Epiphany 1, Year A
Matthew 3:13-17
In my last church, I worked closely
with the youth group. I took them on
mission trips, retreats, lock-ins. For
some reason, no matter how positive or meaningful the experience was, I would
walk away feeling a little disappointed.
We usually had a Eucharist at some point in the week and I would hope
that there would be some change. All of
a sudden things would fall into place for the youth. They would break into tears and hug one
another while we all praised God. I just
wanted a few tears, some acknowledgment that this was meaningful, maybe
transformational. Not once. Finally in a moment of desperation, I asked
them, when were we going to have the moment…the moment? They looked at me. They
looked at each other. They rolled their eyes and we moved on. I never got that moment, at least not the
moment I expected and wanted.
There were a lot of expectations
about what the Messiah was supposed to be.
Some thought that he would be a king, like King David. Some expected a military leader who would
lead an army and overthrow the Romans.
Some expected a god with supernatural powers who would require that
everyone submit to him. There were a lot
of hopes and dreams about who the Messiah would be. But what we can safely say is that no one
expected a carpenter. No one expected
Jesus.
We don’t know that much about John
the Baptist. Given the relationship of his mother and the mother of Jesus, we
know they were related in some way, but it’s possible they had never met before
(at least not outside of the womb). It
would seem from the text that John knew that Jesus was the messiah, but he was
also surprised by the encounter. John
the Baptist prophesized about the Messiah, but talked about someone different
than the Jesus we encounter in our Gospel. Just a few verses before the ones we
heard today in the Gospel, John said, “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His
winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will
gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable
fire.” It makes Jesus
sound fairly intimidating, almost otherworldly.
The very next verse, Jesus showed
up right in front of John. There was no
fire. There was no winnowing fork. There Jesus was, looking just like any other
man. The weirdest part, the most
unbelievable part was that he was asking John to baptize him. I wonder if John
was disappointed in this moment. I
wonder if he looked at Jesus and thought, is this the Messiah that I have spent
my life preparing for?
Obviously, we cannot know the mind
of John. It did appear that he was
confused as he protested baptizing Jesus.
He felt that it was Jesus who was supposed to be baptizing him. He even argued a little. But to his credit,
he relented and baptized Jesus as that was what Jesus asked him to do. If I were John, I would have expected
something dramatic to happen. If this is
the Son of God, surely this cannot look like every other baptism. The text says
that the heavens opened, a voice came from above and a dove descended. That sounds impressive to us. However, it could have simply been the clouds
parting, a bird flying over and a voice that only Jesus and John heard. It was probably something fairly subtle
because there does not seem to be any major reaction. In fact, as soon as this
was over, Jesus simply walked into the desert by himself. It was obviously an important moment for
Jesus and John the Baptist as Jesus was identified as the beloved Son of God,
but I am not sure it had the fanfare that we imagine, that people wanted for
the Son of God. I imagine Jesus walked away and John stood there, pondering
what it all meant. We know that later John
sent his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to
wait for another?” Apparently even John
needed Jesus to assure him, to remind him.
We all need that assurance of the holy and divine. It’s one of the reasons we come to
church.
It’s hard to believe, to have faith. If John the Baptist had a hard time 2000
years ago, how much harder is it for us now?
We want what Jesus had, a voice from heaven, a parting of the heavens. We want what Mary and Joseph had, an angel
descending and explaining things. We
want a star to shine so brightly that we can follow it to the place where our
faith will be sealed. We want miracles and signs. We want certainty and
assurances. When I worked with those
youth, I had an image of what faith was supposed to look like. The more I
focused on it, the more disappointed I was.
It’s normal to want a miracle, a
sign, drama, or in my case, tears. Instead
of looking for miracles and drama, we might just need to change our
expectations. I’m not saying you can’t
keep praying for miracles and searching for signs—you should if that is what
you need. But you also need to look for
the extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary.
At Jesus’ baptism, maybe some people saw the clouds parting while a few
saw the heavens opening. Maybe some
heard the wind whistling through the trees, while others heard the voice of
God.
I never had that spectacular earth
changing moment that I wanted with the youth.
I can’t be sure that they felt anything at all. But when I left, they made me a collage, of
words they associates with me. Obviously
there was chocolate, and shoes, but the words that came up over and over again
wasn’t miracle, or transformation, of even faith, it was “my priest.” I was
their priest even when I was begging them to just shed a few tears, even when I
was crying because I was disappointed it how it all came out, I was still their
priest. They could see what I could never see because
of my absurd expectations.
Epiphany is supposed to be about
revelation and insight. But sometimes
revelation and insight comes with changing our expectations, or maybe releasing
whatever expectations we have. No matter
how amazing they are, they fall short of the glory of God. They even fall short
of the glory God sees in us. Each of us
ordinary human are glorious in God’s eyes.
We just can’t see it.
I think what made Jesus’ baptism
special, what made it holy was that it was extraordinary not because of the
majesty or the drama, but that the ordinary and the extraordinary were all
wrapped up together. Jesus showed that he didn’t need fire and a winnowing fork
to be glorious. He didn’t need people
falling on their faces in front of him to prove who he was. He just needed an
ordinary river, with an ordinary prophet and an extraordinary God who was there
no matter who could or could not see that God.
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