The Baptism Of The Lord
Sermon
Sermons on the Gospel Readings
Series II, Cycle C
Object:
This text invites us to listen as John the Baptist tells the people that there is one who is coming to give a greater baptism than he will ever give. Baptism, from the outset in the gospels, becomes very important and moves very quickly to the baptism of Jesus. This seems to set the importance of baptism initially, and the significance is fortified in Acts. However, as important as baptism is, we do not find any instruction for how we are to behave at a baptism, possibly every baptismal occasion tends to create its own atmosphere. It also modifies the behavior of people involved in an appropriate way.
For example, if you attend a funeral, even if it is the first funeral you have ever attended, no instruction is needed. We simply know and understand the behavioral guidelines, even the inevitable socializing does not detour our thoughts from the magnitude of the event.
The entrance of the family focuses our attention on the reality of this event. A family now faces life without a beloved member and the changes that this has brought about. There is something about the moment that gives its own instruction. You do not need instruction on how to behave. The occasion modifies and sweetens the disposition.
It is the same way with a wedding -- before the wedding there is laughing, talking, stale jokes, shaving cream all over the windshield, and tin cans tied to the bumper. When the moment arrives, announced by the sound of music, and the bride walks slowly down the aisle, our attention shifts from the social to the sacred. There is no need for instruction, the occasion modifies the behavior.
It is the same manner in which we celebrate a baptism. As the minister states, "in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit ... Amen," the sacredness of the moment guides us into reverential silence. There is no instructional material, not even in scripture, as to how to behave.
Baptism is the living example of the baptism of Jesus of Nazareth. I am sure this is surprising to many who expect Jesus to be exempt from baptism. It seems natural that Jesus would stand on the bank and view others while they are baptized. Baptism is for everyone, especially:
• all of those who have wandered away from the path known to them as children;
• those who have stumbled into trouble over and over again;
• those who, not by accident, but intent, have turned their backs on God; and
• those full of greed who finally understand there is no place else to go.
Luke phrases it so simply, "When all the people were being baptized, Jesus was baptized, too."
Why was one so pure cleansed in the water?
Was it that at the age of thirty, as Luke tells us, he began his public ministry?
In the synagogue one day, did Christ realize the readings were really for him, that more than anything else he was to serve God? Did there exist a special meaning in life for himself and for humanity?
Following a long day in the carpenter's shop was he walking and encountered his own destiny?
Was he mindful of that fateful day that he was finally allowed to worship God in the temple as a boy of twelve? Could it be he remembered the encounter with the elders of the people and the scribes?
The questions are all good, but we have no adequate answer. What we do know is there came a day that he folded his carpenter's apron, having shaken the shavings out of it, and placed it on the bench. He bid his mother, brother, and sisters, "Good-bye." He did not go and command an audience with the emperor or even with the governor, but instead he makes his way to where the people have assembled. It is there he aligns with everyone else at the Jordan River and is baptized.
It was Martin Luther who wrote, "Remember your baptism," and what he meant by this was to claim for yourself all that is reserved for you as a child of God. In fact, still wet from his own baptism, according to Luke's account, Jesus is immediately reminded by his Father of the relationship with him: "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased."
That passage speaks of the relationships of Jesus, not only with the Father, but also with those who are in need. Our relationship with Jesus shines brightest when we learn that it is a multi-relationship. The human need that is filled is not only ours, but whomever we touch.
I recall a story that Fred Craddock told about the southwestern Oklahoma community with which he was very familiar. The village had a population of 450 and four churches. All the churches were Christian denominations and they all shared the people of the town. Sometimes attendance was up and sometimes it was down. However, there was a cafe in town whose attendance always stayed the same. Many of the parishioners of the cafe never went to any of the four churches. The father of the faithful at the little cafe was Frank, a man of 77, who declared, "I have no need for church -- I take care of my family, I work hard, everything else is just fluff." One day, a local minister in town saw Frank on the street. He introduced himself and Frank told him he wasn't looking for a church.
One day, to everyone's surprise, Frank not only showed up for church, but was baptized at 78. Talk started in town "Frank must be sick. He certainly is getting older." There were all kinds of stories. The preacher and Frank became friends. Finally, a few months later, the minister got up enough courage to ask the question that had been bothering him since Frank's attendance that day. "Frank, do you remember when I baptized you?" Frank answered slowly, "Yes, I recall." The minister paused for a moment then asked the question so long on his mind. "I am sure you still work hard and take care of your family." "That's right," Frank nodded in agreement. "Well then," the minister said with a bit of caution, "what made you do it?"
Frank cleared his throat. "I didn't know before what my business was; you see I thought it only included my work and my family, but I learned it was to serve God and human need."
It is at those moments when the heavens open and you can almost hear the voice of God: "This is my Son; with him I am well pleased."
For example, if you attend a funeral, even if it is the first funeral you have ever attended, no instruction is needed. We simply know and understand the behavioral guidelines, even the inevitable socializing does not detour our thoughts from the magnitude of the event.
The entrance of the family focuses our attention on the reality of this event. A family now faces life without a beloved member and the changes that this has brought about. There is something about the moment that gives its own instruction. You do not need instruction on how to behave. The occasion modifies and sweetens the disposition.
It is the same way with a wedding -- before the wedding there is laughing, talking, stale jokes, shaving cream all over the windshield, and tin cans tied to the bumper. When the moment arrives, announced by the sound of music, and the bride walks slowly down the aisle, our attention shifts from the social to the sacred. There is no need for instruction, the occasion modifies the behavior.
It is the same manner in which we celebrate a baptism. As the minister states, "in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit ... Amen," the sacredness of the moment guides us into reverential silence. There is no instructional material, not even in scripture, as to how to behave.
Baptism is the living example of the baptism of Jesus of Nazareth. I am sure this is surprising to many who expect Jesus to be exempt from baptism. It seems natural that Jesus would stand on the bank and view others while they are baptized. Baptism is for everyone, especially:
• all of those who have wandered away from the path known to them as children;
• those who have stumbled into trouble over and over again;
• those who, not by accident, but intent, have turned their backs on God; and
• those full of greed who finally understand there is no place else to go.
Luke phrases it so simply, "When all the people were being baptized, Jesus was baptized, too."
Why was one so pure cleansed in the water?
Was it that at the age of thirty, as Luke tells us, he began his public ministry?
In the synagogue one day, did Christ realize the readings were really for him, that more than anything else he was to serve God? Did there exist a special meaning in life for himself and for humanity?
Following a long day in the carpenter's shop was he walking and encountered his own destiny?
Was he mindful of that fateful day that he was finally allowed to worship God in the temple as a boy of twelve? Could it be he remembered the encounter with the elders of the people and the scribes?
The questions are all good, but we have no adequate answer. What we do know is there came a day that he folded his carpenter's apron, having shaken the shavings out of it, and placed it on the bench. He bid his mother, brother, and sisters, "Good-bye." He did not go and command an audience with the emperor or even with the governor, but instead he makes his way to where the people have assembled. It is there he aligns with everyone else at the Jordan River and is baptized.
It was Martin Luther who wrote, "Remember your baptism," and what he meant by this was to claim for yourself all that is reserved for you as a child of God. In fact, still wet from his own baptism, according to Luke's account, Jesus is immediately reminded by his Father of the relationship with him: "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased."
That passage speaks of the relationships of Jesus, not only with the Father, but also with those who are in need. Our relationship with Jesus shines brightest when we learn that it is a multi-relationship. The human need that is filled is not only ours, but whomever we touch.
I recall a story that Fred Craddock told about the southwestern Oklahoma community with which he was very familiar. The village had a population of 450 and four churches. All the churches were Christian denominations and they all shared the people of the town. Sometimes attendance was up and sometimes it was down. However, there was a cafe in town whose attendance always stayed the same. Many of the parishioners of the cafe never went to any of the four churches. The father of the faithful at the little cafe was Frank, a man of 77, who declared, "I have no need for church -- I take care of my family, I work hard, everything else is just fluff." One day, a local minister in town saw Frank on the street. He introduced himself and Frank told him he wasn't looking for a church.
One day, to everyone's surprise, Frank not only showed up for church, but was baptized at 78. Talk started in town "Frank must be sick. He certainly is getting older." There were all kinds of stories. The preacher and Frank became friends. Finally, a few months later, the minister got up enough courage to ask the question that had been bothering him since Frank's attendance that day. "Frank, do you remember when I baptized you?" Frank answered slowly, "Yes, I recall." The minister paused for a moment then asked the question so long on his mind. "I am sure you still work hard and take care of your family." "That's right," Frank nodded in agreement. "Well then," the minister said with a bit of caution, "what made you do it?"
Frank cleared his throat. "I didn't know before what my business was; you see I thought it only included my work and my family, but I learned it was to serve God and human need."
It is at those moments when the heavens open and you can almost hear the voice of God: "This is my Son; with him I am well pleased."

