The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.
I’m sure you’ve heard about, or seen pictures of, or actually have walked along the Walk of Fame in Hollywood. The Walk of Fame is a sidewalk on which you’ll find pink stars framed by black granite, with the names of famous actors and singers, or other names of big importance to the Hollywood scene. What’s interesting about this stretch of sidewalk is that while you’re walking along the Walk of Fame, you might be surprised if some of the famous people portrayed in those stars might be walking next to you. One pastor and his wife reported a visit to the Walk of Fame many, many years ago, and as they walked along reading the names, Elvis Presley showed up and began to talk to the wife. Then, out of the blue, Marilyn Monroe arrived, and a few steps later Superman showed up, and then not one but two Spidermen approached the couple to talk to them. As it turns out, the Walk of Fame is not merely populated by visitors — it’s also populated by imposters. People pretending to be somebody they really aren’t. They mimic the mannerisms, the cadences, the voices, the dress, and they try to pass themselves off as the real thing. But try as they may, they can never be the thing they portray themselves to be.
This week, as with last week, the Second Sunday in Advent, we see a famous man in the New Testament who suddenly appears there. A man who is dressed strangely, a strange man himself, preaching a rather strange doctrine. But who is he, and who isn’t he? That’s what the Jews, the priests and the Levites, wanted to know. Was he the real thing, or was he an imposter? Was he pretending to play the role of a prophet, or was he actually a prophet — or even greater than a prophet — the Messiah sent by God Himself? When they looked at John the Baptist, they saw a man they thought sounded and looked like Elijah. And how did they know what Elijah looked like? Well, strangely enough, Elijah is one of the very few characters in the Bible, Old and New Testament, where we get a physical description of the man. What we know about Elijah is that he was very hairy — just like John the Baptist. We also know that he was forced to live in the wilderness for a while and clothed himself with animal skins, like John the Baptist. We also know that he wore a leather belt around his waist, just like John the Baptist. And now here’s a little-known fact that very few people know: throughout the centuries, including the centuries immediately following Elijah’s ascension into heaven, there’s a great deal of Jewish literature that has many references to people who claim to have interacted with Elijah after his ascension — hundreds and even thousands of years after he ascended. A few of these stories would likely have been circulating around the time of Jesus. So, having stories of the appearance of Elijah — why, that was one of the legitimate questions: has Elijah come back? Is this Elijah, or is this another? So they had a straightforward question for John the Baptist: who are you?
And John the Baptist first made it clear who he was not, and he starts at the top and works his way down: “I am not the Christ.” It’s an interesting answer, which means there must have been people thinking that he was. So they had a second guess: “Are you Elijah?” And he said, “I am not.” Then they had a third: “Are you the Prophet?” And his answer was no. Now, when they asked John if he’s “the Prophet,” what they’re really asking is: are you the reincarnation, the second coming of Moses? Because Moses was the prophet of all prophets. He was the one that, when people said “the Prophet,” they were referring to Moses. But John the Baptist wasn’t an impostor. He wasn’t impersonating the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the Prophet. He wasn’t pretending to be something that he was not. In fact, he turned the spotlight away from himself and directed it to the coming of Christ.
John the Baptist himself is not a self-aggrandizement type person. He doesn’t exaggerate. He doesn’t pretend to be something that he is not. That was a problem, of course, for the apostles who followed Jesus, the disciples. They often argued amongst themselves who was the greatest and the least in the kingdom of heaven, and who would sit on the right and left hand of Christ once He came into His kingdom. And Jesus put them in their place: “Whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave.” That was John. He was a slave, a servant — a man who occupied the office of the last prophet of the Old Testament, the one of which Isaiah spoke, who would come and prepare the way for the Christ.
