JOHN THE BAPTIZER
Text: Mark 1: 1-8
1 The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. 2 As it is written in Isaiah the prophet,"Behold, I send my messenger before your face, who will prepare your way, 3 the voice of one crying in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,'"
4 John appeared, baptizing in the wilderness and proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5 And all the country of Judea and all Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 6 Now John was clothed with camel's hair and wore a leather belt around his waist and ate locusts and wild honey. 7 And he preached, saying, "After me comes he who is mightier than I, the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. 8 I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.Ӡ
the artful & poetic mark
The gospel of Mark is the first of the four gospels to be written. He loves to use words like “immediately” to quickly link action to action, and because of this modern scholars have called it “simplified,” “minimal,” and even “rushed.” To this I say Balderdash! Hogwash! Codswollop! and any other old-timey adjectives to counter these modern whippersnappers.No. The gospel of Mark is painstakingly artful. Mark is a poet and a trickster who isn’t satisfied to simply get the words on paper—he wants to surprise and delight us, because that’s what he sees that God has done for us in Jesus. Buckle up, brothers and sisters, because we are going to walk through the gospel of Mark together—not at a break-neck pace, as we did in 2012 when we read through the Bible in a year—but passage by passage, surprise by surprise.
the clothesline of irony
Mark is all about irony. Irony is that strange—even humorous—clash between intention and effect. A man anxiously searching for his sunglasses as they sit atop of his head, the firehouse that catches on fire, a tow truck that needs to be towed—these are images of things being backwards or just what feels to be off.
Mark’s gospel gives us a picture of a world where everyone is upside-down thinking they’re right-side up. When one comes walking into their midst who is right-side up, they think he is upside-down.
In Mark, Jesus turns the world on its head and offers us a right-side up kingdom—difficult for an upside-down world to see. Irony is his constant vehicle. It is like a clothesline upon which he drapes his narrative—each passage hangs on an ironic thought. The backwardness, the upside-down-ness, are like stones in an arch, the very force that would pull them to the ground is what holds them all together. In Mark it is always what is appropriate, normal or what should be that is counter-forced by what Jesus actually says and does.What should be never is, and what is is always outside of normal expectations.
The people of God, from the Crowds to the Zealots to the Temple leaders, were waiting, dreaming, praying for a Messiah—someone who would redeem them from sin and from Roman rule—but when he showed up, no one saw him for who he was. I can compare this to something from my baseball days.
I didn’t even swing
My athletic career peaked at twelve. I was a really good little baseball player in the Riverside little league. I played catcher, and I was fanatical—obsessive—about being a catcher. One thing about playing catcher is that you develop a better-than-average “eye” for the ball. After all, you spend most of your time practicing with pitchers, catching pitch after pitch after pitch. I had a sharp eye. A lot of batters were afraid of the ball, but we catchers tend to be immune from that fear. You watch each pitch come in and think, “I would have hit that,” or “That one wasn’t even close—why’d you swing?”
As a batter, I was crazy about a certain kind of pitch: flat, chest-high, and over the far side of the plate, right where I could swing hardest and connect near the end of the bat. I used to dream about getting a pitch there because I knew that would be my home run zone. I hadn’t hit a home run, but I wanted one so badly I could taste it. If only I could get my pitch, in a game, right in that zone, I knew it would be my day.
I looked for that pitch every time I stepped up to bat. I wanted nothing in the world so much as I wanted my over-the-fence home run.
Bottom of the sixth inning, we’re down by two and there are two men on base. I’m up and the tension and excitement of the last inning is in the air. I have about four, sour apple gum-balls in my mouth and through it all I can still smell the sunbaked dirt of the diamond and the leather of the catcher’s glove. The pitcher was not strong. I over-eagerly hit two long, foul balls left of the third base line off his first two pitches and then I watched him throw two bad pitches. I was ready, and then. came. my. pitch. I seemed to know it as soon as it left his hand. It was right there: flat, chest-high, and over the far side of the plate—my moment had come.
The next sound should have been a mighty crack, and the cheer of the parents in the bleachers, but instead, it was the sad, dull thump of the ball in the catcher’s mitt. I didn’t even swing; it was a called third strike. The next thing I heard was one of my buddies: “Idiot! You didn’t even swing!”
What happened? To this day I don’t know—I have no explanations—but I want you to understand that this is like Mark’s gospel! The people of God had been waiting, dreaming and praying for a Messiah who would give them their shot—and he came, just as the prophets said he would—but the people completely missed him. They didn’t even swing.
