My Lord and My God

 In many ways we are just like Thomas. We really don’t want to come by our faith "second hand" (John 20:19-31). Our parents taught us that things worth having are worth working for? So in keeping with our Gospel reading we ask, is there really such a thing as “blind faith?” For many of us, our religion was chosen for us by our parents or inherited through our family tradition, but our faith is ours alone.

Blind faith, if it’s faith at all, does not encourage us to probe; it denies us the opportunity to question, to know what we believe “down deep” in our “core.” Blind faith requires minimal spiritual investment and permits us to cruise through our spiritual journey without the opportunity to really live on the spiritual edge of life. True faith requires knowing what we believe, beyond any doubt and with no way of being able to really explain in words. So Thomas’ in refusing to accept what he was being told and say that he understood what he did not, exhibited an honesty that prompted his need to know and understand for himself 

Thomas wasn’t the faithless doubter of the Bible. The so-called faithful disciples remained locked up in the upper room hiding in fear. Fear not doubt, gets in the way of our letting the Holy Spirit take charge. Where did Thomas go while others were hiding? What prompted him to return to his community? Was Thomas “working” at trying to know what he was asked to believe? Thomas wanted the experience of a deeper vision or sight. He was unwilling to blindly accept; it had to be real for him.

True faith is based on trust in God. True faith knows we can deepen our faith by asking critical questions of our traditions and our “inherited” belief propositions. We do this by leaving our comfort zones and living in a new reality, challenging us to know what we believe so  with Thomas, we too can personally acclaim “My Lord and my God.”

He has Risen, Alleluia

 It’s only natural to think of Easter and the Resurrection as a miracle; after all Christ’s rising from the dead is beyond extraordinary and solely in   the province of God. Yet, calling Easter a miracle makes the event exclusively God’s and removes us from having anything to do with it. I don’t believe that this is God’s intent since the incarnation of God in Jesus and His death and resurrection were for humanity's salvation and benefit and not God's. God performs miracles but men celebrate sacraments and while God may work a miracle apart from man, man is essential to the presence of a sacrament in that a sacrament requires our participation for its existence. 

Easter is sacramental every time one of us reaches out to lighten another's burden no matter how large or small. Easter is sacramental when our words heal, when our hearts understand, when lesser values die in us for the sake of greater realities. We are sacramental with Easter when men know us to be faithful. We are sacramental with Easter when we sacrifice for one another and not for selfish advantage. Easter is never more sacramental than when one man gives/devotes his life for another. Christians seek to make Easter sacramental in their lives by their memory of Jesus through their words and deeds. 

John Calvin wrote that in becoming Son of man with us, he made us sons of God with him; that by his descent to earth, he has prepared an ascent to heaven for us; that by taking on out mortality, he has conferred his immortality upon us; that accepting our weakness, he has strengthened us by his power; that receiving our poverty unto himself, he has transferred our wealth to us; that taking the weight of our iniquity upon himself (which oppressed us), he has clothed us with his righteousness. (Kruger, The Shack Revisited, p. 197) 

Jesus became incarnate to not only teach us how to live our lives but to reside in God through Jesus and lift us up into a life of communion with the very triune life of God. When we say “in him through him and with him” at the Eucharist, we are reminded of our participation in his birth, death and resurrection. (John 20:1-9). 

(Adapted from Dawn without Darkness, Anthony Padovano, p78)

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The Power of Love vs The Love of Power

 

Every year the Roman army would come marching into Palestine during Passover. It was Pilate, the governor in the time of Jesus, who led the parade riding a white stallion, a symbol of Rome’s dominance. The parade was a reminder to the Jews not to cause trouble during Passover. As if to challenge Roman oppression, Jesus rode a donkey, a lowly beast of burden, in the opposite direction, entering through the gate from which Pilate exited. (Mark 11:1-10)

 Pilate needed a whole legion to demonstrate his importance and control; however, Jesus’ “power” was rooted in the love of God. It was the power of love vs. the love of power on parade. The gospel writers tell us that this event was not accidental. Jesus planned it ahead of time. He knew he was risking the wrath of Rome by provoking Pilate. 