So far, John has only told them what he is not. But that wasn’t good enough for them — and it wouldn’t be a good enough answer for us either, if we were questioning somebody. Generally speaking, it’s not good enough to simply deny that you’re one person while not saying who else you are. So they get a little frustrated: “Who are you? We need to give an answer to those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” And he said, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’ as the prophet Isaiah said.” John the Baptist doesn’t say what his personal opinion is about himself. He doesn’t discover anything other than the words of the prophet — in other words, the words of God. He is letting God tell the priests and the scribes and the Pharisees who he really is. He tells them what his real function is going to be. He’s rooted his identity in the fact that God has called, gathered, enlightened, sanctified him, and sent him on a mission to prepare the way for the Lord.
The priests and the Levites had been sent by “the Jews.” By the way, in the Gospel of John, “the Jews” refers to Jewish Hebrew men and women who did not believe in the promised Messiah, who held to a works-righteousness religion, and who opposed Jesus in thought and word — and, if they could, in deed — throughout His ministry. That is, the priests, the Pharisees, and the Levites who are called “Jews” were unbelievers, and they were sent by unbelievers. But John — John was a man sent by God. Two separate groups of people: a group sent by God, and a group sent by men. He came as a witness, to bear witness about the light. But he was not the light — he came to bear witness about the light. So he wasn’t Moses, he wasn’t Elijah, he wasn’t the promised Messiah, he wasn’t the light. But he came to testify, to bring attention to, to prepare the way for Christ. He is the voice. He carries the message. He’s not about himself. When John speaks, he speaks God’s Word, not his own. They, on the other hand, are speaking the words of the ones that have sent them. These priests and Levites come in the name of the Jews at the temple, who are worried about the preaching and teaching of John the Baptist.
John the Baptist acts in accordance with his office as prophet — one to prepare the way for Christ. His job description, his scope of work, is very narrow: he preaches repentance, a baptism of repentance for the remission of sins, and he calls upon all to confess their sins and to be baptized. Everything that he says, and everything that he does, is in service to the Christ of God. He’s not the Christ, he’s not Elijah, he’s not the Prophet. So they want to know: by what authority does he baptize? Who gave him this authority? Now, Jesus would later turn that very same question back on the Jews when they were questioning Him about His authority. Jesus told them: “The baptism of John, from where did it come? From heaven or from man?” It’s a reference back to John the Baptist. And you have priests and Levites coming by the authority of men, and John the Baptist himself coming by the authority of heaven — that is, the Lord God.
Here at the River Jordan, the Jews asked, “Why then are you baptizing, if you are neither the Christ, nor Elijah, nor the Prophet?” And John answered, saying to them, “I baptize with water, but among you stands one you do not know, even He who comes after me, the strap of whose sandal I am not worthy to untie.” Even as the Jews interrogate John to see who he is, and by what authority he baptizes, he tells them that the Christ is already among them. He stands among them, in line, probably. The Savior has arrived. The unworthy servant. Later, John would tell his own disciples that Jesus must increase, while he must decrease. He’s all about the Christ. He’s all about fulfilling the purpose for which he came into the world in the first place. Remember his birth and conception, which were miraculous — almost as miraculous as Christ’s Himself.
John was no impostor. He’s a sinner. Thus, when Jesus came to be baptized by John, what was John’s reply? “I need to be baptized by You, and do You come to me?” And Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented. Up until that moment, Jesus stood among the people as an ordinary, unremarkable man. The Son of God was standing in a crowd, and nobody could see Him. No one noticed Him, because there was nothing particularly noticeable about Him. Again, Isaiah 53:2: “He had no form or majesty that we should look at Him, and no beauty that we should desire Him.” Imagine: everyone’s looking for the Savior, and nobody notices that He’s standing right there among them. It’s an important lesson, by the way, for today. You don’t find Jesus by what you see. That’s not how He’s found. You find Jesus — and Jesus calls, gathers, and enlightens you — by what He says, by His Word, by His voice.
