Isaiah 42.1-9; Matthew 3.13-17
Jesus’ baptism is the first act of his public ministry. The birth of Jesus, the visitation of angels, and the preaching of John the Baptist all fade into the background as Jesus takes center stage and comes to be baptized by John. All four gospels recount this event. Yet only Matthew, today’s gospel, gives an answer to the question of why Jesus comes for baptism. “It is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”
These are Jesus’ first recorded words in the Gospel of Matthew so Matthew must see them as significant. Yet they need exploration on our part. The word righteousness especially needs attention. We so easily hear that word negatively, as in as self-righteous: pride, arrogance, a lack of humility; fixating on the faults of others while excusing or minimizing one’s own; using moral precepts as a weapon against others rather than the source of internal self-examination. The scriptures, however, show us a different way to think of ‘righteousness.’
Early in Matthew’s gospel, before Jesus’ birth when Joseph was trying to make sense of Mary’s surprising pregnancy, Matthew calls Joseph “a righteous man.” Now we know that Joseph wasn’t condescending toward Mary or judgmental. Rather he embodies what the scriptures mean by righteousness. Righteousness, in the biblical sense, has two dimensions: a vertical dimension of being open and faithful to the will of God; and a horizontal dimension of being aware of, and sensitive to, the needs of others. It is not about moral flawlessness but a life that seeks in every way possible to perceive the will of God in any given moment and to do the works that God has given us to do.
Jesus’ first act of his public ministry, coming to John for baptism “to fulfill all righteousness,” is his willing and open acceptance of his messianic vocation. And though he doesn’t need repentance, he deliberately identifies with sinners who do. And the three signs that accompany Jesus’ baptism as he comes up out of the waters—the opened heavens, the descending Spirit, and the declaration of delight—are like three streams of water that have their confluence in him. They tell us, audibly and visually, about Jesus’ openness to the will of God the Father and his self-giving service to us and to the world.
The first stream is the ‘opened heavens’ stream. This has its source in the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah, in the 64th chapter, looks to a day when God will act definitively to set right a world gone off the rails. “If only you would tear open the heavens and come down…to make your name known to your enemies, so that nations would tremble at your presence.” The world is in need and God needs to act.
These words are timely, then and now. Who hasn’t, with Isaiah and at one time or another, longed for a clear demonstration that God is God for us and that God will act on behalf of people who are hurting? ‘If you created me, show me that you care for me. If you are a God who is forgiving, restore me to your grace and love. Where, in this present darkness, is your promised light?’ “If only you would tear open the heavens and come down…to make your name known.” Today, the heavens opened at Jesus’ baptism reveal him as the presence of God coming into the world.
The second stream is the ‘descending Spirit stream.’ Again, the source is Isaiah, today’s first reading. “Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice. At Jesus’ baptism, that very Spirit of God descends upon him like a dove.” Like a dove. From the start of Jesus’ public ministry, the Spirit descending like a dove discloses what God is like. For Noah in Genesis, the dove was the harbinger of peace; in the Song of Solomon, an image of beauty; and all through the Old Testament, an offering for sacrifice. Beauty, peace, and sacrifice are the heart of Jesus’ life for us—his wisdom, his deeds, his cross.
Of the Spirit’s presence as a dove, Dale Bruner says that grasping this “should have world-historical significance.” The Spirit does not come like an eagle, lion, or tiger but a dove; not power or fear, but beauty and peace. Bruner says, “When the church grasps even a portion of the gospel’s dovelike message—theologically (the humility of God, grace) and ethically (gentleness, nonviolence)—the church will be in a stronger position than she now is under a frequently nationalist and so inevitably militaristic spirit.”
I don’t know what Bruner had in mind when he wrote those words twenty years ago; but like Isaiah’s longing for God to tear open the heavens and come down, these words are also timely. If you want to see God at work in the world and in our communities, Isaiah shows you where to look. “A bruised reed he will not break, a dimply burning wick he will not quench.” God refuses to discard what is weak; God’s righteousness does not crush the vulnerable for the sake of efficiency or purity; in God, the fearful are held secure, and fragile hope is tended until it is again radiant. “The Spirit descended upon Jesus in bodily form like a dove.”
