Thomas J Parlette
“The One Who is to Come”
Mark 1: 1-11
1/7/24
Today we close out the Christmas season with Epiphany that celebrates the light that has come into the world, as we look forward to the Baptism of the Lord and a fresh journey toward Jerusalem and ultimately the cross. We marked Epiphany yesterday by “un-decorating” the church and putting away all the Christmas trees and garland and poinsettias and boxing up the decorations and nativity scenes for another year.
A friend and colleague of mine in Iowa likes to tell the story of how a volunteer, who was soliciting help from the congregation with taking down Christmas decorations, was telling people, “Well, it’s time to make the church look plain again.”
My friend overheard this and offered an amendment, “You mean, beautifully elegant and simple again.”
The volunteer recruiter thought about it, and said, “No, I think plain says it all.”(1)
That’s how a lot of people feel about this time of year. A little drained from the holiday madness. A little tired of the frenzy that can dominate this time of year. The holidays are over, let’s move on. Here in Minnesota, these cold, dark winter days and nights are the perfect time into enter into our own version of hibernation.
But this morning, there is good news for all the tired and weary souls who might be a little down in this post-holiday lull.
Our text from Mark kicks off what we refer to as “Ordinary Time” in the lectionary calendar. Mark begins his gospel with the bold proclamation – “the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”
People are hungry for good news these days. Perhaps you remember John Krasinski’s You Tube show “Some Good News.” It premiered during the isolation days of the COVID shutdown on March 29th, 2020. Eight episodes were made, at least three of which you can find on YouTube. The show focused on good news, feel good stories, stories about compassion and empathy, love and joy. On one show, they even live-streamed a prom that couldn’t happen in person, but was still enjoyed by all who tuned in. Back in 2020, we were all starving for some good news.
That really hasn’t changed too much. There is still a hunger for good news. In fact, I still subscribe to a mailing called “Nice News” that focuses on uplifting stories to let subscribers know that not everything is dark in our world. There are still good people doing nice things. There is still light breaking into our darkness.
Perhaps this hunger for good news is what drew people out to the desert to hear John the Baptist. John spoke about the need for repentance, but also the assurance of forgiveness. Change your ways now – for the one who is to come, the Messiah, God’s Son, the one true light, is on the way. I baptize you with water, but the one who is coming will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.
This need to change and be forgiven, this hunger for good news, must have struck a chord, because people from all walks of life came from as far away as Jerusalem to hear John and be baptized in the waters of the Jordan river.
Then Jesus arrives, seeking to be baptized. As Mark tells the story, “The heavens were torn apart and the Spirit descended like a dove on him.”
Mark has presented the idea of John as the new Elijah, by describing his clothing and his diet and his living in the wilderness – all his listeners would have connected the dots that this John represented Elijah. In Isaiah 64, the prophet prayed that God would “tear open the heavens and come down”, and in chapter 43, we hear the promise of “a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” And here at the beginning of Mark’s gospel, those promises are answered. God tears through the barrier separating earth from heaven and comes to us in the wilderness.
This idea of the wilderness must be important to Mark, because he mentions twice. It isn’t too difficult to see the wilderness or the desert as a metaphor for life. Sometimes our lives can feel like a wilderness where challenges are all around us, nothing is easy and surprises, both good and bad, lie just up ahead on our winding trails. Sometimes our wilderness life can feel dry and parched like the desert where John lived and preached.
The good news on this first Sunday of Epiphany is that God has broken into our WORLD like a light in the darkness. And in the baptism of Jesus breaks into our LIVES, and descends like a dove.
So why does God tear through the barriers of heaven and earth on this baptism day? God breaks in to offer some words of assurance.
Notice how Mark presents these words from heaven. They are directed to Jesus in a very personal way – “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” This is God dropping Jesus off at college at the start of a new phase of life – that’s the feel here.
Luke follows Mark’s lead and presents the voice from heaven speaking directly to Jesus as well.
In Matthew, the voice from heaven is more like a proclamation to the crowd – “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” The essence is the same, but the tone is a little different. It sounds more like an introduction for a key note speaker at a conference than a personal conversation.
In John’s gospel, we find something very different as John sees the Spirit descend on Jesus while John was baptizing others in the Jordan. John himself stand off to the side and points out Jesus as the Lamb of God. As readers, we look over John’s shoulder as he explains to us who Jesus is – but we never actually see Jesus enter into the waters of the Jordan.
The good news for us in this story as Mark tells it is that God breaks into our world and says these words to us as well. Since we were grafted onto the body of Christ in our own baptism, we can take God’s words to heart. When God says to Jesus, “YOU are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased,” God says that to us as well. That’s what it means when we say that as Christians we are adopted as Children of God in our baptism. God says to us, “YOU are my child, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
The heavens will open again in Mark. There will again be talk of tearing, and of Elijah, and of the love between Father and Son. It happens at the hinge of Mark’s story, in the Transfiguration. And it happens again near the end, at the cross, when even the imperial powers get caught up in declarations of divine love – but those are stories for the coming days. For most of the gospel this love lives out of sight, like a seed growing secretly, unseen. Only the demons know who Jesus is. The disciples stumble along, forever forgetting what they have seen and heard and getting it all wrong. The heavens seem not torn open, but sealed and silent – as they do so much of the time even today. (2)
The Baptism of the Lord is a great day to celebrate the tearing open of the heavens and the words spoken to us by God. The coming stretch of Ordinary time will carry us into the hard work of discipleship, when the will of God can seem so elusive and the power of God so absent. But before Mark takes us on that journey, his Gospel gives us a moment to taste and see and hear the goodness of the Lord. (2)
So this morning, I invite you to remember your own baptism as we gather around the Lord’s table. As you come forward to receive communion, I invite you to reach into the baptism fount and take a shell to remind you that you are a child of God. And God is well pleased with you, just as you are.
May God be praised. Amen.
1. Mary Pugh, Connections: Year B, Vol. 1, Westminster John Knox Press, 2020, p 181.
2. Ted A. Smith, Feasting on the Word: Year B, Vol. 1, Westminster John Knox Press, 2008, p 241.
3. Ibid… p 241.
