Refocus
Commentary
The only way to defeat pride is to make it irrelevant. Once, when conductor Arturo Toscanini was preparing an orchestra and chorus for a performance, he was forced to work with a rather temperamental soprano soloist. His every suggestion was turned aside by her haughty opinions. At one point she loudly proclaimed: “I am the star of this performance!”
Toscanini looked at her with quiet pity. “Madam,” he said, “in this performance there are no stars.” And in that moment her pride became irrelevant. It was swallowed up in the larger glory of the music. Personal arrogance was like a third left shoe. Who needs it?
So too with us, as we hear the voices of scripture proclaim the suffering servant of God who came among us as “the Lamb who takes away the sins of the world.” As Isaac Watts put it in his well-known hymn:
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Isaiah 49:1-7
The four “Servant Songs” in Isaiah were first identified in a commentary on the prophecy by Bernhard Duhm in 1892:
* Isaiah 42:1-9 -- Yahweh identifies and commissions his special envoy who will bring justice among the nations through quiet ministry to the marginalized and the disenfranchised. His work will be successful because the great Creator has chosen this one to be the agent of divine renewal.
* Isaiah 49:1-13 -- The suffering servant testifies of his unique call and commissioning. His voice and message are then confirmed by successive oracles in which Yahweh speaks, announcing that his servant was ordained for this ministry from before his birth, and that both kings and outcasts will experience divine favor through the work of this one. The outcome will be a restoration of joy to the entire world, which has too long suffered under the consequences of evil.
* Isaiah 50:4-9 -- Now the voice of the chosen one is heard even more clearly. The entire poem is in the first person, and is a reflection on both divine anointing for the tasks at hand and also the early backlash of those who do not want Yahweh to disturb their evil machinations. The confrontation thickens between good and evil, and the suffering servant stands at its vortex.
* Isaiah 52:13--53:12 -- The last and longest of the poems personifies the suffering servant most clearly. Here the focus is less on the grand justice that will result from his ministry, and more on the agony that he will endure to accomplish his assigned task. What began as a shout of confidence and joy in the first song has now turned dark and almost defeatist here. Only the final lines of this song serve to remind us that Yahweh is still in control, and that these things do matter for eternal purposes.
Jews believe that it is the people of God themselves who function in the role as the arbiter of God’s justice among the nations, a task which ultimately crushes its vocalizer in the evil machines of human depravity. This is why the Jews remain the prophetic voice of God to the nations, and why they also mark their history with the awful pogroms and bloody reprisals that have been unleashed against them.
Christians, on the other hand, quickly found in these passages a kind of messianic blueprint describing the coming, anointing, teaching, ministry, suffering, and death of Jesus (see Acts 8:26-38). There is no question but that the hints at divine initiative and personal character and contextual backlash all fit hand-in-glove with the events of Jesus’ career. Both interpretations are likely intertwined.
1 Corinthians 1:1-9
Corinth is located at the southwestern end of the narrow land bridge between Greece’s northern and southern mainland regions, and has played a vital role for the region in both land and sea trade. It was a wealthy metropolis during the first century AD, and coupled that abundance of resources with many social vices. Sexual openness and experimentation, in particular, oozed out of Corinth, until the rest of the Mediterranean world began to use its name to identify lascivious lifestyles.
Paul’s stay in Corinth is quickly told in Acts 18:1-17. He began his missionary sojourn there as usual, with a time of teaching about Jesus to the Jews in the local synagogue. Paul was eventually forced out by vigorous opponents who refused to acknowledge that Jesus could have been the promised messiah. Although Paul was no longer permitted to speak in the synagogue, the leader of the synagogue became a believer, as did a good number of its members. From a new location in the house adjacent to the synagogue, and also from his workspace as a tentmaker in the Corinthian market, Paul broadened his preaching dialogues with people, until a thriving congregation was formed of both Jewish and Gentile converts.
Encouraged by a vision that affirmed divine blessing on his ministry in Corinth (Acts 18:9-11), Paul remained in the city at least a year and a half (virtually all of 50 AD and well along into 51 AD). Then he decided to make a report back at his sending church in Syrian Antioch, and took his new friends Priscilla and Aquila along (Acts 18:18). Stopping briefly in Ephesus across the Aegean Sea, Paul felt a strong pull to engage in a similar church-planting effort there. But he was already committed to his travel plans, so he left Priscilla and Aquila in Ephesus, and vowed to return soon (Acts 18:19-21).
