Ritual and Rebirth: A Reflection on the Baptism of Christ

Today, the Sunday after Epiphany, is when we here in the West commemorate the baptism of Jesus at the hands of John the Baptist. It’s a formative event in Jesus’ life, and functions as his ‘call to action’, marking him as special to those around him and confirming his identity. It’s also the narrative passing of the baton from John to Jesus as the focal point of God’s work in the Gospels. But today I’d like to focus on the idea of baptism itself — what it meant in John’s context, how it changed with Jesus’ ministry, and why it has remained one of the two universal Christian rituals.

This year, our Gospel reading for this celebration comes from Luke. Luke sets the stage for the story by telling us of the growing messianic fervour surrounding John at the time: “[T]he people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah” (Luke 3.15). But John tries to quash this speculation, saying:

“I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” (3.16-7)

This merits some unpacking. First, let’s look at baptism itself. John’s baptism seems to have been an extension of Second Temple Jewish ritual cleansing practices. (It is, for example, during this period of history that the first archaeological evidence for mikvoth, Jewish ceremonial baths, is found.) Immersion in water was used for new converts to Judaism, as well as initiation into some sectarian groups, such as the Qumran community. From this, we can infer that the act of baptism carried with it meanings of a transition from ritual impurity to purity, and as a kind of ritual death and resurrection marking the start a new way of life. As far as John’s baptism goes, the Gospels refer to it as a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (see, for example, Luke 3.3). While in common Christian discourse, repentance often can be equated with confession of sins, it’s more than just admitting our sins. It’s a change of heart and mind in which we come to see ourselves and the world through God’s eyes. In John’s ministry, this process was connected to the forgiveness of sins, as though the waters washed the slate clean along with the body.

But John recognized that his ritual was symbolic — a powerful symbol that could signify and enact genuine change, but still symbolic. He baptized with water, but the one is coming “will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” That is to say, the water John used in baptism was a symbol of the Holy Spirit, and so John’s baptism would be fulfilled, realized and actualized, in the one who is coming who would baptize with the Spirit. Then, in classic apocalyptic language, John notes that this ministry will inevitably lead to a crisis in which the true divisions in society will be revealed — the wheat from the chaff, the lambs from the wolves, the wise from the fools. (Remember: at its heart, Apocalyptic is not about the end of time, but about revealing what is already happening.)

From other versions of the story, we know that John couldn’t understand why Jesus, whom he identified as being the one who was coming, would insist on being baptized by him. But Jesus does insist, saying that he must do so “to fulfill all righteousness” (Matthew 3.15) (a fascinating thing for him to say, upon which I based last year’ reflection). At any rate, John relents and baptizes Jesus, and then something miraculous happens:

[W]hen Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (3.21-22)

This event confirms Jesus’ identity and God’s blessing upon his life. Narratively, it marks his call to action. In his life, it marks the start of his ministry. But also, as I noted in that post last year, the language here is reminiscent of that of Isaiah 42, in which the Holy Spirit anoints the suffering Servant of the LORD:

… If we follow this idea, then Jesus’ baptism ‘fulfills all righteousness’ by being the moment at which his identity as the Servant of the LORD, who suffers for the sake of justice, is crystallized. In this moment Jesus takes on the mantle of this prophetic figure and the weight of all the expectation and hope that went along with it.

All this is to say that this is a big story in the Gospels. This ritual act in the wilderness changed everything for Jesus, and by extension, for the world.

But in light of what John had to say about the difference between his baptism and Jesus’, it’s interesting that Jesus continued with John’s practice of “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,” and that baptism has remained one of the two quintessential Christian ritual practices. I think the reason for this is simple: The rituals are not for God’s sake, but for ours. We need rituals, symbols, and myths in order to make sense of our world. As I’ve often noted, those churches I’ve experienced who have most lived into the idea of the priesthood of all believers are those who also have ordained priests, and those who are the most tuned into the sacredness of all creation are those who also recognize sacred liturgical space. We seem to need the particular in order to appreciate the universal. It’s true that Jesus didn’t put too much stock in rituals but that wasn’t because rituals are bad, but simply because he insisted they be undertaken not for their own sake but for the sake of the spiritual realities they point to, and participate in.

Baptism is a particularly great example of this: the ceremonial death and rebirth that the ancient rite symbolized received added meaning after Jesus’ death and resurrection. As Paul wrote:

Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. (Romans 6.3-5)

There is a kind of ritual solidarity between the faithful and Jesus in baptism that allows us to participate in his death, resurrection, and new life of the Spirit:

As many as are led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him, that we may also be glorified together. (Rom 8.14-17)

As the ancient saying goes, We become by grace all that Christ is by nature. So, if in the story of Jesus’ baptism, he is acknowledged as the Son of God, in our own baptisms, we too are acknowledged as beloved sons and daughters of God, by grace. In this way, the ancient ritual of purity and rededication of life and purpose takes on a related but additional meaning in the Christian imagination, fulfilled in the fractal mode of the Gospel, in our own adoption as precious children of God.