Last fall the church council and pastorate, as is our custom, had a day long working retreat. We reviewed the past year or two and then turned our eyes toward the future. We wondered together what might be the next big (or small) thing v for us as a congregation. After rebuilding this building in 2012, hiring a new associate pastor in 2013, exploring reconciliation with the conference in 2014 and being reinstated as full members (after 10 years of discipline) in 2015, we wondered together what might be next. We listened to each other, we looked at the notes and wall charts. And we decided that what we need is a year of laying fallow, a year of rest, a year of listening, a year of wondering together what is next. This is not a cop-out: to genuinely listen, to pay attention, to nurture the seed underground is a different kind of work.

As a symbol of our listening and waiting each person present that day planted a seed. We brought the beautiful wooden planter to church and put it on the table in the foyer. (It’s still there.) Two of the 19 seeds that were planted that day sprouted and grew. Like the parable that Jesus tells, they sprang up too fast, with not enough room for deep roots and died. At least one lesson to be learned is that we have to be careful how much stock we put in symbols and metaphors.

You would think I would learn and yet I want to explore another metaphor today, that of the watershed, only I hope we can understand it not just metaphorically. In trying to understand watershed, I have come to see Jesus’ life, his baptism and ministry, as lived within a watershed. He shows us the gift and strength in committing oneself to a particular watershed, a literal watershed.

Maybe it would help to define “watershed.” A watershed is the area of land that contains the streams and rivers that all drain into a single larger body of water. For Jesus it was the Jordan watershed. For us it is the Anacostia. There are numerous little streams around here (some underground) that flow into the Anacostia River. Our little spot here on East West Highway and 43rd Ave is part of the Anacostia watershed, which is part of the Potomac watershed which is part of the larger Chesapeake watershed.

In 2016 I celebrate that I have lived in the same watershed for 30 years. For some people this is not unusual, some families stay on the same land for generations. My paternal grandparents grew up and lived in Lansdale, Pennsylvania, their whole lives. Only one of their nine children followed the same pattern. My dad was a pastor and churchman, my parents moved multiple times: from Indiana, to Pennsylvania, to Oregon, to Indiana and back to PA. In contrast, my choice to stay put for 30 years in this 4 mile corridor between Brookland in DC, Mt. Rainier and Hyattsville  seems strange. “Taking Root in Strange Soil” as the title of the HMC history says.

Though I have lived in the same watershed for 30 years, it is new for me to use the term. Water to me has been a beverage, a bath, for baptism. It comes out of the tap, leaks through our roof, and cost us a lot of money when our main pipe from the street to the house broke several years ago. I appreciate water on my small garden, and my kids used to love to make dams out of bricks and mud in the gutters in the street in a big summer storm. And water is essential for a pastor. Used for healing rituals, baptisms, in scripture and hymns, as a metaphor. Water is part of our human bodies, part of the incarnation.

As climate change becomes more apparent with every weather event, I am seeing in new ways what a complicated and wonderful gift water is, right here in our watershed and across the globe. Yes, it is great to drink, to play in, as a metaphor, it gives life. And it is dangerous and endangered.

For years here at Hyattsville Mennonite, we have had issues with water. When it rains, a torrent of water runs off the cul-de-sac, Carrollton Terrace, onto our parking lot and onto the neighbors’ property. One of our members recently calculated that when we receive an inch of rain between 10,000 and 13,000 gallons of water come off the cul-de-sac onto our property. To help alleviate some of the run off, the city of Hyattsville is currently creating a rain garden at the back of our property though it will hold only a fraction of the water from the cul-de-sac. Add to that the rain that runs off our roof, down our gutters, and gets pumped by our sump pump. There is a lot of water moving across our property into the neighbors’ yards and into the greater watershed.

Last June during a big wind and rain storm, a tree came down in the neighbor’s yard crashing through the church fence. Two other trees were also damaged. A few months later, another tree in the same neighbor’s yard fell into the church parking lot. Thankfully several faithful members all came, at the drop of a tree – so to speak – to clear the tree so we could get in and out of the parking lot the next day for worship.

With the loss of the trees, the neighbor came and talked to us about doing something to deal with the runoff. He said all those thousands of gallons of water coming off the cul-de-sac and our roof were rotting the roots of his trees, making them susceptible to wind and water. Unfortunately, there are no more big trees in his backyard.

We like to think of ourselves as good neighbors. Here at HMC we look out for each other, and for “neighbors across the street and around the world” (as the Mennonite Mission Network slogan says.) This neighbor, who shares a property line with us, suggested that perhaps we could be better neighbors to our physical neighbors.

I admit, at first I was resentful that he would challenge our neighborliness. Then, I began to wonder what it really means that we are a “destination congregation.” That out of 110 households, less than 20 households live within a 2 mile radius of the church. Just like water is an important metaphor, is our watershed also metaphorical? Do we think of ourselves more as a part of the greater “welcoming” watershed or the greater Mennonite watershed than the physical watershed where we worship together? What might that mean for how we are neighbors? to those near and far? What might it look like to pay more attention to the literal watershed in which the church building is located – the Anacostia watershed?

It is not that we are unusual in terms of how we go to church. It is the modern way of churches, even the way of many synagogues and mosques. No matter how we get to church – walking, biking, public transit or car, we pass other churches on our way to this one. Most of us go to church because we love the people, feel in tune with the theology, appreciate the music, the potlucks…We are not necessarily here because the church is in our neighborhood or in our watershed. Though some of us are here because we want to go to church in our neighborhood and some of us moved to this neighborhood because the church is here.

Maybe Jesus is the unusual one, baptized in the local river, the Jordan, and staying in that region (or so the gospels tell us) for his whole ministry. Not that he stayed in Bethlehem where he was born or in Nazareth where he was raised. But as far as we know from the biblical record, Jesus didn’t criss cross the Mediterranean like Peter and Paul. Jesus stayed close to the Jordan River, close to the Sea of Galilee. And close to the people that lived there.

This time when I read the story of Jesus’ baptism, I see it not only as a renewal of his faith, not only as a mystical event when he experiences God’s presence but as his commitment to the land and the people. Perhaps it is his renewed commitment to faith and God’s presence that moves him to make this commitment to his people and his land.

This congregation has worshipped in this spot since 1958. In the early 1990s, we felt that we were outgrowing this church building but we decided not to leave this land. Again in the early 2000s we looked at expanding this building and even visited several other possible locations. But in the end, we committed ourselves to this place, rebuilding the existing structure even though it means we continue to share Sunday School space with another congregation. We have chosen this little piece of land.

As we listen this year for the next steps in our congregational life, what might it mean to recommit ourselves not just to God and to each other, but also to our watershed, to the land right where we are and to the community around us. This is not a new idea. For over 20 years we have served at Community Cafe, hosted the Warm Nights shelter, hosted the Ten Thousand Villages sale. All of these are ways that we are interacting with people from our watershed.

What if we try something new? What might it mean for us, for me as your pastor, to spend more time in the neighborhood? What might it mean for me, for all of us, to connect more with the people who live right here, whether they are part of the congregation or not?

This week I tried out the idea of neighborhood office hours at Vigilante, the local coffee shop. I walked in ready to read and work on my sermon. That happened and I also talked with someone who occasionally worships here as well as a friend from the pool. If I do this regularly, should I wear a clerical collar so everyone knows I am a pastor. Should I set up a little sign – “the pastor is in” so folks know I am available to talk and wonder together about faith?

There are other options too. What if instead of passing the people who stand with signs in the median strip, 2 blocks away at Route 1, we stopped to talk to them? to find out who they are?

In this year of listening and waiting for the next steps, ideas are already being suggested by a number of you.

• Remember how we used to be a “sanctuary church” in the 1980s? Should we revisit that and become involved with this most recent round of ICE raids and deportations? Should we become a sanctuary for women and children?
• Might we be open to a 12 step group using the building for meetings?
• How might we reach out to the recently resettled refugees in our area?
• How might we lessen the amount of water that flows from our property onto our neighbors’ yards? What would it look like to talk with our immediate neighbors and work to reduce run-off? Can installing rain barrels and planting trees be a sign of faithfulness?
• We need a new roof, can we prioritize solar panels as part of the project?

As we listen and wait and look around this year, no doubt we will generate a long list of exciting possibilities of ways for us to live out our faith together, ways for us to support each other as we live out our callings from God. The hard part will be deciding how and where we want to put our energy and gifts as a congregation.

I don’t know if it will be as clear for us as it was for Jesus, with a voice from heaven and a descending dove, but if we listen carefully, I am sure we will know as Jesus did, that we are beloved of God and that God is pleased.

Today, as we remember Jesus’ baptism and his recommitment to faith, we might also want to remember our own baptisms by touching the water. If you have not yet been baptized, you can anticipate the water that may one day run down your head and face as a symbol of God’s grace and love, and a symbol of your commitment to share that grace and love with others.

As we sing the next song, “Take me to water,” you are invited, if you so choose, to come forward and touch the water, to receive the blessing of this water, from this watershed.

(Blessing prayer for the water)

Ever-living God, we give thanks that in the beginning
Your Spirit moved upon the face of the waters,
We give thanks that you led your people
out of slavery, through the waters, and into freedom.
We give thanks for your beloved child Jesus
baptized in the Jordan River.
Thank you for the many ways your Spirit is made present among us,
today made present in this water.
As we touch again your precious gift of water,
make us courageous and faithful people
committed to justice and peace, compassion and hospitality,
here in our watershed and wherever we may encounter you. AMEN.