Noah and the Rainbow, Stained Glass in Saint Augustine Day Chapel
of St. Jude's Roman Catholic Church, New Lenox, IL
With the Wild Beasts and Angels
First Sunday of Lent (Year B)
18 February 2018; 8 am Spoken Mass; 10 am Sung Mass
Homily Delivered at Trinity Episcopal Church
Ashland, Oregon
The Very Rev. Fr. Tony Hutchinson, SCP. Ph.D.
Genesis 9:8-17; Psalm 25:1-9; 1 Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:9-13
God, take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of
flesh. Amen.
One of the details we usually miss about the story of the Great Flood, whose conclusion we read today as our Hebrew Scriptures lesson, is the reason that God decides in that story originally to destroy the earth and all flesh: it is the violence that has become so common and the cries of those suffering from it. God can't stand the noise and decides to unmake the world by letting the great Deep loose from below and above, causing the Flood. This is not so much, I think, a story of God's intentional harm of his creation, but rather his desire to protect it and preserve it. That is clearly the point of God's covenant with all creation that we read about today--the rainbow is a sign that God will never again destroy the earth. I think this should give us pause when we reflect on what happened in Florida on Wednesday this week. One of the most heart rending pictures to come out of it was a mother hugging a child escaped from the carnage and weeping. On her forehead was a cross drawn with the ashes of mortality. God hates violence and injustice. He is not its source. But God continues to love us his creatures.
The Harrowing of Hell, Stained Glass in the Church of St. Mary, Fairford, England
The reading from Peter links the Flood with baptism, and with the idea that God redeemed his promise to care for all creation by sending the slain Jesus, while his body was in the tomb, to preach the Gospel to the souls of those killed by the waters of the Great Flood. Baptism is a sign of hope: not a washing of dirt from the body, 1 Peter says, but rather an appeal for a clear conscience. And in the Gospel reading, Jesus in his own baptism hears the Voice of God declaring his love and acceptance--a verbal affirmation of the hope of God's bow set in the clouds.
The
baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist is one of the few events told in the
Gospels that almost all biblical
scholars and historians agree actually happened. The story shows up in
too many varied forms in too many differing early traditions to ignore.
And the various retellings and versions of the story show an acute
embarrassment among some early Christians at the story of their sinless Lord
and God seeking “baptism of repentance” from another religious teacher.
Such embarrassment makes it unlikely that early Christians made the story
up.
The Baptism of Christ, stained glass by Gerhard Remish, in the Victoria and Albert Museum.
Mark’s
story of Jesus’ baptism and temptation is short and sweet: Jesus comes to John
and is baptized. Coming up from the water, Jesus sees the heavens split
apart and the spirit of God descends on him “like a dove.” Then Jesus hears God’s voice, quoting the Psalms and prophets,
“You are my son, this day I have fathered you. I love you, you make me happy.”
Immediately, the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness where he remains for
forty days, tempted by Satan, living with the wild beasts, though “angels
ministered to him.”
What
would receiving baptism from John have meant for Jesus and why would he have
immediately thereafter gone to the desert to be alone with God?
John preaches in the wilderness of
Judea, near the north of the Dead Sea. He is within a few kilometers of the
community that wrote the Dead Sea Scrolls, and there are clear links between
him and that community.
The Judaisms of the period all agreed that impurity both ritual and moral could
be driven away by following the prescriptions of the Torah—usually to wash in
pure water and wait until sundown. As a result, mikvehs, or ritual baths are
common objects in the Jewish archaeological sites from that period.
The Dead Sea Scrolls sect, with its
dispute with the Temple leadership, believed that simply being born Jewish wasn’t enough to be part of
God’s people. You had to accept the right beliefs and practice the right
rituals. They required a ritual washing in order to enter their exclusive
community. Their rulebook says that this washing had to reflect a change of heart to be truly valid.
Both John the Baptist and the Qumran
covenanters fled to the desert to escape what they saw as the corruption and false religion of the
Jerusalem elites. The desert is where God met with his people. God
meets Moses and purifies his people there as they wander for 40 years after
they leave Egypt (Exodus 2:11—4:31). God meets Elijah there (I Kings 19:1-18).
