Matthew 3:13-17

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.

John would have prevented him, saying, ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’

But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfil all righteousness.’ Then he consented.

And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him.

And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’

We don’t like resolutions anymore. In fact, most of us probably didn’t make a single one this year.

Pew Research Center found that about 70 percent of Americans skipped resolutions altogether. When asked why, more than half simply said, “We don’t like them.” And honestly, I’m with them. Most of our resolutions have become predictable, boring, and very inward-focused. Just listen to the top five resolutions according to a survey done by You Gov.

Exercising more
Being happy
Eating healthier
Saving more money
Losing weight

You probably could’ve guessed them. But these days self-improvement isn’t just the focus of our resolutions: it’s the focus of our whole society. We’re surrounded by a culture that tells us we are always one habit, one purchase, one routine away from becoming a better version of ourselves.

Social media feeds us an endless stream of trends, all built on the same promise: if you work harder, focus more, and optimize your time, you will finally be okay.

Nearly all of it tells us to cut out distractions — like the people in our lives — so we can walk with a weighted vest and drink mushroom coffee till we are entirely better people, physically and mentally.

Who has time for New Year’s resolutions when the pressure to improve is nonstop? But resolutions weren’t always this way. In fact, for most of their long history, they were almost the opposite of what we know today.

The practice goes back thousands of years. In ancient Babylon and Rome, people made vows at religious festivals that were meant to strengthen the whole community: praying together, settling debts, promising to live well with their neighbors and their gods. Even as recently as the 1940s, resolutions were still mostly about how to be a better person with other people.

A Gallup poll from 1947 found the top three resolutions were to improve my disposition, be more understanding, and control my temper. That’s a very different vision of change than losing weight, getting rich, or optimizing yourself.

My favorite legend about New Year’s resolutions is the Vow of the Peacock, told of medieval knights.

They would gather for a grand feast, and at the center of it all was a peacock: roasted, re-dressed in its dazzling feathers, and carried through the hall. One by one, knights would rise and make their vows upon the bird, speaking promises of chivalry before everyone present. These were not modest intentions, but aspirational, even risky commitments: to courage, loyalty, and love.

The Vow of the Peacock, more legend than ledger, shows us what people once believed promises were supposed to be: public, costly, witnessed, and binding; not private acts of self-improvement, but commitments made for the sake of others.

And that turns out to be exactly the kind of vow Jesus steps into at the Jordan River.

Because when Jesus comes to be baptized, he is not trying to become a better version of himself.

He is stepping into a shared, public act: one that binds him to sinners, to repentance, and to the people he has come to save.

That’s why we get baptism so wrong when we treat it like a spiritual achievement, something you earn once you’ve spiritually improved enough to be worthy. That’s not what’s happening at the Jordan at all.In fact, at this point in Jesus’ life, he had done nothing. No miracles. No healings. No teachings. And yet God says to everyone gathered, “This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

God doesn’t say, “This is my Son, who kept all his resolutions, who eats the right amount of protein, and walks on water.” There is none of that. No self-improvement, no spiritual résumé, but still called beloved.So if this baptism isn’t about self-improvement or earning anything, what is Jesus doing in the water?

First, he is doing this for us and with us. By stepping into the Jordan, Jesus is saying, “I am in this with you — all of you who repent, all who need forgiveness, everyone trying to turn toward God.” He does not stand above us, but with us. That’s why Jesus tells John, “It is proper for us to fulfill all righteousness.” He chooses not to go it alone. He includes John in the work God is doing. This baptism is a radical act of solidarity, showing us how Jesus will bring about the kingdom of heaven, by working in, with, and through people.

And that righteousness doesn’t stay with Jesus. The righteousness he fulfills in those waters is given to us in ours. In baptism, our sins are forgiven and we are set back into right relationship with God and with creation. That’s why, at every baptism, and every time you remember your own, you should hear God’s voice echoing over you:

“This is my child, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

With you. God is well pleased.

We don’t need resolutions to be worthy of anything, no matter what the trends and ads tell us.

What we do need, believe it or not, are peacock vows. I know that sounds strange. We don’t need to swear chivalry on a bird. But we do need public promises made for the good of our neighbors: the kind that say, out loud and together, “I’m not just here to improve my own life. I’m here for yours.”

The good news is we don’t need to be medieval knights or stage a ceremony with a roasted bird — even though that does sound fun. What we already have are our baptismal vows: promises made to God, to one another, and for the sake of the world.

In the Lutheran tradition, many of us were baptized as infants, when others made those promises on our behalf. But at some point — at confirmation, or later in life — we take those vows as our own:

to live among God’s faithful people,

to hear God’s Word and share in communion,

to proclaim the good news of Christ in word and deed,

to serve all people as Jesus does,

and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth.

Yes, keeping these promises will shape you. But their real purpose is to bless others: just like Jesus’ baptism, and even those old peacock vows. And we know that resolutions made with others and for others are the ones that last.

So here is what I’m asking of you this year: instead of self-improvement resolutions, tend to your baptismal vows. Not for you, but for God and for this world God so loves. Because what this world needs right now is not one more upper-middle-class person chasing a wellness trend or a bigger bank account.

In a world that is lonely and anxious, it needs people who will live among and beside their neig...