Also notice: Jesus allows John to keep preaching. You know, among certain professional classes — yes, clergy is one of them — when someone of a higher rank appears, you give them deference. You let them preach, you let them teach, you let them speak — unless they have, for some other reason, declined. Well, Jesus doesn’t begin preaching once He’s baptized. He has to go complete His preparation in the wilderness. He doesn’t preach until after 40 days and 40 nights of temptation. Jesus will preach His share of sermons through His own mouth. But there at the River Jordan, the Son of God was content to work through means — the means of John the Baptist’s mouth, and the means of John the Baptist’s hands, and the means of the water in the River Jordan. In time, He will use His own disciples as instruments, or means, to salvation too. He will send them out to preach and to baptize in His name. He still uses the Office of Pastor today, and sinful human beings as instruments and means, to call, gather, enlighten, and sanctify the whole Christian Church on earth.
And yes, today in the pulpits of many congregations, there are pretenders. There are impostors. There are people whom God did not call and ordain to be pastors and priests in His church. Nowhere does the Bible give us the authority to ordain women into the pulpit — in fact, it prohibits it; it limits exactly who gets called and who doesn’t get called. There are impostors who preach and teach false doctrines, who arrogate that Office of Pastor. They are impostors. The church is filled today with impostors, hypocrites who don’t believe what the biblical text teaches, who make their own liturgies weekly, as if they have authority to change that which the Scripture has given to us.
See, John understood who he really was, and what his duties were to be. He was the real deal. He was the real deal because the Lord God made him so. No false humility on his part, no self-aggrandizement on his part. He simply humbly fulfills the task to which he’s called. And when he stands in the presence of Christ the Lord, all he can do is confess: “I need to be baptized by You.”
Philosophers have been preaching the phrase “know thyself” for a long time. But too many Christians today have forgotten who they are. They’ve placed it in the wrong priority. Your identity, first, most, and last, is that of a baptized son or daughter of God the Father, brother or sister to Jesus Christ, and a temple of the Holy Spirit. All other things in life that you do — mother, father, brother, sister, employer, employee, owner, whatever else it is — it’s all secondary to your fundamental identity. In an idealistic world, Christians should never have an identity crisis, or a midlife crisis, or any other crisis in which they ask, “Who am I?” For the Christian, that’s a sinful question, because the answer is: you are an adopted son or daughter of God in Christ. You might think of yourself, or be tempted, that your identity is primarily wrapped up in what you do. You might be tempted to dismiss your identity with a passing reference: “Yeah, I know I’m a Christian, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” You may measure yourself by what you’ve done or achieved or failed to achieve. But such things are temporary, temporal, and secondary. They don’t carry you into the life of the world to come. Only your identity as a Christian, a child of God the Father — that’s what carries you to your heavenly home.
You and others will try to define yourself by your failures, your weaknesses, your doubts, your fears, and even your sins. But Christ has taken care of all that as well. So don’t let the devil, the world, or your own sinful nature tell you who you are. It is the Lord who created you, formed you in the womb, gave you a new birth in the waters of Holy Baptism, has placed His name upon you, wrapped you in the righteous robe of Jesus Christ, and calls you by name. That’s the real identity. That’s your real identity. Yes, you were born in sin, and you’re still sinners, and you commit sin in thought, word, and deed. Your sin makes you unholy and deserving of God’s judgment — but that’s who God says you are according to the Law. But for the Christian, He no longer counts you according to the Law. God doesn’t stop there. He declares this of you: you are the pearl of great price. He has purchased and won you from sin, death, and the power of the devil — not with silver or gold, but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death. He has called you His child — son or daughter, brother or sister — a temple of the Holy Spirit. For Christ’s sake, God the Father has clothed you with the garment of salvation, covered you with the righteous robe of Jesus Christ, washed you in the blood of the Lamb. Because now you are the real deal. You’re a holy son, a holy daughter — no longer a slave or a servant, but a son or daughter, an heir to everlasting life. You don’t need to pretend to be a sinner — you are one. And you don’t need to pretend to be a saint either, because you already are in Christ. You’re forgiven, a holy saint — the real deal. Amen.
May the peace that surpasses all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.