Author: Jim Cantelon

Jesus’ Baptism Matthew 3:13-17

The big question here is “Why?”. Why would the sinless Son of God intentionally submit to John’s baptism of repentance? Some commentators suggest it betrayed a dawning awareness on Jesus’ part that he was special. Others say he did so because he was anticipating a “word from Heaven”. Still others suggest he began his public ministry by taking on the sins of mankind (thus the need for baptism) and ended it by dying for those sins. Even John himself wonders “Why?”. He tried to stop Jesus with “I need to be baptized by you.” (The word “need” in the Greek suggests a “gap” – thus, “There is a gap in my ministry. It’s not complete”). Regardless, the mystery is only partially solved by Jesus’ response, “It is proper for us to fulfill all righteousness.” What does he mean by that?

In the Old Testament scriptures the word for righteousness is “zedek” or “zadkah”. It refers to the fulfillment of mankind’s relationship with God. As such it is both a present and an ongoing process that will see fulfillment ultimately in heaven. Righteousness is a “space/time” characteristic of those who have an “eternal” worldview. Jesus took on “space/time” limitations in the incarnation. In that context he saw himself as “Son of Man”. As such he must “fulfill” his relationship with the Father. He knew the Father was at work in John’s “fore-running” ministry. He also knew he was about to be severely tested by Satan. The baptism was synchronous with a process that would ultimately result in the cross and an empty tomb.

God’s pleasure at Jesus’ submission to John’s baptism was immediately expressed by the descent of “the Spirit of God” alighting on Jesus like a “dove”, with the loving assertion “This is my Son whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” There is an interesting nuance to the word “this” in the Greek. It suggests “this one”.  It’s as though the Spirit saw two outstanding men standing in the Jordan, but He put his “finger” on Jesus: “This is the one. Of the two he is the One.” Jesus was to live a singular life from that point on.

John the Baptist – Matthew 3:1-12 (Part 2)

For sure his lifestyle was similar to theirs (referring to desert holy men). And his message had parallel aspects as well. These Essenes saw themselves as “end-time” heralds of a coming war between “the Sons of Darkness and the Sons of Light”. The end was near. Their urgent task was to call people out of the morally bankrupt towns and cities to become cleansed soldiers in the last battle.

Like the Essenes, John preached “The Kingdom of Heaven has come near”,  or, “is at hand”. Repentance was not just a cleansing from past sins, but a preparation for the coming kingdom. And part of that preparation was to “prepare the way for the Lord”. In ancient times work crews toiled sometimes for weeks in the hot sun, smoothing out a path on the stony ground for the chariots and carriages of a royal procession as a king or emperor made a “state visit”. In John’s view the king was coming.

The king needed a “path prepared”. So John set about preparing that path. His message was essentially this: 1. Repent! 2. No excuses — even the claim of Abrahamic pedigree is not enough. 3. Demonstrate your repentance through acts of righteousness. 4. Don’t delay — “the axe is already at the root of the trees”. 5. The king is coming, and his agent will be terrible for those who have not been prepared. “He will baptize you with the Holy Ghost…”, signifying supernatural cleansing, and “with fire”, which will consume all the unrighteous and unjust “chaff” smothering Israel. The “threshing floor” will be swept clean. This king will play hardball.

John the Baptist – Matthew 3:1-12 (Part 1)

Jesus’ cousin John (the “Baptist” as he became known) was just a few months older and unlike Jesus had spent most of his young adult life in the desert. In fact he had become a bit of a “wild man” in the sense that his clothing, diet, and ministry were offensive to city dwellers. Smelling like the camel whose hair he had fashioned into a shirt, eating whatever he could find (“locusts and wild honey”), and preaching cutting sermons against priests, tax-collectors, and soldiers, he seemed a throwback to the prophets of Israel’s ancient history.

Calling to the city and town folk to join him in the desert he baptized them in the Jordan River, a symbol of the “cleansing” of repentance. But, when Pharisees, Sadducees, tax-collectors, and soldiers came to hear him, he excoriated them referring to them as snakes fleeing a grassfire. Why was he so hard on them? For one, they were collaborators with the Roman occupiers. The priestly class (Pharisees and Sadducees) had compromised temple worship, the tax-collectors were working the occupiers (and gouging their own people with surcharges), and the soldiers were enforcing occupation law (although some commentators see them as insurgents who because of their poor pay were forcing their own people to support them). John and Jesus ministered in a tumultuous time. The people’s hopes for a peaceful, triumphal messianic era were all but dashed, and all they could expect was subjugation by foreign powers. They grumbled and rumbled. Chaos was a heartbeat away.

Indeed, just a few kilometres from John’s baptismal site, was a hermitic sect called the “Essenes”. They lived in a settlement built among the mountains bordering the southwest shows of the Dead Sea. Totally ascetic, they lived a harsh lifestyle reflective of their sun-scorched environment, studying the ancient Hebrew texts of the Toran and writing end-time treatises. A simple diet, constant prayers, and stringent discipline were matters of course. So too were daily baptisms (or “mikvot”), ceremonial immersions in water they collected during winter storms and preserved in cisterns. Little wonder many commentators see John the Baptist as one of these desert holy men.

Egypt to Nazareth Matthew 2:19-23

Joseph, like his patriarchal namesake, was a “dreamer”. Here in these four verses of scripture we read of a third, then a fourth directive dream. Joseph receives from the Lord. The third instructs him to go back to Israel. The fourth moves him and his young family on to the region of the Lower Galilee to a town called Nazareth. It was here that Jesus lived the next thirty years of his life, working as a carpenter side-by-side with his mentor Joseph. We can only imagine the conversations, the family meals, the fellowship with friends and neighbours, that helped shape the emerging Messiah.

Nazareth was, and in many ways still is, an inconsequential, nondescript town. Situated on a range of hills overlooking the Jezreel Valley, its only distinction was its proximity to international trade routes. It was a frontier town, out of the mainstream, and marked with a peculiar accent. Indeed Nazareth and Nazarenes were looked on with scorn by the Jewish world to the south of them. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” was a common slight. So even the moniker “Jesus of Nazareth” had a certain innuendo — yes he was from Nazareth, but he was also “from Nazareth”, not to be taken seriously. (It took more than a bit of getting used to be being called “Notzrim” when I and my family first moved to Jerusalem in 1981. I was often introduced by my Israeli friends to others as a “Notzri”. Not much good out of that town. I always felt slightly diminished). Nevertheless that’s where Jesus grew up, and that’s what makes Nazareth a name of honour to this day. He was “called a Nazarene”.

Infanticide Matthew 2:16-18

It’s surprising that Herod’s paranoia had not fuelled more efficient “intelligence gathering”, in that he sent no place with the Magi, nor did he commission any of his officials to “follow the star” to Bethlehem. He simply asked the magi to let him know once they had found the baby king. But, in his rage at being deceived by the Magi, his paranoia and cruelty kicks into gear and he orders every male child in the Bethlehem region to be killed. None of our Christmas traditions include this unspeakable tragedy. We focus on the one baby. We forget the others.

Matthew captures the sorrow and heartbreak of the mothers by quoting Jeremiah 31:15,

“A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.”

Rachel, of course, was the much-loved second wife of Isaac, and the mother of Joseph and Benjamin. One of Joseph’s sons was named Ephraim, and Ramah, centuries later, was an Ephraimite town not far from Jerusalem. When Jeremiah penned these words he was probable thinking of Israel being exiled to Babylon, but Matthew sees a proper double meaning. The exalted sounds of the angelic announcement of Jesus’ birth is followed a year or so later by the wailing of the bereaved. A stark juxtaposition to say the least.

Egypt (Matthew 2:13-15)

This is the second time an angel gave instructions to Joseph. As husband and protector of Mary and the baby, he was told to “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt.” This was to avoid Herod’s murderous intent.

We read a couple of sentences like this and tend to “watch” the action like we do a movie. The scenes shift from moment to moment, from place to place, and sometimes from time zone to time zone in the flash of an editor’s cut. But, we need to slow down here. It takes at least twelve hours to ‘drive’ from Tel Aviv to Alexandria. (Joseph’s likely destination would not only take ‘days’, but would require amazing fortitude.)

Egypt was a haven for Jews over the centuries. Alexandria alone housed about one million Jews in the first century. And every town and village in Egypt had Jewish citizens. In Egypt a Jewish immigrant would find synagogues, markets, housing, and food that provided a seamless transition. Ironically, a Jew could feel “at home” in Egypt. Yes, the Exodus had been about escape from “out of Egypt I called my son” (Ho. 11:1), but Matthew applies that ancient word to what was happening with the Christ child. With his parents he would emigrate to Egypt and later migrate back to Palestine. For a time, Egypt was the Messiah’s protector.

The Wise Men – Matthew 2:1-12 (Part 3)

And, to add a bit of historical context, at that time there was a synergy of both religious and secular hope, or expectation, that a kingly figure would emerge from somewhere in the mediterranean basin and rule the world. The Jewish messianic hope, four hundred years “back-burnered” by prophetic silence, was beginning to percolate again. Josephus, the Jewish historian wrote, “about that time one from their country should become governor of the habitable earth.” And the Roman historians Suetonius and Tacitus also bear witness to the mediterranean-centric hope for universal reign. It was an eschatological “perfect storm”.

Enter Herod. Called “the Great” because he was a great builder, he was nonetheless one of the most pathetic persons of his day. For one thing he was desperately insecure. Much of this was rooted in his “half-breed” status, half Jew and half Idumean. He had Edomite blood in his veins. As such he was looked down upon by his Jewish subjects. And, as is often the case, his insecurity fed a troubling paranoia. In old age he became a “murderous old man” murdering his wife Mariamne, her mother Alexandra, three of his sons: Antipater, Alexander, Areistobulus; all seventy of the Sanhedrin, three hundred court officers., and countless others. The Roman emperor Augustus said it was safer to be Herod’s pig than Herod’s son. Appointed governor in 47 BC, he became “king” in 40 BC and reigned until 4 BC. He was the only Roman ruler of Palestine to keep the peace. Part of his success was due, no doubt, to his generous care of the poor. But it was he who in the Christmas story, ordered “the slaughter of the the innocents” in Bethlehem.