Scripture Mark 1:4-11

So, John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And the whole Judean region and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him and were baptized by him in the River Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the strap of his sandals. I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Meditation “The Beloved” Rev. Pat Raube

This week, I read the following story. (It was shared by the dean of a seminary.):

The town in which I live has one main boulevard that runs east to west through the entire town. For most of this route of maybe two miles, there are “NO U-TURN” signs posted at each cross street. Having … been puzzled by this for a long time, I finally got the explanation from a local who had lived there many years. It is designed to prevent young people from cruising—in other words, driving and circling back and forth up and down the boulevard—so that the road became virtually undrivable for many hours each weekend evening.

Then one day, I had a vision: there were workers taking down all the NO U-TURN signs and getting rid of them. Instead, at each cross street they had posted “U-TURNS OK” signs.

U-turns OK—no, in fact, strongly encouraged.[i]

This is a good summary of what is going on in the preaching of John the Baptist, whose ministry is so appealing to Jesus, Jesus joins the crowds from all over Judea, wades into the water, and experiences something that surprises us 21st century Christians. John is inviting everyone, everywhere to come to be washed, as a sign of their repentance—and a U-turn is as good a metaphor for repentance as any I’ve heard. For those who need it, it represents a new direction, a fresh start, made possible because God is all too willing to forgive us, heal us, and set us on a new path. We are God’s beloved children.

Maybe, though, I ought to highlight exactly how surprising this is—really, a stronger word would be better. Stunning. Amazing. Unbelievable. Here’s why: It’s our theology. We have a faith claim that Jesus is one with God—that he is fully human, and fully divine. This is why Christmas is such a huge deal: to quote the Genie in Aladdin, “PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWERS… itty bitty living space.” God has entered time in the frail flesh of a newborn child, and our trust in that is why Jesus being baptized doesn’t make any sense.

For one thing, baptism by John is a sign that, Jesus was a follower of John—at least for a time. That’s what baptism usually meant—your willingness to have the baptizer as your spiritual leader. This doesn’t make any sense to us, and that’s because of our theology. How can Jesus follow someone else? He’s Emmanuel! God-With-Us! Doesn’t he already have all the answers? Doesn’t this make him the leader?

The other reason this particular baptism strikes us as truly bizarre is this: Jesus is accepting a baptism of repentance…in other words, he’s signing on for that U-turn John is preaching. And again, this stops us in our tracks. What? How? Why? How could Jesus possibly need a U-turn? Isn’t he without sin? That’s another claim our theology makes about him: Jesus is like us in all ways but sin.

Our shock at all this is because we come to this story fully equipped with a strong idea of who Jesus is. What if we could, for a short while, come to this story, instead, with curiosity? Trying to hear it the way the first listeners heard it. Trying to see Jesus as not fully equipped with all the power and majesty being God provides, but, rather, as a man. A man who got people’s attention, to be sure. But initially, just a man, who showed up at the Jordan one day and joined the crowd, jumped in the pool, and decided it was a good day to be just like everyone else.

We don’t know a lot about Jesus’ growing up years. We have a few stories that made it into the gospels—birth stories, stories of being in peril, and one story of him at age 12, when he seems quite precocious, biblically speaking. But if he was like us in everything but sin, what does that mean about his growing up years? Was he a typical Judean boy, running around with friends, getting into trouble for scaring a baby brother or sister with a silly face? We read that Jesus knew a lot about the scriptures at age 12—he may well have been studying them with other boys his age. But if Jesus is Emmanuel, God-With-Us, how early, really, did he understand who he was?

Is it possible that, like us, Jesus grew up, and understood his calling gradually? In Jesus’ day, age 30 would be relatively late to make a career change, and we believe he probably worked with his father for a time as a carpenter. But eventually he found his way to John and let him dunk him in the water. And then, if it wasn’t before, his calling became crystal clear. Hear again the words from the gospel according to Mark:

Jesus is baptized by John in the Jordan, and then, as he is coming up from the water, the heavens are torn apart. Let’s just try and imagine that for a moment. What can that possibly look like? Sound like? Is it terrifying? Is it loud—like a thunderclap? This is the only gospel that uses this language, “the heavens are torn apart.” And Mark uses it just once—here. This seems to be a sign that the veil between this world and the next has been pulled back. As Jesus has come to be God-With-Us, God comes to witness this moment of Jesus jumping into the pool with the rest of humanity—a sign of solidarity. A sign of empathy. Whether you believe Jesus is completely without sin or not, Jesus receiving baptism is, if nothing else, a moment of humility—just the way it would be for any of us if we were to suddenly stop and say to ourselves, no. This is not the life I want to live. I want a different life. The heavens are torn apart, and God stands witness.

And then, out of the heavens, a dove descends upon Jesus, a sign that the Spirit is present, the Spirit is with him. Remember a few lines earlier—when John proclaimed, the one who is coming would baptize with the Holy Spirit? It seems the Holy Spirit intends to be a part of Jesus’ baptism, too.

And finally, a voice from heaven: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Some of us don’t understand our callings right away. I kept thinking I’d go to medical school, despite the evidence of my grades in Biology and Organic Chemistry. I didn’t get the memo that God wanted me to do something else until relatively late in the game. But I’m not sure that’s so rare. Maybe it was like that for some of you. Maybe you didn’t know what you were meant to do, where your gifts could best be used, how your heart would rejoice when you finally found your place, until you had spent a good long time doing something else entirely.

But God was with you, every step of the way, because you, too, are God’s beloved child. In our worst moments, we don’t necessarily feel like we could possibly be anyone’s beloved. But here’s the good news. God made us, and God loves God’s creation. God loves us and stands by us and yes, like that old “Footprints” story, carries us when we can’t take another step.

Jesus offered himself for baptism, and a whole new world was opened up to him. Maybe. Or maybe he knew all along exactly when and where and who and how. We don’t know. But, however it came to be, Jesus lived into his calling, and today, in this little story, we are there, at the beginning. We see him being dunked, and hear the water splash as he comes up spluttering and laughing. (I think he was laughing.) We see the dove descending from the fissure that has opened in the sky, and we imagine the sound of the heavens being torn apart. We hold our breath as Jesus hears the voice of his Father and ours saying those unforgettable words. You are mine. You are beloved. This gives me joy.

And now we realize that we are there, too. That the dove descends on us, that the Holy Spirit is with us. And that we are God’s beloved children, and our answering God’s call gives God joy.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

[i] Alicia Vargas, “Commentary on Mark 1:4-11,” Baptism of Christ (Year B), Working Preacher Website, January 7, 2024. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/baptism-of-our-lord-2/commentary-on-mark-14-11-5.