John appears preaching what Mark and
Luke call a “baptism of repentance unto the forgiveness of sins,” that is, “a
washing showing your change of heart
that results in your sins being set aside.”
Why would a thirty-year old building contractor (that’s what the Greek word
tekton means, not “carpenter”) from Nazareth be interested in this? The
Judean wilderness was a long way from Galilee for someone on foot.
Why would Jesus want to go to the Baptist, especially if he were not unduly
burdened by a sense of guilt or sinfulness? As a Jew, he would have been
unable to avoid incurring ritual uncleanliness in the course of day-to-day
life. But the regular washings prescribed by the Law would satisfy that. Why
undergo John’s washing to signify a
change of heart?
He was attracted to the Baptist’s message: the Temple and political
leadership are hopelessly corrupt and detached from God. His baptism is
something like what the Qumran covenanters practiced, but popularized and meant for all,
not a hermetic ritual into an exclusive sect. Masses of common people
flock to Jordan for John’s baptism.
Matthew and Luke give a fuller
telling of the Baptist’s preaching: “Go and produce tangible evidence in your
acts that you have indeed had a change of hearts. If you are a soldier,
don’t commit unnecessary violence and take advantage of people; if you are a
tax revenue agent, only collect what is required and don’t skim the proceeds to
line your own pocket.”
The Baptist is preaching basic justice. He is calling
people to take God’s love of fairness personally, to make God’s will their own.
This personal involvement with God, this demand for social justice as
evidence of our change of hearts--these are all elements that would remain part
and parcel of Jesus’ own proclamation that the Kingship of God had arrived in
our midst.
What would John the Baptist say today if we asked him to give examples in our
society of tangible evidence of a change in our hearts. Would he ask us to stop
walking past beggars without assisting? Would he insist that we stop paying
less than living wages to those we employ? Stop abusing spouses and
children? Looking down on those who differ from us? Stop
frequenting enterprises or buying goods and services based on the exploitation
of, or the trafficking in, persons? Stop
facilitating the murder of innocents by supporting the political cause of gun
manufacturers and the people they have seduced into thinking that guns somehow
represent freedom and security for us?
Stop taking bribes from such merchants of death in the form of political
contributions?
Jesus seeks baptism at John’s hand because he takes to heart John’s message of
justice, personal responsibility, and relationship with God. He is
himself having a change of heart. He is moving from one part of his life
to another: from his private life with his family and friends, his assisting in
the carpentry/house building business, to his public ministry.
Jesus sees in John’s baptism a call
to refocus, to reorient, to redirect his life. For him, the “fruit worthy of a
change of heart” would be the living out of the task to which God was calling
him.
Despite the pressures on him in
Nazareth to do the conventional, to follow the norm, to settle down, possibly
start a family of his own and make something of himself, Jesus makes the long
journey to see this Wildman of God in the Judean desert. His
neighbors in Nazareth think he has abandoned his Mother and siblings. Yet
Jesus in baptism hears the voice of God. The result is clear in Jesus’
public preaching when, alone of the religious voices of the day, he calls God,
“Father” and says He is above all a loving
Father.
This is why he must leave for the
desert, where must be tested, “live with the wild beasts” and sort out things
to find out what his identity revealed in baptism means.
When Jesus later returns to Nazareth
later, his Mother and siblings try to get him to come home and start acting
normally again, because they think he has gone insane (Mark 3). He is no longer the Jesus whom they had
known and loved. He now is clearly a man willing to give up everything
for God’s reign to be made more clearly visible, willing to die if necessary.
The time in the desert has left its mark.
Wherever we hear and accept the Good
News of God’s love, we find that the good news makes us crazy. Jesus puts
us at odds with the economic and political systems of our world. This
gospel forces us to act, interrupting the world as it is in ways that make even
pious people indignant.
Friends, we are not what God
intended when he created us. We need all the more to have a change of
heart and manifest it in our actions. We too need to seek in quietness
our true baptismal identity, and God willing, have angels minister to us also
as we struggle with the wild beasts. May we, like Jesus, remain
undeterred from the mission on which God sends us, no matter how crazy this
appears to those we love.
In the name of Christ, Amen.
