John The (Reluctant) Baptizer
Sermon
Sermons On The Gospel Readings
Series II, Cycle A
Object:
Many pastors and church boards have a policy against flash photography during any worship service, especially while the pastor is administering the sacrament of baptism. That is an appropriate restriction. A baptism is a holy moment, not a Kodak moment. Also, as any pastor can tell you, when twenty flash bulbs go off in your face, the resulting temporary blindness can be pretty unnerving. It also distracts from the ceremony. Most importantly, a camera cannot capture what really matters about a baptism.
If the technology had existed, and someone had taken a picture of Jesus' baptism, what would have turned up on the film? Certainly, as Matthew describes it, this scene is about as dramatic as any in the Bible. When you think about it, that's saying a lot. If we conducted a poll to determine the most dramatic scene in the Bible, we would have a number of candidates. We could choose the exodus event: the desperate band of freed slaves glancing furtively back at the oncoming Egyptian army as the waters of the Sea of Reeds billow up on both sides. We might pick the Transfiguration, where Jesus' body turns white all over, with Elijah and Moses as eyewitnesses. Certainly, Jesus' resurrection might be a candidate, except that none of the gospel writers actually describes the resurrection, only the aftermath. For today, let us consider Jesus' baptism as a candidate for the most dramatic scene in the Bible, the one we most would like to have captured on film.
We see Jesus for the first time in Matthew at his baptism. Until now, Jesus has appeared in Matthew only as a baby. He has been in the background while the focus has been on Herod, who wanted to kill him and the Magi who visited him and his parents who protected him. Jesus' very first initiative in the gospel of Matthew is to present himself for baptism.
The official at the baptism is John, the rough-hewn preacher who has stirred up a spiritual fervor. John has stirred up a spiritual fervor by announcing the impending arrival of an (almost literally) fire-breathing Messiah-figure who will execute end-time judgment. John's preaching actually sets up a tension in the passage between what John expects and what Jesus requests. John seems to expect that Jesus will step onto the scene to take charge. Instead, Jesus presents himself for baptism. By submitting himself to John for baptism, Jesus acts in humility, placing himself for that act under the authority of John. John protests. Jesus is the authority figure. Jesus does not need a baptism of repentance for sins. Jesus insists on the baptism, despite John's protests. Jesus submits to baptism as an act of faith in the way God works through baptism.
Up to this point, the images on our film of this scene would not be especially dramatic. Jesus steps into the murky waters of the Jordan. John's muscular arm thrusts him below the surface. Jesus' head splashes up from the river with water flying everywhere. All of a sudden, though, something totally unexpected happens, according to Matthew's narrative. Just as Jesus comes up from the water, the heavens open up. Now a fairly ordinary event becomes a candidate for the most dramatic scene in the Bible. If we could capture on film the scene as Matthew describes it, what a picture it would make. Matthew, of course, is not using the language of science. The heavens cannot be torn open in a literal sense. What we call the heavens above us are nothing but empty space. Matthew is using the language of faith.
When Matthew tells us that "the heavens were opened" he alludes to Isaiah 64. There the prophet pleads with God, "O that you would tear open the heavens and come down." Could anyone pray a bolder prayer? The prophet seems to want the same kind of thing that John expects. He writes during a time of deep distress within the community that has returned from exile. He implores God to act in power. The prophet wants fire to kindle brushwood. He wants nations to tremble. He wants awesome deeds and the quaking of mountains. He expects those kinds of things to happen when God tears open the heavens. When the heavens open up, the prophet expects judgment for sin and wrongdoing. John expected much the same thing when the Messiah arrived. When Matthew tells us that the heavens opened, he transforms the event from the prophet's call for judgment into an act of grace.
In this scene of Jesus' baptism, Matthew arranges a faith encounter for each of us. Canadian New Testament scholar, Gary Yamasaki, leads us carefully through this passage to show how Matthew enables us to experience this encounter.1 Imagine that this scene of Jesus' baptism was conducted on a stage. The characters have spotlights shining on them. By careful use of language, Matthew empties the stage, so to speak, so that the stage is set for our faith encounter.
We presume that when Jesus comes to John for baptism, he is only one such candidate. The crowds who regularly came to John would have surrounded John and Jesus. Matthew does not mention them in the scene, so they are in the background. Matthew turns their spotlight off, so that by verse 13 they are in the dark. The audience can see only Jesus and John. In describing Jesus' actual baptism, Matthew uses the passive voice, "when Jesus had been baptized." That takes the spotlight off of John. Only Jesus appears on stage after verse 16. Matthew then uses a singular pronoun to indicate that only Jesus saw the Spirit of God descending. Finally a voice from heaven speaks in third person, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." Only Jesus had been on stage until this verse. If the voice had been speaking to Jesus, the voice would have said, "You are my Son." By now, though, the stage is dark. We, the readers of the gospel, are alone with God's voice. Matthew allows us to experience what cannot be seen: the opening of the heavens. He allows us to hear what cannot be heard: the voice of God.
