to collaborate and conspire with the One who is still sewing and singing and speaking in these days.  Amen.