Big Beginnings
Commentary
Children are often naively honest, as a friend of mine found one day. He was visiting a class at his parish school. The teacher was helping her pupils memorize the names and capitals of all fifty states. They ran a drill, trying to pool their memories and recite all fifty names. Unfortunately, they only came up with 42. My friend, an elderly priest, laughingly reminisced that in his youth, he had to recite the names of all the states all by himself, with no help from the rest of the class. A young scholar raised his hand and politely reminded my friend, "Yes, but in those days, there were only thirteen states!"
It may not be necessary for a U.S. citizen, whether child or adult, to memorize the names of all fifty states and capitals. Yet there are bits and pieces of information that are essential to functioning as a responsible member of the republic. Similarly, in the church, there are many facts and figures of theology which are superfluous at best and irrelevant at worst when it comes to authentic Christian living. That is why church members can fail a Bible knowledge quiz without necessarily failing in faith itself.
Today’s lectionary readings focus on initiations, all of which require some knowledge or affirmation. None of us were there when God blasted the universe into being at the Big Bang, but the opening verses of Genesis call for initiation affirmations fundamental to faith in the biblical worldview. Paul runs into some new believers in Ephesus and finds that their initiation into Christianity is incomplete. And when John and Jesus have their first public encounter, it is an initiation rite that makes the world sit up and take notice.
Genesis 1:1-5
The cosmological origins myths of chapters 1-11 are apologetic devices that announce a very different worldview than that available among and within the cultures which surrounded Israel. The two dominant cosmogonies in the ancient Near East were established by the civilizations of Mesopotamia (filtered largely through Babylonian recitations) and Egypt. Cosmogonic myths describe the origins of the world as we know it, providing a paradigm by which to analyze and interpret contemporary events.
While this may raise eyebrows in a modern world shaped significantly by monotheistic views and theologies, such an understanding of the world was resoundingly different from and overtly challenging to the Egyptian origins myths. Distilled from the various records that are available to us, the generalized creation story of ancient Egypt goes roughly like this. Nun was the chaos power pervading the primeval waters. Atum was the creative force which lived on Benben, a pyramidical hill rising out of the primeval waters. Atum split to form the elemental gods Shu (air) and Tefnut (moisture). Tefnut bore two children: Geb (god of earth) and Nut (goddess of the skies). These, in turn gave birth to lesser gods who differentiated among themselves and came to rule various dimensions of the world as we now know it. Humanity was a final and unplanned outcome, with these newly produced weaklings useful only to do the work that the gods no longer wished to do, and to feed the gods by way of burning animal flesh in order to make it accessible.
Similar, and yet uniquely nuanced, are the cosmogonies of ancient Mesopotamia. The name Mesopotamia literally means “between the waters.” It denotes that region of the Near East encompassed by the combined watersheds of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. Early civilizations here, enveloped by a somewhat different climatic environment than that found in Egypt, reflected this uniqueness in their origin myths. Apsu was the chaos power resident in the primeval waters. Tiamat was the bitter sea within the primeval waters upon which earth floated. Lhamu and Lahamu were gods of silt (at the edges of earth) created from the interaction of the primeval waters and the bitter seas. The horizons, Anshar and Kishar, were separated from one another by the birth of their child Anu (sky). Anu engendered Ea-Nudimmud, the god of earth and wisdom. All of these gods were filled with pent-up energy, and this caused them to fight constantly. Since they existed within the belly of Tiamat, Apsu got indigestion and made plans to destroy all his restless and noisy children (i.e., the rest of the gods). In order to survive, Ea cast a spell which put Apsu to sleep. Then Ea killed Apsu, but his remains formed new gods, all of which were now in bitter struggle with each other and with their older relatives. Among the gods, Marduk rose as champion, quelling the fights and resurrecting order. To celebrate his success, Marduk created Babylon, which thus became the center of the universe and the source of all human civilization. These late-on-the-scene beings were created from the spilled blood of the gods, and they were deliberately fashioned as slaves who would do the work that the gods no longer wished to do.
