Susie says that in order to be beautiful, you have to have straight, silky hair, like hers.  I don’t.  Andrew says that in order to be beautiful, you have to be strong and athletic, like him.  I’m not.  Jessica says that in order to be beautiful, you have to know all of the answers to every test, like she does.  I don’t.  Carole says that in order to be beautiful, you have to straight, white teeth, like hers.  I have braces.  Alex says that in order to be beautiful, you have to wear the right clothes, like him.  I don’t.  Jennifer says that in order to be beautiful, you have to sing beautiful melodies.  I can’t.  And Jackson says that in order to be beautiful, you have to have lots and lots of friends.  I only have a few. 

            But every night, before I go to bed, my mother tucks me in and tells me that I am beautiful.  My mom must know something they don’t.

This is the story of our baptism.  Because God knows something that we don’t.  God knows the incredible beauty that radiates in each one of us.  God has declared that we are good, that we are beloved, that God is well pleased.  And for some reason, we still don’t really know.

Karl Barth, one of the most influential theologians and on the 20th Century, delivered one of the closing lectures of his life at the University of Chicago Divinity School. At the end of the lecture, the president of the seminary told the audience that Dr. Barth was not well and was very tired, and though he thought Dr. Barth would like to open for questions, he probably could not handle the strain. Then he said, "Therefore, I'll ask just one question on behalf of all of us." He turned to Barth and asked, "Of all the theological insights you have ever had, which do you consider to be the greatest of them all?"

This was a remarkable question to ask a man who had written tens of thousands of pages of some of the most sophisticated theology ever put on paper. The students sat with pads and pencils ready. They wanted to jot down the premier insight of the greatest theologian of their time.

Karl Barth closed his eyes and though for a while. Then he smiled, opened his eyes, and said to the young seminarians, "The greatest theological insight that I have ever had is this: Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so!"

It may seem trite or simplistic.  It is far too basic of an idea.  But the real problem is that we still have not fully accepted that we are loved, fully and completely, that we are beautiful, as we are, that God values and cherishes each one of us.

One of the reasons that I believe that we still don’t really know how loved we all are, is because we can look at maternal mortality statistics in Zambia, or the numbers of AIDS deaths in Ethiopia, or the rate of homicide in Washington, D.C., and consider it a tragedy, without, at the same time, demanding that these needless deaths be prevented.  As a society, every time we accept human loss as collateral damage, we undermine the most basic principle of our theology.  We are made in the image of God, we are beloved, we are cherished, we are beautiful.  And we are not numbers.  We are sacred human beings.

But how do we reconcile our own responsibility to change the world, to value each and every human life, with our consistent failure, as a society, to care for the most vulnerable.  And how, then, at the same time, do we accept that we are beautiful, beloved, cherished human beings, while also resisting the guilt and shame of our own privilege in the midst of global suffering?  It is a challenge that cannot be overcome easily, but I believe that our scripture can help us to know our own goodness, our own beauty, our own sacredness, and our own responsibility, in the midst of a broken world.

Our scripture for today says that the heavens were torn when Jesus was baptized.  Not that they opened up, but that they were ripped apart.  Something changes, something is different, something will never be the same again.  This new journey that Jesus is on will be filled with the presence of God.  For the second Jesus comes up out of the water, the heavens are torn apart and the spirit descends like a dove upon him.  And the voice of God declares, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

            But what happens next?  Some sort of fun baptismal party, with cake and friends and family?  A beautiful, tearful hymn, lifted up in joyous praise?  A nice meal, so John and Jesus can get to know one another?  No.  The very next verse, we hear these words, “And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.”

            That doesn’t sound like a fun way to celebrate a baptism.  It says he was there for 40 days, and he faced severe temptation, and he was surrounded by wild beasts.  God says that God is well pleased with God’s beloved son, but then, wham – off he goes to the wilderness.  This is the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.  The heavens are torn open, and nothing is the same.  The minute that Jesus is declared to be the son of God, the minute Jesus is declared to be beloved, is the very same minute that Jesus’ life is ripped apart.  This journey is not only blessed, it is also painful. 

            But there is another thing in this short story.  In verse thirteen, we hear that he was in the wilderness for forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.  The angels waited on him.  So even as Jesus’ life is ripped apart, even as the heavens are torn, even as things will never be the same, there is also the presence of these angels, to help Jesus endure, to bless Jesus on this journey, to assist Jesus in reaching out to a troubled world.

            It will not be easy.  In fact, the idea that Jesus is the “Son of God” which is first expressed here, in these beautiful baptismal words, is repeated again, as the very accusation that leads to Jesus’ execution.  The idea that Jesus is the Son of God creates the accusation of blasphemy that ultimately leads to his torturous death, to his words of anguish, “Take this cup from me…”  Yes, the sky is torn open, and Jesus’ world is forever changed, as he is baptized, and then driven into the wilderness.

