Sermon for Sunday, January 11, 2026

January 11, 2026

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott



Matthew 3:13-17



Ah, John the Baptist—it’s been a few weeks since we spent time with him, and now, here we are, back at the river Jordan, back with John the Baptist who has been doing a new thing. Baptism the way that John practiced it did not exist before John did it, not that we’ve been able to tell. To be sure, there were ritual baths and sometimes they did symbolize purification, like after a woman had given birth. But those baths were in human-made, enclosed spaces, very private. John the Baptist was out in the wilderness, far away from society, and people came from far and wide, came to be baptized in untamed water, people from every part of the wider community. Baptism brings them together.


John the Baptist is so compelling that Jesus, the Messiah himself, comes to the river Jordan to be baptized. The Gospel of Matthew is the only one that includes the conversation between John and Jesus in which John says that Jesus should be the one doing the baptizing. Jesus’ response strikes me as odd. Instead of praising John for preparing so many people through his ministry, Jesus says, "Let it be so now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." I don’t know about you, but my brain trips over the words proper and righteousness.


Wasn’t Jesus already righteous? If the Messiah isn’t righteous enough, what hope for the rest of us? Is Jesus talking about John’s need to be proper to fulfill righteousness? Surely not, with John’s total commitment to his ministry.


For the ancient world, the word righteousness was a much more comprehensive concept than what 21st century people envision. We might look at the word and say, well, a righteous person is someone who does the right thing—it’s part of the word, after all. But historically, righteousness is so much more than right behavior.


New Testament scholar Eric Barretto says, “The Greek term is incredibly difficult to define, and even more difficult to comprehend theologically. The term can encapsulate complex notions of justice, uprightness, correctness, innocence, and redemption.”


Throughout the Bible, righteous is a word that means more than just doing the right action or having the correct moral scaffolding to support that action. Righteous is a word that also connotes relationship, a right relationship with God.


But it’s hard to imagine that Jesus and John aren’t already in right relationship with God. Again, we ask, why, exactly, does Jesus need to be baptized and why does John need to be the one to do it?


Let’s return to the question of what John is doing out there in the wilderness, before Jesus shows up. We already know the answer to this question. We wrestled with it in Advent when we asked about John’s persistent presence in our Advent space. He was baptizing people, of course.


But why?


Many of us might assume that John baptizes people for repentance of sin. But that’s language that comes from the Gospel of Mark, not the Gospel of Matthew. If we look earlier in the third chapter of Matthew, verse 11, John the Baptist says, “I baptize you with water for repentance” -- repentance yes, but not repentance of sin.


Let’s take a closer look at the word repentance. Many of us hear that word and we think about saying we’re sorry. Or maybe we think about renouncing our bad behaviors. But the Greek word is very different: it’s metanoia. It means a turning around. It means transformation. In this instance, John the Baptist uses it in a very ancient way, the way of the prophet, calling people to be in right relationship with God. This right relationship with God will also result in right relationship with the whole community.


John called first century Jews to be transformed into the righteous people that prophets have always known that they can be. Jesus hears the call and comes to the river Jordan, a river that symbolizes escape from the bondage of past oppressors, like the Egyptian Pharoah and entrance into new life in a promised land.


Jesus comes to John at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, a metanoia point. It’s the beginning of a new phase of life, much the same way we see baptism today. God claims us in baptism, but in the Lutheran church, when we baptize an infant, that infant is claimed for God by parents, godparents, and a whole faith community. That whole community, in turn, commits to that baby. And then, later, on the cusp of adulthood, during Confirmation we ask youth to affirm that they will continue with the promises that adults made for them. To refresh our memories, we promise to live among God’s faithful people, to hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper, to proclaim the good news of Christ in word and deed, to serve all people as we follow the example of Jesus, and to strive for peace and justice throughout the earth (ELW p. 236). Martin Luther encourages us to remember our baptism every day when we use water, and today, I encourage us to remember our baptismal promises by dipping our fingers in the font as we move around the sanctuary, when we’re sharing the peace, when we’re making our way to and from communion.


The baptismal story of Jesus is also one of community. John and Jesus are involved in a communal effort of fulfilling all righteousness. Jesus will continue the work that John has begun, the work of calling people home, calling people into a community based on love, calling people to the life of flourishing that the Creator wants for all creation. And many theologians see baptism as a time when the Holy Spirit comes into the world, in the form of a dove descending, the Holy Spirit set free to do that work of community building, set free to work in and through Jesus, set free to work in and through us all.


For many of us, January can be a dry time. The holidays are now behind us, and while we get an additional minute or two of daylight a day, spring can still feel far away. And then there’s the weight of the larger world.


I’m not going to elaborate on all the griefs that reports from the larger world have been giving us. Instead, I’m going to offer one of my comforts of this past week-end. I’ve been reading about a group of Buddhist monks who are walking from Fort Worth, Texas to Washington D.C. They’re walking for peace, and the whole walk is a form of prayer in movement.


We could spend time debating whether or not this is a good use of their time, but I have been astounded at how many people show up, even on dreary days, to cheer them on. Yesterday they arrived in Columbia, South Carolina, where thousands of people walked to the statehouse with them. Once there, they prayed for peace, Buddhist prayers, Christian prayers, prayers of all kinds. They spent the night in the dorms of the old campus of our Lutheran seminary, where hundreds of people coordinated to cook them meals, carry their bags up the flight of stairs to their dorm rooms, and to be of assistance in any way they could.


I have taken heart in the ways that people have responded, at the ways that these Buddhist monks have reminded us that a better way is possible.


For those of us feeling like a bruised reed or a dimly burning wick, our Gospel today tells us to take heart. One of the beautiful aspects of life in community is that we are not doing everything, all by ourselves. Some days, we’re the ones making the journey. Other days, we’re the ones assisting with meals. Often, we are present in our prayers, while others do their portion.


Hear God’s words again: God is pleased with Jesus, and God is pleased with you. Jesus did not come to earth to snuff out our wicks, whether they are burning brightly or dimly lit. No, Jesus comes to show us—or remind us—of the way. The way to God is through community. Let every day be one of repentance, of metanoia, of choosing the practices that we promise to do at baptism and confirmation. Let us live into our baptismal promises, today and every day, doing what is necessary to fulfill all righteousness, to transform our lives into ones of flourishing.