Today's Gospel reading actually begins in the very same place of the very same Gospel as the one assigned for the Second Sunday of Advent. Only five weeks later and we find ourselves right back where we started. It's as if Christmas never came after all. And if we're honest with ourselves that feels about right, right now. Before we know it, we're back in the wilderness. Before we know it, we're back in line waiting for what John offers: forgiveness for our sins and a thorough dunking in the grace of God. And, yet, even as we're going under again, we know that sooner or later we'll be right back here holding our breath for a miracle. After all, that is the way it has always been. That is the way we have always been. Why should we expect it to be any different this time around?
For although these two readings are similar, they are not the same. On the Second Sunday of Advent, the Gospel reading ends with John's baptism. It ends with us shivering in the wilderness with nothing between us and God except John and the Jordan. But here, on the other side of Christmas, Mark keeps going. Just when it seems that the story is over and the credits are beginning to roll, just when it seems that we will never get out of the wilderness, never get away from John, never get away from ourselves, Mark continues:
"In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And 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. And a voice came from heaven, 'You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.'"
A mother was at home with her two young daughters one lazy afternoon. Everything seemed to be just fine until the mother realized something strange. The house was quiet. And as every parent knows, a quiet house in the daytime can only mean one thing: the kids are up to no good.
Quietly walking into each of the girls' rooms and not finding them there, she began to get worried. Then she heard it: the sound of whispering followed by the flushing of a toilet. Following the sound, she soon realized where it was coming from. It was coming from her bathroom. Whispers, flush. Whispers, flush. Whispers, flush. Poking her head into the room, she was able to see both of her daughters standing over the toilet. Whispers, flush. One of them was holding a dripping Barbie doll by the ankles and the other one had her finger on the button. Whispers, flush. Wanting to hear what her daughter was saying, she slipped quietly into the room. Whispers, flush. And this is what she heard: "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and in the hole you go." Flush.
This is a true story. But you already knew that, didn't you? You knew this was a true story because it's your story, it's my story, it's our story. We know it's true because we know what it feels like to have life grab us by the ankles and dangle us over the waters of chaos. And we know that this happens in spite of our faith. We even know that, at times, it happens precisely because of our faith.
Don't believe me? All you have to do is look at Jesus. What was the first thing that happened to him after his baptism? The Spirit whisked him away to be tempted by the devil. In the hole you go!
That's why I think Mark tells the story of Jesus' baptism the way he does--as an intimate encounter between himself and God and not a spectacle for everyone to see and hear. I think Mark tells it this way because he wants us to know what it meant to Jesus before we try to figure out what it means for us. So what did it mean for Jesus? It didn't mean that the Father would keep him out of trouble. He found that out even before he had a chance to dry off! It didn't even mean that things would work out just the way he had planned. No, it seems to me that what Jesus' baptism meant to him was that when he found himself in trouble, he wouldn't find himself alone. It meant that even when things didn't go his way, he would still have the Father's blessing and the Spirit's company.
And isn't that what his baptism means to us too? Unlike John's baptism, Jesus' baptism means that we are not alone in the wilderness. It means that God's love for us doesn't depend upon us. It means that God's grace doesn't wash off. The baptism of Jesus means that whenever we find ourselves in a hole, we can be sure that in the hole he goes.
Saint Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, was a very devout evangelist. One of the stories that grew out of his ministry concerns a time when he was baptizing new converts in a river. He would wade out waist-deep into the water and call out for new Christians to come to him, one by one, to receive the sacrament.
Once he baptized a mountain chieftain. Saint Patrick was holding a staff in his hands as the new converts made their way into the water. Unfortunately, as he was lowering the chief down under the water three times, he also pressed his staff down into the river bottom.
Afterwards the people on the riverbank noticed their chief limp back to shore. Someone explained to Patrick that, as he pressed the wooden staff into the riverbed, he must have also bruised the foot of the chief. Patrick went to the chief at once and asked, "Why did you not cry out when I stuck you in the foot?"
Surprised the chief answered, "I remembered you telling us about the nails in the cross, and I thought my pain was part of my baptism."
When I read that I could not but think how many of us would have been baptized if we knew pain was a part of the process.
As we cross this threshold between the numinous and the mundane, the holidays and the every days, the world we hope for and the world we live in, let us remember that we have been baptized. And on this Baptism of the Lord Sunday, let us also remember that Jesus was baptized too. He was baptized with us. He was baptized for us. And may the comfort that it gave him through all of his trials give us even greater comfort through ours, those baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and in the hole he goes.