Contrary to some long-held beliefs, Jesus was not ransomed for us, but rather, he took and continues to take our place for the trials of our human existence. So then, why the cross? The cross was used by the Romans to not only destroy the identity of the one who was crucified, but to erase his mission and send a warning to any of his followers to “cease and desist.” Ironically, in the first century AD the cross was reviled as an image to be kept out of sight as it, on the surface, was a grim reminder of the despicable event on Good Friday. In time, however, the cross became the central symbol of our faith…a symbol that reminds us that the journey does not end with Jesus’ death but we, along with Jesus are resurrected to eternal life. The cross reminds us that death has no power over us because we live in the light of the resurrection of a “nobody” who was raised up as we will be. God is in the midst of our human experience. 

 

Now, I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now.

Seeing is Believing

 

Spring is only a few days old, but it's not very convincing. Temperatures  keep us off balance enough to wonder when winter will finally yield. And while it’s been a  relatively snowless winter, it's been  a very cold season.  And yet without fail,  the day's light lengthens and we are able to enjoy more light in our waking hours.  The birds have begun to arrive at the feeder and the tree frogs make an nocturnal racket. Their “calendar” is precisely aligned with the universe as their "time," not  a word in nature's dictionary, has  arrived. 

Yet here I am, layered in warm clothing, watching the woodpecker drill more holes in the Atlas cedar outside my window in search of nurturing syrup. The beacons of nature undoubtedly know what my human instincts doubt. I’ll believe it when I see it. And that's the essence our Gospel (John 9:1-41)…Seeing is believing, or is it?

Jesus is the light in the darkness, calling forth new life; all life springs from the light as it continues to lengthen on its way to summer. In this ambivalent month: temperate one day, cold another, the light warms the soil and beckons dormant seeds to “life’s” renewal. March knows instinctively what we intellectually know but find hard to believe.

We can deny the season but we cannot deny the light’s return. Seeing is believing…right? In our Gospel, Jesus restores a blind man’s sight. Yet, the Pharisees are unwilling to accept what they see, and ask a barrage of challenging questions: can he really see; is this the same man who was just blind?  Furthermore, they ask his parents if he was born blind; and how did Jesus open his eyes. What more can the man say; he was blind, Jesus gave him sight and now he can see. Still not wanting to believe what they have seen and heard, the Pharisees drive the man away…out of their sight. Those things that we have seen but cannot explain, we choose to dismiss and deride. That’ll make it go away.

Perhaps the unwillingness to believe in the obvious may seem an exaggeration burJohn is making a point.  Sometimes, despite what we see and hear, we find reality difficult to embrace. The inability to let go and put our egos aside is part of our human nature. It can be argued that believing and understanding reside in our intellect, while knowing is an intuitive part of our being not governed by by our intellect. We know air, we don’t need to believe in it. So, what does it take for His light to penetrate our hearts and and accept without question that which we can't see but know? Isn’t it curious how all in nature knows the light and responds according to its own being without question, and yet we can’t let go of our wintered-over hearts and open our eyes and see the light and listen to the cleansing waters of March:

And the riverbank talks of the waters of March;

 It's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart.

And the riverbank talks of the waters of March;

It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart

 

This is My Beloved…Listen to Him

I wonder how aware are we of  the "voice" of God in our lives and the way in which it is manifested? While reference to "a spiritual calling" is commonly associated with clergy, we don’t often consider that we’re “called” to a career or a secular vocation or even volunteering. But, why not? I pose this question because the story of the Transfiguration (Luke 9:28b-36) reminds us to listen with all our senses for God’s will for us. And while the unworldly spectacle of the transfiguration blinded Peter, James and John, aren't we  easily be distracted by the “noise” of the world?

The scene  moves very quickly as Peter in his excitement is eager to commemorate and memorialize the event feels the need to freeze the moment and do something to capture this life-changing event… even before he has been able to process what he has just seen. We feel like saying to Peter "Please be quiet and just listen before you do or say anything!"  While he was still speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and they became frightened when they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.” 

Maybe everything started to become clear and make sense to Peter when he listened and heard the word of God, but as we know too well, it didn't last very long.  How many times did Jesus remind Peter of his destiny? Peter may hear but is he really listening?  

Peter's transformation comes about when he repeatedly fails, falls, and is lifted up again. We too try our best and sometimes succeed and sometimes fail. We, too, have moments of insight and moments of denial. We too, fall down in fear and are raised up again and move ahead in confidence. This is a pattern that shapes our lives on this spiritual journey. We all must face the wilderness that ultimately leads to transformation and growth. This story is as much about Peter and Jesus as it is about us as we are asked to listen and to hear his voice and know God’s will for us.

