Mark 1:1-11; Jeremiah 38:1-16
Robert M Watkins
One of the most significant details in Mark’s story comes in verse five:
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.
It is that little modifier “all” that fixes our focus for a moment. What Mark tells us is that there were a lot of hungry people about when Jesus began his ministry–people searching for something, even if they could not pin it down; people longing for a fullness that nothing else offered; and people simply feeling lost in the wide world, unsure of where to go and whom to follow. They come admitting their lack, confessing their sins, as Mark tells it.
It has become a theme, nearly a mantra, for our present moment to speak of searching for something, seeking meaning, longing for direction, and finding little offered by those who would lead or promise relief–they all slip into the bland static of the same old thing that no longer comforts.
John was different–altogether different.
He did not fit the prototype of fitness guru or political savior or self-help pundit. He was rough around the edges and said things with cut and bite. He was not adverse to labeling those who came to him as what they were, sparing no one.
Yet, the crowds came to him. In his sheer difference, there seemed to come hope no one else offered. Perhaps because he was different, it would be worthwhile to listen to him. When someone seems so far out of step with everyone else, there may be some real and actual truth to what they say.
King Zedekiah found this truth inescapable in the presence of Jeremiah. Jeremiah refused to follow the pattern of the “official” Temple prophets who basically said what they knew their audience wanted to hear, be it a royal official or simply the crowd of congregants within the Temple. Jeremiah spoke the truth. He wound up in a cistern, but he spoke the truth. Zedekiah saw that and accepted it–Jeremiah was so far afield that truth had to be in his words.
God is like that. God is God. God speaks a word different from what we might say simply because. with God, the truth, even hard truth, will be spoken.
John’s audience hungers for real truth. Eventually, being told only what one wants to hear becomes empty. Everyone knows there is nothing to it. It can no longer be taken seriously. It offers no help. It leads nowhere. Reality will rise eventually, and to deny it is to place oneself in grievous danger. So, John, following Jeremiah’s example, tells the truth. He names his people for what they are–the lost, the broken, and the unrepentant. He also speaks the truth about himself–he can give them a momentary release from the shadow of their guilt and suffering, helping them to see it for what it is, but that is all he can do. He can baptize with water, but there is another who can do more, someone who can perform not simply a ritual act that helps to grasp the truth, but one that delves deeply into the core of our being, transforming all that is there.
Once a friend of mine who battled weight his entire life decided to make a real and actual change for good. First, he went to his doctor. The doctor outlined a diet, exercise, and overall plan for better health. My friend needed to quit smoking, so medications came to help that. He needed to radically alter how he bought groceries and when and where he ate, so he mapped out his day to avoid the pratfalls of easy food. But, second, the doctor made an important statement. In order for any of it to actually work, my friend would have to do a lot more than change a few behaviors and patterns of living. The real and actual change would have to be one in my friends core being–changing heart, mind, and soul–something no one other than my friend himself could do. There was the meat of the challenge. My friend could admit that this hurdle was always the one that tripped him, too, ending every previous attempt in failure. He knew he needed a power greater than his own to succeed. He needed God.
One of the main principles of many recovery programs is the recognition that we are limited and that hope comes from a higher power. That principle, we discover, is at least as old as John the Baptist. He points to a higher authority, the One who can offer the Holy Spirit as the means by which to overcome all that ails us–i.e., the presence of God that redeems.
At last comes Jesus.
As Mark tells the story, the event was actually nondescript and hardly notable at all.
Jesus comes along with one of the daily crowds gathering at the Jordan to see John. No one knows him. No one notices him, not even John, as being anyone worth noting. Jesus is a face in the crowd, waiting his turn for the dip in the river, waiting to hear John’s benediction, and waiting for whatever comes next.
What happens, Mark indicates, was a private matter between God and Jesus. No one else sees or hears anything, but Jesus, as he rises dripping from the water, hears God’s claim on him and sees the Spirit as a dove descend to him.
Mark is the one evangelist who stresses that the power of faith, the knowledge of redemption, and the transformation of the world through grace is always a move from tiny to cosmic, never the other way around. He does not preach big, in other words. Instead, he offers us a comfort. One of the greatest hurdles to faith is the stubborn constancy of the world to remain as the world is. Its problems, pains, suffering, injustice, violence, and all the rest that fills the papers never seem to take a holiday. There is never a day when the headline screams, “NOTHING HAPPENED!” We wonder from time to time where God might be, what God might be doing, and when God will come. Mark tells us–assures us–God is right here; God is redeeming us; and God has always been with us. But, Mark says, do not look for the overwhelming thunder and explosion of holy fireworks that send all the world scattering in awe, rather look closer to home, look to the power of kind words and deeds, look to the simple grace of one person accepting another, and look for opportunities to share love with another person–there is God, there is grace, and there is our salvation.
Only Jesus saw or heard a thing, but look what happened next–all that Jesus experienced became his proclamation. He sought the lost, healed the sick, raised the broken, freed the oppressed in mind, body, and spirit, ushering in a new creation of hope, wonder, and, yes, even laughter. Here, 2000 years later, we gather because Christ came. We come because he is still here. We come also to find what is to be shared, speaking truth that heals.
Amen.
