Watch Video: Down to the River to Pray
Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan to be baptized by him. John tried to prevent him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?” Jesus said to him in reply, “Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he allowed him. After Jesus was baptized, he came up from the water and behold, the heavens were opened [for him], and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove [and] coming upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, saying, “This is my beloved Son, ^* with whom I am well pleased.” (Mt 3: 13-17)
 
I have started taking long, lone runs down by the James River. I start on one side, make my way over bridges and across Belle Isle, up around through the city, and back again. I take deep breaths of American history as I do this. I am always at a loss for words of the history around me. I grew up in Charlottesville and spent a lot of time touring Monticello. We went there for school field trips, family outings, and my mother eventually became a garden tour guide. This meant I was able to go exploring the grounds during off hours! The house was so grand and I had such an imagination. Any story they told about what happened in the rooms, I would envision it. In later years, after they had completed the archaeological digs of the slaves’ quarters, I would go on tours just to ask the docents to talk about the slaves. Some of them simply refused to discuss the reality of the slaves and their lives on the house tours! It wasn’t until Sally Hemmings and her Jefferson bloodline came demanding to be buried in the family plot that it became the new normal to discuss these things on public tours. Every piece of pottery, every small comb, told a story of a human life lived. Each one of the people that lived on that property was important. Each person had a story to tell. 
 
When I moved to Richmond 14 years ago, my experiences of Monticello were the foundation for understanding the systemic issues of racism and poverty that plague our beautiful city and its inhabitants. Belle Isle, the Confederacy capital’s own prisoner of war camp ground, has a sense of wild danger as it faces the cityscape of Richmond. When I cross the James River, I do not see it as a place from my Virginia history class in elementary school. I see it as a river that has moved slave ships as well as cleared the way for trains and factories of iron to make it into the powerful city it has become. There is a rich history of both good and evil here. 
 
The scene of Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River resonates the same feelings for me. John the Baptist is a wild and somewhat dangerous man. The Jordan River, a place of chaos and crowds. John speaks as the last prophet, announcing the coming of the Messiah, his cousin Jesus. John understands that there are certain kinds of history that need to be remembered and spoken out loud: the good, the bad, and the ugly. He stitiches the Old and the New Testament together. He prepares a way that is not paved by his own ego but that honors his position. He asks permission, he humbles himself before the truth of who Jesus is and what power he radiates in the midst of all the people down on the river banks waiting to be baptized. John knows that speaking the truth is dangerous...deadly...he knows he will decrease while Jesus increases.
 
As I come to the end of one long run, I find myself on one of the many bridges overlooking the water rolling over the massive rocks and I pause. The song “Down to the River to Pray” has come on over my ear buds. The history of the song is vague but it seems that most sources believe it to be written by an African-born, Americanized slave and in my hope of hopes, I pray it was sung on the banks of the James during countless baptisms. I pray that in the middle of all the slavery and the encampments, people still came down into the river to be cleansed by the waters of baptism; to feel hope in the midst of hopelessness. And as I stood listening to the words of this hymn that day, before I knew it, I was singing into the river and adding my voice to the countless souls that had suffered there. As I closed my eyes and lifted my voice in praise and worship, the lyrics “who shall wear the starry crown, good Lord show me the way” struck me. Who is it Lord? Who is wearing the starry crown? Who is John the Baptist in this age? Show me the way, Lord! As I opened my eyes, the reflection of the sun on the river’s smooth water reflected into my face. Through the sweat and tears on my eye lashes, the water appeared like stars dancing and twinkling. In that moment I heard God say: YOU are my beloved child. YOU will radiate the light of the starry crown and YOU will prepare the way for the Lord. I will show you the way but it is YOU that must follow me. 
 
And so today, I ask you to meditate on this as you watch the recorded reflection:

1. Am I willing to risk living like John the Baptist, always preparing the way for Jesus no matter the dangers?
2. Are you willing to see yourself as a light that shows the way to those that are lost?
3. Are you willing to follow Jesus out of the river and into the chaos of Jerusalem during the Triduum: Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday?