"You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
Mark does not begin his Gospel with a manger scene. We don't learn anything about Bethlehem, or shepherds, or angels, or wise men from Mark. In fact, we don't learn anything about the first thirty years of Jesus' life. Given his "no frills" approach, Mark's point of beginning must have been chosen to convey something he thought went right to the crux of the Gospel. He begins with Jesus' baptism. For Mark, there is something about Jesus' baptism that opens our experience of the Good News.
What is the Good News for us in Jesus' baptism? Pondering that may lead you to an even more basic question: Why did the Son of God need to be baptized? I don't pretend to have a definitive answer, but this much has occurred to me: Jesus must have understood that before he undertook the difficult work of being fully human-of enduring disappointments, set-backs and sad losses-he needed to newly experience his communion with the rest of the Trinity. He needed to know the embrace and assurance of the Father. He needed a new infusion of strength from the Holy Spirit.
This business of being fully human is no small undertaking. It's hard work, and it seems to take us a lifetime to get it right. I am not surprised that when Jesus was driven into the wilderness, he spent his time with "wild beasts." Wild beasts know exactly how to be what they were born to be. Crocodiles know how to be crocodiles. Grizzly bears know how to be grizzly bears. They don't need twelve years of mandatory education, advanced degrees, 12-step programs or church! They "get it" right from the beginning. They have the script, but we struggle to get the script for doing a good job of being fully human.
Despite the fact that few of us are proficient at being human, most of us are reticent to ask for help. We resist asking for help from others of God's children who may have gifts different from our own, and we resist asking God for help. Lent is a gift to us, because it prompts us to inventory all the ways in which we need help. It readies us to newly welcome ultimate help when we celebrate Easter-God's display of power to help with the worst of this life. I return again and again to a particular image from my life that helps spur my Lenten work. I was with a two-year old friend who was struggling to open a cupboard. He was shaking it with all his might, unaware that a latch was stymieing his efforts. When I reached over to help, he pushed me away. He wanted to do it all by himself, thank you very much! For a moment, I experienced utter frustration at his refusal to let me share knowledge of the secret. But then this thought took over: I must appear just as silly to God sometimes. God knows all the secrets, but I fight to handle things myself.
If you share that flaw, progress is possible for all of us this Lent. That two-year old is now twelve. Believe it or not, at the exact moment when I was recalling the incident with the cupboard this week, the phone rang. It was my twelve-year old friend. He called to ask me for help. Progress is possible, and it doesn't have to take ten years. We can make progress in as little as forty days! We have great encouragement for our work. The words Jesus heard during his baptism were, "You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased." In our current baptismal rite, the words spoken to the candidate are, "You are marked as Christ's own forever." It is hard to really take in that encouragement. This life simply does not give us much experience with true "foreverness." When we try to capture that meaning, we use phrases like, "Until death do us part." Our experiences are marked by endings, by limitations. When my twelve-year old friend called for help, I ran to his rescue. As I left, I said, "I love you, and I'll always be here for you." As I drove away, a panic washed over me. Had I promised more than I can deliver? If we both have a normal life expectancy, he will live forty years longer than I do. What if he calls when I am out of town? What if he calls when I am on a pastoral call? The panic didn't subside until I realized that I have only one choice. I have to commend his care to the One who is always, to the One who is at the source of all foreverness, to the One who is never out of town, to the One who can handle an infinite number of pastoral calls.
"Forever" may be beyond our understanding as it is, but the encouragement available to us in our human struggles is even greater than that. We often say that we are baptized into Christ's death and resurrection. That is true, but it doesn't say it all. We are not just baptized into two days of Christ's life. We are baptized into the whole of Christ. At baptism, we are adopted, and the words reported by Mark become our words. Hear them now: "You are me child, beloved, with you I am well pleased." If you take Lent seriously, it can take you to some very discouraging and frightening places, some places very much like a tomb. Hold on to these words, so you can find your way from there to Easter. Put them up on your mirror, or another place where you are likely to see them each day. "You are my child, beloved, with you I am well pleased." If you are baptized, daily ponder the promise. If you are not baptized, consider the possibilities.