When have you been able to put it on the calendar ahead of time that a certain day was supposed to change your life?
For many of us, a wedding day might come to mind. That date is saved far in advance, with tremendous preparation ahead of time; making vows to share life together is certainly no small matter. But I’ve heard from more than just one or two couples recently that as the big day comes and goes, in the end, life doesn’t actually feel all that different. Their relationship continues as it has before; it’s just that after the wedding, people disapprove if they don’t share a bedroom instead of when they do.
Maybe a graduation day is supposed to have some significance. Especially for college or other degrees, there’s an excited/exhausted energy that comes as graduation approaches and is supposed to send the new class into the world…but the last round of graduations that come to my mind did not turn out how people were expecting, with solitary or virtual walks across the stage. And even in a regular year, so many of our students are already working long before they graduate–how does graduation day make that big of a difference? There’s no clean break between preparation in school and a real job afterward.
When I try to imagine significant days in my children’s lives, maybe Reuben’s first day of school is supposed to be a big deal. (It was in my wife’s eyes; though it would have never occurred to me that we needed a picture on his last day of preschool.) But I highly doubt Reuben actually remembers any detail of his first day at kindergarten last semester, even as he prepares for his first day in a new school tomorrow. A more significant day would have been when Lydia was born–of which Reuben remembers very few details since he was 3.
As we moved into this new year, I wanted things to feel different. I wanted January 1 to feel like a turning point, putting 2020 behind us; I think many of us are hoping for something better around the corner. But then this past Wednesday came, setting all-time records for the worst day of the pandemic on the same day that a mob stormed the capitol building, interrupting and delaying the certification of the election. It didn’t feel like a new year; it felt like the craziness has just been steadily building and hasn’t stopped yet. It didn’t feel like January 1 really changed anything.
But in today’s story from Luke’s gospel, this account of John the Baptist’s ministry, and Jesus’ baptism, marks a significant day and major turning point in Jesus’ life. This is Jesus who is done living with his parents, and receiving from the Spirit his ordination for ministry to come! This is a model for a life-changing day.
In the life of Jesus so far in Luke, he hasn’t really made many choices. I doubt Jesus chose which day to be born any more than any other baby does, and it doesn’t seem like Jesus set out with the intention to be separated from his parents one last time before becoming a teenager. But here, with the story of John’s ministry as the preparation for Jesus’ public ministry, Jesus went out to the wilderness to be baptized, along with many others, as a deliberate action, and with the awareness that this day would be a major turning point in his life.
But why, though? Why does Jesus go all the way into the wilderness to be baptized? If we look at how the story is told, it seems that Luke might even be embarrassed about the whole idea of Jesus being baptized by John. Technically, he doesn’t even say that. We read that “when Jesus also had been baptized,” but Luke doesn’t actually say that Jesus was baptized by John (though Matthew and Mark do). In fact, backing up one verse, Luke goes out-of-chronological-order to talk about John being arrested and thrown in prison before coming back and admitting that Jesus was baptized; if this was a play, then Jesus’ baptism happens “off-stage” and with nobody seeing who’s actually performed it, while John is whisked offstage in a different direction. Instead of baptism itself, the events at center stage are the strange pairing of first John’s fiery message for the crowds and then afterward the Holy Spirit descending like a dove upon the beloved son.
So why does Jesus go out to be baptized? And, since we’re picking up on Luke’s hesitation, why is that awkward for Jesus to ask of John? Well, what John has to offer is a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin.” If we believe Jesus was divine and without sin, then it doesn’t seem like Jesus should be asking for that.
Now, if you want a more traditional answer as to why Jesus sought out baptism, in Matthew’s gospel Jesus and John have a little conversation about it: John says he should be baptized by Jesus, and Jesus asks him to “let it go, for now, so that we can fulfill all righteousness.” There’s a theology that could be built out of that about Jesus still choosing to make a public commitment as an example for us, and to complete everything that the law required; even if it didn’t have to pertain to him. Jesus did this on our behalf, just as accepting death as the consequence of sin would be done on our behalf and not for any sin of Jesus’ own.
But I’d like to dig into John’s fiery message here in Luke to see why Jesus would respond. John seems to be talking about straightforward morality, turning from sin and toward justice. He doesn’t pick out certain types of people to chastise, he calls the whole crowd a brood of vipers! But they come anyway. And John isn’t interested in repentance alone; John calls for repentance that bears fruit.
