Mark 1:9-15. Click to read the text of the day.

"Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove." Mark 1:10 

When I learned to swim at the Boone County Y, the test to pass to advance from being a "minnow" to being a "fish" was to swim the width of the pool twice underwater without a breath. Then, we were tested to see how far we could swim underwater. I loved the competition because, for some reason, I was good at holding my breath. I remember skimming along the bottom of the pool, chlorine stinging my eyes as I watched other kids give up and go to the surface. There is a moment when the body craves oxygen; you must will your mouth to stay shut as the pressure in your lungs builds to a panic to resurface. Most kids would give up at that point and scramble upwards. That's when you must relax and tell yourself it will be OK. I taught myself in the bathtub to count backward from 30 when I hit that panic threshold. That timeframe usually wiped out the competition, and I could emerge gasping for life-giving oxygen.

I don't think I learned to hold my breath because I wanted to win. I like being tested and overcoming my fear. Maybe even conquering the fear of death. Someday, I will breathe no more, and it will be the end of me. But floating six feet underwater at the YMCA, I learned less fear of that moment. 

I wonder if this is the motivation for people who take a plunge into the icy Maine waters in the winter. Jeanne and I scouted the Maine coast when I was job searching in February of 2021. We saw a young woman wrapped in a blanket while walking the Portland promenade on a snowy day. She dropped the blanket, walked out into the ocean in a bikini, and slowly submerged herself to the neck. My first thought was to call 911 and think about how I might rescue her. Who in their right mind does that? But she came out, wrapped up in the towel again, and later, I heard her explaining to a friend that she did this ocean dip twice a week for 30 seconds. Now that I live in Maine, I know it is a thing. People tell me they feel invigorated and alive when they come up. Perhaps there is something about regularly facing near death that allows us to cherish life. We live in this duality of fragile mortality and a powerful will to live. Little moments of death and resurrection are all around us as we are baptized into life.

When I read the story of Jesus' baptism, he has a vision the moment he comes up out of the water. I don't know how long John the Baptist held his cousin underwater before letting them up. I know Pastor Roy, who baptized me at the First Baptist Church of Boone, Iowa, was kind, but I thought he kept me down a little longer than necessary. If you are symbolically experiencing death and re-birth, I think five seconds is the minimum for a baptism. Mark tells us that Jesus saw the heavens torn open at his emergence. Perhaps Mark is echoing the language of Isaiah 64, where the prophet calls upon God to intervene and be made known,

"Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down, that the mountains might quake at your presence—" Isaiah 64:1

In most Mesopotamian cultures, they believed that the sky was a dome with a physical barrier that separated the earth from heaven. So, the image is of a rending, a cosmic tearing apart of the boundary between the realms of divine and human so God can draw near us. At the end of Mark, the author revisits this tearing open theme at the moment of Jesus death, writing, “Then the veil of the Temple was torn in two from top to bottom.” (Mark 15:38). In both baptism and death, God tears the barriers that separate divine and human.

Remember from v. 15 that Jesus preached, "The Kingdom of Heaven has drawn near." Jesus is preaching what he experienced as he emerged from baptism into another dimension of reality where God is present. This vision has two parts. First, the Spirit descends on Jesus like a dove. Christianity has long associated doves with the Holy Spirit based on this scripture, but it was also a common symbol of love, beauty, peace, and divine guidance. The dove was associated with the Greek goddess Aphrodite and the Roman goddess Venus, the goddesses of love and passion. Mark's Greek audience would have easily noted this symbolism as a divine blessing coming upon Jesus. His Jewish audience would notice that the Spirit came upon Jesus like the great prophets. This dove doesn't just do a flyover of Jesus; it comes upon him, more like an indwelling. 

Next, the voice of God says to Jesus, "You are my Son, the Beloved;^[a] with you I am well pleased." We heard these words last week, repeated to Peter at the Transfiguration. "This is my agapetos," in Greek, the one who is deeply loved and cherished by God. Paul writes in his letters that we, too, are agapetos. (Eph. 1:6, Col. 3:12). We become God's beloved when we are in Christ. I'm struck by what this vision does not say. Jesus is not God's defender, judge, or warrior. He is the beloved one on whom the Spirit descends like a dove. 

This intimacy does not mean Jesus is getting an easy ride. The same Spirit now drives the beloved into the wilderness for testing and temptation. There is no time for the GQ photoshoot of the world's most interesting and beloved man. His next step is not to get money for a Superbowl commercial. He must be tested. He doesn't simply have to swim underwater holding his breath but face himself in the wilderness. There is no more demanding test than facing ourselves, our motives, and our shortcomings. We must shine a light in the shadowy places in our hearts full of fungus and decay upon which alienation and evil feed. The longer we wait, the less pleasant the clean-up. 

Mark's Gospel shows us the spiritual map of the 40 days of Lent in just six little verses. We move from baptism to wilderness to proclaiming the good news of God drawing near. I want to emphasize the order of events in the scripture. It is not wilderness, followed by baptism, then preaching. That would imply that we must first face ourselves and work through all our temptations and shortcomings, and then we would be worthy to be baptized and sent out on a mission of good news. If we had to be worthy, have our act together, and be inwardly congruent to be baptized, how many of us would remain unbaptized? Even Jesus must be baptized before he faces his fears and flaws in the wilderness. The Spirit descends upon him and tells him he is beloved, so he is sustained by divine love during his trials.

The symbols of baptism inform our faith journey. First, it is a re-enactment of death and resurrection. We go under the water, where we cannot breathe, where death is a reality. Then, we are pulled above the surface, gasping into new life. We die with Christ, and we rise with him. We re-enact the journey so we know what to expect. Baptism also mirrors the emotional and psychological journey. Someone guides us and has an unconditional positive regard for us. They take us on a journey below the surface of our consciousness and into the shadows, to the places we hide from ourselves, where our fear and shame lie. When we name these things and face them, they lose power over us. The false self, the lies it told us about who we are, die when forced to the surface. We are then raised to a new state of being,

I began using a prayer form called "Examen" this week in preparation for a Wednesday prayer group. I noticed the same threefold movement as in this scripture. The first movement of the Examen is like baptism, focusing on gratitude, the presence of the Holy Spirit with us to guide us, and being aware of God's love accompanying us in prayer. Knowing that we are rooted in God's unconditional love is the first step in seeking transformation. The second movement is to enter the wilderness, go through our day, and identify where we fell short. What words did we say that were out of line? Where did we fail to take action? The third movement of Examen is to be open to divine forgiveness and commitment to the next steps. What must we do to repair what is damaged? What action of love or justice do we need to take? 

The goal of the Examen is to pay close attention to how we are living and seek the guidance of God's Spirit in our daily lives. Fortunately, we don't have to fast for 40 days in the wilderness. The Examen is limited to 15 minutes daily. The point isn't to navel gaze at all our inadequacies but to realign ourselves daily to God's possibilities in our lives. 

Our 40 days of Lent have begun. You are beloved. May God grant us the courage to see what is below the surface of our lives. Take this Lenten journey in hope as we prepare to rise.

If you are interested in praying the Examen, here are some great resources on how to pray this simple but challenging prayer from Ignatian Resources. Leave me a quick note about what practices help you with spiritual soul searching. Wednesday, the next post in my series on Conversations as Spiritual Practice will go up. Next Sunday, the topic is Jesus asking his disciples who do they think he is. I may tackle the foot washing commercial from the Super Bowl. Till then, see you in the comments! Here are those questions again:

What practice helps you in the process of soul searching? How do you maintain compassion for yourself as you face your shadows?