Homily:
The Baptism of the Lord – Cycle C
On January 8th,
1978, a baby boy was baptized at Saint Mary Nativity Catholic Church. Little did his parents and godparents know at
the time that this boy would be destined to stand one day right where I am standing
and preach to you, the good people of this parish, the Good News of Jesus
Christ. No, they could not know this as
the mysterious plans of God would take this boy far and wide until that day
that he would come here, carrying this most important news. “Who is this boy?”
you might be asking. “Who is this boy destined to bring us Good News?” Well, my friends, it’s… me. It’s just me.
You know, I
remembered my baptism anniversary this past week and I realized that the whole
thing was rather… undramatic. So, I
thought I’d try to infuse a little drama into it here in my homily. My guess is
that, for just about everyone here, the same is true. So true that I’m willing to bet that there
aren’t five people in this church who know when their baptism anniversary
is. Am I right? Raise your hands if you
know the date of your baptism. Almost
all of us here do not remember the date of our baptism. And why? Well, probably because they were all
pretty undramatic, I suppose. Nonetheless, hidden below the surface, incredibly
dramatic things happened.
Jesus’ baptism,
on the surface, wasn’t very dramatic either.
In fact, Luke’s Gospel barely gives it a sentence. He wrote: “After all
the people had been baptized and Jesus also had been baptized and was
praying...” That’s it. No drama. Just
another dip in the water like the multitudes of others that had been coming to
John for his “baptism of repentance”. Under the surface, however, this was
incredibly dramatic.
Imagine for a
moment that you are standing in line for confession; and imagine that this is a
“regular” confession for you: one in which you don’t feel the anxiety of
anything major to confess, but nonetheless have acknowledged that there are
some things in your life that need the grace of God’s forgiveness. Look up and down the line. You’ll see some
folks you recognize and others you do not. Now imagine that one of those folks
is Jesus. Which one? Who knows? But this is the situation in which Jesus comes
to be baptized by John. Jesus, a guy who looks like anyone else, comes to
receive John’s baptism of repentance. He
waits his turn, enters the river, and allows John to baptize him. After, he
prays. No drama. Hidden below the surface, however, something
incredibly dramatic happened: something mostly obscured by what happened after.
What happened
after was this great theophany—the manifestation of the Holy Trinity—as the
skies were torn open and the Holy Spirit descended upon him and the voice of
God the Father was heard declaring to him that he is his “beloved Son”. This was pretty dramatic, to be sure. This
public manifestation of Jesus’ identity steals the stage from the drama that
happened in the water. The hidden drama in the water, however, was no less
significant.
When you and I
were baptized, I’ll bet that the most dramatic thing that happened outwardly
was that the priest poured too much water and got some in your eyes or your
godfather dropped your lit candle on the carpet. Nonetheless a great drama happened, unseen to
any of us: we were cleansed of sin, the Spirit of God descended upon us, and we
were permanently sealed by God, marking us as his beloved children. Incredible!
Something permanent and infinitely irrevocable happened to us with what looked
like nothing more than a splash of water.
This hidden drama of our baptism, though, wouldn’t have been possible
without the hidden drama of Jesus’.
You see, what
happened at Jesus’ baptism was not God’s adoption of him (as some ancient
writers had proposed—as if he hadn’t always been God’s Son and as if he just
happened to be, like, the “one-millionth-customer”; thus, winning the grand
prize of becoming God’s son). Rather,
what happened at his baptism was the sanctification of water as the means of
new life. Jesus did not need John’s baptism: he had no need of repentance. Yet
he shows us the depths of his humility by submitting to John’s baptism anyway.
In doing so he purified the waters of baptism and made them powerful: able to
effect the hidden drama that happens at every baptism that we celebrate today
and to be the sign of new life that it inaugurates.
The public
manifestation that Jesus is the Son of God was the outward expression of new
life that his baptism brought. From that
moment, Jesus’ hidden life in Nazareth was over and his life of public ministry
was inaugurated. So, too, for us. Once
the hidden drama of baptism unfolded, a new life in faith was inaugurated for
each of us. We were incorporated into Christ and, thus, we can now no longer
live a hidden life. Rather, our lives
must consist in being manifestations of the truths that have been revealed to
us throughout this Christmas season: that Jesus is the divine person in human
flesh—the Son of God—and that he has come to save us.
My brothers and
sisters, none of us needs screenwriters to make our baptisms seem more
dramatic. There is a depth of drama
already built in, hidden under the surface. What we need, however, is to let
the ensuing drama—the drama of the manifestation of Jesus to the world—play out
in our lives by proclaiming this Good News (with our mouths!), by living
upright and holy lives (for the Saint Paul tells us that “The grace of God has
appeared, saving all and training us to reject godless ways and worldly desires
and to live temperately, justly, and devoutly in this age”), and by serving
those in need, no matter where we are.
My brothers and
sisters, God has called each of us to be a manifestation—an epiphany—of
his presence to the world. As we enter
into Ordinary Time let us resolve to respond to that call, so that the drama of
each of our lives might lead to the greater glory of him: the Father, Son, and
Holy Spirit, who lives and reigns forever and ever… AMEN!
Given
at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – January 13th, 2019
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