It was probably a couple of months later that Paul traveled overland through Asia Minor and set up shop in Ephesus (Acts 19:1). Priscilla and Aquila had already established a solid core of converts and new leaders. Among their number was Apollos, a keen and well-schooled Jew from Alexandria, who was able quickly to understand how Jesus could be the Jewish messiah (Acts 18:24-28).
Paul stayed on in Ephesus for more than two years (Acts 19:8-10), carrying out a number of regional mission journeys (note the various travel itineraries listed in 2 Corinthians 1:15--7:16), and growing a significant Christian presence in the city itself. It was during this time that members from his former congregation in Corinth contacted Paul with questions about theology, ethics, and church practices. Paul’s responses would eventually become his most passionate and profound letters of Christian instruction. We know them today as 1 and 2 Corinthians.
Probably sometime in late 51 AD or early 52 AD Paul sent a letter of strongly worded reproof to the Corinthian congregation. No copies have survived, but from what Paul himself says about this communication in 1 Corinthians 5:9 it is easy to see why some might take exception to it. Indeed, it appears that a number of people in the congregation began to disown Paul’s authority after reading that letter, and then began to instigate factionalism in the community. Cliques grew, based upon personal preferences about which leaders were better preachers and who had a right to claim greater sway among them (see 1 Corinthians 2-4). Meanwhile, a delegation of three men (Stephanus, Fortunatus, and Achaicus), all highly respectful of Paul’s apostolic authority, traveled from Corinth to Ephesus, bringing to Paul an oral report about the difficulties going on in the church. They also carried a written list of questions that members of the congregation were raising.
Paul quickly wrote a letter of response. Although it was actually his second letter to the Corinthian congregation, because the earlier communication has been lost this one survives as 1 Corinthians in our New Testaments. Once again, as with his instructions in his letter to the Galatians, Paul places the goal of a loving response to Jesus as primary in the making of all moral and ethical choices, and follows that closely with a sense of obligation to serve and help others. In effect, Paul’s ethical code is essentially that which Jesus espoused: love God above all, and love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:37-40).
John 1:29-42
Although its development is markedly different from that of the synoptic gospels, there is a very clear pattern to John’s portrayal of Jesus’ activities and teachings in this gospel. When reading straight through the document, one notices several significant literary points of change. For instance, John 1:1-18 is a kind of philosophic reflection on time and space and the incarnation. Then suddenly, at 1:19, we are brought directly into the daily life of first-century Palestine, walking among crowds who are dialoguing with John the Baptist about his identity. Clearly a shift of some kind takes place between 1:18 and 1:19.
The flow of life in real time continues through the next several pages, as John the Baptist points to Jesus and then steps out of the way (1:19-36), Jesus gains a following through his miracles and teachings (1:37--12:50), and then, at a portentous table talk with his disciples, predicts his impending death (13:1-38). Following Mark’s lead, the synoptic gospels clearly identify this final meal that Jesus shared with his disciples as a Passover celebration. Strangely, for all the other symbolism in the fourth gospel, John clearly steers away from that connection in chapter 13. Why?
The answer appears to have several parts to it. First, John deliberately times the events of Jesus’ final week so that Jesus is tried and sentenced to death on Friday morning (at the same time as the unblemished Passover lambs were being selected), and crucified during the precise hours when the Passover lambs were being slaughtered in the Temple courtyard. In this way John accomplishes a purpose that he indicated here at the beginning of his gospel, to portray Jesus as the “Lamb of God” (1:36). Thus it was important for John not to identify the Last Supper as the Passover, since Jesus must die with the lambs who were being slaughtered prior to that meal.
Second, this does not immediately mean that either John or the synoptics are telling the story wrongly. Instead, there were actually several different calendars functioning among the Jews of the day, marking the celebration of the Passover with slight variations. These came into being due either to the chronological ordering of each new day (Roman: sunrise to sunrise, or Jewish: sundown to sundown), or the perceived occasion of the new moon that began the month (adjusted differently by Babylonian and Palestinian rabbis).
Thus Jesus and his disciples probably ate a Passover meal together, as the synoptics identify it, but one which was tied to a different calendar than that used by the bulk of the Jerusalem population. In this way John could leverage the different schedule to communicate a particular emphasis in his portrayal of Jesus’ symbolic identity. Throughout the changes of the gospel, this understanding of Jesus girds everything. Behold the Lamb!
Application
In their book Resident Aliens, Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon tell the story of a United Methodist congregation whose education committee was determined to make confirmation a meaningful exercise. They held discussions as to the preferred outcomes, and then drew up a master plan by which the high school seniors would be partnered with more mature members of the congregation in order to be mentored into adult Christian responsibilities.
Young Max was teamed with 24-year-old Joe, a single fellow who seemed to have his head on straight and worked well with young people. Several weeks into the venture, however, Joe called the pastor in great distress. He wanted someone to put Max in his place and make him behave. Gently the pastor tried to soothe Joe’s obviously frayed nerves and calm him to a place where talk could regain its balance.
Slowly the problem emerged. Joe was fine with meeting Max now and again, and telling him some stuff about the Christian faith. He had even dropped the remark that Max could come by sometime, if he wanted, and the two of them could hang out together. Well, it seems as if Max thought Joe meant it, for he came by Joe’s house unannounced in what turned out to be a very awkward moment. Joe had been in bed with his girlfriend, and there was no easy way to cover it up. Joe was embarrassed and turned it all on Max, blaming him for intruding on Joe’s personal life. Max, in turn, delivered a blistering accusation against Joe for being a phony, and said that if it was alright for Joe to have sex with his girlfriend, Max could do the same. Now Joe was caught in a host of moral lies and inconsistencies, and the shouting match ended with Joe telling Max to get out, Max stomping off and slamming the door, and Joe calling the pastor in irritation over the whole mess.
What had begun as a venture in modeling Christian behavior to those entering adult religious responsibilities had turned into an object lesson in the moral quagmire of general church life. M. Scott Peck wrote that one of the most unlikely places to create true community in modern North American society is in the church, because we have bought into isolation and performance mentalities. Joe and Max only proved the truth of this, and they were but a symptom of a much larger problem in that and most of our congregations. We gather on Sundays to say pious things about God and morality, but we live isolated and hidden lives in which we too often don’t practice what we preach. When we get caught at our lies and deceptions, as in the case of Max and Joe, we attack each other or we complain that the system is broken.
Epiphany reminds us that the secret things will be brought to light. God shines a powerful beam into our world in the person of Jesus Christ. All who come into this radiance begin to glow or hide, depending on their lifestyle preference. As our lectionary readings reminds us, some delight in the light of eternity while others seek to snuff it out. Epiphany, the revealing of God into our world, is a moment of crisis, a moment of challenge, and above all a moment of decision.
Alternative Application
John 1:29-42.The 1995 film Waterworld projected humanity into a post-global-warming world where the polar icecaps had melted and civilization drowned beneath the waves. Survivors sailed and scavenged, always threatened by other pirates on the high seas. But lingering in the whispered night-time tale-telling were legends of dry land and a return to humanity’s original paradise.
The threats and images and hopes of Waterworld come alive in a biblical fashion on this Baptism Sunday. The baptism of Jesus is our central focus, but it happens under the strangely compelling ministry of wild and woolly John. First of all, John’s identity and ministry are directly connected to the prophetic message of ancient Israel (1:19-28). In this way Jesus’ own life and actions are declared to be the fulfillment of divine planning and purpose. Jesus is not a new figure suddenly sprung upon the scene with no context; he is a fully endorsed messiah who appears emerging out of long-finished script.
Second, John is a riveting figure. He is countercultural. No one should suppose that anything connected with John is part of the status quo. He looks wild. He acts wildly. Yet he is not insane or delirious. In fact, he is most rationally in tune with things as they should be, and therefore those who have been duped into the complacency of their times experience through him a wake-up call to reclaim what is good and right and essential about life.
Third, John’s ministry of baptism gives his message public urgency. It is one thing for folks to hear a rousing sermon or political speech and then to go out into the next workday with it only lingering as a water-cooler conversation; it is quite another for people to respond to a public “altar call” and to be visibly identified with a change-of-life cause. Because John demanded that his hearers take physical action after hearing the message of repentance and devotion, his followers suddenly became a zealous missionary enterprise. They were not only convicted; they were convinced and convincing.
In this light it made sense for Jesus to begin his public ministry by getting baptized by John. This provided a serious, public jump-start for Jesus’ own ministry which was every bit as challenging as John’s. Here comes Jesus, grounded in the kingdom vision of Israel’s past, and inducted by a larger-than-life prophet. Just wait till you read the rest of the story!
Toscanini looked at her with quiet pity. “Madam,” he said, “in this performance there are no stars.” And in that moment her pride became irrelevant. It was swallowed up in the larger glory of the music. Personal arrogance was like a third left shoe. Who needs it?
So too with us, as we hear the voices of scripture proclaim the suffering servant of God who came among us as “the Lamb who takes away the sins of the world.” As Isaac Watts put it in his well-known hymn:
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Isaiah 49:1-7
The four “Servant Songs” in Isaiah were first identified in a commentary on the prophecy by Bernhard Duhm in 1892:
* Isaiah 42:1-9 -- Yahweh identifies and commissions his special envoy who will bring justice among the nations through quiet ministry to the marginalized and the disenfranchised. His work will be successful because the great Creator has chosen this one to be the agent of divine renewal.
* Isaiah 49:1-13 -- The suffering servant testifies of his unique call and commissioning. His voice and message are then confirmed by successive oracles in which Yahweh speaks, announcing that his servant was ordained for this ministry from before his birth, and that both kings and outcasts will experience divine favor through the work of this one. The outcome will be a restoration of joy to the entire world, which has too long suffered under the consequences of evil.
* Isaiah 50:4-9 -- Now the voice of the chosen one is heard even more clearly. The entire poem is in the first person, and is a reflection on both divine anointing for the tasks at hand and also the early backlash of those who do not want Yahweh to disturb their evil machinations. The confrontation thickens between good and evil, and the suffering servant stands at its vortex.
* Isaiah 52:13--53:12 -- The last and longest of the poems personifies the suffering servant most clearly. Here the focus is less on the grand justice that will result from his ministry, and more on the agony that he will endure to accomplish his assigned task. What began as a shout of confidence and joy in the first song has now turned dark and almost defeatist here. Only the final lines of this song serve to remind us that Yahweh is still in control, and that these things do matter for eternal purposes.
Jews believe that it is the people of God themselves who function in the role as the arbiter of God’s justice among the nations, a task which ultimately crushes its vocalizer in the evil machines of human depravity. This is why the Jews remain the prophetic voice of God to the nations, and why they also mark their history with the awful pogroms and bloody reprisals that have been unleashed against them.
Christians, on the other hand, quickly found in these passages a kind of messianic blueprint describing the coming, anointing, teaching, ministry, suffering, and death of Jesus (see Acts 8:26-38). There is no question but that the hints at divine initiative and personal character and contextual backlash all fit hand-in-glove with the events of Jesus’ career. Both interpretations are likely intertwined.
1 Corinthians 1:1-9
Corinth is located at the southwestern end of the narrow land bridge between Greece’s northern and southern mainland regions, and has played a vital role for the region in both land and sea trade. It was a wealthy metropolis during the first century AD, and coupled that abundance of resources with many social vices. Sexual openness and experimentation, in particular, oozed out of Corinth, until the rest of the Mediterranean world began to use its name to identify lascivious lifestyles.
Paul’s stay in Corinth is quickly told in Acts 18:1-17. He began his missionary sojourn there as usual, with a time of teaching about Jesus to the Jews in the local synagogue. Paul was eventually forced out by vigorous opponents who refused to acknowledge that Jesus could have been the promised messiah. Although Paul was no longer permitted to speak in the synagogue, the leader of the synagogue became a believer, as did a good number of its members. From a new location in the house adjacent to the synagogue, and also from his workspace as a tentmaker in the Corinthian market, Paul broadened his preaching dialogues with people, until a thriving congregation was formed of both Jewish and Gentile converts.
Encouraged by a vision that affirmed divine blessing on his ministry in Corinth (Acts 18:9-11), Paul remained in the city at least a year and a half (virtually all of 50 AD and well along into 51 AD). Then he decided to make a report back at his sending church in Syrian Antioch, and took his new friends Priscilla and Aquila along (Acts 18:18). Stopping briefly in Ephesus across the Aegean Sea, Paul felt a strong pull to engage in a similar church-planting effort there. But he was already committed to his travel plans, so he left Priscilla and Aquila in Ephesus, and vowed to return soon (Acts 18:19-21).