When placed alongside these other cosmogonic myths, the Genesis creation story is very spare and poetically balanced. In brief testimony, it declares that God existed before the world that is apprehended by our senses was brought into being. It also asserts that creation happened by way of divine speech rather than through the sexual interaction of deities, or as the animation of guts and gore left over and emerging out of their conflicts. Moreover, creation was an intentional act that took place by way of orderly progression:
It is obvious from the careful structuring of the Genesis creation account that it is neither a journalistic description of sequential events, nor the scientific report of an unfolding lab experiment. “Light” is the first “creation,” cutting through and overturning the power of darkness and chaos which otherwise precluded meaningful existence. Yet the sources of light that actually make illumination happen in our world do not begin to exist until the fourth “day” of creation. What is going on? Why are things about creation expressed in this manner?
The answer seems to be a combination of contrast and organization. All other ancient stories of cosmological beginnings also start with chaos, but none of them ever fully emerges from it. Elements of random functionality may present themselves at times in or out from chaos, but behind and above and around such moments of meaningful structure the cosmos remains a chaotic entity. In some civilizations competing forces within chaos (such as yin and yang) may balance one another enough to provide temporary stability and even creative energy. Yet they remain the restless tentacles of chaos which pervades everything.
The Genesis cosmological myth sees the world very differently. Before existence and chaos, there is/was God. Existence itself is not the roiling of quasi-independent powers, but the expression of thoughtful divine intent. The manner in which things came into being had purpose and organizational structuring from the start.
Acts 19:1-7
There are some facts of theology which are central to faith. Aquila and Priscilla found that out when they met Paul in Corinth (Acts 18:1ff). Apollos, in turn, experienced the same under the tutelage of Aquila and Priscilla in Ephesus (Acts 18:24ff). Now, sometime later, a dozen young religious firebrands in that same city are about to learn it as well.
The issue at stake is baptism. That may leave us shaking our heads at the dawn of the twenty-first century, since we have graduated well beyond those simple controversies. We no longer quarrel about "infant baptism" or "believers’ baptism." We are no longer talking about "halfway covenants" or baptism ritual practices. The church has settled comfortably with a variety of positions, and is more concerned about worship styles than it is about baptism theology.
Yet, for Paul, the doctrine of baptism held a central place in his perspective on the Christian life. In fact, when he met these twelve young religious zealots, the issue of baptism came immediately to the surface. Paul asks, "What baptism did you receive?"
They answer, "John's baptism." At once Paul is disturbed. He launches into a pointed teaching about baptism, and the outcome is a new moving of the Spirit as these twelve are baptized again.
What's the point? What was wrong with their previous theology, based, as it was, on the teachings of John the Baptist? Didn't Jesus himself commend John? Wasn't John accurate in his perceptions of Jesus? Was not Jesus himself baptized by John, an event which we remember on this Epiphany Sunday?
Paul says that John's baptism is insufficient for full participation in the things of the Kingdom of Jesus. Why? Paul's short version of the problem is found in verse 4: "John's baptism was a baptism of repentance. He told the people to believe in the one coming after him, that is, in Jesus."
There was a larger context to all of this. When Israel came out of Egypt and spent time at Mount Sinai, there was a political transaction taking place. Israel had belonged to the Pharaoh of Egypt. Now she belonged to God. God had fought the Pharaoh for the right to own and care for Israel, and he had won. Just as the Pharaoh had specified the contours of his relationship with Israel, so now God did the same. At the top of Mount Sinai, God and Moses hammered out the political and social and religious covenant that would determine the character of Israel's future existence.
One element of that political landscape included the inescapable clause, "I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of bondage" (Exodus 20: 1). This was the declaration of sovereign authority. There would be no ruler in Israel except the God of the Covenant.
Yet even this God would need intermediaries. During the declining centuries of the monarchy, a strange bunch of men wrestled the spiritual leadership of the people from the hands of the political kings, with their cultic priests. These "outside-the-system" renegades were known as the prophets. Some bartered their perspectives in the marketplaces. Some became wailing fixtures in the Temple precincts. Some were used by kings as ex officio advisors, and some were hunted down as traitors to the political cause.
Yet the prophets became the de facto leaders of the people, urging spiritual chastity and calling for restoration of the religious and political and economic order established by the Covenant.
