Mark 1:4-11
For a long time, I believed there was only one story of Jesus’s birth- the one with the small town and the manger and the angels and shepherds and wise men. Then I learned that there were two- one had the wise men, one didn’t. Then I studied the four Gospels for years in school, and discovered that there were three birth narratives- the one in Luke with the angel Gabriel and the shepherds, the one in Matthew with the wise men and the star, the one in John that reads like poetry and tells the story of the Word’s role in creation. The miracle of Luke and Matthew is that Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit. The miracle of John is that the Word made flesh has always been and will always be. But recently, I realized there is another birth story, another miracle that connects us to Immanuel, God with Us.
This morning we celebrate the fourth birth story of Jesus, the Baptism of our Lord. You’ll notice the color of the day is white, just like Christmas, just like every Sunday that there is a baptism in the Church. This baptism of Jesus is another birth, another Christmas story, in its own way. Saint Mark the Evangelist was not particularly interested in how Jesus came to exist- but he cared very much about how Jesus began his ministry, and what events led to that new beginning. John the Baptizer paves the way with his ministry of repentance and baptism, and Jesus meets him in the mission field.
John is very clear that the baptism he provides is not the baptism that we all received when we became Christians. The baptism of John is a ritual washing that symbolizes and initiates repentance, a change of heart and a change of life. John’s baptism insists on the human need for forgiveness from sin, a calling for repentance from those who have the power and the privilege to cause harm and participate in unjust systems. This is why John’s sermons are so severe when the religious and political and military leaders of his day are present- he is not claiming his baptism will change them, only that they must change and recognizing that is the first step. John’s baptism is about what we do. The baptism of the Holy Spirit, the baptism that John promises will come, is about what God does.
The baptism of Jesus is a scandal, something we rarely see reflected in the religious art depicting the scene. When Jesus approached the muddy bank of the Jordan, it was probably filled with milling crowds of all kinds of people, some whipped into religious fervor while others were merely drawn to the spectacle and curiosity of it all. He probably had to weave his way through, stepping over feet and dodging the cookfires of those who have camped out to listen to the wild man’s fiery sermons. The air probably smelled of fish and sweat and smoke. Although other Gospels tell us that John recognized his cousin and knew he was the Messiah, Mark gives us no such detail. From Mark’s perspective, John may not have even known Jesus was a relative when he submerged him in the river. The sinless one, walking unrecognized through the crowds, consenting to be half-drowned in the same water his people used to wash their clothes and their bodies. John’s baptism was a ritual of repentance for sin. Why on earth would the sinless Messiah stoop so low?
Because this is what God does, what God has always done. Jesus sought out the prophet whose words and actions pointed to him, and instead of supplanting his predecessor, he submits to him. John claims he is not worthy to bend down and untie Jesus’s shoes; Jesus gives himself wholly into John’s hands to be washed like everyone else who heeded the Baptist’s cry. Just as God chose to be born like we are, with all the danger and messiness of birth, God chose to be renewed, to christen the act of baptism itself with God’s presence.
The scandalous baptism of Jesus ripped a hole in space and time. The heavens were torn apart, much like Isaiah prayed God would rend the sky and come down to intervene on behalf of the people. In art we often see this moment depicted in a beam of light, a gentle and pure white dove floating down toward Jesus. But this is not the vision of Mark. The voice from heaven can more accurately be described as coming through a rift in reality, through a black hole, a tear in the veil between the created and heavenly realms. This moment has more in common with a sci fi film than a fairy tale, it is startling and strange. It is a miraculous birth of a new age, the crowning which begins Jesus’s public ministry and the naming that affirms his connection to the Father. This is a world-altering in-breaking of the Divine, and it takes place in a muddy river on the margin of civilization. Just like the birth stories in Matthew and Luke, here Immanuel arrives among the mundane and the ordinary, not above the world but in it, fully immersed in life as it is and as it could be.
This is the baptism John foretold, the same baptism that Christians have received since the birth of the Church on the day of Pentecost. A baptism of the Holy Spirit, something altogether different from the ritual cleansing of generations past, something wild and untamed and scandalous. Every time we welcome a new Christian into the body through the waters of the font, we know by faith that the same Spirit descends upon the brow of our newest member, and the same voice from heaven claims them as children, as beloved. This is why we only baptize once in the Episcopal Church, why we baptize infants as well as adults of all ages and abilities. Unlike the baptism of John, which was repeatable and required human understanding and active repentance, the baptism of the Holy Spirit is all about God’s action, God’s creation and re-creation of us, God’s undying and immovable love for us. We do not need to comprehend God’s love in order to receive it. We do not need to see the Holy Spirit’s wings in order to feel their movement in our lives. We do not need to feel worthy or pure or prepared in order to be part of God’s redemption of the world. This is what was born on the day Jesus was baptized in the Jordan river, what we remember today and every time we welcome a new member into the Body of Christ. After he rose from the water, Jesus began a ministry in which we can all take part, a ministry of healing and forgiveness and freedom, a ministry built on a foundation of belovedness. This is our ministry, our own birth narrative. God is with us. Immanuel has come.
Mother A Writes 