It was probably a couple of months later that Paul traveled overland through Asia Minor and set up shop in Ephesus (Acts 19:1). Priscilla and Aquila had already established a solid core of converts and new leaders. Among their number was Apollos, a keen and well-schooled Jew from Alexandria, who was able quickly to understand how Jesus could be the Jewish messiah (Acts 18:24-28).
Paul stayed on in Ephesus for more than two years (Acts 19:8-10), carrying out a number of regional mission journeys (note the various travel itineraries listed in 2 Corinthians 1:15--7:16), and growing a significant Christian presence in the city itself. It was during this time that members from his former congregation in Corinth contacted Paul with questions about theology, ethics, and church practices. Paul’s responses would eventually become his most passionate and profound letters of Christian instruction. We know them today as 1 and 2 Corinthians.
Probably sometime in late 51 AD or early 52 AD Paul sent a letter of strongly worded reproof to the Corinthian congregation. No copies have survived, but from what Paul himself says about this communication in 1 Corinthians 5:9 it is easy to see why some might take exception to it. Indeed, it appears that a number of people in the congregation began to disown Paul’s authority after reading that letter, and then began to instigate factionalism in the community. Cliques grew, based upon personal preferences about which leaders were better preachers and who had a right to claim greater sway among them (see 1 Corinthians 2-4). Meanwhile, a delegation of three men (Stephanus, Fortunatus, and Achaicus), all highly respectful of Paul’s apostolic authority, traveled from Corinth to Ephesus, bringing to Paul an oral report about the difficulties going on in the church. They also carried a written list of questions that members of the congregation were raising.
Paul quickly wrote a letter of response. Although it was actually his second letter to the Corinthian congregation, because the earlier communication has been lost this one survives as 1 Corinthians in our New Testaments. Once again, as with his instructions in his letter to the Galatians, Paul places the goal of a loving response to Jesus as primary in the making of all moral and ethical choices, and follows that closely with a sense of obligation to serve and help others. In effect, Paul’s ethical code is essentially that which Jesus espoused: love God above all, and love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:37-40).
John 1:29-42
Although its development is markedly different from that of the synoptic gospels, there is a very clear pattern to John’s portrayal of Jesus’ activities and teachings in this gospel. When reading straight through the document, one notices several significant literary points of change. For instance, John 1:1-18 is a kind of philosophic reflection on time and space and the incarnation. Then suddenly, at 1:19, we are brought directly into the daily life of first-century Palestine, walking among crowds who are dialoguing with John the Baptist about his identity. Clearly a shift of some kind takes place between 1:18 and 1:19.
The flow of life in real time continues through the next several pages, as John the Baptist points to Jesus and then steps out of the way (1:19-36), Jesus gains a following through his miracles and teachings (1:37--12:50), and then, at a portentous table talk with his disciples, predicts his impending death (13:1-38). Following Mark’s lead, the synoptic gospels clearly identify this final meal that Jesus shared with his disciples as a Passover celebration. Strangely, for all the other symbolism in the fourth gospel, John clearly steers away from that connection in chapter 13. Why?
The answer appears to have several parts to it. First, John deliberately times the events of Jesus’ final week so that Jesus is tried and sentenced to death on Friday morning (at the same time as the unblemished Passover lambs were being selected), and crucified during the precise hours when the Passover lambs were being slaughtered in the Temple courtyard. In this way John accomplishes a purpose that he indicated here at the beginning of his gospel, to portray Jesus as the “Lamb of God” (1:36). Thus it was important for John not to identify the Last Supper as the Passover, since Jesus must die with the lambs who were being slaughtered prior to that meal.
Second, this does not immediately mean that either John or the synoptics are telling the story wrongly. Instead, there were actually several different calendars functioning among the Jews of the day, marking the celebration of the Passover with slight variations. These came into being due either to the chronological ordering of each new day (Roman: sunrise to sunrise, or Jewish: sundown to sundown), or the perceived occasion of the new moon that began the month (adjusted differently by Babylonian and Palestinian rabbis).
Thus Jesus and his disciples probably ate a Passover meal together, as the synoptics identify it, but one which was tied to a different calendar than that used by the bulk of the Jerusalem population. In this way John could leverage the different schedule to communicate a particular emphasis in his portrayal of Jesus’ symbolic identity. Throughout the changes of the gospel, this understanding of Jesus girds everything. Behold the Lamb!
