Sixty? In January? Sixty degrees? And then twenties next week? I’m lost. Kinda makes you fall back on that classic question: Who’s in charge here? A default query when things are falling apart. When nothing makes sense, you are inclined to ask who got us here, teetering on this brink, up this creek, wandering in this wilderness? Who’s in charge here?
That’s not just a random question. It is what provides the backdrop to our text for this week. It isn’t the main point, I don’t think anyway, but it is the undercurrent, the sub-text to this story. It is the background noise that sometimes makes it hard to hear the symphony of grace and of love that issues forth from this watery yet fiery moment down by the riverside.
The baptism of Jesus is the second of three moments of epiphany that we celebrate in season. The season of Epiphany begins with a dubious pack of foreigners struck by a star and ends with a collection of Jesus’ “best and the brightest” stunned by a transfiguration and a voice in a cloud. In all three there is this sense that we are merely spectators, watching something just beyond our understanding. Feeling our hearts pound with hope and with joy though if asked we can’t really put on finger on what it was that struck us so. But just watching from a distance fills an emptiness we didn’t even know was there. Answers a question we didn’t know we were asking.
Watch again as he comes down to the water.
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, 16 John answered all of them by saying, "I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 17 His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire." ... Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, 22 and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
What is interesting about Luke’s depiction of the event is that the baptism hardly figures in at all. The verses we skip serve to usher John the Baptist off the stage in favor of Jesus who now begins his ministry. But after John’s bluster, the next thing we know is that the baptism had already taken place. We missed it. Ain’t that always the way? We come for the show and by the time we got our seats, it had already happened. “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus had also been baptized...” Darn it!
You’d think that if Luke had a clue about the centuries of struggle the church has had about the detail of baptism, he might have spent a little more time with it. We don’t know if Jesus was immersed or sprinkled. We don’t know which liturgy John prefers, or if the vows that Jesus made were the same as the ones we make or not. We don’t know if John was properly credentialed or if Jesus followed the rules. We don’t know who signed the certificate. We need to know these things, don’t we?
Luke doesn’t seem to think so. “Jesus had also been baptized...” That’s the sum total of the description here. If Luke is saying that the methodology isn’t what is important, then what is? If the methodology of baptism isn’t what we are supposed to be asking about here, then what is the question? The fact that all four gospels spend some time wrestling with the relative position of Jesus vs John is a hint that at least one important question is “who’s in charge here?”
The people gathered on the riverbank and wondered. They hoped, they leaned into the moment, into the phenomenon that was John the B. They watched him wade in the shallow waters and call for a change, for real change. Quit playing games, he said, quit fooling yourself. Get down to the hard work of living right. There is more to this life than status and power and riches. Get right, or get left out!
Maybe it was his confidence as much as his content, but they began to wonder. Maybe he is the one. Luke says that in their hearts they were questioning. Not their heads. This wasn’t an intellectual pondering of possibilities. No, this was a heart thing. They were leaning in, they were wondering, they were hoping. They had begun to recognize that they were indeed sheep without a shepherd and they were seeing some possibilities in the one who churned up the waters of the Jordan River. Is the one? The one we’ve been waiting for, the one we’ve been praying for?
Maybe they began to murmur to one another, maybe someone shouted it out loud, or maybe he just saw the hunger in their eyes, but somehow John heard the question and jumped in to answer. Not me, he declared, as forcefully as he had called for repentance. No, someone bigger, someone stronger, someone with a shovel who will toss you up into the wind to rip away the empty husks of your sinfulness, someone who will see down into the depths of your soul. No, it’s not me, said John. But watch out, the one is on his way.
Or already in line. That’s Luke’s subtle point. No grand entrance. No miraculous appearance. No, not him, not Jesus. When the people have been baptized, and when Jesus had been baptized too. Too? Jesus shouldn’t be a “too.” An also-ran. A member of the crowd. It is Jesus, for heaven’s sake! Why is Jesus even there in the first place? That’s the question that has puzzled biblical scholars since the beginnings of the church. John was preaching a baptism of repentance. But we know that Jesus was without sin. So, why would he need to be there? What’s going on here?
Are you the one? Yes, but not the one you want. Instead he decides to be the one you need. The one who stands in line with all the other broken ones. The one who takes his place among the bruised and the hurting. The one who wades into the mess of the world and buries himself in it. The one who climbs up out of the anxiety of living in this world and falls to his knees. That’s the one John was ranting and raving about. It isn’t a shovel he carries, it is a cross, and by that implement we are all cast into the winds of the Spirit to be transformed. But instead of condemnation we hear those words that he heard, “You are my Beloved. With you I am well-pleased.”
Who’s in charge here? We live our lives asking that question. Most of the time we think it is us. We are in charge. In charge of our own lives, our own wills. Yet, in our saner moments we know we need help. We know we need someone to follow. We need an example, a guide, a hope. We need a savior.