This is the picture of John the Baptist as painted by the gospels. He stands in this wild lineage and continues the purpose developed by those Old Testament specters. This is why Paul says, of John, that his baptism was for repentance. John, like the prophets who went before him, was in the business of calling God's people back to God.
Although the prophets, and John with them, looked forward to something they called the "Day of the Lord," their main purpose was to look backward. They were conservatives of the highest order, demanding a return to an earlier form of religion and a more primitive expression of Israelite society. They were often considered reactionary in their desire to do away with the trappings of modern developments so that the wilderness purity of ancient times could reassert itself. Any look ahead toward the Day of the Lord was ringed with scare tactics, since the only way to survive that dreadful cataclysm was through this religious u-turn back to the basics.
In this context, John the Baptist's role as the new Elijah takes on particular significance. Malachi, the last literary prophet of the Old Testament, concluded his dark paragraphs with a promise that Elijah would come again and cause separation within the land. Parents and children would fall on either side of the winnowing wand; families would be divided by religious commitments. Elijah would call the nation back to righteousness before the great and terrible Day of the Lord exploded into human history.
If John's ministry is seen in this light, Paul's warnings about his baptism become clear. John's baptism is insufficient to stand as the mark of belonging in a new age. John spoke to the choir and got them to sing the right song. John's congregation was all already in the family of God - he just tried to get them to admit it. John wanted the remnant of Israel to regroup itself and wait in righteous expectation for the firebrand that would destroy the nations around. John's preaching was for those already in the know.
That is why John's baptism is for repentance. It is not the mark of belonging to the kingdom; rather, it is a renewal of personal initiative for the things of the Kingdom. People must not collect possessions for themselves, according to John; they must, instead, give them away. They must travel lightly. They must care for the poor. The tax collectors must only ask for what the Romans demand and not oppress their fellow countrymen. Soldiers may guard, but must not ever become violent, robbers, or coercive, abusing their authority.
In all of this, John is preaching to the choir. In fact, he is preaching to the adult choir. Children are not part of these proceedings, because they are not yet ready to take on adult commitments. The baptism he urges is one of self-cleansing, stripping away those things that might linger of prolonged contact with a godless society, and preparing oneself for the coming of the Day of the Lord.
John expected Jesus to bring the Day of the Lord. That is why he pointed to Jesus with such brutal honesty. Yet Jesus ultimately disappointed him, because Jesus never brought the fire of heaven down to burn up the evil of the world.
John, from his vantage point as an Old Testament prophet, was still looking forward to a single interruption of the Day of the Lord. Jesus, however, split that day in two. The prophets always said that the Day of the Lord would bring judgment, while it ushered in the blessings of a new, eschatological age. In Luke 7, we read that John began to despair of Jesus when he spent so much time healing and helping. The sulfurs of divine retribution weren't evident around him.
In fact, what Jesus did was to bring the blessings of the eschatological kingdom before the refining fires of the Day of the Lord were spilled. In the graciousness of God, the world was given a second chance to find hope. John closed down the age of the prophets; Jesus ushered in the age of eternity.
In this context, the baptism of the church has different significance than that of John's baptism. About the only similarity between them is that both use water. Beyond that, they mean different things.
The baptism of John called on adult members of the Covenant community to take up the responsibilities of authentic, righteous living. Yet the church was in the business of taking the message of the coming Kingdom beyond the boundaries of the original Covenant community. In this context, baptism was not used by honorable persons as their pledge of loyalty; instead, baptism was used in the same way that circumcision had been used in the Old Testament (cf. Colossians 2:9-12): it was the mark of entrance into the Covenant community. It was the pledge of God that this person was now part of the family. It was the admission rite, declaring that this one, too, was now a part of the holy people.
In other words, instead of being a set of clothes that one put on to declare his or her convictions, as in the case of John's baptism, the church's baptism was a mark of belonging placed upon one by powers outside of oneself.
So, when the twelve young zealots told Paul that they were disciples of John, baptized by the great one as firebrands for the Kingdom, Paul needed to review the whole of theology with them. Even John would die looking for the Day of the Lord. No one will ever have the personal resources to survive that great catastrophe. Yet those who are marked with the ownership badge of Jesus will walk with him into eternity.
