The Baptism of Jesus
January 13, 2013
15As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, 16John 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. 17His 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.”
18So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people. 19But Herod the ruler, who had been rebuked by him because of Herodias, his brother’s wife, and because of all the evil things that Herod had done,20added to them all by shutting up John in prison.
21Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, 22and 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.” -Luke 3:15-22
(With appreciation to Peter Lockhart, whose blog was a significant part of the inspiration for this sermon.)
Do you ever find a gap between your expectations and your actual experience? I learned that lesson early. When I was spending time with family after Christmas this year, my parents retold a story from when I was still rather small. For Christmas that year I desperately wanted a toy that I had seen advertised on TV. It was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tabletop hockey game. It looked really fun when they played with it on the commercial. I could see myself playing it for hours having as much fun as the kids on the commercial were having. My parents lovingly fought the lines at the toy store to purchase this item. I was thrilled on Christmas morning. That is, until I actually played with it. Much to my surprise, it didn’t actually reproduce the fun that was being had on the commercial. It was poorly designed, hard to use, and soon relegated to the corner of the playroom while other unanticipated gifts from that Christmas became treasured things. It was an important early lesson in the lack of truth in advertising, and a chance for me to see the way in which experience doesn’t always live up to expectations.
And that’s how today’s Gospel reading starts. The people were filled with expectation. Right before this passage begins, John the Baptist was laying out a way of life. He preached repentance – turn from your ways. If you have two coats, you’ve stolen one from the poor. If you have too much food, some of it belongs to your neighbor. The tax collectors came and they were told only to collect what was owed. The soldiers came and they were told not to use their power to extort money.
This sounds pretty good. John seems to be ushering in an era of goodwill in which everyone is cared for, everyone has enough, and those who abuse power will live in harmony with everyone. The people are understandably filled with high expectations. Maybe with a vision like that they could even get past the nasty language about the winnowing fork and the burning of the chaff with unquenchable fire. They had hopes for their world, for an end to their suffering and frustration. They had hopes for the future.
But we know that reality doesn’t always live up to our expectations. Because in the end power wins again. Herod, a different Herod than the one who was scheming in last week’s gospel, gives in to pressures and has John arrested. This one who preached the good news to the people is silenced. So much for this utopian world he said was coming.
Have you had any expectations fall through lately? Maybe it’s that thing you’ve always wanted that you finally saved up money to buy and it hasn’t changed your life in the way you thought? Or maybe your job isn’t quite what you thought it would be when you started? Or your relationships haven’t gone according to the plan you imagined in your head when you started out? You thought that this stage of life would be different than it turned out to be?
I’m not saying we can’t all point to a lifetime full of blessings, too. But we have to face the failure of our expectations over and over again. We live in an imperfect world that doesn’t follow our preconceived plan for our role in it.
I wonder what Jesus’ expectations were when the Holy Spirit descended like a dove on him. What kind of expectations come with that? Expectations to solve all the world’s problems? Expectations to usher in the kind of kingdom that John had been talking about where everyone cares for one another and no one has too much or not enough? Expectations to be all things to all people?
But we know what actually happens. Jesus dies on the cross and on the one hand it changes everything for us. Through death and resurrection the world is upended. And on the other hand it isn’t. All those people filled with expectations for a utopian world are still disappointed. Despite a few miracles, which were more the exception than the rule, and despite a crew of misfit followers left to carry on the mission, this messiah didn’t live up to John the Baptist’s advertisement.
Do we tend to think of our lives of faith the same way? It seems to me that our baptisms ought to change everything for us. It seems that if we just live our lives of faith that the world will be transformed. Our hard work on behalf of the disenfranchised should pay off because God is in our work. Our vibrant ministry should communicate the good news of God’s love to the whole community because God’s Spirit has descended upon us. Our lives should go smoothly because the Spirit within us will guide our steps in paths of righteousness. Our world should be a wonderful place for all to live because God has called the church around the world to this work.
But it isn’t. Our expectations for what will happen aren’t always met. God hasn’t swooped in like a dove to fix everything. God has blessed us and God has worked miracles in our lives. But most things are still the same.
Except for one important detail that is present in every account of Jesus’ baptism. Except for one important detail in every one of our own baptisms. When the Spirit descends on Jesus, the voice from heaven says to him, “You are my Son the beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
We are called by this Spirit to an amazing and challenging ministry. John’s fiery sermon reminds us to give our extra coat away, to do what is right in God’s eyes, and warns us that there are consequences for us when we don’t. It’s easy to say and hard to do, even with the help of the spirit. But whether we succeed or fail. Whether the world is changed or not. Whether we feel good about it or not. The voice came down to Jesus and the voice has come down to us, “You are my son. You are my daughter. The beloved. With you I am well pleased.”
And that’s what we have to sustain us and encourage us. That’s what we have to fill us with the energy and will to carry out John’s admonitions. When it becomes hard to navigate the world around us as people of faith, when our efforts seem to go unnoticed or they fail to meet our expectations. When our attempts to produce faith in God or in ourselves fall short, that voice comes down again, as unexpected and unanticipated gift: “You are my daughter. You are my son. The beloved. With you I am well pleased.”
As sons and daughters, we sometimes have high expectations. We have expectations, some of which inevitably will not be met. But we have a dedicated and loving parent God, who blesses us with so much. But whether things are going well or not, whether it feels like the world is changing in the ways we hope that it would or not, we have a wonderful and unexpected gift at each and every turn. In spite of our expectations, and beyond our wildest imagination, we have a voice from God in our lives. And that voice echoes here today in water and bread and wine, and that voice echoes every day of your life to fill and sustain you: “You are my son. You are my daughter. The beloved. With you I am well pleased.”
-Pastor Steven Wilco
Stewarding the Word 