Amazingly, the crowds ask not once but three times, “what should we do?” First, it’s everyone, then it’s the tax collectors, then it’s the soldiers: what should we do? If only the voices of today’s prophets would receive such attention! Skimming the surface, John’s answers sound at first like basic moral lessons: well, you should share if you have more than you really need and others have nothing. (Does it really take a prophet to teach us that? Isn’t that something we teach children?)
But John is actually asking a lot. Sure, it sounds reasonable that tax collectors should collect no more than what they have contracted for. But…it probably only sounds normal to us because we don’t really have a clear image of what the Roman Empire’s system of taxation was like. In that time, a publican–a Roman title for tax collector that we’d find in the King James Version–had to make a bid in order to win the right to collect taxes from a region. The publican who made the highest bid paid that amount to the sovereign in regular amounts over the year, while collecting taxes from the region on behalf of the sovereign. Anything collected over the amount that they were contracted for was their reward, or “compensation.” So…when John says, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you,” he’s actually asking a lucrative business to become a purely volunteer job.
Similarly, John’s words to soldiers sound like straightforward decency and respect for rule of law: “Don’t be shaking people down by threats, or collecting bribes; accept your salary.” But when we were reading this passage in evening prayers, one participant reading from the KJV rendered John’s words differently: “do violence to no one, and accuse no one falsely.” How is a soldier supposed to be effective while they do violence to no one?! A Roman soldier serves for the good of the emperor: making sure that this conquered region serves Rome and pays their taxes at the point of a spear. But John seems to be changing the job description, insisting that they cannot provide threats of violence; they can’t be part of corruption or oppression. That kind of soldier might better serve the common good, but they wouldn’t last long in the Roman army without punishment for insubordination.
Today, John’s words sound like reasonable minimums for decent conduct: don’t extort money from people. But in his own context, John’s words were a challenge to the whole system that people were living in, which did exist to support the wealth of the powerful in Rome at the expense of the wider world that the Roman Empire had conquered. Anyone living in that context almost inevitably participates in that system: Every taxpayer-supported not just roads, but soldiers of the occupation. Every Roman coin used for the taxes bears the image of Caesar. And, where our U.S. coins or dollars might have the phrase, “In God We Trust,” Roman coins would give the Emperor’s claimed title: Son of God. It was no accident that John the Baptist led his entire ministry from the wilderness: he used no roads, he certainly paid no tax, and he probably would never have touched any Roman coin. For him, that was all wrapped up in what it meant to be a faithful Jew: honoring the commandments to have no other Lord but God and to bear no graven image of other gods.
From that place of wilderness, where John’s message and teaching tried to show people that their faith should not let them live so comfortably in the systems of Rome, trying to point out that Rome’s “peace” was incompatible with God’s justice and with true peace, John called people to a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Let’s look carefully at that phrase because there’s a lot of loaded words in it…
First, baptism. There were many Jewish traditions that involved ritual washing. Some communities, like the Essenes–a group associated with the wilderness, and strict codes of purity–used ritual baptisms all the time. Others, like Pharisees, would have had codes about washing primarily in response to anything deemed “unclean” in the Hebrew scriptures. So, the word “baptize” or “baptism” is the same Greek word for “dunk” or “immerse,” but it would have carried the meaning of a religious washing when used in this kind of context.
Second: repentance. The Greek word is metanoia; after-thinking, or to change one’s mind after thinking again. But remember: John calls the crowds to go beyond simply feeling convicted after thinking again, John calls for them to “bear fruit worthy of repentance,” or to take actions showing that they have really thought better.
Forgiveness is a concept we often think we know better than we really do. In this case, I’d like to highlight that the word Luke uses for forgiveness appears an additional two times in the very next chapter, in the passage Irv will be preaching on next Sunday: In Jesus’ first sermon, as he proclaims release to the captives and the plan to set free the oppressed, those two words are an exact repetition and then a variant of the same Greek word translated forgiveness here and in the rest of the gospel.
And of course, this is forgiveness from sin. The underlying metaphor in the word for sin is that of “missing the mark.” But as it was used religiously, it had the sense of something not right between God and people; actions that disrupted right relationship, or the conditions of a broken relationship that resulted from such action. So while it certainly covered individual sin, or individual missing the mark, the word also referred to a condition that people are born into when the world around is not as God intended.
So, I’m not arguing against the translation, “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” But, as we consider what Jesus was drawn to from John’s teaching, it would also be fair to translate John’s call to the people differently: “Come wash clean after thinking again, and be set free from the systems of sin in this world.” John doesn’t want anyone who came out to the wilderness to have a religious experience and then go back to normal. He’s calling people to come out and really change so that they won’t fit into the old patterns anymore when they return.