 In these past weeks Luke has called our attention to Jesus’ humanity so that we might see our lives in and through his. But make no mistake,  in this gospel Luke reveals Jesus' divinity in no uncertain terms: “This is my beloved…listen to Him.”. And as we share in Jesus’ humanity, we also share in his divinity. We must listen with every fiber of our bing and allow the message to seep through the din of our day to day and know that we are being called each day to be transformed and allow our divine nature find it's way through on our journey back to "from whom we've come."

There have been quite a few times when I have felt the winds of God’s grace in the sails of my small boat. Sometimes these graces have moved me in pleasant and sunlit directions. At other times the requested acts of love were born in the darkness of struggle and suffering. There have been spring times and there have been long cold winters of struggle for survival. God has come to me at times with the purest kindness, at times with the most affirming encouragement, and at other times with bold frightening challenges. I think that all of us have to watch and pray, to be ready to say “yes” when God’s language is concrete and his request is specific-“yes” in the sunlit spring times and “yes’ in the darkness of winter nights. (John Powell, S.J., The Christian Vision, The Truth That Sets Us Free, p147)

Our Time in the Desert

 Lent is an important part of our journey. Each step we take has been walked at one time in the gospels. We know that this, our spiritual journey, begins in the desert and leads us to the cross and to a tomb and “ends” with Easter, at which time our journey to God begins again. In our readings for this upcoming Sunday in Lent, Luke 4:1-13, we are told that “Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.”  What do these temptations or tests mean to us today? 

I have been fortunate to have had an opportunity to travel fairly extensively in my life, both for business and pleasure. Although less so much now, travelling was one of my passions. Today the desire to travel has been tempered by time, circumstance and the need to be more selective. Over the years I have observed that there are two types of  journeymen. I would categorize these as being either tourists or travelers. The tourist travels through his journey in comfort, ensuring that his experiences are familiar and safe. He makes sure that he takes “his stuff” from  home with him. There are many vendors along the way who, for a price, would be willing to accommodate the tourist’s expectations and satisfy his needs, most of which are soon forgotten when he returns home armed with photos, souvenirs, and pleasant memories. On the other hand, the traveler  becomes totally absorbed by the experience in which the destination is not the only focus but part of a continuum. He is enriched in mind and spirit as new experiences are revealed and long remembered.

A few years ago, we decided to take a trip to Alaska. Our goal was to experience it as up close and personal as we could, requiring that we leave our “comfort zone” and all the attachments of our lives back home. This required that we travel on a small ship that had access to small ports and "fjords." There would be no cell phones, internet or TV. Our accommodation was a small room reminiscent of spiritual retreat.  While a departure from the way we might typically travel, this was one of the most enjoyable trips we’d ever taken. We were living as being absorbed by the journey, in the journey, as "explorers" mindful of our days' activities, unencumbered by distractions. 

Jesus’ time in the desert somehow relates to our journey as a traveler leaving our comfort zone and sharing the food we have, instead of waiting for stones to be turned into bread. If our goal is to find God in all places and things, we may to find Him in "new" places, among "new" people. As an act of faith, like Jesus, we place ourselves in God’s hands and surrender to his will by the power of the Holy Spirit

Compassion is a Verb

Sometimes, Jesus’ teachings don’t always seem to make practical sense. When we hear him say "love your enemies and do good to them, turn the other cheek when struck, give to anyone who asks, do to others as you would have them do to you, be merciful, stop judging, forgive, and give to others," we feel a bit uncomfortable and frankly, guilty. After all, it’s okay for God to be able to do these things, but does He really want/expect to follow his lead? As right-minded Christians trying to do the right thing, we silently draw the line with some of these ideals and say, “No way!”  

There is still this a persistent ongoing frame of mind, that believes violent action deserves a violent response. Somehow, we continue to justify this. Yet, it is most clearly against the very grain of this Gospel and Jesus' teachings. Part of our difficulty has more to do with understanding the counter intuitive nature of human beings and God's love. 

Both the capacity for good and the disposition toward evil exist in every one of us. Viktor Frankl has this to say when reflecting on the Holocaust: “Our generation is a realistic generation because we have learned what a human being really is. When all is said and done, man is the same creature who invented the gas-chambers of Auschwitz; but he is also that being who walked upright into those chambers with the prayer ‘Shema Yisrael’ on his lips.” If we believe in God, we have to act like God. Whether we like that idea is another issue. If we don’t then perhaps, we need to reconsider our faith and whether we really believe in Jesus Christ. We are made in the image of God, not the image of ourselves. (Luke 6:39-45) The Christian must, at all costs, leave resentment and the need for retaliation behind, lose defensiveness and bring into the mind and heart the realization of who we represent in this world. God loves the sinner as much as He does the saint. And, both of these inclinations exist in every human being, even those who consider themselves holy. 