When Jesus steps into the waters of the Jordan, he steps into real life.  Earthy life, human life, the troubled waters of our reality.  And just when this happens, the heavens are torn apart, and God comes in; and our earthy life, our human life, the troubled waters of our reality, become immersed with God.    

            This is the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, a beginning blessed with the presence of God and the reality of pain.  Jesus is called Beloved, God declares that God is very pleased, but at the same time, Jesus is also sent, into a broken world, to be a blessing.

            You see, I think these two things go together.  I think we can only change the world once we accept our own goodness, our own blessedness, once we resist blaming ourselves for the pain that we see.  It is not our fault.  But we are enabled, because of our beauty, to change things that are ugly.  We get to do this – it is a blessing to be a blessing – to see the beauty in each and every human being!  

Jesus gets sent into the wilderness, into the broken reality of human existence, not because he has done something wrong, but because of who he is – a presence of peace and beauty and love.  And we get to be that person, too, because God has declared us to be beloved, God has declared us to be good, God has declared us to be worthy – and that is why we are called, and that is why we respond, and that is how we deal with the pain in the world.  By gratitude that we are allowed to be a blessing to others.  By gratitude that others are allowed to be a blessing to us.  And with trust, that we are good enough.  With trust that we are beautiful.  With faith that Jesus loves me, and Jesus loves you, too.

            Our Genesis scripture boldly declares the goodness of creation in the midst of a troubled world.  The story of creation that we read for today was not written when things were going well; in fact, it was written during the Babylonian exile, when the people of Israel faced oppression, loss, and violence.  In the midst of this setting, we hear the story of our beginning.  And the story of our beginning declares that the world is good, that creation is good, that all is good.

This is how Karen Armstrong explains the setting of this scripture, “Marduk, the god of Babylon, only managed to bring the earth into being after fighting a mighty battle with the goddess Tiamat, the primal sea.  He had split her carcass in two, as though she were a giant shellfish, in order to form the earth and sky out of her body.  The myth expressed the pagan conviction that…the primordial violence of chaos and formlessness could always return…We know the Israelites told similar stories about their God’s battles with a sea monster called Leviathan….But [this story in Genesis] cannot countenance the idea that….God has to fight with rivals.  In this poem, the sea monsters are simply God’s creatures, and instead of having to slaughter them, God gives them a blessing.”

We see God offering a blessed beginning, even to the creatures of the sea, the ones who had been painted as forces of violence and chaos. God looks at the swirling mass of the waters, and sanctifies it, and blesses it, and creates life. 

In fact, this creation story, this story of blessing the water, creates a notion of justice and peace that is contrary to the Babylonian setting.  In Babylon mythology, people are seen as pawns of the gods, expendable and unimportant.  This notion of the sacredness of human beings, the blessedness of all creation, is the beginning of an ethic of love and justice.  It is the water that flows forth into the heart of Israel, calling upon all of God’s people to treat one another with respect, fairness, and love. 

            The temptation of our world, and the temptation of those who spoke this creation story, was to believe in the chaos and horror of humanity, to give into despair, and to deny our own power and goodness.  These texts refuse to allow us this option.  We are good, the world is good, and so we enter into the world, to spread that goodness.  We are called to be a blessing to the world, and we are blessed to be a blessing.

            These are our beginnings.  We don’t begin with a sense of, “Oh, the world is so horrible, we need to do something about it.”  We don’t begin with a sense of, “I am such a terrible person, I should do something to help others.”  No!  Instead we begin with words of affirmation.  “You are good.  You are very good.”  And so we go into the world, to spread God’s love, because we can, because we were made for this!

            The second Jesus was baptized, he was whisked into the wilderness and faced with terrible temptation.  The second we hear that we are beloved, that we are beautiful, that we are cherished, we hear another voice, telling us that we are not good enough, that we can not do enough, that the world is way too broken; we face the temptation to deny our own beauty and our own power.  We face the temptation to do nothing and give into guilt and despair.

But we are good enough, and we can do a lot, and that is precisely why we are hurled into the wilderness.  We are a blessing to other people, we are a gift to the world, we are a light, and a hope, and an opportunity for grace.  Maybe it sounds arrogant and pompous – but God didn’t make junk, and God made us, and God declared that we are good.  And so we must act on that goodness, we must act out of that goodness, and begin again.

            We are blessed, today, with beginnings.  In the church year, it is the beginning of ordinary time, and in our country, it is the beginning of 2012.  We are called to consider what new beginning we might make.  Where can we begin to share God’s love in our world, in our families, in our lives?  Where can we let our beauty, our goodness, be a blessing?  Can we allow ourselves to look in the mirror and see someone beautiful and blessed?  Can we respond by going out into the world to share that blessing?

            They go hand in hand, my friends.  Jesus loves you.  Jesus loves me.  And so we are blessed to be a blessing to the world.  We were made for this.  So let us begin.

            Amen.