Baptism of the Lord Sunday
Isaiah 42 / Matthew 3:13-17
As a callow follower of Jesus
I am so grateful for the gospel writers
and the early congregations of Christians
who first prompted then received their words
I am so grateful to have
a front row seat
to the baptism of Jesus
I am so honored to be given a spot
on the banks of the diminutive Jordan River
standing with my feet
in the warm Palestinian mud
surrounded by the company of all the faithful
of every time and place
watching the river waters
waiting for the big moment
Down he goes
into the murky water
flat on his back into the unknown
(although he is in the good care of John)
whose very title
is confirmed in this moment
John the B
John the Baptist
not Southern, or American, or independent
John the Baptizer
John lowers our friend
down into the water
and we all watch
as the Jordan closes in above him
like the muddled waters before God creates
like the Red Sea closing in on obstinate Pharaoh
like sundown, on a Friday night at Golgotha
covered him completely, these waters
like a tomb
Only, before long
(mercifully, his absence is only temporary)
here he comes again!
The mushrooming ripples on the surface
announce his arrival
back on the scene
Up from the water
By simple straightforward appearance
from the river’s edge:
one more faithful first-century Jew
But by theological export
by the choirs of a million churches
by divine appointment
It may as well be a blue whale
surfacing from the deep
the largest mammal ever to exist
108 feet, 180 metric tons
a little lighter
but arguably (blessedly)
the largest life ever to have lived
He surfaces from the deep like a leviathan
Only, not a monster — a friend
Still, the splash he makes is impressive
ripples of mercy running every which way
He’ll steadily and firmly set things right.
I’ve bathed him with my Spirit, my life.
He’ll set everything right among the nations.
Opening blind eyes
releasing prisoners from dungeons
emptying the dark prisons
I’m announcing the new salvation work.
Before he bursts on the scene, I’m telling you all about it.
This is God’s big splash!
And here we are
God’s funny people — "the holy catholic church"
like tourists on one of those hit-or-miss
off the coast of Maine
$49.99 to get dressed up in a paper-thin poncho
and to stay mildly seasick for an hour
and to get stuck next to Mildred
from Montgomery, Alabama
Mildred: who while you wait to see the “big fish”
tells you all about her fascinating seven grandchildren
and her Schnoodle
But there we are
all on the same side of the boat
leaning out to catch the view
cell phone cameras ready
tweets and texts, all set
Gawking tourists in search of God
the tin-can intercom behind you crackles to life
“Ladies and gentleman
This is your captain, John B.
Take a look now,
just to the east,
something is about to surface.
Get those cameras ready!”
And from the railing of the ark
(Did I say ark? I meant boat)
there arises one of those collective ahs
like at the end of a really sweet fireworks show
But more than the spectacle of the splash down
the waves are what really catch our attention
This giant from God
coming up from the deep -- our deep, our death
with ripples that rock our boats-of-safety:
Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst
for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
And then that ship’s intercom
crackles to life again:
"This is my Son,
with whom I am well pleased."