John the Baptist
Rabbi Herb Silberman and his wife, Temma, lived in Phoenix, Arizona just around the corner from his synagogue, Beth El Phoenix where he served as Chief Rabbi for 18 years. He was a soft-spoken man with a brilliant mind and ready smile. Temma was about the same age and was a gracious hostess … except when she once vigorously scolded Herb over some point of scripture. They were a wonderful couple.
I was then the Chief Technical Officer for Galtronics, an antenna manufacturer headquartered in Tiberias, Israel, with factories in Scotland, China, and the United States. With the advent of cellphones, we were a busy and growing company, and I traveled to Israel regularly. However, my Hebrew skills were lacking. I turned to Herb and Temma for help.
When I was in Phoenix, Temma did her best to teach me Hebrew and Herb did his best to teach me Torah. I needed to learn enough Hebrew to be able to function in Israel. As for the Torah, this was my opportunity to dig deeper into the Old Testament (The Tanach) and into Jewish culture. Herb was my guide.
In the evening, Temma drilled me in my Hebrew lesson in their living room while Herb was in the kitchen preparing Bar Mitzvah lessons for his young clients. When Temma finished with my lesson, she asked, “Would you like to speak with Herb?” That was my big moment! My answer was always “Yes!” Herb would then come in from the kitchen and we would talk for another hour or more.
As for Biblical sparring with Herb, I needed to prepare. Usually, I was able to ask one open-ended question, and he would speak eloquently for an hour or more over every possible aspect of the topic. Herb knew his Bible! He was a true rabbi. He was also my good friend.
It is said among the Jews, “Two Jews, three opinions.” Herb knew all three and many more. He was brilliant. I love the Jewish people and count it a privilege to have served them in Israel during that time in my life. They are precious in God’s sight and deeply treasured by me.
While I clumsily tried to draw Herb over to my evangelistic point of view, he was trying to convert me over to orthodox Judaism. We both failed in our purpose.
In the process of all this, Herb described and explained Mikveh (ceremonial purification) in great detail. Yes, my friend was talking about baptism. His objective was Jewish evangelism; mine was Christian evangelism. We made a remarkable pair.
Herb explained that there are three significant “baptisms” (mikva’ot) in the Tanakh (Old Testament). The first was the flood of Noah’s day (Noach), where Noah and his family were saved by passing through the waters of destruction. The second was when the Israelites passed through the waters of the Red Sea, escaping Pharaoh’s army. The third was when the Israelites crossed the Jordan into the Promised Land.
Baptism, or ceremonial purification (mikveh), is not uniquely a New Testament concept. It has existed since Noah’s time and is surrounded by regulations and procedures found in the Old Testament. Moreover, John the Baptist was an Old Testament prophet who observed Jewish law. In John’s Gospel, for example, we see a discussion arise between a certain Jew and Jesus’ disciples over ceremonial purification—as this practice was central to Jewish life then, as it is today.
Baptism was, and still remains, a tradition of ceremonial cleansing rather than a rite of passage—except in one case: conversion to Judaism. Only then is it a ceremonial rite of passage.
Like all Jews, Jesus practiced mikveh (baptism) all his life. It was an essential part of Jewish culture. It is required for ritual cleansing after childbirth, menstruation, seminal discharge, contact with a corpse, just before temple entry, just before marriage, and before observing Shabbat (sabbath). It is even required for purifying kitchen vessels under Jewish dietary laws (Kashrut, כַּשְׁרוּת).
Jesus’ baptism by John was unique. John the Baptist’s usual call was “Repent and be baptized (ceremonially purified).” In Jesus’ case, baptism was about a divine rite of passage. Something profoundly significant occurred here, though not fully revealed.
“John the Baptist” is not his proper name. “John the Baptizer” would be truer to the text, or even, “John the Washerman.” Best of all would be “John son of Zechariah.” In John’s day, “baptism” was a common word, lacking the theological weight we attach to it now.
Given John’s significant role in this drama, it is curious how little we know about his early life. He appears in all four Gospels as the key figure in Jesus’ transition into public life. The Bible says little about him, but always with reverence. God raised up John and honored him as His servant—the First Apostle.
Yes, John was the First Apostle:
ἐγένετο ἄνθρωπος ἀπεσταλμένος παρὰ θεοῦ ὄνομα αὐτῷ Ἰωάννης
ginomai athropos apostello para theos autos onoma Johannes
There came a man sent from God whose name was John.
The word apostello seals it—it means “to be sent on a mission under authority.” This term appears twenty-eight times in John’s Gospel. In the judicial system of that time, authority was delegated through officially authorized agents. That was John’s role!
There suddenly appeared a man upon the human scene,
sent off as an ambassador from God’s presence,
His name, John.
This man came as a witness in order that
he might bear testimony concerning the light
to the end that all might believe through his intermediate agency.
That man was not the light.
But he came in order that he might bear witness concerning the light.
The text explains that John was a herald “sent by God under authority.” This was not John’s idea. Yet he served as an agent for the One who sent him. He was sent as a martyria (μαρτυρία), “a witness,” as if testifying before a judge. We see this term fourteen times in John’s Gospel and only four times in the other three gospels. It is an important concept for the Apostle John and the true meaning of it should not be overlooked.
The text says that God sent John “on a mission with credentials (under authority).” He was the legal agent for the One who sent him, armed with delegated authority. He was sent as a witness (martyria, μαρτυρία) … as if giving legal testimony before a judge. We should not pass over this term without considering its original meaning.
