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13 January 2008
The Baptism of Jesus
– Sermon given by Michael Paterson
–
Isaiah 42.1-9; Acts 10.34-43;
Matthew 3.13-17
‘This is my son the beloved,
with whom I am well pleased’.
Matthew 3:17
They say a week is a very
long time in politics and perhaps some weeks
even longer than others. But at the end of
the nation’s first full week back to normal
after the Christmas break I wonder who gets
your vote. Barak Obamba, for being the very
incarnation of Mother America opening her
arms to all who come, and turning the son of
an immigrant from guest in a foreign country
to potential president? Hillary Clinton, for
that humanizing display of emotion which
brought some reality into the grand-standing
of super-humans, people not a bit like us,
battling it out against each other? Or
closer to home, Tony Blair, who with his
latest contract with JP Morgan shows that
there is life beyond retirement and that his
recent conversion to Roman Catholicism won’t
interfere too much with his personal
finances. I am sure any one of them would
give an arm or a leg to have the heavens
open and the divine seal of approval
resound: ‘You are my son, You are my
daughter, my beloved, in whom I am well
pleased’ especially if that declaration came
with the rejoinder: ‘listen and pay heed the
rest of you’.
Today, the feast of the
Baptism of the Lord, is the theological
equivalent of the first day of office for a
president or a prime minister. Jesus has
grown up a lot since last Sunday when we
found him still in the manger receiving
birthday presents from the wise men. Today
we see, not a helpless baby but a determined
adult, in the waters of the Jordan, tussling
with John the Baptist over whether or not he
should be baptized. And it’s here that
Jesus, the sinless one who has come among us
to do away with the sins of others once and
for all, sees the heavens open and hears the
Father’s voice resound: ‘This is my son the
beloved, with whom I am well pleased’.
I don‘t know about you but
such a low key event with John the Baptist
as the only recorded witness is not exactly
when I would have expected God to cast his
vote and reveal his favoured one. To my
mind there are plenty of other occasions in
Jesus’ life when it would have been more
appropriate for God to bellow affectionately
‘that’s my boy – and I am proud of him’ -
like when Jesus turned the water into wine,
or raised the paralytic; when he fed the
5,000 or raised Lazarus from the dead. But
no – despite the thrill factor and the
ensuing publicity, God the Father has
absolutely nothing to say on those
occasions. In fact throughout the whole of
Jesus’ life we can’t get a peep out of
heaven except at two low key events - his
Baptism and his Transfiguration. And at
both we get the same message – ‘This is my
son, the beloved, with whom I am well
pleased.’ The Transfiguration is worth a
whole sermon in itself – so I’ll leave that
for another time – but my image for Jesus in
the Jordan River is of a white sea bird who
has been caught in an oil slick and washed
up on the shore, crude oil caked into its
feathers and preventing it from moving let
alone flying. That’s how I imagine Jesus
in the Jordan - up to his neck in the filth
and grot of sin, taking upon himself all the
degradation and scum of the world – to which
he himself has contributed nothing. And its
precisely there when Jesus identifies
himself with all that goes horribly wrong in
the world rather than on those occasions
when he impresses the crowds with displays
of holy power that the silence of heaven is
broken and the Father speaks up – ‘That’s my
boy! That’s my beloved – My favour rests on
him’.
I said earlier that the
Baptism of Jesus is God’s equivalent of the
first day of office for a president or a
prime minister. In 1997 when Tony Blair
took up his role as Prime Minister, he set
out his priorities for office in 3 words
"Education, education, education." As far
as he was concerned classrooms would be at
the top of the political agenda. And by
making himself clear from the outset people
would know what to expect from him. Well if
his Baptism marks the beginnings of Jesus’s
public office, what would you say was his
manifesto? How would you characterize his
campaign? Think about it. Teaching?
Healing? Building bridges? Confronting?
Comforting? Reconciling?
I am sure all of those things
have a place, but if we look at today’s
reading from Isaiah, the passage picked up
by the Gospel – The chosen one – The one
ELECTED by God and in whom God delights has
his own mantra, not so very different from
Tony’s except this time its JUSTICE,
JUSTICE, JUSTICE. I must confess I had
never noticed that before but that’s what it
says in the text: ‘I have put my spirit
upon him and he will bring forth justice’ …
two lines later ‘he will faithfully bring
forth justice’ … and again ‘He will not tire
until he has established justice in the
earth.’ It couldn’t be clearer – the life
and work of Jesus can be summed up on his
first day in office in one word – JUSTICE –
and therefore the life and work of those who
call themselves ‘Christians’ – you and me –
must surely bear the same trademark
otherwise we are following some other God of
our own making.
To be honest, I would much
prefer the life and work of Jesus to be
summed up in something a wee bit easier like
compassion. Justice is just that bit more
uncomfortable and more stretching. Let’s
face it, it’s a lot easier to show
compassion to someone on the street who is
hungry by buying them a sandwich than to get
involved in the campaign that demands
accessible housing for all. It’s a lot
easier to send a donation to an overseas
medical charity than to challenge the
availability of appropriate medical care
across the globe. And it’s easier to show
compassion to an inpatient from the Royal
Edinburgh Hospital in Morningside Road than
to challenge your neighbours to petition for
the new Psychiatric Hospital to be built
right here on our doorstep rather than in
Little France. Oh yes, compassion,
compassion, compassion would suit me a lot
better than Justice, justice, justice.
One of the temptations when
talking about justice is to think of it as
something that other folk are involved with
– politicians, leaders, people who have
clout. Martin Luther King knew the
temptation and famously remarked: ‘Our lives
begin to end, the day we become silent about
things that matter’. ‘Our lives begin to
end, the day we become silent about things
that matter’. The truth is that whatever
our circumstances, we are ALL more able to
act for justice than we think. Any one who
is an employee has the option of being in it
only for themselves or of keeping an eye
open for the common good and for the
underdog. Anyone who is on a committee of
any kind – and this is true for church
groups too – can be attentive to the voices
that are never heard, the views that are
regularly dismissed, the people who are
sidelined. Anyone who shops is immediately
confronted with issues of justice simply in
the choice of things they buy – fairly
traded goods are dearer to us the purchaser
but can we afford not to
recognize the human worth of the labourer.
Justice – Justice – Justice.
I wish I could offer you something more
palatable but if I did I would be
short-changing you and diluting the message
of Jesus. Instead I will simply end with the
challenge that before we meet again here
next week – each one of us might seriously
consider our own personal circumstances and
settle on one thing we can do which
contributes to just living – in the work
place, in our family lives, in our shopping
or in our church – and then having decided
stick with that throughout the coming year
as a small expression that we are card
carrying members of the Jesus for Justice
party. And I guarantee you that if we do,
whether we actually hear it or not, heaven
will open once again, the spirit of God will
descend upon us, and the Father’s voice will
say once more: You are my son, you are my
daughter, my beloved, with whom I am well
pleased’.
Amen. |
