Luke
3:15-22
15
As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their
hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, 16 John answered all
of them by saying, "I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful
than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will
baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 17 His winnowing fork is in his
hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary;
but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire." 18 So, with many other
exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people. 19 But Herod the
ruler, who had been rebuked by him because of Herodias, his brother's wife, and
because of all the evil things that Herod had done, 20 added to them all by
shutting up John in prison. 21 Now when all the people were baptized, and when
Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, 22 and the
Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came
from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well
pleased."
I
was sitting at Roma’s one day (I don’t remember if it was a Saturday morning
for breakfast or a weekday lunch) when something caught my attention and caused
my heart to beat just a bit faster. Driving around the square was a burgundy,
crew cab, Chevy pickup with chrome tie-downs on the bedrails. Well, I just
happen to drive a burgundy, crew cab, Chevy pickup with chrome tie-downs on the
bedrails, so for a split-second I thought someone had stolen my truck. It turns
out they didn’t, but ever since that day, I’ve noticed more trucks that look an
awful lot like mine on the road.
Strange how that happens,
isn’t it? We’re made momentarily aware of something and then we can’t help but
notice it seemingly all the time. We buy a new car and suddenly it’s like
everyone else in town bought the same car in the same color, or we’ve bought a
new pair of shoes and now can’t help but notice how many other people share our
same fashion sense, or we hear a new word, a new song on the radio and it’s as
if everyone is using that word or every station is playing that song. Has that
ever happened to you? Did you know there’s actually a name for this, this
sudden awareness of things that were previously unnoticeable? It’s called the
Baader-Meinhoff Phenomenon. Oddly enough, it actually gets its name from a West
German terrorist group in the 1970s, because a commenter on the phenomenon in
the 1990s heard references to the group twice within a 24-hour period.[1] So
it’s kind of a real thing, right, the way we tend to notice things more
frequently once we’ve initially encountered them?
I thought about this
phenomenon in light of what this Sunday is about, the first Sunday after
Epiphany, which the traditional Church recognizes as the Sunday to reflect on
Christ’s baptism as well as our own. I thought about the ways in which—after I
was first baptized—I began to notice those people who were baptized just like I
had been, those people who claimed the name of Christ. I mean, it was easy to
notice those folks who filled the pews in the same church I went to, but out
and about, out there in “the world,” I began to take notice of those folks who
wore W.W.J.D. bracelets, those people with “Jesus fish” (actually called an icthus)
on their cars, those people who would say certain words or phrases that I had
only really heard other church folks say. It felt like there were believers all
around me, and for the most part, it was great!
I mean, I found out the
Bono, the leader singer of the Irish rock band U2, was a Christian. How cool is
that?! One of the most famous rock stars in the world had been baptized like me
(though it was in a different manner, but it still counts, right?). I learned
that my assistant principal from high school—a man who encouraged me and
treated me like a kid with potential—was a Christian (though to be fair, it’s
likely most of the faculty and staff at my high school were Christians; I was
raised in the Deep South, right where the buckle comes together on the Bible
Belt). It seemed like there were others all around me who had been baptized,
who were believers in Christ: there was the teller at the bank, the barber who
had cut my hair for years, the cashier at Winn-Dixie, the woman who worked in
the food service department at the service center where I worked, the waiter at
the Mexican restaurant…there were baptized folks everywhere!
I have to tell you,
though, it didn’t surprise me a whole lot. After all, most of these people
struck me right away as “good, Christian people.” They were nice, clean, kept
their shirts tucked in. They didn’t “cuss, drink, smoke, or chew or run around
with folks that do!” They spoke in “Christianese,” saying things like “I’ll
pray for you…God bless you…if God brought you to it, he’ll bring you through
it…if it’s in God’s will…” They were sweet people, people with tags on their
cars that said “God is my co-pilot,” with prints of the Last Supper hanging
over their dining room tables, and “Footprints” posters on the wall in the
hallway. They were folks that said silent prayers over their value meals at
McDonald’s, folks with pocketbooks engraved with the 23rd Psalm and
pens in their pockets with pictures of eagles and the words of Isaiah printed
on them. No, it didn’t surprise me a whole lot when I noticed those folks had
been baptized too. In fact, I was proud to be like them, to share that
baptismal bound with those kind of folks, but then I noticed there were others
who had also been through the same waters of baptism, and it made me a bit
uneasy.
There was Ned, one of the
mechanics that worked in the same shop I did. Ned cussed and complained about
nearly everything. I ran into Ned at our Baptist association’s ministers and
deacons retreat, and it took me a minute or two to process. Then there was Lindsey,
a girl I had gone to high school with: I’ll just say that Lindsey was “popular”
in high school, so it shocked me when I found out she too had been baptized and
had been even before I knew her in high school. There was Tony, a guy I had
known for years, a guy who smoked cigarettes since we were fourteen, who wore
torn tank tops and baggy pants with his wallet on a long chain: he was the last
guy I would have thought to have been a baptized brother. There was Eric, the
shaggy-haired redneck who thought it a point of pride to drink himself to sleep
at night; even he had been through water. There were all sorts of people who
surprised me and made me more than a bit uncomfortable when I found out they
too had been through the waters of baptism, mostly because they didn’t come
across as “good, Christian people.”