Be prepared, as we work through Mark, to see the irony on every page: it is Mark’s trademark, and it sets Mark apart for his extreme artfulness in sharing the good news of Jesus.
sentence one says it all
We’re going to look again at today’s text, and together let’s listen for God’s Word to us and let’s each be prepared to see ourselves mirrored somewhere in the text.
Sentence one says it all:
1 The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ,
the Son of God.
Mark doesn’t waste words. This is the author’s title sentence, but look how much is in it. This isn’t “the story of Jesus” but is the beginning of the gospel of Jesus. Journalists cover old news, but this is the beginning of the good news yet to come—just the beginning. And no sooner is the title spoken than Mark reveals his central proclamation: that Jesus is “the Christ (Messiah)” and “the Son of God.” Either statement could have led to a death sentence before the leaders of Jewish Temple Establishment. To us it sounds ordinary, but to the original hearers, it was a hard lead—a gut-punch—and it would have either endeared or offended hearers. With his first words, Mark draws a line in the sand and gives us Jesus who, like a sword, will divide a man from his father and a daughter from her mother (Matthew 10:34)—good news, yes, but also a hard word that demands a verdict of its hearer.
2 As it is written in Isaiah the prophet,"Behold, I send my messenger before your face, who will prepare your way, 3 the voice of one crying in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,'"
There are many verses in the Old Testament within the prophets—here, Isaiah and Micah—indicating that the Messiah would come and that Elijah—not literally Elijah but one sent by God in the same spirit—would “return” to prepare the Messiah’s way.
4 John appeared, baptizing in the wilderness and proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5 And all the country of Judea and all Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.
Baptism existed in Judaism before Christianity. The baptismal pools, called mikvahs, were basins of ritual washing a immersion in wide use before the time of Christ. Our pilgrimage saw dozens of these among hundreds that have been uncovered from antiquity. People traveling to Jerusalem from the outer areas were required to have a ritual bath and a change of clothing before they entered the Temple, which makes sense.
John was incredibly popular, for the text says all of Judea and Jerusalem were going out to him. Again, our pilgrimage visited the likely place. The wilderness is the area down from Jerusalem near Jericho and on either side of the Jordan River.
Can you see why the Temple establishment might have been threatened? The baptism movement of John was doing something for people’s hearts and souls.
Perhaps you’ve noticed how Christian this Jewish movement appears. The invitation was Come be baptized for the forgiveness of sins. John sounds very much like a Baptist after all.
6 Now John was clothed with camel's hair and wore a leather belt around his waist and ate locusts and wild honey. 7 And he preached, saying, "After me comes he who is mightier than I, the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. 8 I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
Camel hair is coarse, befitting repentance, and the leather belt meant he lived in the image of the servant, who, unlike others, went everywhere with their “loins girded”—which means they cinched up their clothing so they could do manual labor.
In the wilderness, food was scarce. Locusts may mean the insect, but it may also refer to the pods of the Palestinian sycamore tree (not like American sycamore trees but carob trees).
Either way, the image is of an odd, counter-cultural figure who forsakes the ways of the normal society to pursue his prophetic message: God’s forgiveness of sins through baptism.
As to the baptism of water vs. the baptism of the Holy Spirit that will come with Christ, there is room for a breadth of possible interpretation, but I see it this way: when John says that the baptism to come in Christ is the baptism of the Holy Spirit, it is far superior for the forgiveness of sins to his own baptism by water. Like the Catholic rite of confession, John’s baptism washed away the sins of the past week or month, but could not wash away sin with a capital S. The baptism of the Holy Spirit is Christ’s complete saving of us—the washing away of all sin—past, present and future. This does not mean that a baptism of the Holy Spirit does not include water, but rather that the effect would be total and utterly complete.
So we believe that in our baptism, more than just our temporary sins are washed away—rather our entire sinful state is washed away. In Christ, we are united to his holiness and are no longer under the power of sin. In baptism, united with Christ, we move into a new state of being—the state of grace.
WHAT IS GOD’S WORD TO US?
What is God saying to us through this text? By the Holy Spirit, what do you hear? What are you hearing? Perhaps we should look to see ourselves in “the Crowds.” Throughout Mark’s gospel, the Crowds are an important character unto themselves. Like the Chorus of the ancient Greek plays, the Crowds of Mark are a key player in many passages. What we hear from the Crowds today is something of their interest and/or devotion to John.