The third biblical stream flowing to Jesus in his baptism—joining the ‘opened heavens and ‘Spirit as dove’ streams—is the ‘Son of God’ stream. Of Jesus at his baptism, the voice from heaven says, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” That declaration of divine sonship is first heard in one of the psalms, Psalm 2. There, a king is enthroned on Mount Zion. This enthronement takes place at a time of great national distress and intense personal conflict. “Why are the nations in an uproar?” asks the psalm. “Why do people mutter empty threats?”
Whatever prompted the psalm to be written then, its words—like Isaiah’s—remain timely now. Why are the nations in an uproar? Why do people mutter empty threats? From wars to politics to personal interactions, why is there so much anger? Yet for God? God’s response to human bluster is not to match it with heavenly bluster but to establish a different way altogether. God holds the plotting of nations in derision, says Psalm 2—laughs. As for us? There may be more tears than laughter over the world and its rage and anger. But keep Psalm 2 in your heart and near the places you get your news; it won’t take away the tumult or weeping, but it puts distressing and uncertain times in perspective. ‘Be warned kings and rulers,’ says the psalm. Uproar among nations, and leaders set against God, will ultimately fail. The kingdom that will prevail is the Kingdom of God described by St Paul as justice, peace, and joy in the Spirit. “I myself have set my king upon my holy hill of Zion…You are my Son.”
Jesus, at his baptism, is himself the confluence of the ‘opened heavens’ stream, the ‘Spirit as dove’ stream, and the ‘Son of God’ stream. He is the perfect embodiment of the vertical dimension of righteousness—openness to the will of God the Father. And he is the perfect embodiment of the horizontal dimension—serving others with the steadfast love of God that never gives up on anyone. In the waters of his baptism, the perfect and sinless Son of God shares the life of a broken and sinful world, comes to everyone who needs the life that only he can give. He is the source of our hope and strength—not because everything is solved in the world or our lives—but because, in Jesus Christ, God is faithful.
Today, the church throughout the world commemorates the baptism of Jesus. And we will shortly be renewed in the promises of our baptism. The sacrament of Holy Baptism is, through Jesus’ baptism, the real presence of God’s grace and faithfulness in your life, not merely a symbolic washing but the Spirit that descended on Jesus given to you to raise you up into a life filled with Jesus’ way of righteousness. Baptismal grace is the means for baptismal living: openness to the will of God in your life and simple faithfulness that seeks the good that you might do in any given moment.
As we are renewed in this gift and call of baptism, the questions asked aren’t particularly fancy, but they are particularly important. Will you continue to have your life shaped by scripture and worship? Will you resist evil and when you fail (as you will), turn and return to God? Will you express the love of God in word and deed and respect the dignity of every human being? Maybe this above all—seeking the well-being of those around you and respecting their dignity (not least the dignity of people you disagree with or might not find respectable or loveable)— is the most timely and greatest gift Christians can offer a world of uproar and threat. Not that it makes it easy, as anyone who has ever tried to follow Jesus’ command to love their enemies knows. It’s not easy. But it is essential. It is essential because it is our calling as people baptized in Christ as the confluence of streams in Jesus’ life now flow through us.
The prophet Isaiah today describes both God’s work in our lives and our responding faith. “I am the Lord; I have called you in righteousness. I have taken you by the hand and kept you.” God’s call is the vertical dimension of grace. Then comes the horizontal dimension of daily faithfulness. “I have given you as a light to the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from the dungeon.” To be baptized is to be drawn into a life that is open to the will and desires of God and, in response, seeks the well-being of others, especially the weak, sinful, or marginalized—the bruised reeds and dimly burning wicks among us.
Here is our purpose as a congregation and our calling as individual followers of Jesus. When Jesus comes up out of the waters of baptism, he lifts us up with him into the life he gives—the opened heaven stream, the Spirit-filled and dove-powered stream, and you as God’s beloved child. You. In Holy Baptism, you are drawn up into the life of God the Father’s well-beloved Son with Holy Spirit indwelling you—peace, beauty, and sacrifice for the good of others and for the glory of God.
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