Baptism of Christ 2022

 

Lectionary readings Isaiah 43:1-7 and Luke 3.15–17, 21–22

First, a few notes on the readings. Then, a few thoughts on what it might mean for us today.

From the Old Testament reading, ‘But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.’ (Isaiah 43.1–2)

There are two obvious places where the descendants of Jacob pass through water without even getting wet. First, they pass through the parted waters of the Sea of Reeds, pursued by the chariots of the army of Egypt. And the LORD is with them. Then, a generation later, they pass through the temporarily held back river Jordan into the Promised Land, where they will face the soldier-giants who are garrisoned at Jericho. And they are not overwhelmed.

Our Gospel reading is the account of Jesus’ baptism in the river Jordan, passing through the waters, submerged perhaps, but not overwhelmed. ‘And’ we are told, ‘a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”’ This verse, and this voice, is repeating Psalm 2:7, ‘I will tell of the decree of the LORD: He said to me, “You are my son; today I have begotten you.’ Jesus’ baptism is explicitly his coronation, the restoration of the throne the LORD had given to David and sworn to uphold for ever. Even should David’s sons prove unfaithful and so be removed, the LORD would restore the throne to one of his descendants. This is that.

Psalm 2 is a coronation psalm. It opens with the nations surrounding Jerusalem plotting against her. In response, the LORD sets His chosen king on the throne on His holy hill, to sit in judgement over the surrounding nations, to rule over them as a heritage and to crush all rebellion. Therefore, the kings of those nations are advised to submit themselves as vassals, to serve the LORD’s appointed king and not conspire against him. The psalm concludes, ‘Happy are all who take refuge in him.’ So we have the reading from Isaiah 43, with its water and indirect but clear reference to the Egyptians and the Canaanites, and the reading from Luke 3, with its coronation declaration (and John the baptizer’s reference to the threshing floor which is also a symbol for judgement over nations), and Psalm 2 tying them together.

The implication is a direct challenge to the emperor in Rome and to his proxy rulers in Judea and Samaria and Galilee. It is a challenge that will bring Jesus from passing through the waters of baptism to passing through the waters of death—and out the other side, in his resurrection, neither abandoned by God (though it will look that way for a moment) nor overwhelmed by death. It is a proclamation that will be fulfilled when a Roman emperor, Constantine, embraces Christianity (thoroughly imperfectly, as do we all; and guaranteeing religious freedom for other faiths, as embracing Christianity always does). It is a proclamation that will also be fulfilled by a Church made up of men, women and children drawn from every nation under heaven.

What, then, has this to do with us? I want to begin where Psalm 2 ends, with ‘Happy are all who take refuge in him.’ Experiencing happiness is an essential part of wellbeing, and it tends to be circumstantial. We aren’t happy all the time, and neither should we be, for we are made to experience all the emotions, and to grow to emotional maturity. Happiness is circumstantial, has to do with recognising those moments when we have all that we need for this moment. Gratitude helps us appreciate what we have been given, that brings meaning to our lives and connects us to other people. And happy are those who take refuge in Jesus, the king in the middle of the waters.

It is often said, by those who reject faith, including prominent and influential humanists in the culture around us, that a god who could spare us from suffering and does not do so is not a god before whom we should prostrate ourselves. And it is true that God does not promise to spare us from suffering. Instead, God has promised to be with us in our suffering—in those experiences that open us to empathy and compassion and to justice and commitment to others—and, in time, to redeem us, to rescue and restore us.

Emotions are not, for the most part, mutually exclusive, and so we can find ourselves experiencing the grief of bereavement or the anger of frustration at our inability to rescue someone we love from the anxiety that grips them and at the same time know the happiness that comes from an awareness of Jesus alongside us. Sometimes our eyes are opened to see that, and to see meaning in that, just as at Jesus’ baptism the heavens were torn open and the Holy Spirit descended in the form of a dove, for those with eyes to see. The questions I want to offer you today are, where do you feel (or fear) the waters rising? And, in those circumstances, what say you of this Jesus?