The Crowds were the normal folks just trying to find their way. Their lives were full of problems and pains, just like ours, and they were looking to God and God’s earthly representatives to help them make their way. They were sinners, like us, but wanting better. The text doesn’t say they weren’t loyal, or that they weren’t making their normal sacrifices or paying their Temple tithes, but they may have found the Temple spirituality a bit too dry, or too traditional, perhaps even boring—and the people felt they weren’t really being fed at some level, so they were going down to see John, whose ministry was a comfort as they were able to unburden themselves and refresh their faith in God.
The Zealots (from the word zeal) were the passionate radicals—the ones who wanted to overthrow not only Rome, but the Temple Establishment as well. They saw the hypocrisy and they despised it. They resented the power politics of the priests, scribes and Pharisees, who had sold out their true faith in a compromised deal with the Roman overlords. They wanted their power back and they were willing to fight for it. They had been put down long enough. Some were bitter, perhaps for having seen relatives killed by Roman Centurions or having lost land to tax collectors or even the Temple authorities. They were hardened and angry, and they were looking for a Messiah to do justice and set things right again.
The Temple Establishment were the priests, scribes, and Pharisees—think lawyers and politicians— whose careful negotiations with Rome enabled them to continue their traditional Jewish practices under Roman occupation. Rome expected them to keep their people in order, or else all deals would be off. They tended to the Temple, had their own police force and managed the wealth of Israel. They saw themselves as the managers of a careful balancing act, seeking to be faithful to God but to do so without upsetting Rome.
John was unlike them all.
the call: not to rebellion but repentance
In John, everyone saw a wild man with unsurpassed integrity. Unlike the Zealot radicals, he never told people to fight against the Temple or abandon it. He wasn’t inciting the people to rebellion but to repentance. He didn’t feed the popular dissatisfaction with the Temple, but called all to examine themselves, to recognize their own sins and to repent of them and be baptized—to get right with God.
John sought to make the people better Jews—more obedient (to God) and more trusting of God. The Zealots would have to repent of their anger, hatred, and rebellion. The ordinary folks would come and confess all the things that keep them apart from God. The Temple leaders probably went down to the Jordan only to take notes and watch for John to make mistakes so they could accuse him, just as they did later with Jesus.
the same struggles today
Are there mirrors here for us? We have our Crowd—normal folks just trying to find their way and walk with God. We have our Zealots—passionate discontents who seek justice, reform and personal vindication. We have our Temple leaders: the staff and the elders, carrying on the traditions of Presbyterianism, trying to manage our way amidst the pressures of a changing host culture.
I believe John, as the bearer of God’s Word, has a word for all of us today. His one, central interest was to feed the people’s hunger for Jesus, with no interest whatsoever in taking any credit for himself. He could not be co-opted into anyone’s campaigns. He calls the Zealots, the Crowds, and the Establishment alike to repentance.
John’s word is one: will you and I acknowledge our own sins, take personal responsibility for them, and repent and be made new again in Christ?
hardened or broken
We are all more alike than we are different. As we hear John’s call to repentance, we have one of two responses: we are either hardened or broken. It’s sin that hardens us; it’s repentance that breaks us. The Temple leaders were hardened—by their traditions and their need to preserve their own power—their hardness was self-righteousness. They couldn’t let go and admit their sins.
The Zealots too were hardened. Their rebellious zeal became an attitude of fierce criticism fed by anger and hatred, which is also a kind of self-righteousness.
The Crowds, apparently, were not hardened but broken, and went out to see John, repented and were baptized.
Our role, in all of this, is to do the same. My hope—my work—is to become more like John and less like the Temple Establishment leaders. It is my sole desire to feed your hunger for Jesus —to point to him and to deliver him to you through the Word and Sacrament.
Now whether you personally identify with the obedient Temple types, the fiery Zealots, or the Crowds just trying to find their way; let’s be agreed: we are all waiting, watching and wanting Christ, in whom alone we can find peace, unity, purity, healing, and our rightness with God.
We are all hungry for Jesus. This table—and this table alone—satisfies that hunger. Before you come to the table today, see this odd prophet John. See him standing waist-deep in the water, wearing his soaked camelhair shirt, looking at you with the inviting eyes of a healer. He asks:
Are you hardened or are you broken?
Come, brothers and sisters.
Let us be broken together.
Let us renounce all sin and self-righteousness.
Confess your sins and yours alone to God.
We are one in our brokenness, and one in the new state of Grace offered us in Jesus Christ.
Good news: we can be made right with God!
Let us be one in Christ and share his peace. †