You, Me and Jesus in the Jordan
Rev. Jay Rowland
Matthew 3:13-17
13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” 15 But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved,[a] with whom I am well pleased.” [a] Or my beloved Son
The baptism of Jesus is perplexing to many people. That list includes John the Baptist, himself.
“Why have you come to me?” John asks Jesus. “It is I who should be baptized by you.”
Jesus’ response to John is somewhat less than satisfying, at least to me. But John apparently gleans enough to set aside any prior objection he had and baptize Jesus. But ever since Jesus “came up out of the waters” of the Jordan, many Christians have wondered, why?
Why was Jesus baptized?
All four gospels attest to this event and the key details-which indicates this is extremely important. But let’s back up before we go any further.
Before this happens, John the Baptist burst onto the scene calling his fellow Jews to repent and be baptized, essentially declaring everyone ritually unclean according to Jewish Law, and therefore in need of appropriate cleansing. The basic idea of repenting and cleansing sin is nothing new, but the way John is confronting this and what he’s offering as a response clearly is.
We are so familiar with this story that we don’t blink at the fact that this takes place outside and in a river—the River Jordan to be precise. Jewish religious leaders would NEVER consider it a proper or appropriate place to perform important religious rites or practices. So everything about John’s repent-and-be-baptized campaign is highly unusual--like John himself. Religious matters were simply NEVER conducted outside the Temple, let alone outside as in the great outdoors. Then there’s the source of the water being used in this religious rite, it doesn’t merely come from a river—it IS the river!
Everything about this “thing” that John is doing is new and different and significant. Consider the absolutely stunning action occurring in this rite: the one being baptized is entirely submerged—their entire body—into the moving water of the river, submerged and held in the arms of the baptizer, unable to breathe while under water and unable to bring themselves back up of their own volition. The baptized person is literally buried under water until the officiant raises the supplicant up out of the water.
Baptism is now so domesticated in comparison. Our modern ritual has lost the incredible, raw energy and personal experience of God’s power and presence. I don’t mean to knock current baptism practice. It has to be the way it is now, more or less. We simply cannot trek down to the nearest river for every baptism. And even if we could, well, on a day like today—a typical January day in Minnesota—few if any of us would likely consent. It’s clearly impractical to baptize they way it was first instituted by John and his early successors.
But I truly lament what we’ve lost from the original practice—it doesn’t resonate as powerfully indoors as it did outdoors. The wild, flowing, alive, moving river; the momentary helplessness of being submerged under the flowing river’s current until lifted from that vulnerable position back up into the oxygenated air, and the surroundings of a river teeming with LIFE.
When John began this practice it was so radical. And clearly baptism today is nothing close to radical.
John the Baptist is introduced to us as a sort of radical himself. In the verses preceding this baptismal scene, Matthew describes John as an extreme person, living in the wilderness (unheard of) and relying upon nature for his food, his clothing, his shelter, etc. (see also Luke 1:80)
It’s easy to forget this radical figure is John the son of the Priest Zechariah (Luke 1:5ff), who himself is the son of a priest and descendant of a long line of priests. If that name doesn’t trigger any reaction, perhaps his mother Elizabeth does—remember a pregnant Elizabeth is visited by a pregnant Mary—the baby inside Elizabeth leaps when Mary speaks (Luke 1:41). Elizabeth is a descendant of Aaron—a revered tribe of priests dating all the way back to Moses. The stories about John in the womb of Elizabeth don’t prepare us for the man he grows up to be--John the Baptist with his radical lifestyle, appearance, faith and religious practice. It never occurs to us that John is, in the words of Richard Rohr, “Jewish Royalty”.
John’s priestly pedigree makes everything about what he’s doing even more striking. John has effectively created a new religious ritual, located outdoors, outside the Temple, standing in a river, no less. He might or perhaps should have been dismissed as a quack. And perhaps many did. But we know there was one important figure who did not dismiss John.
What John is doing in that river is saturated with deep meaning, symbolism and spiritual power. The symbolism and meaning remains, and the power too if we allow ourselves to see it. After all, water, the main element of baptism is the single element essential for all life, not only human life, but animal life, plant life; all LIFE is not possible without water. Even on other planets there’s no possibility of life without the existence of water.
But also consider how water behaves when it moves. Water naturally flows into and fills the lowest places. Here too is a powerful metaphor of God’s self-emptying nature and love, so richly revealed in Jesus who continually “flows” into and fills the lowest places.