In our day, we redefine “martyria” as someone who gives their life for the Gospel. Since we are studying the original text, we should hold to the original meaning. John did, in fact, have his life taken by Herod Antipas but it was for political reasons (think “Herodias”.) It would not be correct to say that he gave his life for the gospel as that view is not found in the text. It would be correct to say that he was beheaded because of his fearless moral stance, his courage, and his popularity with the Jews.
As for John, being a “lightning rod” was a professional hazard.
John had a profound personal encounter with God, though he never explains it. Prophets are not required to explain themselves. Their role is to proclaim God’s message, not explain it. Teachers explain; prophets proclaim. These are not the same.
The Jews could have gone to many places for baptism (mikveh), and they often did. Baptism facilities were widely populated and frequently used. Why did the people of Judea and Jerusalem come to John instead?
The answer is this: God anointed John to deliver a message … a clear and stunning message … to all Israel, and John had authority to deliver it. His message was this:
- The Messiah is here … right now.
- He walks among you.
- You do not know Him.
- Prepare yourselves: confession, repentance, and spiritual cleansing.
The Bible contains examples of important dignitaries being preceded by a herald who announces their presence and authority. In Latin, this figure was called a praeco; in Hebrew, a mekhrez. In Esther 6, for instance, the king commanded Haman to lead Mordecai through the city on the king’s horse, proclaiming, “This is what is done for the man the king delights to honor.” This provides a striking example of this role, one which surely irritated Haman, an Amalekite. You will also see an example in Exodus where Aaron (Aharon, אַהֲרוֹן) served as a spokesman for his brother, Moses (Moshe, מֹשֶׁה).
In Koine Greek, the term for herald is kēryx. Most English Bibles render it as “preacher,” yet the original meaning is richer: “a herald vested with public authority to deliver the official message of kings, magistrates, or military commanders, or to issue public summons or decrees.”
John the Baptizer was God’s herald, sent to prepare the way (literally, the road) by announcing the presence of the Messiah, the Anointed One, the Christ. People saw that he carried a presence and authority that could not be dismissed. He was a Truth Speaker. Such people are rare among mankind, and they are rare in our day.
In John’s Gospel, we encounter for the first time the central word believe. John’s purpose was that his hearers might believe the message he delivered from God. What did he mean?
In our modern world, we “believe” many things, but that is not the sense the Bible intends. “Believe” and “faith” are the same word in Greek: pisteuō. It means “surrendered and dependent trust on another.” John uses this word ninety-eight times in his Gospel—about nine times more often than in any of the other three Gospels. John makes a deliberate point: everything that follows depends on a clear understanding of what pisteuō means and how it applies to our lives.
Pistis or pisteuō does not speak of intellectual knowledge but rather to personal revelation and wholehearted commitment. It is not intellectual, it is experiential. Faith is the inner conviction of unconditional surrender and full dependence on God, arising from the deep conviction of the believer. Replace the words “faith” and “belief” in your New Testament with the word “trust,” you will have a better translation.
John’s aim was not just to provide information. His purpose was to call us to a position of surrender and to awaken in us a personal conviction of reliance and trust in the Messiah, a man of history who walks among us. He calls us to a personal conviction and commitment. We find this clearly stated toward the end of the Gospel of John.
We now consider that while God desires to provide for and protect us, His provision flows only so far as our trust and dependence on Him allow. Sin and rebellion cut off that flow.
Trust and dependence open the way to loving obedience and to the free flow of His life and grace through you. God does not merely give us things—He gives us Himself in the person of Jesus without measure. The only limits to His presence and power in our lives are the ones we put there.
Some call John the Baptizer a great preacher. The text offers little evidence for that view. If John’s popularity rested on his charisma or eloquence, then the focus of his ministry would have been on himself rather than on Jesus. Yet John shows no interest in competing with Jesus.
Crowds came to John not because of his rhetorical skill, but because he was clearly filled with the Spirit of the living God. It was the revealed power of the Living God through him that changed people’s lives.
John never performed a miracle. He didn’t need to. He embodied the essence of the Old Testament prophet: humble yet unrestrained, transparent, and honest.
I learned a lot from Herb and Temma Silberman. They were kind to me and patient. Torah study takes a lifetime. I was fortunate to have a glimmer.
With John the Baptizer, God was in the character business. He is doing the same with you and me now. That’s why you are reading this.
You may also Be interested in:
More Than a Meal: The power of long-term friendship in the fight against homelessness
“When I was younger, a doctor told me I had something no one could measure—and that was heart,” says Michael Williamson. He would need it. Michael lost his home to
Scars That Serve: How grief gave rise to a life of compassion
Sometimes you don’t realize the power of your story until it meets someone else’s pain. For Denise Loraditch, that realization came not in comfort, but in the dust and desperation
An Anomaly of Hope: One Woman’s Story from the Streets of Shasta County
It’s not every day that you meet someone with so much heart who has also experienced so much loss. Anna Byers is something special—an anomaly of hope among the homeless.
A Profound, Catastrophic Loss: Exploring the narrative around Redding's Unhoused
After years of serving alongside people living on the streets of San Francisco’s Tenderloin District, my family and I joined the mass COVID exodus and relocated to Redding. As we
The Man & the Log
When I first saw the log that was to become my next mission in the wood shop, it had been sitting in the yard for over two years. Neglected and
How to Study Your Bible
How to Study Your Bible When reading my Bible, I seem to hear an inner voice coming from the text. Studies show that more than 80% of the general population
How Big is God?
Big There are moments that define the trajectory of your life—not because of who you are, but because of the questions you dare to ask. My story begins on a