Application
In their book Resident Aliens, Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon tell the story of a United Methodist congregation whose education committee was determined to make confirmation a meaningful exercise. They held discussions as to the preferred outcomes, and then drew up a master plan by which the high school seniors would be partnered with more mature members of the congregation in order to be mentored into adult Christian responsibilities.
Young Max was teamed with 24-year-old Joe, a single fellow who seemed to have his head on straight and worked well with young people. Several weeks into the venture, however, Joe called the pastor in great distress. He wanted someone to put Max in his place and make him behave. Gently the pastor tried to soothe Joe’s obviously frayed nerves and calm him to a place where talk could regain its balance.
Slowly the problem emerged. Joe was fine with meeting Max now and again, and telling him some stuff about the Christian faith. He had even dropped the remark that Max could come by sometime, if he wanted, and the two of them could hang out together. Well, it seems as if Max thought Joe meant it, for he came by Joe’s house unannounced in what turned out to be a very awkward moment. Joe had been in bed with his girlfriend, and there was no easy way to cover it up. Joe was embarrassed and turned it all on Max, blaming him for intruding on Joe’s personal life. Max, in turn, delivered a blistering accusation against Joe for being a phony, and said that if it was alright for Joe to have sex with his girlfriend, Max could do the same. Now Joe was caught in a host of moral lies and inconsistencies, and the shouting match ended with Joe telling Max to get out, Max stomping off and slamming the door, and Joe calling the pastor in irritation over the whole mess.
What had begun as a venture in modeling Christian behavior to those entering adult religious responsibilities had turned into an object lesson in the moral quagmire of general church life. M. Scott Peck wrote that one of the most unlikely places to create true community in modern North American society is in the church, because we have bought into isolation and performance mentalities. Joe and Max only proved the truth of this, and they were but a symptom of a much larger problem in that and most of our congregations. We gather on Sundays to say pious things about God and morality, but we live isolated and hidden lives in which we too often don’t practice what we preach. When we get caught at our lies and deceptions, as in the case of Max and Joe, we attack each other or we complain that the system is broken.
Epiphany reminds us that the secret things will be brought to light. God shines a powerful beam into our world in the person of Jesus Christ. All who come into this radiance begin to glow or hide, depending on their lifestyle preference. As our lectionary readings reminds us, some delight in the light of eternity while others seek to snuff it out. Epiphany, the revealing of God into our world, is a moment of crisis, a moment of challenge, and above all a moment of decision.
Alternative Application
John 1:29-42.The 1995 film Waterworld projected humanity into a post-global-warming world where the polar icecaps had melted and civilization drowned beneath the waves. Survivors sailed and scavenged, always threatened by other pirates on the high seas. But lingering in the whispered night-time tale-telling were legends of dry land and a return to humanity’s original paradise.
The threats and images and hopes of Waterworld come alive in a biblical fashion on this Baptism Sunday. The baptism of Jesus is our central focus, but it happens under the strangely compelling ministry of wild and woolly John. First of all, John’s identity and ministry are directly connected to the prophetic message of ancient Israel (1:19-28). In this way Jesus’ own life and actions are declared to be the fulfillment of divine planning and purpose. Jesus is not a new figure suddenly sprung upon the scene with no context; he is a fully endorsed messiah who appears emerging out of long-finished script.
Second, John is a riveting figure. He is countercultural. No one should suppose that anything connected with John is part of the status quo. He looks wild. He acts wildly. Yet he is not insane or delirious. In fact, he is most rationally in tune with things as they should be, and therefore those who have been duped into the complacency of their times experience through him a wake-up call to reclaim what is good and right and essential about life.
Third, John’s ministry of baptism gives his message public urgency. It is one thing for folks to hear a rousing sermon or political speech and then to go out into the next workday with it only lingering as a water-cooler conversation; it is quite another for people to respond to a public “altar call” and to be visibly identified with a change-of-life cause. Because John demanded that his hearers take physical action after hearing the message of repentance and devotion, his followers suddenly became a zealous missionary enterprise. They were not only convicted; they were convinced and convincing.
In this light it made sense for Jesus to begin his public ministry by getting baptized by John. This provided a serious, public jump-start for Jesus’ own ministry which was every bit as challenging as John’s. Here comes Jesus, grounded in the kingdom vision of Israel’s past, and inducted by a larger-than-life prophet. Just wait till you read the rest of the story!
