“And there came a voice from heaven” Mark 1.11
(Cathedral Evensong)
We’re usually very suspicious of anyone who claims that God has spoken to them – ‘a voice from heaven’. Most times they mean by this, a strong inner conviction that this is what they think God wants them to do.
I have had two proposals of marriage made to me on the basis that God ‘spoke’ to the person. On each occasion it would not only have taken an audible voice from heaven, but a considerable band of angels to get me to the altar.
People who claim to have heard the audible voice of God from heaven are in a class of their own. Usually they have simply forgotten to take their medication.
But there is a significant, albeit small number, in Scripture and down through the centuries who claim to have heard, as it were, the external voice of God.
I have met one remarkable woman, crippled with cerebral palsy, who I think genuinely heard the voice of God. I haven’t time to tell you the whole story, but she heard God speak her name, ‘Mary’, and it changed her life, and through her, the lives of many others.
It certainly seems that there needs to be a degree of openness in the listener to hear the voice of God.
So in John’s version of the Baptism of Christ (12.29), when Jesus hears the voice of God at his baptism, most of the crowd think it is thunder. Although the more discerning think it is an angel speaking to him.
It would be nice if we could rely on the voice of God booming out clear instructions at all the difficult turns in our life: a word of encouragement here; a word of warning there; the occasional lottery number perhaps.
But that is not the way of faith. Even for Our Lord there are only two occasions recorded where an audible voice is heard. And one of those, Jesus declares, was for the benefit of the listeners, not himself. (John 12.30)
However, at his Baptism, the voice is for the encouragement of both Jesus and John the Baptist.
The New Testament imagery of Baptism is primarily that of dying and rising in Christ; of being buried with him in death and reborn to a new life in his resurrection. That was Paul’s message in our second reading. (Romans 6.1-11)
It was natural for the early church to interpret the words and commands of our Lord in that way.
But John the Baptist’s baptism, was one of repentance, and this posed something of a problem for the first and second century theologians. Why should the sinless Jesus submit himself to a baptism which was for the washing away of sin?
Even John himself is perplexed by Jesus’ actions, as Matthew records: “John would have prevented him, saying, ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’” (3.14)
Yet John’s baptism was not just about forgiveness of sins, it was about the coming of the New Age, the Kingdom Age, the Messianic Age, when forgiven men and women would gladly submit to the gentle rule of God, and would live out Kingdom values in their daily lives.
It was about extravagant love for God and consequent love of neighbour. It was about hating hypocrisy and deadening religious practice.
In this light, it would be natural for Jesus, in his full humanity, to identify with the baptized of this new movement.
So John’s hesitation was probably not so much to do with Christ’s sinlessness, as with a realisation that Christ was vastly superior to him, in ways that John could hardly imagine possible. He was not worthy so much as to loosen his sandal.
With naive and unembarrassed simplicity, Mark (possibly the earliest Gospel) faithfully records the baptism as marking the beginning of our Lord’s public ministry.
We are sometimes in danger of making baptism and confirmation the very thing that John the Baptist railed against: an empty ritual embedded in cultic Christianity. A folk-religion placebo.
Or even worse, an inoculation against the ‘real’ thing in later life! Sadly, many of our contemporaries have experienced just enough of the church to reject its message, but not enough to understand its message.
The Baptism of Jesus, which we celebrate today, reviving the ancient practice of the church at Epiphanytide, reminds us of the authentic roots of our own baptism. It calls us to follow Christ’s example and command.
So for us, the remembrance of our baptism should spur us to turn from sin and selfishness; to live as heralds of the New Age, to wear the mark of Christ in self-giving and love.
Every time we are sprinkled with holy water; every time we cross ourselves with holy water as we enter or leave church; we are reminded of God’s love, grace and forgiveness; but we are also reminded of our baptismal resolve:
to turn from evil and to follow Christ; to love one another as he has loved us, and thus show to all that we are his disciples.
For Christ, at this turning point in his young life, there is a great affirmation from his Father. Mark records it thus: “And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’" (1.10f)
For us, there is nothing so dramatic at our baptism or confirmation. No assuring voice rending the heavens to affirm our decision. Not even divine congratulations for joining the Church of England; only the great British understatement, a cup of tea and, if we’re lucky, a piece of cake.
The ‘voice from heaven’ that Mark describes is probably his translation of a Hebrew idiom: the bath qol - the daughter of a voice.
Since the last prophet, Malachi, fell silent four hundred years before, God seemed voiceless, and the best the devout could hope for was some echo of the Divine – the bath qol, the daughter of a voice.
In Jewish literature it was often compared to the cry of a bird, the murmuring of a dove – and so the Spirit descends like a dove.
John the baptizer was a voice crying in the wilderness.
But as men and women came to him and turned to God, they heard not only a voice in the wilderness, but a distant voice from heaven; an echo of the Divine.
The Holy Spirit’s subtle work within them gave them hope and strength to live for God. To work for a better society, based on the Kingdom values of love and mercy.
The faith of our Baptism sometimes seems very shaky and precarious. And the most we seem to hear is not even a daughter of a voice, but a distant cousin of the voice of God.
But we do not lose heart.
The murmuring of God’s voice, often in unexpected places and at unexpected times in our life, is enough to bring comfort and fresh resolve.
As we struggle to fulfil our baptismal vows in a difficult world, and a very imperfect church, we look to Christ for example and for inner strength, and hope that, however distant it may sound, we too may hear
“... a voice from heaven” Mark 1.11
