border gates; flash flood watch

In blog time this is about a week's worth late.

On the same day in the middle of last week here in Paradise, near-torrential rains caused too much H₂O on the road, leading to the locally famous "turn around; don't drown" caution, and due to a protest by Mexican teachers in Baja California, the San Ysidro Port of Entry [and, of course, Port of Exit as well] border gates were closed so you couldn't drive across, though walking from one side to the other still was possible. San Ysidro is the busiest land border in the world, so imagine the confusion, changes of plans and maybe anger, too! However, all lanes were open in the slower border cities of Tecate and Otay Mesa. Both the highly visible action by the Tijuana teachers and interviews with folks who cross the international border every day for school or work or shopping made useful material for the local media and for reflection, too. I've written dozens of times about borders, containers, boundaries, hospitality, inclusion and exclusion, about sacraments—last Sunday's gospel [Luke 14:1, 7-14] gave me more to think about, and I've always found Luke's parables way easier than Matthew's, so that blog will be forthcoming soon. Or possibly not so soon after all, since hospitality has become the hot topic of my existence. Last week's major shutdown of such a major border got me thinking again about how people depend upon being able to go through gates and doors, to permeate boundaries between cities, families and, in this case, between cultures (ways of being and living with meaning) nations (political jurisdictions) and countries (geography), and what chaos and disorder potentially happens when both easy entry and easy exit in both directions become prevented, interfered with or otherwise changed.

"Turn around; don't drown"...turn around, because when the gates of the city are closed or barricaded physically or by decree (both ways, in this case) neither the Mexican nor the American border authorities will let you in, and if you violate their orders, you may find yourself in the slammer. As Christians, do we want to turn around and not drown? Isn't God's constant call to us and our preferred manner of life one of constant awareness of our baptism, in daily awareness and reaffirmation of [communal and individual] our death by drowning, which, after all, forms the fountain of our rebirth? But if we're required to go it alone, we might as well turn around and not cross the border, not dare stay suspended even for a split second in the liminal place and state that's neither here, nor there. Last Sunday senior pastor said, "beyond what we consider to be the boundaries..." I've been there, done that: death and rebirth by drowning, into life unbounded by human decree.

Please come along with me; walk with me!

River on Fire!

River on Fire? Not the Cuyahoga, with its notorious history of a dozen or more detectable fires, and not the San Diego River's more recent fire. Not the River Charles, either. Although I'm telling my readers this blog isn't about those rivers, I'll still ask what makes rivers catch on fire? It seems as if I blog and talk about the sacraments almost incessantly, and yes, this is yet another sacrament blog!

In Scripture, "River" often is boundary, border or barrier, and for Israel, the Jordan was all three, just as the surging, life-bestowing waters of baptism form the boundary between life, death and our new lives in community and in full-time ministry, a border differentiating us from the not-yet-baptized and sometimes a barrier to others' understanding and perceptions of our lives in Christ. Maybe baptism needs to be a barrier to our participation in many of the world's most common ways? Parallel to the Exodus from Egypt, the event that formed the identity of God's primal people Israel, baptism is a mighty Act of God, but beyond the Exodus, Jürgen Moltmann describes baptism as "sign, witness, representation and illumination of the Christ Event." In addition, the witness of scripture reveals that baptism bestows the Holy Spirit, bringer of renewing, redeeming, reforming wind and fire, bringer of the Gifts of the Spirit the apostle Paul loves talking about.

That same Paul says we're baptized into Jesus' death and resurrection, marked with the sign of the cross and the sign of the empty tomb. But living in Christ means we constantly live with paradox, and paradoxically, the Christ Event is both finished and not yet completely fulfilled. I've written about the Eucharist as commemoration, realization and anticipation, and baptism can be described in the same way. In baptism, God names us anew; we share our new name in common with our sisters and brothers. Now we claim all the separations, distinctions and distractions that once were barriers as the boundary and border of our new life together, as baptism's waters carry us home, to a place, an attitude and a condition of safety and embrace, where "I" and "me" become we and us. Because we baptize within the context of the assembly, representing the whole People of God, theoretically we can find a home anywhere we find God's people, but that theory often doesn't play out in reality.

See, the dark night has come down on us,
The world is living in its dream,
But now we know that we can wake up from this sleep,
And set out on the journey...
We'll take the road that leads down to the waterside...
We'll meet out on the water,
Where all strangers are known...

"The Ark," from Gerry Rafferty's City to City, (1978)

Of late I've been thinking so much about the fire of the Presence of God we find throughout scripture, and in our lives today. Pentecostal fire? On Advent 3 I challenged, "Today I'm asking you if the waters of baptism quench the Holy Spirit's Pentecostal fires? Think about it!" Tomorrow the choir (I get to accompany again) will sing, "You have put on Christ; in Christ you have been baptized! Alleluia, alleluia!" a festive round that's often and best sung with handbell accompaniment.

You have been baptized!

Feel that River on Fire!

That's the end of this blog for now! This is abrupt, but I'm behind in a ton of necessary stuff (though of course I make the excuse blogging prepares me for doing theology in non-blog contexts). Back to work...