I preached this sermon at St. Lydia's on September 18, 2011 as a part of our exploration of the waters of baptism. The text is Genesis 1:1-10; read it here.
One of the things that sticks out to me about this text
is that it’s really more of a project of organization and categorization
than it is a project of creation.
God separates the light from the darkness, and names them.
And God separates the waters under the dome from the waters above the dome, and names them.
And then God separates the dry land from the seas, and names them.
One of the most important concepts in this passage is a this wonderful Hebrew word, tohu wa bohu which in our text is translated as “formless void.” It means chaos and nothingness. And in the beginning the earth is covered with this tohu wa bohu, and there’s only darkness and wind. And then God does something curious. Instead of vanquishing the chaos, or destroying the chaos, God simply separates the chaos into discernible parts, and gives them a name.
There are plenty of other creation myths from this time period, and many of them describe the world being born out of great violence. For instance, the Babylonian myth of Tiamat, a sea monster symbolizing chaos, tells of Marduk, who slices Tiamat's body in half, creating the two halves of creation: heaven and earth.
But the Hebrew story is different. The chaos is not slain, but instead, calmly divided into parts and labeled, as if God is cataloguing specimens. Chaos, the tohu wa bohu has not been vanquished, but inhabits the realms above and below us: the sky and the water, which continue to represent chaos for the Hebrew people.
This creation story has us living in this incredible tension. Instead of the waters of chaos being vanquished or conquered, God merely creates a place for us to live in the midst of the waters. We continue to live lives that are set in deep relationship with the waters of chaos. We live between the sky and the water, on this island of dry land.
But God continues to call us back to the water.
To be baptized
To be born again.
What does that mean for us? And how do we do it?
So tonight I’m curious about playing with this idea of living with, and in the midst of the waters of chaos.
What does it mean that we live our lives between these two seas: the sky and the ocean?
And what does it mean to enter those waters,
and be born new from them through baptism?
I’d like to lead you in a meditation.
There will be some significant periods of silence.
Just allow your imagination to roam.
After, those who wish to can share their experience.
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Imagine that you are standing at the edge of the water.
It might be any type of water, but it is very deep.
This water is a symbol of all that you cannot control.
What does the water hold for you?
Standing on the edge of the water, where is God?
Imagine that you are immersed in the water.
It is all around you.
What does the water hold for you?
Immersed in the water, where is God?
Imagine that you are climbing back to the shore.
You are wet and breathless.
You lay your face on the ground.
What have you seen in the water?
Emerging from the water, where is God?
Questions:
What did the water look like?
What did it hold for you?
What did you find when you were immersed in it?
What did you find on the shores?
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