Mark 1:4-11
John wore all the appearances of a wild religious fanatic. He lived in the wilderness. He ate only natural foods which could be scrounged. He had no time for the niceties of "civilization," either cooking or sewing. His clothes were tattered skins that he threw around at least a part of his body. Much of the time he may have been half naked. His hair was unkempt.
The region in which he wandered was known for its cultic groups. The Essenes hung out there, as did several other communities waiting for apocalyptic destruction. There was a sparseness of the religious atmosphere, a kind of stratospheric rarity. Everything John breathed carried the intensity of kingdom conflict.
When John began to speak and yell and accuse, people stopped to observe from a distance. He was a curiosity, a remnant of an older prophetic era when men with wild eyes stormed the marketplaces, throwing dust in the air, hacking at their beards, and pointing to the locust as ominous signs.
Soon John's rantings attracted local attention. Those with tender consciences lingered to hear his warnings. Some who had violated the morals of the community too long experienced a religious conversion. They left their wanton ways and became disciples of John, living as he lived and urging others to religious revival at John's preaching events.
John fired people up to take a stand. They washed themselves to show just how serious they were. But the church, with Jesus, declares the coming of the kingdom, and says that those who were in God's family needed only to be marked as belonging.
This was the point of Jesus getting baptized by John. It showed that Jesus was devout, sincere, ready to get at the things of the Kingdom of God. John’s baptism was not a confirmation of Jesus’ place in the community of faith; rather it was a declaration that he was ready to live as if those things mattered. For three years, the pledges made in his baptism would energize everything about his life and lifestyle. This is why Jesus’ Trinitarian family confirmed these actions with declarations that resounded the original divine creative speech of Genesis 1, and the brooding active and powerful visualization of the Spirit which brought life out of chaos.
Application
Both the baptism of John and the baptism of the church need expression in the community that waits for the coming of the Kingdom. The baptism of the church is the initiation rite that brings all who belong to God's family into the visible community. Some come in as adults, through conversion. They must be baptized, not because of their dedication to God, but because of God's great dedication to them which has wooed them back to grace. Some enter the family of God as babies and children, born to those who already wear the marks of the people of God.
Baptism is God's way of marking, through the rites and ceremonies of the church, all who are his children by grace through the work of Jesus. Jesus called the little ones to him as well as the big ones. The children of believers are holy, says Paul (l Corinthians 7: 14). Baptism is God's deal, naming us with his name as children of a heavenly father. This is the church's baptism.
But John's baptism is necessary too. It is not enough to have entered the family of grace. It is not enough to acknowledge that one belongs to the Covenant community. John, along with the prophets who went before him, knew this. All of God's people need to be called to attention, need to be challenged to consistency of faith and life, need to be motivated to service in bringing the power of the Kingdom to bear on the realities of daily life.
Then it is right and proper for the church to exercise the urgency of renewal and ask those who already belong to the family of God to stand up and be counted in its ministries. This is the act of devotion, the act of dedication, the act of consecration. Some congregations call it public profession of faith. Some call it Confirmation. Some call it Rededication. But always it amounts to the same thing - those who are in the family take hold of their responsibilities as members of the family. God is good, and we should live as if we were as well. This is the baptism of John.
Today, let those coming into the Kingdom receive from God, through the baptism of the church, the badge of belonging. And today, let those who are part of the family of God stand up and be counted in the ranks of John's disciples who are cleansing their lives and their communities as they anticipate God's next and terrible great act.
Alternative Application (Acts 19:1-7)
It is somewhat unfortunate that one symbol has been used to declare two different things. The church's baptism says that God is active in the water, marking and naming a person as a new member of the kingdom. John's baptism says that the individual is active in the water, washing himself for greater authenticity and dedication.
It is time for the church to admit, with Paul, that there are two different kinds of baptism in the New Testament. Both are powerful. The symbolism of both ought to continue. People ought to acknowledge each. But perhaps a different form of symbolism ought to be connected with the one, over against the other.
However, it might be done, let the church learn this theology. God brings people into his kingdom, marking them, through the ministries of the church, as children of grace. This is the church's baptism.
