By Amar Peterman
December 9, 2024
In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,
“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord;
make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth,
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’ ”
Luke 3:1-6, NRSVUE
When I think of John the Baptist, I picture his head on a platter.
As the story goes, Salome, the daughter of King Herod’s wife Herodias, had requested John’s head at Herod’s birthday feast. Although Herod feared John, Herodias held hate towards him because he had rebuked Herod for marrying his brother’s wife. Therefore, when Salome was granted a favor from her father, her mother quickly seized the opportunity to get rid of John once and for all (Mark 6:16-29).
Years ago, I was captivated by Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio’s portrayal of John’s head being delivered to Salome. This past September, I finally visited the National Gallery in London to see this painting in person. I was enamored by it – lost in its cold, haunting hues.
Standing before it, I found Caravaggio’s depiction to provide a simple yet exquisite look into the biblical scene. John’s lifeless head, still held by the brutish executioner, hangs over the platter grasped by Salome, who cannot bear the sight. Her enigmatic gaze turns towards the light source, making her the most visible to see and yet most challenging to read. Finally, a maidservant stands over Salome’s shoulder, looking down on John’s head. We do not know who she is. Is she someone John had baptized? A new follower of Christ? A friend? A servant distraught by another example of the obtuse, kingly power to take the life of another on a whim? Perhaps she is all of them.
Given this association with John, I could only laugh when Polaris asked me to write a reflection on John’s ministerial introduction in Luke 3 and its connection to the theme of peace. Peace? The John who comes to my mind is one whose life abruptly collided with the executioner’s sword. However, reading John backward—from the last moments of his life to this moment where the word of God comes to him (3:3)—sheds light on the kind of peace that God offers and how it is brought about.
From the first days of his life, John was marked by a blessing of peace. His father Zechariah, filled with the Holy Spirit, echoes both the angel Gabriel and the prophet Isaiah in his own prophesy that John will “go before the Lord to prepare his ways” (Luke 1:76). “Because of the tender mercy of our God,” Zechariah continues, “the dawn from on high will break upon us, to shine upon those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (1:78-79). John’s task is to prepare the way for the peace to come.
This tells us something important about peace. Namely, that it does not spontaneously occur. Luke 3 begins with a lengthy explanation of John’s context: he exists under the weight of the Roman Empire’s brute power. Rulers include Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod—who will ultimately order John’s death—and many other local officials. Each is tasked with enforcing a peace that Rome offered—the Pax Romana. But this was not peace for John and his people. It was a peace by suppression and subjugation.
We might think, then, that peace comes when John receives the word of God in the wilderness (3:2) and begins his ministry of baptism. However, the biblical text gives us little evidence of that. John’s ministry is not likened to a gentle wind or the peaceful waters of the Jordan River. Luke, instead, invokes the words of the prophet Isaiah: John is “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord; make his paths straight.’” The first greeting words we hear from John are not “peace be upon you” but “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?” (3:7).
John, paving the way for the “prince of peace” (Isaiah 9:6), is far from peaceful. His words are untamed and forceful. You can picture his urgency. There is little room for pleasantries. The Messiah is coming. John must prepare the way.
Of course, Jesus does come. John’s preparation is not in vain. Jesus enters the waters where John awaits him at long last, waist-deep in the Jordan. It is there that the Holy Spirit descends upon him like a dove: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you, I am well pleased” (3:22). Yet, it is at this point in Luke’s narrative that John’s story draws to a close and Jesus’ begins. John, by Herod’s demand, is imprisoned. Jesus, baptized in the Jordan, now returns to where John had come from: the wilderness.
What I learn from John the Baptist here is that peace is birthed and brought forth into the world through the shouts of prophets like John, who cry out in the wilderness. Peace does not mysteriously appear like a vapor. Peace is a hard-won reality. Achieving peace requires those willing to stand against the powers of evil in all their forms. We, like John—and most of the prophetic voices of the Scriptures—may not be present to witness the peace that our work brings forth. But by God’s grace, our friends, neighbors, family, and children will.
Reflection Questions:
- Have you ever been captivated by a piece of art? What was it? Why is it important to you?
- What might being a ‘voice in the wilderness’ look like today?
- Are there places in your life where you can pave the way for peace?
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Amar Peterman, 2023 Polaris Advisor
Amar D. Peterman is an author and theologian working at the intersection of faith and public life. He holds an MDiv from Princeton Theological Seminary and is the founder of Scholarship for Religion and Society LLC, a research and consulting firm working with some of the leading philanthropic and civic institutions, religious organizations, and faith leaders in America today. A widely published writer, Amar‘s work has been featured in Sojourners, Christianity Today, the Christian Century, Faithfully Magazine, Fathom, The Berkely Forum, and more. His first book, focusing on the common good, neighbor love, and faith formation, is under contract with Eerdmans Publishing Company.