(Adapted from St. Benedict Church, Holmdel, NJ, February 20, 2022.)

The Beatitudes

 

Historians tell us that Martin Luther originally had a hard time trying to live up to the strict demands of the Old Testament to  the point of  literally "beating himself" at times. In time he came to the realization that salvation was not a matter of yielding to a set of written laws and that Jesus came to set us free from the “law.”  And so he entered his perspective on  the Bible by placing books he didn’t care for at the end.  We know Luther wasn’t the first or the last to try to “edit” the Bible.  I suppose if we're really being honest, Luther did on paper what we often do in fact, take issue what seems to run counter to the will of a loving God.  

Jesus opens the “Sermon on the Mount” with the beatitudes, which while not really instructions for living, are a declaration of God's love and grace being poured out through Jesus (Luke 6 17, 20-26). The Beatitudes are the very essence of Jesus’ message: that the kingdom of God is at hand.  If you wonder what the kingdom of God is about, look at the beatitudes.  It means blessings, peace and comfort for those who are disenfranchised and living on the edge of society.  Right from the start of this “sermon,” Jesus makes an elaborate statement about the grace that God gives to all people who will open their hearts to it.  

 Jewish religious leaders cited specific rules one must follow, while Jesus called his disciples to live from their heart.  That means it’s not just the egregious offense against humanity that is wrong but it's avoiding the behavior, mindset and internal provocation that leads to the offense. This mindful approach requires us to examine and know behavioral triggers that lead to uncontrolled actions and alter them before they are acted out. This becomes a transformative way of living in the mind of Christ. This spiritual transformation leads to a proactive way of living the beatitudes. 

In reality, Jesus didn’t make it easier to obey God’s commands, he made it harder.  He went back to the original intention, to inspire people to live in the mind of Christ with  innate justice, compassion, and mercy toward one another, not for fear of punishment or in order to gain some reward but because God’s grace had changed their hearts, and they could do no less. In other words, for Jesus, obeying God is not just a matter of what we do, it’s who we are. The Waking Dreamer, Alan Brehm, “Light for the World,” February 12, 2014

I Will Make You Fishers of Men

What force could be so powerful and so compelling that would prompt us to drop everything and leave the comfort and security of our homes? Sure, many of us have ventured out to pursue our dream. Maybe we went away to college; moved to advance our careers and get a fresh start elsewhere, or maybe we were summoned or inspired to serve our country in the military. It's not uncommon in today’s world in which greater opportunity and career development seem to be linked to "moving away."

Life is all about making choices which for the most part are made by weighing options and best case outcomes. But the idea that an unknown itinerant preacher and former carpenter could ask us to drop everything and follow him is inconceivable. Yet, that's precisely the scene that Luke 5:1-11 describes in his Gospel. Unfortunately, some of the details in the reading are few and there’s obviously a lot more we don't know than we do. But what we do know is that there was something compelling enough about Jesus and his message that inspired Simon, Andrew, James and John, to drop their nets, leave their boats and follow him.

What was so powerful in what Jesus' message that would compel us to change our lives so drastically? Could this happen in our time? Luke writes “And immediately they left their nets and followed him.” Luke’s purposeful use of the word immediately suggests that something decidedly profound happened to them. They experienced an epiphany that immediately prompted them to follow Jesus. 

It makes me wonder if profound changes in our faith, like spontaneous combustion, only happen suddenly?  It's almost as if we are automatic pilot and all we need to do is to let go of the controls and say yes.

Luke’s sense of urgency leaves no room for “give me a few minutes. Let me pack my bag and make a few arrangements.” No… epiphanies are spontaneous. There's no preparation, no packing list, no recommendations as to what to take, no chance to get a second and a third opinion, in the hope that the impulse might pass. Sound familiar?

Karoline Lewis writes, “Jesus just happens. We have no time to think. Epiphanies are untamable, unpredictable. There is nothing comfortable about epiphanies. They rock your world. “Epiphanies, especially of the divine nature, demand an immediate response. There’s no invitation for contemplation or reflection but instantaneous commitment and risk. Or, to put it another way, no real choice... If the heavens are ripped apart, well then, get ready for a wild ride. This can be simultaneously freeing and terrifying. Free to respond in the moment. Terrified of what beyond the moment will unfold." (Working Preacher, January 18, 2015).

