Unfolding Joy: The Joy of Being Named

Mark 1:4-11

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Years ago, longtime member Anastasia Pydych offered to host Bethlehem staff for a tour at the Minnesota Institute of Arts. She’d recently received docent training and was excited to share her passion for art with an invitation for us to learn with her. It wasn’t my first visit to the MIA or the last — but it’s one of my most memorable ones. Anastasia invited us to get close to the art, to slow down, to be intentional about processing what we were seeing. She led the tour with prompts for each piece that required focus on a particular detail — notice how Rembrandt uses light and shadow here; pay attention to the brush strokes of Monet in this piece. It opened up a whole new way of seeing.

Kind of like the exercise Pastor Heather just shared with us. She held up an image and asked us to see something in particular… and we did — which changed how we engaged with what we saw. We saw what we were looking for. I found my name… but I didn’t see Pastor Kris’ or yours. Your names were there to be sure but I didn’t see them. Her lesson affirms a truth that can be easy to forget: there’s more going on than what meets the eye.

I’ll admit to you I was a little disappointed when I saw the schedule for today’s preacher. This is the third time we’ve had the story about Jesus being baptized in the last six weeks, and I preached one of those sermons. I’d prefer mixing things up more, but maybe this is the church, acting as docent, inviting us to get close, slow down with scripture, to be intentional about engaging with different details of the story. 

Back in early December, Pastor Ben called our attention to John the Baptist in this story and the call to repentance. Ben invited us to focus on “John’s demand that we confess our sins, tell the truth. That we look at ourselves, that we see the world we’re a part of and acknowledge this is of our own making.” We’re all in the habit of playing the blame game. And that familiar temptation rose for me while watching the violence at the capitol this past week. To see such disregard, destruction and brutality rocked me to my core. I was shocked but not surprised. We’ve been on a path for quite some time that leads us to where we are.

Faith compels me to pause, pray and ask for God’s help. To fix the mess starts with me. It’s where we started today, with confession — naming our sin — individual and corporate, and praying for God to meet us with mercy and move us toward reconciliation and peace. 

The story of Jesus’ baptism was told again, for the second time, in worship the week after Ben’s sermon. I directed your attention to John’s role as a witness to Jesus and God’s call to those of us who follow Jesus to be a witness too — to look for healing, love, forgiveness, comfort and restoration, and to name it for what it is: Jesus’ presence in the world drawing all people into the way of God. 

And here we are for the third time. On this, the baptism of our Lord Sunday, we focus on Jesus’ baptism. Mark is the only one of the gospel writers who starts the story with a deep dive into the waters of baptism. Matthew and Luke start with nativity stories and John’s gospel begins with the Word that pre-existed creation but in today’s gospel, Jesus is wet with river water and named beloved right at the start. Mark tells the story with urgency. The battle between good and evil is real. And God is doing something new — showing up in flesh and blood to establish his reign on earth.

Jesus’ baptism takes place on the banks of the Jordan — a place that holds significance for Israel. It’s where leadership changed hands from Moses to Joshua and Elijah to Elisha. This was a place of transition. Mark is setting the stage for something new to begin.^[1] John calls the people to a baptism of repentance, to who they are, God’s beloved, blessed to be a blessing, a light to the nations, a witness to the wonder and power of God. Jesus will make this possible; he has come “to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

This is not a settle-in-and-get-comfy kind of story. We mark baptism with a few drops of water and the sign of the cross. We recognize the descending dove as a sign of promise and peace: God is with us and hope lives. 

But what if baptism was more like an amusement ride with a sudden freefall down a flume into water so intense your stomach flips and your heart skips a beat? And what if the dove’s descent wasn’t gentle at all but more like the Spirit dive-bombing the scene? Let’s not forget this is the same Spirit who drove Jesus out into the wilderness for 40 days. I’ve often wondered when an infant cries during baptism, is it just a sign that the kid already gets what’s going on? Baptism is a radical act and faith is what God gives you to buckle up for the ride. Baptism is not a safety net; it is the joy of being named “beloved child of God”, keeping you forever connected to the dying and the rising of Christ.

Jesus comes up out of the water to see the heavens torn apart. The word in Greek is schizo and the only time Mark uses it again is when Jesus hangs on the cross and the temple curtain is torn in two. What is torn apart is forever changed. There’s no going back to the way things were before.

That’s where we find ourselves again. In the tearing. Ripped apart. Heart heavy. Gut wrenched. Hot tears… Worried. Anxious. Angry. Grieving. Hoping to survive a global pandemic. Learning our part in systems that have oppressed others for hundreds of years. Seeing the disparity of how brown and black neighbors are treated, we wrestle with ways to challenge the status quo, move forward with courage, and act for good change. 

Already torn, we watched with horror the desecration of our nation’s capitol — confederate flags waving beside the name of Jesus in big letters on banners. There was nothing Christian about what happened. But symbols and words matter. And watching people behave in such an egregious way widens a gap that already exists. We are divided people.  

But we are not alone. This is where God shows up. On the banks of the River Jordan, a voice from heaven spoke: “You are my Son; my Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Jesus keeps us forever connected to God. We can never be closed off from heaven again. “Here is the world,” writes Frederick Buechner, “Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid. I am with you.” 

I invite you to participate in a closing litany that names the paradox of our tearing and mending; that we live in a world where beautiful and terrible things happen, a world in which Christ is with us, all are beloved, and God is at work making all things new. 

I will close each verse with, “We are still tearing. We are still mending.” This is your cue to then say: “God has spoken. Christ is with us.”

God of light and darkness, through water and Word You shine your light into the shadow places of our lives. We are still tearing. We are still mending.
God has spoken. Christ is with us. 

God of love and hate, your love comes in spite of our animosity; you bring reconciliation to those who are divided. Strengthen us to be your peacemakers. We are still tearing. We are still mending.
God has spoken. Christ is with us. 

God of hope and fear, you walk with us through the challenges which surround us. Wash away our anxiety by your promised presence. Set us free from despair. We are still tearing. We are still mending.
God has spoken. Christ is with us. 

God of church and world, in baptism you unify yourself with our world, and bring your reign into being. Help us to see you in our midst. Motivate us to infuse the world with your justice. We are still tearing. We are still mending.
God has spoken. Christ is with us. 

God of life and death, all that exists is from you, and for you. Help us to trust your baptismal promise, to hear your voice above the noise, to speak with grace that reveals your love, to act with courage and compassion where this world is sick and broken to see one another as your Beloved. We are still tearing. We are still mending.
God has spoken. Christ is with us

Please dip your finger in the bowl of water and trace the sign of the cross on your forehead. Remember your baptism. Hear God’s promise to you: “You are a beloved child of God. With you I am well pleased.”

Let us pray: O God, come to us in the torn place where tragedy has broken us and we can’t put everything back together again. Come to us in our hectic pace where we’re far too busy to pray or to listen for a whisper. Come to us, feeling foolish about even believing in you for your voice is not as loud as we would like. Come to us in the torn place, oh God, that we might hear you say, “You are my Beloved Child.” Amen. ^[2]

1 – Roberts, Alistar. “The Politics of the Individual.” Political Theology. 2015.

2 – The closing prayer adapted from one written by Rev Barbara K. Lundblad.