The baptism John is offering utilizes water that comes not out of a container, nor sits latent in a pool somewhere, but is utilized in a natural state, flowing, and churning, with currents swirling, constantly moving. Rivers have a starting point (or source), and ending points or they pour into another river or body of water. Rivers (and other water sources like lakes or oceans) have always been places where cities and communities are settled and established, dependent upon the wealth of resources rivers present. Consider also the rich natural life and habitat rivers represent for all creatures; there are countless points and occasions of interaction with creatures and plants of all kinds.
Jesus is intuitively drawn to all of this and presumably to John. Like John, however, we are confused because our expectation is that Jesus should be doing the baptizing. Jesus quickly assures John that it’s right and good for John to do this. Because Jesus will also spend great amounts of time outside of the Temple, revealing that God is not and cannot be housed or contained in one single place in time, for human convenience. God is more like the wild, untamed river. As is Jesus who continually flows to the lowest of the low, pouring out his God-essence God first pours into Jesus.
In John’s eyes, everyone is captive to sin and able to benefit from repentance. John makes no distinction between the devout and the righteous (e.g., Pharisees, Priests, etc.) on the one hand, and so-called riffraff on the other. Jesus comes to be baptized by John even though he (Jesus) is without sin and has nothing to repent. In doing this, Jesus chooses to stand with all of humanity, in all of its sinful, lost, broken, belligerent, unredeemable messiness. Jesus stands with peasants, pagans, losers, rejects; with tax collectors and lepers; with the suffering, the diseased, the oppressed; with the self- or other-condemned: drunks, punks, derelicts and prostitutes; the dazed and confused, the addicted, and with any and every disreputable sinner of every class, race, religion, tribe, etc.
And so when Jesus is plunged backwards and submerged in the Jordan, Jesus is not merely a “good example” for people to follow, it’s not a gimmick or a publicity stunt. (John suspects that’s why the Pharisees and Temple leaders are coming to be baptized and he sternly condemns them as a brood of vipers and hypocrites). Furthermore, Jesus isn’t pretending to be “like us”, he’s not role-playing, he’s not “slumming it” and he’s not corrupting the divine nature either.
When Jesus goes under that water, he binds himself to you and me in the depths of whatever amount of death life shall put us through. There, under the water, Jesus reveals God’s unity with each one of us. Jesus is baptized among and alongside the lowest and most common of human beings—just as he was also crucified; permitting no distinction between himself and anyone else. His baptism is “right” because it reveals Jesus (God’s) chosen unity with broken humanity. In the water, under the water, Jesus meets us most powerfully--down there, at the point, the lowest point of our human broken-ness. Jesus’ baptism by John reflects his life and his essence, captured by the hymn in Philippians (2:6ff):
Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
… being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross.
Therefore God also highly exalted him
and gave him the name
that is above every name …
So, yes, Jesus gets himself baptized just like you and me. But that’s not the end of the matter, it’s merely the beginning. From there Jesus continually goes forth with us and for us, continually invites us back from our broken-ness and from the disruptions of sin and life in a broken world to break bread with him, to dine with him, to drink with him—transforming any table into God’s table, continually reserving our seat at the Kingdom Table.
Baptism has become somewhat tame and orderly. That’s too bad, really. We could all use a vivid memory of being plunged beneath the waters, buried, then raised up from them by no effort of our own, regaining breath at the last best moment. Because when bad things happen, doubt creeps in and tries to convince us we have no place in God’s heart, to say nothing of God’s table. Troubles bring us to our knees, displacing God’s goodness and the reality of Jesus as God-with-us. Yet Jesus’ baptism boldly declares that Jesus willingly gives up his own seat at the Kingdom Table for you and for me ... for each one of us. And if we happen to forget or forsake any of that, no matter. One day we shall discover there were no conditions limiting this powerful Grace of God.
Martin Luther was reportedly fond of urging his congregations to repeat a phrase he often repeated himself, particularly when he was troubled with doubt: “I AM BAPTIZED”. The one in whom God is well-pleased comes up from the waters of baptism immediately reflecting God’s message right back to us, “this is my beloved”: You and I we are now, we already were, and we forever shall be God’s beloved in whom God is well pleased. No exceptions.
Remember Jesus baptism. Remember your baptism. And every time we celebrate baptism here in this place, remember in that moment our true identity is revealed, and we are grafted onto the Body of Christ, sealed by the Holy Spirit, and marked as Christ’s own forever.
Forever.
