Baptism Rooted in Love

We are in the season of Epiphany. For many of us, Epiphany brings to mind the Magi—those wise travelers following a star to find the Christ child. But I want to share a fascinating little piece of history with you. Chelsey Harmon, a wonderful scholar, reminds us that in the early third-century church, the focus of the Epiphany celebration wasn’t the Magi at all. It was this scene: the baptism of Jesus.

In fact, Epiphany was once one of the major festivals right up there with Easter and Pentecost. It wasn’t until the fourth century that the Western church shifted the spotlight to the Magi. So, by focusing on the baptism today, we aren’t just reading a story; we are reconnecting with a deep, and often overlooked, part of our spiritual heritage.

The Real Story Begins

We have just come through the beautiful season of Advent and Christmas. We’ve had the angels, the shepherds, and the manger. But in many ways, the Nativity narrative is the background; it sets the scene. The real story, the active work of public ministry, begins right now at the river Jordan.

If you read the four gospels side-by-side, you’ll notice they all handle this moment differently.

Mark paints Jesus as just one face in the crowd.

Luke focuses on Jesus praying and the Spirit descending.

John doesn’t even describe the baptism directly!

But Matthew? Matthew gives us something the others don’t. He gives us the conversation. He gives us the tension between John and Jesus.

The Confusion at the Water

In Matthew’s account, Jesus approaches John to be baptized, and John is baffled. He essentially tries to talk Jesus out of it. He says, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”

John’s reaction makes perfect sense if we are looking at the world through a lens of hierarchy and rules. John knows who Jesus is. He has been preaching that the One coming after him is greater than him. In John’s mind, for the greater to bow to the lesser breaks the rules. If John wants to be righteous and do the right thing, he should refuse to baptize the Messiah.

But Jesus’s response changes everything: “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”

Redefining Righteousness

This phrase to fulfill all righteousness is the key to unlocking the heart of this passage.

Righteousness is a loaded word in religious circles. Often, we hear it and think of rule-keeping, moral perfectionism, or checking boxes. But biblical scholar Andrew McGown reminds us that in Matthew, righteousness is far more than keeping rules.

We’ve actually seen this already in Matthew’s gospel. Think back to Joseph. Matthew describes Joseph as a righteous man. Why? Not because he followed the strict letter of the religious law, if he had done that, he would have publicly shamed Mary and ended the engagement. No, Joseph was righteous because his actions superseded what the rules required. He acted with compassion.

In the progressive tradition of our faith, we understand that rules are important, but they are rarely sufficient. True righteousness isn’t about rigid adherence to a code; it is about an orientation of the heart that illuminates the character of God.

Solidarity, Not Separation

So, why does Jesus insist on being baptized? He has no sin to repent of. He is blameless.

Jesus enters the water not because he needs to be clean, but because we are there. He submits to baptism to stand in solidarity with imperfect, broken, hopeful humanity.

This is the new thing Isaiah spoke of in our Old Testament lesson. Isaiah describes a servant who doesn’t bring justice through force or shouting, but through gentleness, a bruised reed he will not break.

When Jesus steps into that river, he is fulfilling righteousness by demonstrating that God’s saving love isn’t about standing apart from us in judgment; it is about standing with us in the muddy waters of life. It is a righteousness defined by mercy, not exclusion.

The Voice Speaks

And what happens next? The text says the heavens opened.

There is a lovely ambiguity in the text here, did the heavens open just for Jesus, or did everyone see it? The implication is that the voice was public. “This is my Son, the Beloved.” It is the visual element that contains uncertainty. The text says that he, Jesus, saw the dove descending. There is ambiguity regarding whether the visual is a shared experience.

God speaks in remarkable ways, and here, God affirms this new definition of righteousness. The Spirit descends like a dove, a symbol of peace and new creation, confirming that this act of solidarity is exactly what the reign of heaven looks like.

What This Means for Us

As we move into this new year, this passage challenges us to rethink our own righteousness.

If righteousness were just about rule-keeping, our faith would be entirely about what we don’t do. We wouldn’t lie, we wouldn’t steal, we wouldn’t break the commandments. That is a safe, passive faith.

But if righteousness is what Jesus demonstrates here, active solidarity, compassion that goes beyond the law, and a commitment to justice, then our faith is about what we do.

It is about standing with the marginalized, just as Jesus stood with the crowd at the Jordan.

It is about recognizing that sometimes the rules of our society or even our religion become obstacles in the way of love.

It is about participating in the new things God is declaring.

The baptism of Jesus isn’t just a ceremony; it is an invitation. It invites us to step into the water with him, to hear ourselves called Beloved, and to live out a righteousness that breaks the bruised reed of no one, but offers hope to everyone.

Amen.