But those who belong to the church and kingdom need to act upon their place in the spiritual realities of time and eternity. They need to dedicate themselves to God and enlist personally in the activities that make the Kingdom a reality. This is John's baptism.
It may not be necessary for a U.S. citizen, whether child or adult, to memorize the names of all fifty states and capitals. Yet there are bits and pieces of information that are essential to functioning as a responsible member of the republic. Similarly, in the church, there are many facts and figures of theology which are superfluous at best and irrelevant at worst when it comes to authentic Christian living. That is why church members can fail a Bible knowledge quiz without necessarily failing in faith itself.
Today’s lectionary readings focus on initiations, all of which require some knowledge or affirmation. None of us were there when God blasted the universe into being at the Big Bang, but the opening verses of Genesis call for initiation affirmations fundamental to faith in the biblical worldview. Paul runs into some new believers in Ephesus and finds that their initiation into Christianity is incomplete. And when John and Jesus have their first public encounter, it is an initiation rite that makes the world sit up and take notice.
Genesis 1:1-5
The cosmological origins myths of chapters 1-11 are apologetic devices that announce a very different worldview than that available among and within the cultures which surrounded Israel. The two dominant cosmogonies in the ancient Near East were established by the civilizations of Mesopotamia (filtered largely through Babylonian recitations) and Egypt. Cosmogonic myths describe the origins of the world as we know it, providing a paradigm by which to analyze and interpret contemporary events.
While this may raise eyebrows in a modern world shaped significantly by monotheistic views and theologies, such an understanding of the world was resoundingly different from and overtly challenging to the Egyptian origins myths. Distilled from the various records that are available to us, the generalized creation story of ancient Egypt goes roughly like this. Nun was the chaos power pervading the primeval waters. Atum was the creative force which lived on Benben, a pyramidical hill rising out of the primeval waters. Atum split to form the elemental gods Shu (air) and Tefnut (moisture). Tefnut bore two children: Geb (god of earth) and Nut (goddess of the skies). These, in turn gave birth to lesser gods who differentiated among themselves and came to rule various dimensions of the world as we now know it. Humanity was a final and unplanned outcome, with these newly produced weaklings useful only to do the work that the gods no longer wished to do, and to feed the gods by way of burning animal flesh in order to make it accessible.
Similar, and yet uniquely nuanced, are the cosmogonies of ancient Mesopotamia. The name Mesopotamia literally means “between the waters.” It denotes that region of the Near East encompassed by the combined watersheds of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. Early civilizations here, enveloped by a somewhat different climatic environment than that found in Egypt, reflected this uniqueness in their origin myths. Apsu was the chaos power resident in the primeval waters. Tiamat was the bitter sea within the primeval waters upon which earth floated. Lhamu and Lahamu were gods of silt (at the edges of earth) created from the interaction of the primeval waters and the bitter seas. The horizons, Anshar and Kishar, were separated from one another by the birth of their child Anu (sky). Anu engendered Ea-Nudimmud, the god of earth and wisdom. All of these gods were filled with pent-up energy, and this caused them to fight constantly. Since they existed within the belly of Tiamat, Apsu got indigestion and made plans to destroy all his restless and noisy children (i.e., the rest of the gods). In order to survive, Ea cast a spell which put Apsu to sleep. Then Ea killed Apsu, but his remains formed new gods, all of which were now in bitter struggle with each other and with their older relatives. Among the gods, Marduk rose as champion, quelling the fights and resurrecting order. To celebrate his success, Marduk created Babylon, which thus became the center of the universe and the source of all human civilization. These late-on-the-scene beings were created from the spilled blood of the gods, and they were deliberately fashioned as slaves who would do the work that the gods no longer wished to do.
When placed alongside these other cosmogonic myths, the Genesis creation story is very spare and poetically balanced. In brief testimony, it declares that God existed before the world that is apprehended by our senses was brought into being. It also asserts that creation happened by way of divine speech rather than through the sexual interaction of deities, or as the animation of guts and gore left over and emerging out of their conflicts. Moreover, creation was an intentional act that took place by way of orderly progression:
- Day 1: Arenas for Light and Darkness
- Day 2: Arenas for Sky and Sea
- Day 3: Arenas for Earth’s dominant surfaces
- Day 4: Inhabitants of Light and Darkness
- Day 5: Inhabitants of Sky and Sea
- Day 6: Inhabitants of Earth
It is obvious from the careful structuring of the Genesis creation account that it is neither a journalistic description of sequential events, nor the scientific report of an unfolding lab experiment. “Light” is the first “creation,” cutting through and overturning the power of darkness and chaos which otherwise precluded meaningful existence. Yet the sources of light that actually make illumination happen in our world do not begin to exist until the fourth “day” of creation. What is going on? Why are things about creation expressed in this manner?