We don’t know for sure what Jesus was up to between age twelve and this baptism in the desert, but consider: If he helped Joseph in his carpentry, did he ever have to deal with those Roman coins? Did Jesus ever have to pay taxes when he came of age himself, including the taxes that would have paid for the oppression of others? Was it possible, while living obediently with his parents in Nazareth, to follow all of God’s commandments as radically as John the Baptist, living in the wilderness? Even if Jesus himself never missed the mark as he balanced those obligations, living obediently to his parents within the constraints of Roman rule might have been a situation that Jesus needed to be set free from when the time came for his ministry.
So, along with the crowds, Jesus was also baptized. And after his baptism, the Holy Spirit descended like a dove while he prayed, and was affirmed as God’s beloved Son. You’d think that this would be sufficient ceremony to complete the transformation from Jesus the obedient child to Jesus the powerful minister, right? That’s the big day.
But after his baptism, Jesus went on to spend forty more days in the wilderness before returning to launch his ministry. Baptism was certainly a pivotal moment in his life–as we’ll see next week when he returns to his hometown and refuses to be put back in the box of being “Joseph’s boy.” But on its own, even as the big day to be dunked underwater and come out completely new, receiving the Holy Spirit and heavenly affirmation to boot, baptism was a ritual meant to spark an ongoing transformation, not necessarily a magical moment in and of itself.
It’s kind of like how being married legally is a matter of signatures on a marriage certificate, and being married ceremonially involves vows and maybe symbols like rings, but in truth, marriage is a lot more about the relationship that began long before and will continue to develop long after the big day. It’s kind of like how graduation might technically happen on a certain day when a diploma is handed out, but the real value gained in knowledge or training happens beforehand and is put into practice after. That ceremony of transition, in itself, doesn’t magically transform people, but it does mark a threshold in how they will live; it separates one chapter of life from another.
Jesus went to the wilderness and sought out baptism, even a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin, or baptism for taking a new turn in freedom from the systems of sin, and started a whole new chapter of his life that we will continue to hear about as we preach through the Gospel of Luke this season. And we, the community that is today the body of Christ in the world, still accept and still offer baptism as part of the path in following Christ.
In the midst of navigating a pandemic holiday season, Irv and I haven’t been as forward-leaning as we might have been in reaching out to some of you who perhaps would have interest in joining us for conversations about what it might mean to take the next steps in faith or to officially join this community. Some of our new attendees have already been baptized, but there are also youth coming of age to make their own decisions, and adults or young adults who have not yet taken that step.
Joining us for a membership class does not mean automatically signing up for baptism after, but it is a chance to consider it. Those considering membership should be prepared to ask themselves: Are you ready to enter the next chapter of life with a deepened commitment to Jesus Christ? Are you willing to symbolically be immersed in the waters, as though passing through the Red Sea and death, to rise again in the resurrection and new life? Do you want to turn your back on sin, and be forgiven and set free to live in a new way? Will you accept this community’s support, and give your support to this community, as we strive for Jesus’ way together?
Baptism isn’t a magic trick that makes the old self disappear as the new one is whisked out of a secret compartment. But it is the threshold between two chapters of life, a day like a graduation or a wedding, whose tremendous significance is every reason to celebrate, and whose power draws on the life before and bursts forth in the life to follow. Even Jesus, who had no sin of his own to need washing away, sought out baptism as he moved into a new phase of his life.
For those youth, young adults, or adults who have not already made their commitment, perhaps this new year is a time to consider your faith journey and take the next step with Christ. We’d be happy to hear from you; please give one of us pastors a call, though we might also reach out to you.
For others of us, maybe folks who just wanted a new year to feel different, let’s remember that for any day to really be a turning point, it’s the choice to make a change and the follow-through afterward that really make the difference. The pandemic is outside our control. We couldn’t do much this Wednesday beyond interrupting our plans to pray. But we do have a lot of leeway to commit to making this a new year: we can plan for and pray over the return to in-person worship that will come. We can treat these last months of the pandemic as the wilderness days, stepping outside the normal system so that we can return as something different.
We can ask John the Baptist what we should do to prepare the way of the Lord, and really hear his answer: Never go back to normal; go back changed, the better to serve our Lord!
Caleb Kragt is a minister 2/3 time and 1/3 stay-at-home Dad. He and his wife Allie have just moved into their first house with kids age 3 and 6. Caleb and Irvin Heishman are co-pastors for the West Charleston Church of the Brethren in Tipp City, Ohio.
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