So, back to the question, could this happen in our time? Can we remember times when our own behavior surprised us and made us ask, where did that come from? Maybe this is what Luke wants us to think about.

It Doesn't Take a Village

While the many beautiful Christmas images portray serene scenes of a tranquil birth and a simple bucolic life, historical accounts reveal that Jesus was born in a turbulent, dangerous world of political and social upheaval.  Serenity and peace were at a premium. 

This week our liturgical calendar celebrates The Presentation of Jesus in the temple Luke 2:22-40 . Despite their many hardships and challenges, I’m struck by how diligent Mary and Joseph were in discharging their parental spiritual duties, as they faithfully adhered to the tenets and practices of their religion. 

And so in Luke we celebrate Jesus’ circumcision on the eighth day following his birth. And his presentation in the temple along with Mary 's ceremonial “brit milah,”  23 days later.  Two temple attendants, Simeon and Anna, witness the ceremonies and give thanks to God for granting them the opportunity to witness the arrival of the child whom they “recognize” as the fulfillment of the prophecy and the One for whom they waited. 

This story of Jesus’ first religious ritual prompts memories of our own parents’ involvement in the initiation of our faith, and although our early memory is clouded over by infancy, many of us still cherish the pictures and artifacts that call these rituals to mind, if only second-hand. These memories pay tribute to the personal commitments our parents and caregivers made with regard to our spiritual development. Like the child Jesus, our religious heritage began with the faithful hopes and practices of our parents and others who may have been responsible for our care.  

As with most, my mother and father were responsible for my attending weekly church services and while, I often resisted the call; (after all, it was Sunday, a day I could sleep late and play with friends, who somehow were “excused” from Sunday services.)

Regarding the Church, except for worship, there was little in the way of social activities to keep us coming or hold us. We just went to Church on Sunday and we returned home. Yes, there were choir practices and altar boy calls and during Lent we attended seasonal services, but it was our parents who established the practices, and saw to it that we followed their lead. We had no choice. So, we went, we listened, we learned and eventually patterns were established and requisite attendance became ingrained. In retrospect, I believe we were blessed.

The decline of the family unit has been linked to a myriad of economic and social problems in our country. It is a fact that our children suffer most from this decline and while we look for help from outside agencies, I often wonder if we are too quick to relegate the care of these precious lives to external resources. There’s a fine line between delegation and abdication. It seems that as the problems grow more severe, additional resources are proposed to expand support for childhood development, and to entrust the educational, social and even religious development of our children to institutions. While help is invaluable and with regard to education, essential, I do not believe that it takes a village to raise a child. Luke’s Gospel reminds me that Jesus didn’t just leap from the manger and begin performing miracles and preaching God’s love. Yes, the focus is on Jesus, but it reminds us of the role Mary and Joseph played in Jesus formative years. Sure, times have changed but parental duties in the rearing of children, despite challenges and obstacles, still fall to the loving family unit.

Is that Mary and Joseph's son?

 

And so the day finally arrives as the local boy who has been making quite a name for himself, finally comes home. He goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath and reads from the prophet Isaiah, after which he begins to speak. At first the crowd whispers its approval: "Mary and Joseph certainly raised a good son." But suddenly the crowd begins to get uneasy as he continues. (Luke 1-:1-21.) 

They’re aware of the many miracles he’s performed before returning home. And for this reason, many had gathered. They wanted to see him “perform” for them: Why not a little razzle-dazzle for the home town folks? If only Jesus would just do some healings or other miracles, they would know that God's power was among them. But would they? 

Jesus performs no miracles in Nazareth; in fact, he goes out of his way to defy expected convention by reaching out to sinners, toll collectors and outcasts. So, what started initially as a positive response, the crowd begins to get angry especially since Jesus now reaches out and begins to include the Gentiles in his ministry. The essence of Jesus’ ministry is love for all people.

This abrupt shift from awe to rage seems to go deeper than jealousy or disappointment. The assembled has become hostile and threatening. I suppose it’s hard enough for Jesus in all his humanity to live up to anticipated expectations. It’s even harder still to deal with out and out rejection. Why? 

Just Do What He Says

The gospel celebrating The Wedding at Cana is unique to John and is the first of the miracles which he referred to seven signs.  John referred to these signs throughout Jesus’ ministry as events pointing to the Lord’s divinity. 