The answer seems to be a combination of contrast and organization. All other ancient stories of cosmological beginnings also start with chaos, but none of them ever fully emerges from it. Elements of random functionality may present themselves at times in or out from chaos, but behind and above and around such moments of meaningful structure the cosmos remains a chaotic entity. In some civilizations competing forces within chaos (such as yin and yang) may balance one another enough to provide temporary stability and even creative energy. Yet they remain the restless tentacles of chaos which pervades everything.
The Genesis cosmological myth sees the world very differently. Before existence and chaos, there is/was God. Existence itself is not the roiling of quasi-independent powers, but the expression of thoughtful divine intent. The manner in which things came into being had purpose and organizational structuring from the start.
Acts 19:1-7
There are some facts of theology which are central to faith. Aquila and Priscilla found that out when they met Paul in Corinth (Acts 18:1ff). Apollos, in turn, experienced the same under the tutelage of Aquila and Priscilla in Ephesus (Acts 18:24ff). Now, sometime later, a dozen young religious firebrands in that same city are about to learn it as well.
The issue at stake is baptism. That may leave us shaking our heads at the dawn of the twenty-first century, since we have graduated well beyond those simple controversies. We no longer quarrel about "infant baptism" or "believers’ baptism." We are no longer talking about "halfway covenants" or baptism ritual practices. The church has settled comfortably with a variety of positions, and is more concerned about worship styles than it is about baptism theology.
Yet, for Paul, the doctrine of baptism held a central place in his perspective on the Christian life. In fact, when he met these twelve young religious zealots, the issue of baptism came immediately to the surface. Paul asks, "What baptism did you receive?"
They answer, "John's baptism." At once Paul is disturbed. He launches into a pointed teaching about baptism, and the outcome is a new moving of the Spirit as these twelve are baptized again.
What's the point? What was wrong with their previous theology, based, as it was, on the teachings of John the Baptist? Didn't Jesus himself commend John? Wasn't John accurate in his perceptions of Jesus? Was not Jesus himself baptized by John, an event which we remember on this Epiphany Sunday?
Paul says that John's baptism is insufficient for full participation in the things of the Kingdom of Jesus. Why? Paul's short version of the problem is found in verse 4: "John's baptism was a baptism of repentance. He told the people to believe in the one coming after him, that is, in Jesus."
There was a larger context to all of this. When Israel came out of Egypt and spent time at Mount Sinai, there was a political transaction taking place. Israel had belonged to the Pharaoh of Egypt. Now she belonged to God. God had fought the Pharaoh for the right to own and care for Israel, and he had won. Just as the Pharaoh had specified the contours of his relationship with Israel, so now God did the same. At the top of Mount Sinai, God and Moses hammered out the political and social and religious covenant that would determine the character of Israel's future existence.
One element of that political landscape included the inescapable clause, "I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of bondage" (Exodus 20: 1). This was the declaration of sovereign authority. There would be no ruler in Israel except the God of the Covenant.
Yet even this God would need intermediaries. During the declining centuries of the monarchy, a strange bunch of men wrestled the spiritual leadership of the people from the hands of the political kings, with their cultic priests. These "outside-the-system" renegades were known as the prophets. Some bartered their perspectives in the marketplaces. Some became wailing fixtures in the Temple precincts. Some were used by kings as ex officio advisors, and some were hunted down as traitors to the political cause.
Yet the prophets became the de facto leaders of the people, urging spiritual chastity and calling for restoration of the religious and political and economic order established by the Covenant.
This is the picture of John the Baptist as painted by the gospels. He stands in this wild lineage and continues the purpose developed by those Old Testament specters. This is why Paul says, of John, that his baptism was for repentance. John, like the prophets who went before him, was in the business of calling God's people back to God.