They weren’t really all
that nice. A bunch of them smelled like Newports, Michelob, and body odor. They
didn’t dress or speak real well. A few of them complained or sought to pick a
fight over any small thing that didn’t go their way. Some of them were
downright mean. They told dirty jokes, didn’t pray over their food at lunch or
put money in the red kettle at Christmas. A few of them were ignorant and
racist. They didn’t always smile at people, or say “God bless you,” or drive
around in their cars with bumper-sticker-Bible-verses. They listened to the
wrong kind of music, dipped Kodiak and spit it on the ground, drank beer in the
middle of the week, were divorced three times, ran stop signs, whistled at
women, bounced checks, wore too much makeup, had tattoos and lip rings, lived
with their boyfriend or girlfriend…they did things “good, Christian people”
weren’t supposed to do. But still…they had been called by Christ, and had
followed him through the waters of baptism one way or another, and maybe they
weren’t living life the way I thought they should, and maybe they weren’t the
shining example many of us would want sitting by us on “our pew,” but they had
been through the same waters I had, through the same baptism even Jesus himself
had.
All four gospels tell of
Jesus’ baptism, but Luke seems the least interested in its details: he really
only gives the event half a verse: (verse 21) “Now when all the people were
baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…” As Fred Craddock once
pointed out[2]
that’s no way to talk about Jesus’ baptism. There’s no drama to it at all; in
fact, it’s like Jesus is just standing in line—at the end of the line, in fact:
“Now
when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…”
You know, I can’t help but wonder who Jesus saw go down in the water with John
before it was his turn. I’m sure there were those “good, Jewish people,” the
ones who showed up early every Sabbath at the synagogue, the ones who read
their Torah and even had whole passages memorized. I’m sure there were those
clean-cut guys who held the door for a lady, those young folks who said “yes
ma’am” and “yes sir.” Why, I bet there were all kinds of good folks waiting to
be baptized by John (I mean, Jesus was in line wasn’t he?). Of course, there
were some other, less savory, people waiting in line for baptism; we heard from
some of them just a few weeks ago in some of the verses prior to our text this
morning. There were folks among them that caused John to call them a “brood
of vipers;” there were tax collectors and soldiers, men and women, rich
and poor, clergy and laity, all kinds of folks standing in line, waiting to be
dunked by John, and there in line with them? Jesus.
You know, I’m sure if I
had been standing in that line I’d have been taking into account the kind of
folks standing in that line with me! I don’t think I’d have said a whole lot as
long as the religious folks were there (even if John did call them sons of
snakes!). After all, even the most hypocritical church person at least knows
how to present him or herself in public, right? No, I don’t think I’d have
thought too much about standing in that line with religious folks. To tell the
truth, I probably wouldn’t have thought too much about standing in that line
with the non-religious folks, the heathens, either. After all, they would have
been in line to be baptized right? I suppose I’d hope they’d come up out of the
water more like those religious folks, a smile on their face, tucking their
shirts in and combing their hair…I don’t suppose it would have bothered me to
see soldiers in line either. They may have been there as a sign of force, of
intimidation, but if they got in line, great! I may have flinched a little when
I noticed the tax collectors in line: I mean, they were traitors to their own
people, Jews hired by the Romans to collect taxes from the Jews, raising rates
to line their own pockets. But are they any worse than me, really? Everybody’s
got to make a living somehow, right? If I had been in that line, taking an
inventory of all those folks standing in that line with me, I’m sure I would
have gone right on standing there…that is until I’d notice them getting in line.
You know who they are, don’t you? They might
be different depending on who you are, but if they strolled up and got in line,
I’d step right out and head home! They’re the folks you just can’t tolerate,
the ones who really get under your skin, the ones you’d rather see go on
somewhere else. They’re the ones who refuse to follow our rules, who refuse to
come around to our way of thinking, the ones who “(let’s be honest) just aren’t
as good as us.” They’re the ones who we all know aren’t really going to stick
it out, who won’t change, who won’t try to fit in with the rest of us. They’re
the really messed up people; the kind of folks we’ll take up an offering for or
hand out Bibles to, but not really the kind of folks we want to stand in line
with. Now, if there was another line…but to stand in line—the same line—with
them? I don’t want to be seen with their type, so I’ll step out. “Now
when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…”
That’s just not a good
way to say it, is it? I mean, it sounds like Jesus just stood in line with all
of those people, like the Son of God waited his turn, waited in line with
hypocrites, sinners, fakes, phonies, traitors, bullies, the rich, the poor, the
unkempt, the punks, the degenerates, the lazy, the addicted… he waited in line
with them, knowing their deepest hurts, their worst flaws, their most secret
sins, and “when all the people were baptized…Jesus also had been baptized…”
Jesus went through the same water, the same baptism, as all of those who stood
in line at the Jordan—NOT
because he was a sinner himself, NOT
because he needed to repent of anything, NOT
because he was anything less than God’s Son, God incarnate. Jesus went through
the same waters of baptism as all of those folks in line, the same waters as
you, me, Bono, Ned, Billy Graham, that person sitting in this room whom you
just can’t stand—Jesus went through the same waters to show us all the
revolutionary, upside-down reality of his kingdom, that there isn’t a single
soul who isn’t welcome, there isn’t a single soul better than another, there
isn’t a single line of separation that any of can draw that Christ’s love has
not erased.
“Now when all the
people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…” Christ stood in line with “all the
people”—sinners and saints, and, friends, if we’re not willing to stand in
line, if we think we’re somehow better than Jesus, if we think there are those
who cannot stand in line with us without becoming like us, well…I’m afraid
we’re going to be disappointed when we stand in the fullness of God’s kingdom.
Amen.
[2]
This is a link to Craddock’s sermon given in chapel at the George W. Truett
Theological Seminary in 2006: http://edge.baylor.edu/media/69133/69133.mp3
(last accessed 1/9/2016).
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