Who’s in charge here? An epiphany question. A baptism question. Your question. And mine.
Who’s in charge here? Hear O Israel, the Lord your God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Who’s in charge here?
Shalom,
Derek
That’s not just a random question. It is what provides the backdrop to our text for this week. It isn’t the main point, I don’t think anyway, but it is the undercurrent, the sub-text to this story. It is the background noise that sometimes makes it hard to hear the symphony of grace and of love that issues forth from this watery yet fiery moment down by the riverside.
The baptism of Jesus is the second of three moments of epiphany that we celebrate in season. The season of Epiphany begins with a dubious pack of foreigners struck by a star and ends with a collection of Jesus’ “best and the brightest” stunned by a transfiguration and a voice in a cloud. In all three there is this sense that we are merely spectators, watching something just beyond our understanding. Feeling our hearts pound with hope and with joy though if asked we can’t really put on finger on what it was that struck us so. But just watching from a distance fills an emptiness we didn’t even know was there. Answers a question we didn’t know we were asking.
Watch again as he comes down to the water.
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, 16 John answered all of them by saying, "I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 17 His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire." ... Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, 22 and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
What is interesting about Luke’s depiction of the event is that the baptism hardly figures in at all. The verses we skip serve to usher John the Baptist off the stage in favor of Jesus who now begins his ministry. But after John’s bluster, the next thing we know is that the baptism had already taken place. We missed it. Ain’t that always the way? We come for the show and by the time we got our seats, it had already happened. “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus had also been baptized...” Darn it!
You’d think that if Luke had a clue about the centuries of struggle the church has had about the detail of baptism, he might have spent a little more time with it. We don’t know if Jesus was immersed or sprinkled. We don’t know which liturgy John prefers, or if the vows that Jesus made were the same as the ones we make or not. We don’t know if John was properly credentialed or if Jesus followed the rules. We don’t know who signed the certificate. We need to know these things, don’t we?
Luke doesn’t seem to think so. “Jesus had also been baptized...” That’s the sum total of the description here. If Luke is saying that the methodology isn’t what is important, then what is? If the methodology of baptism isn’t what we are supposed to be asking about here, then what is the question? The fact that all four gospels spend some time wrestling with the relative position of Jesus vs John is a hint that at least one important question is “who’s in charge here?”
The people gathered on the riverbank and wondered. They hoped, they leaned into the moment, into the phenomenon that was John the B. They watched him wade in the shallow waters and call for a change, for real change. Quit playing games, he said, quit fooling yourself. Get down to the hard work of living right. There is more to this life than status and power and riches. Get right, or get left out!
Maybe it was his confidence as much as his content, but they began to wonder. Maybe he is the one. Luke says that in their hearts they were questioning. Not their heads. This wasn’t an intellectual pondering of possibilities. No, this was a heart thing. They were leaning in, they were wondering, they were hoping. They had begun to recognize that they were indeed sheep without a shepherd and they were seeing some possibilities in the one who churned up the waters of the Jordan River. Is the one? The one we’ve been waiting for, the one we’ve been praying for?
Maybe they began to murmur to one another, maybe someone shouted it out loud, or maybe he just saw the hunger in their eyes, but somehow John heard the question and jumped in to answer. Not me, he declared, as forcefully as he had called for repentance. No, someone bigger, someone stronger, someone with a shovel who will toss you up into the wind to rip away the empty husks of your sinfulness, someone who will see down into the depths of your soul. No, it’s not me, said John. But watch out, the one is on his way.
Or already in line. That’s Luke’s subtle point. No grand entrance. No miraculous appearance. No, not him, not Jesus. When the people have been baptized, and when Jesus had been baptized too. Too? Jesus shouldn’t be a “too.” An also-ran. A member of the crowd. It is Jesus, for heaven’s sake! Why is Jesus even there in the first place? That’s the question that has puzzled biblical scholars since the beginnings of the church. John was preaching a baptism of repentance. But we know that Jesus was without sin. So, why would he need to be there? What’s going on here?
Are you the one? Yes, but not the one you want. Instead he decides to be the one you need. The one who stands in line with all the other broken ones. The one who takes his place among the bruised and the hurting. The one who wades into the mess of the world and buries himself in it. The one who climbs up out of the anxiety of living in this world and falls to his knees. That’s the one John was ranting and raving about. It isn’t a shovel he carries, it is a cross, and by that implement we are all cast into the winds of the Spirit to be transformed. But instead of condemnation we hear those words that he heard, “You are my Beloved. With you I am well-pleased.”
Who’s in charge here? We live our lives asking that question. Most of the time we think it is us. We are in charge. In charge of our own lives, our own wills. Yet, in our saner moments we know we need help. We know we need someone to follow. We need an example, a guide, a hope. We need a savior.
Who’s in charge here? An epiphany question. A baptism question. Your question. And mine.
Who’s in charge here? Hear O Israel, the Lord your God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Who’s in charge here?
Shalom,
Derek
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