A camera snapping away at Jesus' baptism would not have picked up a giant tear in the sky. A microphone would not have recorded the booming voice of God declaring Jesus to be God's Son. No one could have picked up a dove's feather to keep as a souvenir. God acts even if we don't see or hear anything flashy around us. Even though everything may have looked ordinary to bystanders at Jesus' baptism, Matthew tells us that heaven and earth came together that day. The divine realm touched the earth. God answered the prophet's prayer, reaching down into our world to bring hope, comfort, and power. Our faith encounter in this text is trusting that God acted in Jesus' baptism, that God brought heaven near.
What was true for Jesus' baptism is true for every baptism. Even if a baptism looks ordinary, God comes near. In the water and the words of baptism, the heavens open up and the Holy Spirit descends. We can't capture that on our cameras, no matter how sophisticated they might be. A camcorder can catch the details of the baptism, but not what really happens. Our world and God's world come together.
Jesus needed the touch of God in his baptism. Right after his baptism, the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness to be tempted. Before the temptation, God claimed Jesus, affirming their relationship. Matthew doesn't tell us this in so many words, but maybe his baptism and the opening of heaven sustained Jesus in the wilderness.
Maybe we are now in some wilderness. The wilderness is a lonely and frustrating place. The wilderness can dry up our spiritual resources. We feel as though our faith is not being nourished in the wilderness. If we are not personally in a wilderness, much of our world is in the wilderness. We know the names these wilderness experiences can take: war, violence, hunger, poverty, hatred, grief. The wilderness has many names. As we look at our own wilderness experience, or the experiences of the world, we may ask where God is. We may ask why God doesn't act. We may even ask with the prophet why God doesn't tear open the heavens and fix this world.
God does tear open the heavens. God reaches into our world in grace and healing. God tore open the heavens at our baptism. No camera caught it, but happened just the same. Only the eyes of faith can see the heavens open up. Wherever we are, whatever we see in our world, let us never give up in despair. Let us never assume God has left us alone. Again and again, God tears open the heavens and reaches down to touch us. Amen.
____________
1. Gary Yamasaki, John the Baptist in Life and Death: Audience-Oriented Criticism of Matthew's Narrative (Sheffield, England: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), pp. 95-100.
If the technology had existed, and someone had taken a picture of Jesus' baptism, what would have turned up on the film? Certainly, as Matthew describes it, this scene is about as dramatic as any in the Bible. When you think about it, that's saying a lot. If we conducted a poll to determine the most dramatic scene in the Bible, we would have a number of candidates. We could choose the exodus event: the desperate band of freed slaves glancing furtively back at the oncoming Egyptian army as the waters of the Sea of Reeds billow up on both sides. We might pick the Transfiguration, where Jesus' body turns white all over, with Elijah and Moses as eyewitnesses. Certainly, Jesus' resurrection might be a candidate, except that none of the gospel writers actually describes the resurrection, only the aftermath. For today, let us consider Jesus' baptism as a candidate for the most dramatic scene in the Bible, the one we most would like to have captured on film.
We see Jesus for the first time in Matthew at his baptism. Until now, Jesus has appeared in Matthew only as a baby. He has been in the background while the focus has been on Herod, who wanted to kill him and the Magi who visited him and his parents who protected him. Jesus' very first initiative in the gospel of Matthew is to present himself for baptism.
The official at the baptism is John, the rough-hewn preacher who has stirred up a spiritual fervor. John has stirred up a spiritual fervor by announcing the impending arrival of an (almost literally) fire-breathing Messiah-figure who will execute end-time judgment. John's preaching actually sets up a tension in the passage between what John expects and what Jesus requests. John seems to expect that Jesus will step onto the scene to take charge. Instead, Jesus presents himself for baptism. By submitting himself to John for baptism, Jesus acts in humility, placing himself for that act under the authority of John. John protests. Jesus is the authority figure. Jesus does not need a baptism of repentance for sins. Jesus insists on the baptism, despite John's protests. Jesus submits to baptism as an act of faith in the way God works through baptism.
