Sermon - The Rev. Dr. Paul Kolbet, Jan. 8th, 2023
As John baptized Jesus, “a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’” From that moment on, Jesus began his public ministry with great confidence and assurance. In the words of the ancient prophet Isaiah that we read this morning that Jesus made his own, Jesus came to be “a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.” This season of Epiphany is the season where we celebrate Jesus’ ministry, but more importantly, experience his ministry where he is our light in the darkness, where he opens our blind eyes, and brings us out of whatever dungeon or prison we may be in.
He not only did such things back then, but he does them now with us as we gather together. The reason why we rehearse these readings and retell them to one another, is that by doing so, by turning our attention to them, and turning them over in our minds, we can experience in them, right here and now, some of the very light, healing, and liberation Jesus spoke of. Jesus, in this way, is present to us, in sacred scripture, in holy conversation, and in spiritual practice, much like he was on the rolling hills of Galilee. It requires of us some belief, some commitment, some expectation that Jesus can find us where we are. None of this is all that different from the prisoners, or the blind, or other people who in the first century needed the same kind of faith that Jesus could find them and help them.
Jesus came to John to be baptized, but not everyone did. John the Baptist seems to have been aware that his own people were having grave trouble even hearing his message of baptism and repentance. The people who couldn’t bear his message of judgment and repentance missed out not because of their particular misdoings, but because they put up walls at the very time when God gave them a much-needed chance to change, grow, and experience new life. For example, anyone in your school days have a teacher that was particularly fond of red ink? Some of my papers looked liked the teacher had slayed some animal while they were grading it. When there were that many negative comments again and again demonstrating how I fell short, it was hard to even make myself read them. It was easier to get angry, or blame the teacher, than to truly listen and learn about how I needed to change. But if I couldn’t listen to the criticism, how could I ever learn to write better? Being judged as falling short just feels bad. It feels like being one down. It feels like the opposite of love even when it is lovingly given. It can feel like the opposite of love even when what we are being told is the truth. So who can bear hearing it? But if we can’t hear it, how is there hope for us to get better?
John’s solution was to hope for one more powerful than himself, to long for a messiah who would somehow, someway, not only speak the message of repentance but have the power to bring it about. When John saw Jesus and when Jesus came to him to be baptized, John believed that Jesus was the one who would finally speak the truth in a way that people would actually hear.
What really would make Jesus so different? Why would people be able to hear him when they couldn’t hear the truth from John? What is it that would give us confidence that we could hear from Jesus what we couldn’t hear from John? I think it has to do with who Jesus is. After all, one of the most curious aspects of this story is that he didn’t need to be baptized. He had no past to be redeemed, no sin, no guilt, and no shame. He was there for another reason altogether. When John first saw him, he shouted out, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). This is an Old Testament reference. John’s baptism can be thought of standing for the Red Sea waters of the Exodus in which the ancient Israelites had to walk through to become fully free of the slavery of Egypt. But if you recall, what made it possible for them to leave Egypt at all was that the blood of an innocent lamb was put on their doorposts as a kind of stand-in for them saving them from judgment and death.
When John hails Jesus as the lamb of God, we know what his part in the story is. Jesus is that innocent who takes all the judgment, all the criticism, all the guilt, the whole burden of the past upon himself in order to truly open up the paths through the saving water for everyone else. What is remarkable, is that he as an individual can absorb it all when it is so difficult for us even to talk about or own. He doesn’t even defend himself. He can do this because he knows that he is supremely worthy. As John baptizes Jesus, we are told that he looked up to the heavens and “the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” No judgment, no criticism, no mockery, will disrupt his fundamental relationship, his primary sonship, and so Jesus is not threatened or worn down.
What we know of Jesus’ ministry is that he invited everyone to share in his beloved sonship. There is a story of Jesus with just about anyone, women and men, Jews and Gentiles, tax collectors, soldiers, lepers, the blind, sick, young children, you name it. There is a story of Jesus communicating to them that they share in his worthiness and are accepted and are given a place at his table. This doesn’t mean that John’s message of judgment and repentance goes away. What it does mean that it is for the first time bearable because the call to repentance, to change, to be baptized, always takes place within the context of God’s constant decision for us and commitment to us.
In our baptisms we make a number of strong commitments or if we are infants others make those vows for us. In a few minutes, we will renew our own baptismal vows. The key thing to know is that these vows are only half of the conversation; they are our half of the conversation. Each vow is our saying back, our response to first hearing deep in our souls, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” In baptism, like in most things we tend to assert the “what” without talking much about the “how.” We profess in the words of the Nicene Creed that we believe in “one baptism for the forgiveness of sins,” but we don’t often say how that happens. It is not that the water itself acquires such power, even when it is blessed and set aside as holy. It is that through our baptisms we participate in the grace extended to us in Christ and it is that very divine blessedness that defeats sin by bringing it into union with him. And since he is Life itself, every soul-deadening power, every tragic history, every weighty chain that entwines us within, simply dissipates under the force of divine power. However powerful the darkness is that we construct as has been constructed for us by others, it is no match for the Light when it is united to it. We make our vows together not to free ourselves, but in response to the grace already extended to us in baptism.
If you are having trouble with John the Baptist like judgments about yourself, whether they come from you, God, or the people around you, be sure that that is not the only word you hear because that can be unbearable. Let Jesus be that Lamb of God for you. Let him bear it. Let Jesus be your source of confidence. An assurance that comes to us, and is strong and enduring, because it isn’t our own. Hear his voice that you are beloved by him. Realize that your relationship with him is solid. Leaning into that relationship makes it possible to really listen to truth spoken by someone like John the Baptist yet not to defend yourself, to have confidence even as we change and grow.
When you feel thwarted by life, remind yourself that the heavenly voice at Jesus’ baptism that says, “I am pleased with you. I take pleasure in you. I love you.” This divine love is an embrace that peels away our sin while still holding onto us. It transforms us. To be loved by divine love is to be judged yes, changed yes, but also cherished. This is why the voice from heaven at Christ’s baptism was one of taking pleasure in the very humanity that Jesus shares with us. It is the basis of a worthiness that is deep in each of our souls that comes not from ourselves, but from sharing in Jesus’ sonship. It is the necessary beginning of every epiphany.
Almighty God, may your Spirit of love come down upon us like a dove, may we, as your Son Jesus did, find ourselves in your desire for us, let your love untie our inward knots, topple our fortifications, and free us so that we can repent, be forgiven, and grow. Engulf us in the fire of your fierce love and grant us the confidence that we will not be burned.
Amen.