When I was growing up in Virginia, I knew a young college student named Peter Burchard–we called him “Sunshine” because of his beatific smile– He was a member of our church–several years older than me–and when he decided he wanted to be baptized, he didn’t want it to be in a regular service, but at a parish picnic, in a creek at Plank’s farm, just outside of Blacksburg. Sunshine’s baptism was a delightful occasion, not only because we welcomed him into the Household of God, but because B. Lloyd, the celebrant, had to chase a bunch of cows out of the water before we could begin. There he went, splashing upstream in his robes, waving his hands and yelling at God’s creatures to scram. It was awesome.

You never know what’s going to happen at a baptism. That’s one of the things I love most about it.

John the Baptizer knew about Jesus; he knew of the prophecies, as written in the Isaiah passage we heard earlier, “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights…” John knew that his job was to proclaim the coming of the Messiah. For those who flocked to the Jordan river, the baptism of John was a Jewish rite of purification that could take place more than once, as opposed to the one-time-only rite of initiation that it would become for the Christian household. John’s ministry was to call people to repentance in preparation for the inbreaking Reign of God. He may or may not have expected the huge crowds that gathered around him at the Jordan, but according to Matthew’s version of the story, he definitely did not expect Jesus to be the next one in line.

“John would have prevented him, saying, ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’”

I picture this exchange taking place in tense whispers, like two people arguing in front of guests and not wanting the others to hear. But John is the one with the greatest anxiety and the tensest whisper. He had just been telling people that the one to come after him was so much greater than he that John wasn’t even worthy to touch his sandals, and here comes the Messiah himself lining up for repentance and purification? This simply doesn’t make sense to him.

Exactly. Welcome to the inbreaking kingdom, John.  You have just gotten a foretaste of what the Dream of God looks like. 

Jesus explains: “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”

These are the first words that Jesus speaks in Matthew. In his response to John’ objection Jesus speaks of “righteousness”, a term that Matthew uses seven times in his Gospel. Righteousness in Matthew’s context refers to obedience to the Divine will–responding freely and affirmatively to God’s call. True obedience to God is not blind obedience; it is the fruit of humility, holy listening, and discernment. Jesus persuades John to, like him, hear and respond to God’s invitation to the Kingdom; a Kingdom in which the first shall be last and the last shall be first; in which one who is lower than a servant baptizes the Messiah. They listen. They choose. Jesus enters the water, and emerges, dripping, to a vision of the opening heavens, the brush of dove’s feathers, and the voice of the Holy One:

“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Not, as in the other gospels, “You are my Son”, but “This is my Son.” This is significant; this is not a private encounter between the Divine and Jesus; it is an introduction and proclamation to the world. Anointed by the dove of the Holy Spirit, this new king is presented to the people of God as they stand at the Jordan; the true king of Israel in the tradition of David, as opposed to Herod, the Roman collaborator in Jerusalem. This is a pivotal, decisive, and dangerous, moment; for John, for Jesus, and for the world.

Nope, you never know what’s going to happen at a baptism. 

The baptism of Jesus is about a vision of the Kingdom–the Dream of God. It is about obedience to the call of God; and it is about the manifestation, or epiphany, of Jesus’ identity as God’s Beloved, a king like no other.

Kingship. We’ve talked about this before, on the Feast of Christ the King, but not in the context of Jesus’ baptism. 

Monarchs throughout history have been viewed as deriving their legitimacy from the Divine, representing divine will among the people under their authority, and representing the people to God, this latter part with varying degrees of success, and often outright failure. Often, monarchs have been very good at claiming their divine right to rule, but not as good at upholding their responsibility to the people. Jesus is a different kind of king; one who fulfills the ideal of mediator between God and humanity and humanity and God in a way that no one expected; through his solidarity with the human condition, manifested in the baptism of repentance. 

This is the difference between Jesus and other rulers. His relationship to kingship isn’t just vertical and hierarchical, from God to him and him to the people. It is also horizontal, embracing humanity in a radical inter-relationship of compassion, healing, forgiveness, and love. 

So, how does this speak to us?

It shows us the shape and dynamic of the Kingdom of God. 

Contemplative writer Cynthia Bourgeault, in her book, The Wisdom Jesus, writes that Jesus’ two core teachings about the Kingdom of God concern the fundamental abiding connection/interrelatedness 1) between God and humans and 2) between humans and one another. (I would go one step farther and suggest that this interrelationship extends to all of Creation, not just humanity.) Regarding the former, Bourgeault references Jesus’ teaching in John’s Gospel, “I am the vine, you are the branches. Abide in me as I in you.” She writes, “There is no separation between humans and God because of this mutual interabiding which expresses the indivisible reality of divine love. We flow into God—and God into us—because it is the nature of love to flow.”

Like water. 

Of the fundamental interrelationship between humans, she cites Jesus’ teaching on the second half of The Great Commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” She writes, “We hear “Love your neighbor as much as yourself.” . . . If you listen closely to Jesus’s teaching however, there is no “as much as” in there. It’s just ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’–as a continuation of your very own being. It’s a complete seeing that your neighbor is you. There are not two individuals out there, one seeking to better herself at the price of the other, or to extend charity to the other; there are simply two cells of the one great Life. Each of them is equally precious and necessary.”

So, the kingship of Jesus, inaugurated at his baptism, reflects this flow of relationship between God and Creation. Matthew has shown us, through this short and powerful passage, a foretaste of what Jesus’ ministry will be all about: The flowing love of God, manifest to us, within us, and between us, through the water of baptism.

What does this mean for us?

Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan not only shows us the shape and dynamic of the Reign of God that he would then proclaim throughout his ministry. It also shows us the shape of our life of faith. Jesus’ relationship with God as God’s Beloved, connecting Earth to Heaven and Heaven to Earth, companioned with his wide embrace of the frail human condition, shows us that the shape of a life of faith is cruciform. It is a life that calls us into relationship to God, one another, and Creation in a way that will inevitably involve both laughter and tears, safety and risk, love and loss. It will call us to listen, to choose, and to become immersed in true discipleship. It will call us–Jesus calls us, from the moment of his baptism–from the moment of our baptism– to take up our cross-shaped life and follow him.