While the scene conjures up a beautiful image of Jesus as a young man accompanying his mother to a wedding feast, it reminds us that the mystery of God’s incarnation in Jesus, has as much to do with Jesus’ humanity than his divinity. That God could do miraculous things is easily understood. After all he is God. But that he could live like us with all our fears and joy, fully human is still amazing. He is one of us… and that’s the whole point.

The exchange between Jesus and his mother is endearingly familiar and personally humorous. Mary, to whom John never calls by name, senses the embarrassment of the wedding hosts and points out to Jesus that they have run out of wine. Despite any response from Jesus and without any further consultation, Mother Mary tells the servants to follow his instructions and do whatever he says. 

I have this image of my mother encouraging me on the high diving board in Steeplechase: “Come on, you can do it! I know you can!” “But, Ma,  it’s too high and I’m scared.” “Don’t be afraid, I’m here, you can do it, I know your can do it.” And I  did.

Or a time much later in my life when in the throes of an ongoing job interview process,  my mother comes home with the telephone number of a “big shot executive” son of a friend” who is expecting my call Saturday morning. 

“Ma, this is embarrassing and not how it’s done I protested. You don’t get a job in this company just because your mother works with someone’s mother.” Oblivious to my response, she replies “Never mind, just call him at 10:00 AM tomorrow; he’s expecting you.” 

I wonder what my mother or Mary saw in their sons at that moment. What was that my mother knew that I could dive off the high board and I could get the job of my dreams?  Mary had faith in her son and believed that such a miracle was possible? How did she know that this was his time? How did my mother know that I was ready and just needed a little push?  

And what about the unspoken “dialogue” between Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King. In many ways the exchange between Mary and Jesus is somewhat reminiscent of that unspoken “dialogue,” characterized by Rosa’s refusing to yield her seat. Could this well-publicized event have provoked King, whose time he thought had not yet come, to transform history. His moment was at hand.

It is more than coincidence that Jesus’ mother surrounds his earthly ministry. She is there at the very beginning of his ministry and is there at his very painful end. She is the nurturing force, and the earthly mother of the Word of God made flesh as she shares parenthood with God. 

Perhaps this sign in John 2:1-11 serves to remind us that whenever Jesus reveals his divinity, he is simultaneously revealing something about his humanity. Could this also serve to remind us of transformative changes in our faith as God’s incarnation in Jesus is about his incarnation in us. Are we ready; do we need a little push? 

 

You are My Beloved Son

I wonder how many of us celebrate the date of our Baptism as we might our birthday or anniversary. I’m not sure I can even locate my baptismal certificate much less know the month or day it took place. This Sunday we will celebrate the baptism of Jesus according to Luke 3: 15-16, 21-23. Despite the fact that this event in our church calendar was once considered an even more important feast than Christmas, the Baptism of Jesus is usually acknowledged with a Gospel reading and a sermon. Yet, along with the Epiphany, it is a celebration of the true nature of the incarnation of God. Perhaps we should wait a little while before we put away our manger scenes. 

I suspect that for many Christians the sacrament of Baptism is somewhat of a mystery. If you ask some why they want their children baptized they would be hard pressed to explain. Do we do it to please grandparents? Is it a cultural act? Is it some sort of “ticket to admission” to a particular church or is it a pre-qualification for communion? How many of us were raised believing that Baptism was intended to “wash away” our sins? 

Instead, the sacrament informs us that the presence of God is with us and in us and is essential to our very being. Baptism reminds us that in addition to being part of the Christian community, we were invested in God’s Kingdom long before any sprinkling of water or liturgical incantation took place. 

In this Gospel Luke seems to “be apologizing” for having to baptize Jesus, when he tells us that he is not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals. Then he goes on to say that while I am baptizing you with water, the one mightier than I is coming and will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. How many times have we said “Oh Lord I am not worthy” when we really are worthy? We are worthy because of our birth rite but like Mary we are humbled. 

Back to our Gospel…when all the people and Jesus had been baptized, heaven was opened and the Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased. This powerful affirmation of the Father made it clear to all just who Jesus was.

“In a very profound way we are in fact brothers and sisters to one another. Each of us has already received the first great gift of our spiritual inheritance: the gift of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit of God resides in each of us as the source of the divine life and the source of all life…The life of God in us means that we are closely bonded to one another. We are more closely united by the living presence of the Spirit in us than we would be by family blood lines. The shared life in God, makes us family in a profoundly personal way. This is the faith vision of the reality which we call Church.” (John Powell, S.J. The Christian Vision, p131)