the Voice of the Lord: Louder and Louder

Baptism of our Lord A -2020
I once attended a rather interesting play at the Elora Gorge Conservation Area in ON. The Elora Gorge is a large section of parkland, full of trails above and below a 22 metre high cliff-face that runs along the deep and fast moving Grand River. It really is spectacular and the sound of the water in some spots is almost deafening. On this particular evening a group of people gathered at the remains of the old mill; remaining is part the foundation platform, and a few walls a little taller than myself.  This was the backdrop for the play. I assumed the play would happen in the ruin and we would simply watch and enjoy. 
It was past time for play to start, when there was commotion in the gathered audience.  It took a few moments to realize that the play had started.  One really had to pay attention and look around to catch what was going on.  We had no idea who the actors were and there was no sound system. We gathered what was happening from watching the reactions of those closest to the characters, or catching the actions that the actor had made; the audience spread what had happened to those standing behind them.  It was rather chaotic with the actors not being discernable from the audience.  We became as much a part of the play as the actors.  At one point there was a wedding, and towns-people came through the crowd handing out noise makers, banging pots and pans, dragging bystanders by the hand, dancing in jovial lines, moving the crowd around... I was cajoled into joining a party reveller, to refuse would make a worse scene than going along; I ended up on the foundation platform three feet from the bride and groom – I was all of a sudden part of the wedding party; the crowd was cheering and clapping and the pots and pans were being banged... I was like a deer in headlights...  I was uncomfortable, not sure I was to be where I was.  I felt out of place. The scene was WAY too loud, and I didn’t want to be asked to do anything or be pushed into an another unexpected role.  The wind picked up, the dew fell and settled, night descended, lanterns were lit--- and eventually the play came to an end as we all left the scene.
This is the image that came to mind when I reflected on the Psalm for this morning.
We have a very loud psalm.  The Voice of the Lord is over the waters, the voice thunders, the voice breaks and splits trees, the voice shakes the wilderness; it is mighty and full of splendor. I picture the wilds, with mighty wind, dust swirling, chaos, danger; a place for people not to be.

The origins of the psalm are found in the land and peoples North of Israel. Mentioned are the places of Lebanon, Syria, and Kadesh.  The words of the psalm echo the Mediterranean sensibility that it was the  gods that were the power of the natural phenomena – thunder, waves, wind, earthquake, volcano, storm- chaos and grand sound. There was other noise in the wilderness too.  Since the forming of peoples, caravans have come and gone, armies have trudged across the desert and back again – land has been laid waste, crops burnt, resources pillaged.  In more recent years, the land has been littered with landmines and missile shells; flattened by armoured tanks and the flight of millions of people.  The sound in the wilderness is loud – it is gun fire and rockets, mother’s wailing for lost fathers and children crying as they run for their lives. It is chaos and it is loud!

The Psalm and the Voice from heaven that we hear in the Gospel sit in contrast to each other.
As the psalmist sings, the voice of the Lord is over the waters, so the voice of the Lord is over the Jordan; yet, the voice heard comes from the heavens as the heavens open up to Jesus.  Matthew tells us that Jesus sees the heavens open and the dove descend, so we know Jesus also hears  - This is my Son the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.  The way the story is told it is rather undramatic in comparison to the Voice of the Lord from the Psalm. The event is somewhat underwhelming and subtle; one would have had to be paying attention, listening.  There would have been a large crowd out to see John the Baptist, and I imagine it was kind of like the play at the Elora Gorge – figuring out who was John, pushing yourself through the crowd to see and hear, but not too close so you could escape if you wanted to. The passage does not tell us who else hears the voice confirming that God is pleased with Jesus. The voice is not thundered across the wilderness in a grand majestic announcement; it is whispered and will grow in strength in coming days and weeks.

Jason Byassee from Vancouver School of Theology notes that, The voice of the Lord comes to the world as a baby - born without the ability to speak – just like Alastor who is being baptized today. Now Jason also reflects that the inability to speak is simply a loll before the storm; after Jesus’ baptism the voice of the Lord gets louder and louder.  The voice will call for justice, the voice spoken will have the blind see, prisoners  set free, and those who have lived in darkness will see a great light;  through the voice the dead will be raised.          
This is not unlike what is to happen and does happen through the sacrament of Baptism, for now Alastor is quiet—well mostly quiet... but there is to come a time when baptismal promises get lived out, what we learn in this place gets lived out with our voices and our words getting louder and louder; we are given voices to proclaim Christ in word and deed, to care for others and the world God has made, to work for justice and peace.

I just finished reading a memoir by Stephanie Saldana, an American student, attending a Catholic University, who after 9/11 went on scholarship to Syria to learn Arabic; the idea of the scholarship was to foster relationships with Arabs and teach young bright Americans that Muslims were not terrorists. While she was in Syria there was a lot of movement of people, displaced by civil unrest, conflict, and war.  She lived in the Orthodox Christian section of the old city of Damascus. It was not all that safe to be in Syria: one had to watch what one said, where one went, how one dressed; to be cautious as neighbours often informed authorities about people stepping outside the rules. There were the sounds of parades yelling for Americans to go home; there was the sound of rumbling tanks, missiles, explosions.  There was the sound of religion, the call of the minaret for prayer, church bells from Orthodox buildings and Catholic cathedrals; there was the noise of people in the streets and crowded markets. She recounts all sorts of situations and instances where the world descended on Straight St. in Damascus – Jews, Christians, Muslims; Arabic in dialects from Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, Iran, Palestinian territories...it was a microchaosim of peoples who in other places simply did not get along.  And here amidst loud voices from the wilderness, Stephanie talks of her daily routine and conversation with neighbours and street vendors – these relationships formed because everyone was displaced – here everyone belonged. And it is here that Stephanie found God, whom she had lost so many years before – in the voice of the rug repairer who quoted the Koran, a fellow Jewish classmate who continued to observe holy days despite it being illegal, in learning to speak Arabic in an array of dialect --- it was poetry.  Arabic’s unique phrasing was the music – the quiet voice, beauty that whispered to the heart. It was the quirky greetings in the neighbourhood that fostered peace  – when peace was the last thing one would expect.

At the beginning I talked about my experience of unexpectedly participating in an outside play that was chaotic and loud, ---how I felt out of place, uncomfortable, unsure, and hesitant as to what could come next. There were voices and noise swirling all around and I did not feel like I belonged. Since then I have experienced a similar sensation living life.  There is a lot of noise and chaos.  There are many voices in the world. Often I feel like I do not belong.  ...  until I am reminded that the voice of the Lord moves over the waters. I am drawn in by the thought of the psalmist who speaks of the Voice of the Lord being a majesty and splendor above the chaos and being in the chaos – a creating power – Word to infuse the very elements of life.  Today I am drawn back to the voice of the Lord moving over the waters, in water of the baptism font and the promises of the hushed voice whispering “you are a child of God, beloved” – a creating power – Word to infuse my spirit with life, with belonging, a naming.  

Beloved, the Voice of the Lord is loud, the voice of the Lord whispers – God is in all and is all. Listen for the voice of creating power – Word that infuses the elements of life.  Participate in creating power, in word that infuses life, do so by claiming the words of baptism; you are a child of God, beloved... now therefore be the Voice of the Lord getting louder and louder: proclaiming Christ in word and deed, caring for others and all God has made, and working for justice and peace.   Amen.