During the Autumn, some of us spent some time in groups looking at Mark’s gospel, the gospel that is the foundation of our Sunday lectionary readings for this year; and one of the thoughts expressed time and again was the feeling of speed, the sense of urgency that Mark conveys in this, the shortest and oldest of the synoptic gospels. Today’s reading is a prime example. No sooner has Mark told the reader that this is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ the Son of God, than John, wildly dressed, whose words unsettle those who hear them, bursts upon the scene. And the scene itself is the wildness of the desert – and so we are confronted by an unsettling person in an unsettling place.

The desert is a dangerous, hostile place, a place where still rebels hide, a place on the fringes of social order – neither the bustle of town and city life, nor the restorative beauty of the country. It is a harsh place, where life struggles to survive, a place that can in some circumstances, sap the very strength and energy of life itself.

It is to this place that John comes and Mark tells us that ‘people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem’ come out to hear him. All is turned upside down it seems, for the deserted place becomes filled with the buzz of life. The lanes and streets of the towns and villages are strangely quiet. Some will undoubtedly be hurrying to the dessert out of sheer curiosity – to see this man that so many are talking about; just to see what all the fuss is about; to see this strange person, this prophet who speaks in such uncompromising terms, and yet seems to have such an incredible ability to inspire and motivate. Others will have heard his message, and will be coming, ready to accept John’s challenge and the gift he offers. There will be pushing and shoving as there is in all crowds – some trying to escape, others desperate to get nearer to the action, closer to the water and the gift on offer. A feeling of chaos permeates the air.

It is into this mob, this chaos, that one man suddenly draws John’s eye and becomes the focus of his attention.

Matthew and Luke introduce us to a baby, a child, a refugee, but here we have a man in the crowd, waiting with all sinful humanity for his turn to stand before John in the waters of the Jordan.

The River Jordan today is in a perilous state. Heavily polluted, it has been damned and diverted by different countries to serve their own purposes with scant regard to the repercussions of their actions. It is drying up and ecologists fear that it will soon cease to flow at all. It bears witness to what humanity has done and continues to do to God’s beautiful creation. But it was into this mess that the incarnate God stepped and was revealed.

It was only a few years ago that I learned to swim in a sheltered lagoon in the Indian ocean. I am fearful of the water, of the sea, but on this occasion, and with Mike’s encouragement, I had borrowed his snorkel to peek beneath the waters , and was captivated by the beauty before me: fish like jewels, exquisite corals in a crystal clear blue sea. So captivated was I that, almost without realising it, I was swimming. Time and again I returned, wanting to absorb as much as I could of the beauty hidden beneath the surface of the waters. During those few glorious days, it was hard to imagine that a place of such beauty could be the cause of such destruction for it was only two months earlier that the area had been torn apart by the raging Tsunami. Water may be the source of life, refreshing, sustaining and cleansing, but it also lethal with the power to drown and destroy.

Into the river which can both give life, and take it, Jesus willingly and voluntarily steps, immersing himself in the life-giving beauty, vulnerability and destructive power of our human condition. Like all those gathered in the crowd and who had gone before him, down and down he goes until he can be seen no more. The people watch and wait. And then just as he is coming up out of the water, gasping for air, he saw the heavens open. In that moment, in the midst of the river and the wilderness and the crowds, Jesus is acutely aware of a different reality – heaven on earth – he is aware of the divine reality behind the ordinary everyday; and in that moment the spirit descends, hovering above him like a dove. Our minds and attention are drawn back – back to the beginning when ‘the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.’ The life-giving spirit of God that hovered over the waters, now descends like a dove. And God speaks words of love and affirmation ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased’. It was His words, spoken at the beginning that gave birth to creation and brought light out of darkness. But for now, Jesus hears those words of love, affirming his own sense of vocation and giving him the strength and courage needed to face the wilderness alone.

You are my son, the Beloved: those words will be heard twice more - on Mount Tabor God speaks when Jesus is transfigured in the presence of Peter, James and John. Finally, it is not God who speaks, not one versed in the Jewish scriptures and tradition who speaks, but a Roman Soldier, when the Son of God hangs dead, nailed upon the cross - ‘Truly, this man was God’s Son!’. In a matter of hours three women will face an empty tomb, and a voice telling them to ‘Go and tell!’.

Words of love are spoken to all who are baptised – you are my beloved; with you I am well pleased! All who are baptised are drawn into that new divine reality where heaven meets earth, and indeed we may very occasionally be blessed – the curtain, the veil is drawn back and we see or feel or hear with absolute clarity the reality of being in that divine presence. But for most of us most of the time, our faith is a matter of learning to live with this different reality even when we cannot see it. We walk, we live by faith, strengthened and encouraged by those tender words of God, reaching out and transforming us: you are my child, the beloved; with you I am well pleased! Mark leaves us with a question – in the light of that life giving love, what are we going to do?