Gospel: Matthew 3:13-17
I don’t remember my baptism.
There are certain things I know about the event. I know it occurred a few months after my birth, in early 1970. I know it took place over the marble font at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Lynchburg. I know it was at a time when we used the 1928 Book of Common Prayer, before the theological shift making baptism a visible sign of entrance into community and incorporating it into the principal Sunday service. Because of that I know it was a small, private event, attended only by my parents, maternal grandparents, maternal great-grandmother, and three godparents – one of whom, an Episcopal priest, officiated.
This is what I know. But remember the day? No.
Baptisms of course occur at different points in the faith journey of individuals, points marked either by knowledge or memory. Many, like mine, take place early in life, when as children they’re presented and spoken for by parents and godparents. Others take place later in life, when the baptized are presented by sponsors but able to make their own declarations and affirmations. The rite of baptism also carries significant meaning, one either shared by others with the baptized or learned and experienced first-hand by the baptized. Baptism plays a part in shaping one’s journey, a moment of second birth into the faith after the first birth into the world.
In reading this familiar passage from Matthew over the past several days, I’ve also been reminded how baptism impacts those around us. Consider for instance John, to whom Jesus came to be baptized. A few verses earlier he had spoken of one even more powerful than him who was coming, one who would magnify John’s baptism by water with a baptism filled with spirit and fire. Now that person was standing before him, asking to be baptized by John. He protests, of course; I think anyone in his position (including me!) would. But Jesus insists and John baptizes him “to fulfill all righteousness,” introducing an important theme in Matthew – righteousness – that’s carried throughout the gospel.
So in the man John I see baptism changing his understanding of what’s possible and, especially, what’s necessary.
He expects the greater one to baptize him, and yet he sees Jesus – in another aspect of his life we see at other places in the gospels – humbling himself not to give a blessing but rather to receive one. This is the Jesus of Maundy Thursday, kneeling to wash the feet of his disciples. Jesus doesn’t just tell people at other points that the first shall be last and the last shall be first; he demonstrates it in the waters of the Jordan.
I invite you to consider as well how you might be changed by witnessing a baptism. There’s certainly a special feeling in the air, a joy-charged atmosphere filling the sanctuary as we watch a family gather at the font for this sacred rite. Speaking from experience, parents are changed by watching as this incredible gift is bestowed on their child. Godparents are changed by the knowledge that they’re now tasked with helping bring the child up in faith. I think as well that one of the great gifts of having moving baptisms into being part of the main Sunday service is that it moves the baptized into a time of fellowship with the larger community. It presents everyone with the opportunity to witness the sacred event. Above all, it reminds them – it reminds each one of us – of our own responsibility to “do all in [our] power to support these persons in their life in Christ.”[1]
As with John, I see baptism changing our understanding of what’s possible and, especially, what’s necessary.
I think we’re also changed by what we find in this passage, a moment that exists at the intersection of the knowledge and memory to which I referred earlier. We read and we know what happens, and we’ve heard it often enough over the years – thanks to the cycle of our lectionary – that we remember what happens. But as is so often the case with scripture, the moments we’re living in our lives right now can alter the lens through which we look at this. Past experiences that have shaped our journey also shape our view of these words. So the change here may be something radically different, an “Aha!” moment. The change may be a new perspective received since having last read these verses. And yes, the change may even be the realization that like John, what you thought you knew has been completely flipped. God, what does this mean?
Finally, I want to bring this back to the moment of baptism and the one being baptized. How was Jesus changed in this moment? We have no way of being able to determine what Jesus knew when he arrived at the Jordan; there’s a significant gap in time between chapters two and three, the gap between his family’s return from Egypt and his appearance before John. Did Mary and Joseph share things about his life with him? Perhaps. We don’t know. What we do know is that in an incredible moment, all is clarified by God. His identity and his mission are rolled up in just a few short words: This is my Son, the Beloved.
Unlike the version of the baptism in Luke where we find God speaking directly to Jesus (YOU are my Son), here the voice is directed at the world. We don’t know who other than John was also there to hear it. If you look to the gaps in the text, many others would have been there waiting to be baptized. But if you stick to the text, it’s simply John – and Jesus.
As with John and as with each one of us I see baptism impacting Jesus, but in a different way. I don’t think it changed things for Jesus. With the speaking of that voice into the world, what I do think happened is that Jesus may have received clarity. Yes, he may have already known all of what God spoke, but without those verses being written we don’t know. And in a slightly different twist, Jesus didn’t come to the baptism with knowledge of what’s possible and leaving with knowledge of what’s necessary. In his moments with John, with the waters of the river around him and the voice and spirit of God descending from above, we find just the opposite.
On that day, Jesus arrived knowing what was necessary, and after the miracle of those moments with God he departed, knowing all that was possible.
Amen.
[1] From the Service of Holy Baptism. Book of Common Prayer, p. 303.