Nancy E. Petty

Pullen Memorial Baptist Church

January 13, 2008 – First Sunday after Epiphany

Text: Matthew 3:13-17

The Lost Language of Our Faith

            A fundamental question before church-going people like us is whether we choose to worship Jesus or to follow Jesus. A decision to worship Jesus promises a kind of peace characterized as perfect that is usually passive, religious and spiritual, serene and holy. A decision to follow Jesus promises a different kind of peace often marked by controversy and conflict; by an unwavering faithful obedience and a demanding commitment to justice. Following Jesus means going through dark valleys and sitting down with enemies, dangerous and daring, political rather than pious. Many of the gospel stories invite us to ponder this question of whether we will choose to simply worship Jesus or make the difficult decision to follow him, but possibly none do so more poignantly than the story of Jesus’ baptism that we have heard read this morning.

In the weeks past, we have engaged in the story of Mary and Joseph and imagined what it would be like to be in their shoes. We have imagined standing by the manger with oxen and cattle, gazing into the cradle where the newborn king lay silently sleeping. And for those of you who are highly imaginative, maybe you dreamed of what it would be like to follow the star with the magi all the while pondering what gifts you would have taken to offer the Christ-child. But now the liturgical calendar quickly moves us from the baby and the events of his birth, to the man Jesus and how he understood who he was and God’s purpose for his life. It is an interesting and somewhat jolting transition. One Sunday we are with the magi at the manger offering our gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh and the next Sunday we are standing on the banks of the Jordan as John prepares to baptize Jesus. We are taken from events that we can only imagine—after all, none of us will ever experience a virgin birth or mount camels and go to the Far East and see a babe lying in the manger—to an event that each of us has the opportunity to experience: our baptism. While the story of Jesus’ birth is essential to our faith, it is Jesus’ baptism, not his birth, which provides the framework for shaping our response to the fundamental question of whether we will choose to worship Jesus or follow him. His birth gives us opportunity to worship him; his baptism invites us to follow him.

Matthew has the baptism of Jesus as a dialogue between Jesus and John the Baptist. John, who has been the forerunner of Jesus, realizes that the main act is about to begin, that Jesus, long awaited and long foretold, is now finally here. John is not famous as a modest or retiring fellow who wants to give way to just anyone who comes to town. But when Jesus appears at the Jordan, John yields because he has no choice. He realizes that now he is in the presence of the one to whom he must yield. John begins with a protest saying that he is not worthy to baptize Jesus. But the writer of the gospel of Matthew makes the point that it is not a question of merit but of the fulfillment of God’s will. John consents and baptizes Jesus—not as an act of repentance as John had been preaching and teaching, for he was without sin, but as an act of obedience to establish and give witness to a relationship that shows that he (Jesus) belongs to God and is called to do God’s work in the world. Most theologians would agree that at the heart of Jesus’ baptism was not a spiritual awakening or an acknowledgement of his sinful ways but was instead a profound act of obedience to follow God’s will and purpose for his life.

Two things strike me about Matthew’s telling of Jesus’ baptism. First, is the conversation between John and Jesus. As Jesus approaches John to be baptized, John feels unworthy to baptize Jesus and he responds to Jesus out of this feeling. He says, in essence, “Who am I to baptize you—you should be baptizing me.” His response raises for us the question of how often do we miss opportunities to minister to one another and others because, for whatever reason, we feel unworthy. We get caught in the thinking that we’re not good enough, or smart enough, or worthy enough, or important enough or in the right role to do that which God is calling us to do. When this happens we run the risk of missing those moments when our gifts and our presence is exactly what God needs to do God’s work in the world. John’s role in Jesus’ life and ministry was crucial. Just as Jesus was called to a certain task, so was John and his moment was now. To turn from that moment because of feelings of unworthiness would have been a missed opportunity in his own life. John’s response to Jesus and Jesus’ response to John is a profound reminder that we need each other—that while we all have different gifts, we are in God’s world all equal and we are dependent upon one another to carry out God’s calling in our lives and in the world. If we choose to simply worship Jesus, we may stay stuck in our unworthiness. However, if we choose to follow Jesus, we dare to face the risks of responding to the needs of others even when we feel unworthy of the task before us.

I alluded earlier to the second thing that strikes me about Jesus’ baptism story: that it is not a story about a great spiritual awakening couched in feel good words, at least as Matthew tells it. From Matthew we don’t get any sense that for Jesus this was a highly emotional experience. We don’t hear anything about what Jesus was feeling. We can imagine that as he came out of the water and heard those words, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased,” that there was a feeling of blessing and affirmation. But as I said earlier, Jesus’ baptism was a profound act of obedience—obedience to God’s calling and the work of righteousness or justice to which he had been called. My point is not to make light of or discount the emotionality or spiritual enlightenment that can accompany one’s baptism—I would characterize my own baptism as such. However, baptism is about more than a “moment in time” spiritual connection or feeling. It is, as we learn from Jesus, an act of obedience as we seek to fulfill God’s desire for righteousness in our lives and in the world.

If such theological talk seems foreign or old school to you or unlike Pullen, don’t feel alone. It does to me as well. If you cringed when we sang earlier, Trust and Obey you were probably not alone. While I love that hymn, I, too, tend to shy away from words like obedience and righteousness and surrender and phrases like “to fulfill God’s purpose and will.” These words are like fossils dug up from a land before time to which I have little connection. Laced with blame and threat and guilt some of us swore off these words when we left the churches of our past. We may not know exactly what they mean, but we know that they judge us. And the most obvious solution to the discomfort they provoke is to stop saying them altogether, which is what many of us have done. With good reason, many of us who call ourselves open-minded, progressive, forward thinking, and even liberal people of faith have lost the language of our faith.

In response, some theologians and faith leaders, and even politicians have encouraged us to return to our roots and reclaim the ancient language of our faith. Others have noted that the old words simply do not work anymore—especially among the young (our balcony dwellers sitting to my right)—and that fresh revelations from God deserve fresh language. On whichever side of this argument you may fall it is important to note that just because we may not say the words of our faith, it doesn’t make the questions of our faith—like that of our obedience to God—go away. If that were the case, we would all be sinless for God’s knows we don’t talk much about that either. I sometimes wonder if there is a third option. I wonder what it would be like to reclaim these ancient words and restore them to their original meaning and context and unapologetically disavow the distorted meanings that the church through the centuries have ascribed to them.

American poet, theorist and feminist, Adrienne Rich writes; “I believe that words can help us move or keep us paralyzed, and that our choices of language and verbal tone have something—a great deal—to do with how we live our lives and whom we end up speaking with and hearing; and that we can deflect words by trivialization, of course, but also by ritualized respect, or we can let them enter our souls and mix with the juices of our minds.” As you contemplate the story of Jesus’ baptism as a profound act of his obedience to fulfilling God’s justice in his life and in the world and as you ponder the question of whether you will choose to worship Jesus or follow him, I encourage you to let this lost word of our faith “obedience” enter your soul and mix with the juices of your mind. Because, abandoning the language of our faith does not make the questions of our faith go away. Are you choosing to worship Jesus or follow him? None of us will ever experience a virgin birth or mount camels and go to the Far East and see a babe lying in the manger but we do share in the baptism of Jesus and by that we, too, are called God’s beloved.