St. John’s American Falls – Jan. 7, 2024

Mark 1:4-11

⁴John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. ⁵And 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.⁶Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. ⁷He 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. ⁸I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

⁹In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. ¹⁰And 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.¹¹And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Yesterday was Epiphany, the day the church celebrates the magi’s bringing gifts to infant Jesus. That day served as a bridge between the short Christmas Season and the Time after Epiphany, a season of manifestations of who Jesus is. We who follow the three-year cycle of scripture passages find ourselves back in Mark’s gospel.

There is no prelude to this gospel where you will read about shepherds, angels, magi, a star or a stable. There’s not a word about Mary and Joseph. Mark’s story of Jesus begins at the river: “In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.” We do not even hear the cosmic wonder that opens John’s Gospel: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” Mark is far more ordinary and direct” “In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.” Jesus entered the river with others to be washed in a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 

Does it seem strange that Jesus submits to a baptism of repentance? It’s okay if you wonder about that. Just remember this is where Jesus will spend his earthly life–in the midst of sinners–eating with them, talking with them, healing them, calling them. Why should his baptism be any different? Jesus went under the waters of the Jordan as the others had–under the waters his ancestors crossed after 40 years of wilderness wandering. Historic waters, even though they looked quite ordinary. 

Did Jesus look up at the sky before he went under the water? The narrator doesn’t say. But we do read that when Jesus came up out of the water, wet from the Jordan, he did look up, and he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. 

There’s no indication that others saw this–only Jesus. He saw the heavens torn apart. The Greek word there is a form of the verb schitzo as in schism or schizophrenia. It is not the same word as open. I open the door. The door looks the same. But something torn apart is not easily closed again. Picture in your mind’s eye the ragged edges that will never go back together as they were. The use of schitzo is deliberate. It recalls the prophet Isaiah’s plea centuries before when he cried out to God, “Oh, that you would tear the heavens open and come down to make your name known to your enemies and make the nations tremble at your presence.” 

Now Jesus stood in the Jordan, dripping wet, without a hint that anyone else saw the heavens torn apart or saw the dove or heard the voice. We have no indication that the nations were trembling. But that did not mean that nothing had changed. It does not mean that the world was about to turn, to quote Jesus’ mother Mary. Though we usually imagine God speaking in a booming voice, resonant and deep, that voice is more often heard in movies than in Scripture. God’s voice can be a whisper, a breath, quiet as the still small voice that reached Elijah hiding in his cave. 

At the Jordan River the voice that came from heaven spoke to Jesus alone. I like to imagine that it was intimate and direct. “You are my Son, the Beloved. With you I am well pleased. In you my Spirit will be present on the earth in a new way.” The heavens were torn apart, and they would never close again. 

Sometimes that’s how I feel about the world right now. When I was in high school, the Berlin Wall came down. The Cold War that shaped so much of my youth seemed to be ending. I didn’t understand it all, but I heard about real Peace Talks in the Middle East. I remember watching the film of Rodney King being beaten but there seemed to be so much progress in race relations in our country. National and state politics consisted of a two-party system, but there were regular stories about compromise. All of that feels torn apart to me and I can’t see how we’re going to piece things back together.

And yet, and yet I know that the torn place is where God comes through, the place that never again closes as neatly as before. One pastor [Barbara Lundblad] reminds us that from the day he saw the heavens torn apart, Jesus began tearing apart the images of who people thought the Messiah was supposed to be– 

Tearing apart the social fabric that separated rich from poor. 
Breaking through hardness of heart to bring forth compassion. 
Breaking through rituals that had grown rigid or routine. 
Tearing apart the chains that bound some in the demon’s power. 
Tearing apart the notions of what it means to be God’s Beloved Son. 

Nothing would ever be the same, for the heavens would never again close so tightly. 
At the end of his life Jesus hung on a cross between heaven and earth. When he breathed his last, the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom, torn apart as the heavens had been torn apart. The holy of holies no longer separated the sanctuary from the people. That curtain could never be repaired either. There was no voice from the darkened heavens that day. God was silent, not even a whisper. 

But there was a voice not far off but close. A centurion soldier stood at the foot of the cross keeping order, marking time, waiting to pronounce death. When he saw that Jesus had breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was God’s Son.” Who gave him that word? We are never told. That soldier had somehow heard for himself the words whispered to Jesus alone at the Jordan. The word came through the torn place in the sky, through the torn curtain: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” 

Is there a torn place in your life: relationship that ended, an addiction finally confronted, the loss of a job, a lifelong dream that’s shifted? Or maybe it’s watching the American Falls community change as growth continues—new jobs but also new people and a crunch when it comes to housing? Whatever life looks like going forward, it may be more like a true crazy quilt or it may be full of patches, still beautiful, but not what it was before it was torn apart.

Jesus stepped into all of this when he was baptized, an act of solidarity with the rest of the community, with all of humanity. What a gift, what good news for each of us who is called Child of God. The same Spirit that entered him, entered each of us in our baptism, not the entrance to a special club, but as an inauguration to abundant life. This abundant life is not without pain or brokenness. If we truly follow Jesus, there will in fact be difficulties.

 But it is a life with hope and companion and a God who loves us. And God continues to enter into the torn places and moments. It truly is God’s method of operation. “You are my own Beloved Child.” You likely have had or have now a torn place, but God is in it. The same is true for your neighbor and me, for this community of faith, for the larger Upper Snake River Valley. Even as we leave the season of Christmas, we remember that Jesus remains Immanuel, God with us.