Although the prophets, and John with them, looked forward to something they called the "Day of the Lord," their main purpose was to look backward. They were conservatives of the highest order, demanding a return to an earlier form of religion and a more primitive expression of Israelite society. They were often considered reactionary in their desire to do away with the trappings of modern developments so that the wilderness purity of ancient times could reassert itself. Any look ahead toward the Day of the Lord was ringed with scare tactics, since the only way to survive that dreadful cataclysm was through this religious u-turn back to the basics.
In this context, John the Baptist's role as the new Elijah takes on particular significance. Malachi, the last literary prophet of the Old Testament, concluded his dark paragraphs with a promise that Elijah would come again and cause separation within the land. Parents and children would fall on either side of the winnowing wand; families would be divided by religious commitments. Elijah would call the nation back to righteousness before the great and terrible Day of the Lord exploded into human history.
If John's ministry is seen in this light, Paul's warnings about his baptism become clear. John's baptism is insufficient to stand as the mark of belonging in a new age. John spoke to the choir and got them to sing the right song. John's congregation was all already in the family of God - he just tried to get them to admit it. John wanted the remnant of Israel to regroup itself and wait in righteous expectation for the firebrand that would destroy the nations around. John's preaching was for those already in the know.
That is why John's baptism is for repentance. It is not the mark of belonging to the kingdom; rather, it is a renewal of personal initiative for the things of the Kingdom. People must not collect possessions for themselves, according to John; they must, instead, give them away. They must travel lightly. They must care for the poor. The tax collectors must only ask for what the Romans demand and not oppress their fellow countrymen. Soldiers may guard, but must not ever become violent, robbers, or coercive, abusing their authority.
In all of this, John is preaching to the choir. In fact, he is preaching to the adult choir. Children are not part of these proceedings, because they are not yet ready to take on adult commitments. The baptism he urges is one of self-cleansing, stripping away those things that might linger of prolonged contact with a godless society, and preparing oneself for the coming of the Day of the Lord.
John expected Jesus to bring the Day of the Lord. That is why he pointed to Jesus with such brutal honesty. Yet Jesus ultimately disappointed him, because Jesus never brought the fire of heaven down to burn up the evil of the world.
John, from his vantage point as an Old Testament prophet, was still looking forward to a single interruption of the Day of the Lord. Jesus, however, split that day in two. The prophets always said that the Day of the Lord would bring judgment, while it ushered in the blessings of a new, eschatological age. In Luke 7, we read that John began to despair of Jesus when he spent so much time healing and helping. The sulfurs of divine retribution weren't evident around him.
In fact, what Jesus did was to bring the blessings of the eschatological kingdom before the refining fires of the Day of the Lord were spilled. In the graciousness of God, the world was given a second chance to find hope. John closed down the age of the prophets; Jesus ushered in the age of eternity.
In this context, the baptism of the church has different significance than that of John's baptism. About the only similarity between them is that both use water. Beyond that, they mean different things.
The baptism of John called on adult members of the Covenant community to take up the responsibilities of authentic, righteous living. Yet the church was in the business of taking the message of the coming Kingdom beyond the boundaries of the original Covenant community. In this context, baptism was not used by honorable persons as their pledge of loyalty; instead, baptism was used in the same way that circumcision had been used in the Old Testament (cf. Colossians 2:9-12): it was the mark of entrance into the Covenant community. It was the pledge of God that this person was now part of the family. It was the admission rite, declaring that this one, too, was now a part of the holy people.
In other words, instead of being a set of clothes that one put on to declare his or her convictions, as in the case of John's baptism, the church's baptism was a mark of belonging placed upon one by powers outside of oneself.
So, when the twelve young zealots told Paul that they were disciples of John, baptized by the great one as firebrands for the Kingdom, Paul needed to review the whole of theology with them. Even John would die looking for the Day of the Lord. No one will ever have the personal resources to survive that great catastrophe. Yet those who are marked with the ownership badge of Jesus will walk with him into eternity.