Up to this point, the images on our film of this scene would not be especially dramatic. Jesus steps into the murky waters of the Jordan. John's muscular arm thrusts him below the surface. Jesus' head splashes up from the river with water flying everywhere. All of a sudden, though, something totally unexpected happens, according to Matthew's narrative. Just as Jesus comes up from the water, the heavens open up. Now a fairly ordinary event becomes a candidate for the most dramatic scene in the Bible. If we could capture on film the scene as Matthew describes it, what a picture it would make. Matthew, of course, is not using the language of science. The heavens cannot be torn open in a literal sense. What we call the heavens above us are nothing but empty space. Matthew is using the language of faith.
When Matthew tells us that "the heavens were opened" he alludes to Isaiah 64. There the prophet pleads with God, "O that you would tear open the heavens and come down." Could anyone pray a bolder prayer? The prophet seems to want the same kind of thing that John expects. He writes during a time of deep distress within the community that has returned from exile. He implores God to act in power. The prophet wants fire to kindle brushwood. He wants nations to tremble. He wants awesome deeds and the quaking of mountains. He expects those kinds of things to happen when God tears open the heavens. When the heavens open up, the prophet expects judgment for sin and wrongdoing. John expected much the same thing when the Messiah arrived. When Matthew tells us that the heavens opened, he transforms the event from the prophet's call for judgment into an act of grace.
In this scene of Jesus' baptism, Matthew arranges a faith encounter for each of us. Canadian New Testament scholar, Gary Yamasaki, leads us carefully through this passage to show how Matthew enables us to experience this encounter.1 Imagine that this scene of Jesus' baptism was conducted on a stage. The characters have spotlights shining on them. By careful use of language, Matthew empties the stage, so to speak, so that the stage is set for our faith encounter.
We presume that when Jesus comes to John for baptism, he is only one such candidate. The crowds who regularly came to John would have surrounded John and Jesus. Matthew does not mention them in the scene, so they are in the background. Matthew turns their spotlight off, so that by verse 13 they are in the dark. The audience can see only Jesus and John. In describing Jesus' actual baptism, Matthew uses the passive voice, "when Jesus had been baptized." That takes the spotlight off of John. Only Jesus appears on stage after verse 16. Matthew then uses a singular pronoun to indicate that only Jesus saw the Spirit of God descending. Finally a voice from heaven speaks in third person, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." Only Jesus had been on stage until this verse. If the voice had been speaking to Jesus, the voice would have said, "You are my Son." By now, though, the stage is dark. We, the readers of the gospel, are alone with God's voice. Matthew allows us to experience what cannot be seen: the opening of the heavens. He allows us to hear what cannot be heard: the voice of God.
A camera snapping away at Jesus' baptism would not have picked up a giant tear in the sky. A microphone would not have recorded the booming voice of God declaring Jesus to be God's Son. No one could have picked up a dove's feather to keep as a souvenir. God acts even if we don't see or hear anything flashy around us. Even though everything may have looked ordinary to bystanders at Jesus' baptism, Matthew tells us that heaven and earth came together that day. The divine realm touched the earth. God answered the prophet's prayer, reaching down into our world to bring hope, comfort, and power. Our faith encounter in this text is trusting that God acted in Jesus' baptism, that God brought heaven near.
What was true for Jesus' baptism is true for every baptism. Even if a baptism looks ordinary, God comes near. In the water and the words of baptism, the heavens open up and the Holy Spirit descends. We can't capture that on our cameras, no matter how sophisticated they might be. A camcorder can catch the details of the baptism, but not what really happens. Our world and God's world come together.
Jesus needed the touch of God in his baptism. Right after his baptism, the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness to be tempted. Before the temptation, God claimed Jesus, affirming their relationship. Matthew doesn't tell us this in so many words, but maybe his baptism and the opening of heaven sustained Jesus in the wilderness.
Maybe we are now in some wilderness. The wilderness is a lonely and frustrating place. The wilderness can dry up our spiritual resources. We feel as though our faith is not being nourished in the wilderness. If we are not personally in a wilderness, much of our world is in the wilderness. We know the names these wilderness experiences can take: war, violence, hunger, poverty, hatred, grief. The wilderness has many names. As we look at our own wilderness experience, or the experiences of the world, we may ask where God is. We may ask why God doesn't act. We may even ask with the prophet why God doesn't tear open the heavens and fix this world.
God does tear open the heavens. God reaches into our world in grace and healing. God tore open the heavens at our baptism. No camera caught it, but happened just the same. Only the eyes of faith can see the heavens open up. Wherever we are, whatever we see in our world, let us never give up in despair. Let us never assume God has left us alone. Again and again, God tears open the heavens and reaches down to touch us. Amen.
____________
1. Gary Yamasaki, John the Baptist in Life and Death: Audience-Oriented Criticism of Matthew's Narrative (Sheffield, England: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), pp. 95-100.
