The Baptism of the Lord
Until very recently there was no feast of the Baptism of the Lord; Epiphany was the end of Christmastide and commemorated three very disparate events: the visit of the Magi, the Baptism of the Lord and the Marriage at Cana. So far we haven’t been given a separate feast for the Marriage at Cana, but I live in hope.
It is a good thing that our attention is now properly focussed on the Baptism; only liturgical geeks like me knew that it was one of the vents celebrated on 6 January; most people never thought about it at all, although it is one of the most important events in Jesus’ life, and is the source of arguably the most important event in our lives, our own baptism. This event was not only important to Jesus as an experience, as confirmation – if he needed it, and I suspect that it was at least welcome, if not necessary – that he was who he believed himself to be, but it was an event which actually made a difference to his status, and certainly marked the official opening of his mission as Messiah. It would be wrong, in fact it would be heretical, to suggest that it had an ontological erect on his person: he did not begin to be the Servant of God at his baptism, and he certainly did not become Son of God at his baptism. But I think there is a sense in which he did begin to be the Messiah, King, Priest and Sacrifice at his baptism. A parallel might be like this: the infant son of a king, when his father dies, does become king in fact – ontologically, one might say. But the exercise of his kingship does not take effect from the moment of his father’s death. A regent will rule on his behalf until such time as he is declared capable of ruling and – this is the point – anointed, or crowned, or whatever the ritual is. There was never a time when he was not king; but his reign was, all the same inaugurated at his coronation. It’s an imperfect parallel, but you see what I mean. That is why St Peter could say that “God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Christ”. Jesus is the Son of God incarnate. There was no time when he was not Lord and Christ. But it was from his baptism that this actually took effect. “Christ”, like “Messiah”, means the anointed one, and this was his official anointing, the official anointing as King, Priest and Sacrifice of him who had always been so. It is clear from the sequel that it made a difference: Luke says “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the desert”. He had always been full of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son. But he was now full of the Holy Spirit to a purpose: for his mission, for his messiahship. Something new had begun.
So it was central to Jesus as a person. It was also central to us. Just as I said at Christmas that when Jesus entered into his inheritance, it was not he but the inheritance that came of age, just so when he was baptised, it was not he but baptism that was regenerated, and ourselves with it. Although the baptism Jesus received was John’s, he was himself instituting a new baptism, the sacrament of Christian baptism. God has always been our Father. But at this moment that fatherhood came into effect in its completeness. No, Jesus didn’t “become God’s Son” at his baptism. But I think we did; and our own baptism, the baptism of each one of us individually, is simply an individual application of what took place at the Jordan. It was the inauguration of Jesus’ mission; it was also the beginning of what he referred to as “his baptism”, for whose accomplishment or completion he longed.
It is interesting that the feast of the Baptism holds the same place in relation to Christmas as the feast of the Trinity does to Paschaltide. The feasts conclude the seasons, and herald the return of Ordinary Time the following day. They also do not seem to have much to do with the seasons to which they act as finale. Our own baptism day may be closely associated with our birth day, but Jesus’ wasn’t; it took place, Luke tells us, thirty years later; and I think that’s a bit of a red herring. The point is, I think, in both cases, to remind us that God is the Trinity. In Paschaltide we have been attending largely to the risen Christ, with a nod to the Holy Spirit at Pentecost; although Christ is glorified, we do still run the risk of forgetting, so to speak. “the rest of God”, especially since we’d previously spent six-odd weeks fighting our way through Lent in company of a very human Jesus. The risk is still greater during Advent and Christmastide, when we are looking at a human family with a baby – and babies bring out the human and sentimental in all of us. There are miracles, yes; there are the magi; and there are frequent reminders that this baby is more than he seems. But it isn’t enough. Whatever our intellects do, our devotion remains by the crib. It needs something to shake it back to the whole picture, not for the sake of cold realism – there is nothing cold about the Trinity, as St Augustine could tell you – but in order that we should not forget why we are celebrating at all. The Baptism of Jesus is the only clear manifestation of the Trinity. If the Transfiguration or possibly the Sermon on the Mount is the new Testament Sinai, then the Old Testament foreshadowing of the baptism is not Ezekiel and the waters flowing from the Temple or any such thing, but Abraham’s hospitality to the three mysterious beings at the vale of Mambre.
Whether it was a manifestation that all or some could see and hear, or whether it was for Jesus alone, is not clear in Luke’s version. But both Matthew and Mark say he saw the heavens opened and the Holy Spirit descending. It isn’t very important. I once heard a sermon on this depicting the event as a wet young man standing in the river surrounded by a flock of doves, one of which settled on his shoulder. All right; maybe it did look like no more than that to bystanders, but it was more than that, and Jesus made sure his disciples – and we – knew it. I say “Jesus made sure”. Because if no one else saw what really happened, then this event joins those texts of the Gospel which one considers either most suspect or – as I do – most privileged, because they can come only from Jesus himself. It joins those precious moments of the Temptations and the Agony in the Garden. That is most suitable, because it shares another vital characteristic with them.
If the Baptism of the Lord is a clear manifestation of the Trinity, it is also a clear statement of the two natures in Christ, as are those two other occasions witnessed and transmitted by him alone. “Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil…For this reason he had to be made like his brothers in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted…For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin.” However, if he had not been God, he would not have been able to redeem us – the devil knew that, which is why he was so keen to find out whether or not he was the Son of God. In Gethsemane the same applies. His weakness – his agony indeed – highlights his true humanity; his total obedience shows his unique sonship; and again, the magnitude of his suffering. paradoxically also show his Godhead. However, the Baptism is perhaps the clearest manifestation: he is the Son, the Second Person of the manifested Trinity; but he is also human, as he shows by submitting to the baptism of John. He does not suggest thereby that he has sins to repent of: as John says, he is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. He takes away the sins, yes, but takes upon himself, too; that is what Gethsemane is. No man, therefore could have suffered as he did. And that was what the Temptations were: in him the devil was tempting the whole human race. All this began at the Baptism.
He regenerated the baptismal waters and the human race: may God fulfil the grace of our own baptism and conform us perfectly to the image of his beloved Son.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
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