Mark 1:4-11
John wore all the appearances of a wild religious fanatic. He lived in the wilderness. He ate only natural foods which could be scrounged. He had no time for the niceties of "civilization," either cooking or sewing. His clothes were tattered skins that he threw around at least a part of his body. Much of the time he may have been half naked. His hair was unkempt.
The region in which he wandered was known for its cultic groups. The Essenes hung out there, as did several other communities waiting for apocalyptic destruction. There was a sparseness of the religious atmosphere, a kind of stratospheric rarity. Everything John breathed carried the intensity of kingdom conflict.
When John began to speak and yell and accuse, people stopped to observe from a distance. He was a curiosity, a remnant of an older prophetic era when men with wild eyes stormed the marketplaces, throwing dust in the air, hacking at their beards, and pointing to the locust as ominous signs.
Soon John's rantings attracted local attention. Those with tender consciences lingered to hear his warnings. Some who had violated the morals of the community too long experienced a religious conversion. They left their wanton ways and became disciples of John, living as he lived and urging others to religious revival at John's preaching events.
John fired people up to take a stand. They washed themselves to show just how serious they were. But the church, with Jesus, declares the coming of the kingdom, and says that those who were in God's family needed only to be marked as belonging.
This was the point of Jesus getting baptized by John. It showed that Jesus was devout, sincere, ready to get at the things of the Kingdom of God. John’s baptism was not a confirmation of Jesus’ place in the community of faith; rather it was a declaration that he was ready to live as if those things mattered. For three years, the pledges made in his baptism would energize everything about his life and lifestyle. This is why Jesus’ Trinitarian family confirmed these actions with declarations that resounded the original divine creative speech of Genesis 1, and the brooding active and powerful visualization of the Spirit which brought life out of chaos.
Application
Both the baptism of John and the baptism of the church need expression in the community that waits for the coming of the Kingdom. The baptism of the church is the initiation rite that brings all who belong to God's family into the visible community. Some come in as adults, through conversion. They must be baptized, not because of their dedication to God, but because of God's great dedication to them which has wooed them back to grace. Some enter the family of God as babies and children, born to those who already wear the marks of the people of God.
Baptism is God's way of marking, through the rites and ceremonies of the church, all who are his children by grace through the work of Jesus. Jesus called the little ones to him as well as the big ones. The children of believers are holy, says Paul (l Corinthians 7: 14). Baptism is God's deal, naming us with his name as children of a heavenly father. This is the church's baptism.
But John's baptism is necessary too. It is not enough to have entered the family of grace. It is not enough to acknowledge that one belongs to the Covenant community. John, along with the prophets who went before him, knew this. All of God's people need to be called to attention, need to be challenged to consistency of faith and life, need to be motivated to service in bringing the power of the Kingdom to bear on the realities of daily life.
Then it is right and proper for the church to exercise the urgency of renewal and ask those who already belong to the family of God to stand up and be counted in its ministries. This is the act of devotion, the act of dedication, the act of consecration. Some congregations call it public profession of faith. Some call it Confirmation. Some call it Rededication. But always it amounts to the same thing - those who are in the family take hold of their responsibilities as members of the family. God is good, and we should live as if we were as well. This is the baptism of John.
Today, let those coming into the Kingdom receive from God, through the baptism of the church, the badge of belonging. And today, let those who are part of the family of God stand up and be counted in the ranks of John's disciples who are cleansing their lives and their communities as they anticipate God's next and terrible great act.
Alternative Application (Acts 19:1-7)
It is somewhat unfortunate that one symbol has been used to declare two different things. The church's baptism says that God is active in the water, marking and naming a person as a new member of the kingdom. John's baptism says that the individual is active in the water, washing himself for greater authenticity and dedication.
It is time for the church to admit, with Paul, that there are two different kinds of baptism in the New Testament. Both are powerful. The symbolism of both ought to continue. People ought to acknowledge each. But perhaps a different form of symbolism ought to be connected with the one, over against the other.
However, it might be done, let the church learn this theology. God brings people into his kingdom, marking them, through the ministries of the church, as children of grace. This is the church's baptism.
But those who belong to the church and kingdom need to act upon their place in the spiritual realities of time and eternity. They need to dedicate themselves to God and enlist personally in the activities that make the Kingdom a reality. This is John's baptism.
