Baptism of the Lord

Homily 1 - 2005

Jesus’ baptism apparently was seen to be significant by all the gospel writers. They all mention it. With all of them it also seems to have been connected to a significant experience of Jesus: the insight into his own relationship with God; the sense of being not just creature cared for and sustained by the creator, but of being deeply and passionately loved, This is my Son, the beloved; my favour rests on him; as well as a sense of a new spirit stirring within him, energising and confirming him. He saw the Spirit of God ... coming down on him.

What did his baptism mean for Jesus? In an earlier paragraph, Matthew had identified the baptising activity of John as a baptism of repentance, of profound change, for the forgiveness of sin. How could Jesus be involved in that? The way we all are. Just by living in a family, in a village, in a nation he was caught up in the destructive ways that we as societies relate to each other. Jesus’ world was little different from ours – the details were unique but the dynamics and interactions basically the same.

Our world is a world of violence, injustice, poverty, and hunger dispossession – an enormous gulf between rich and poor, powerful and powerless – not inevitably, but because that is the way societies have always organised themselves. You can’t help but be part of it. We all take it largely for granted.

Of recent days there has been a tremendous spontaneous outpouring of grief for the victims of the recent tsunami, and a wonderful response of compassion for those affected. But there are millions of others as badly off as these or even worse, right around our world. They have been that way for decades and many will remain that way. As a society, nation, community of nations, we take it for granted, and do nothing – or nothing significant that would essentially affect the outcome – certainly not at the price of our own standards of living. We can’t just blame our political leaders. They read very accurately the mood of public opinion.

Against this background Jesus fronted up for baptism. For him it meant a commitment to engage with, and to meet head on, the sin of the world – As Isaiah sensed in the first reading: I have endowed him with my spirit that he may bring true justice to the nations. Jesus’ sense of his own dignity (He knew he was loved passionately by God), the sense of his own capacity and desire to bring about change (He sensed himself filled by the Spirit - the power - of God), led him to embark on an adventure whose details he could hardly imagine, but whose outcome may have already been clear enough – (given the precedents of prophets who had preached justice before him).

Five centuries before him Isaiah had dreamed: Faithfully he will bring true justice; he will neither waver nor be crushed until true justice is established on earth... He would explore, denounce, resist the violence of the world, meeting it instead with a profound respect for the dignity, rights and responsibilities of every person – particularly of the marginalised, the discriminated against, the excluded, those on the edges.

Again, as Isaiah had said: I have appointed him ... to open the eyes of the blind, to free captives from prison, and those who live in darkness from the dungeon. His strength would lie in his integrity only, and a readiness to meet the uncaring, violent world, not with superior violence but with forgiveness. Isaiah again: He does not break the crushed reed, nor quench the wavering flame.

Has it worked? Not yet! We his followers, who in our turn have been baptised into his project, are still to be convinced of his message, and his methods (at least in practice), and to be numerous and committed enough to make the difference. But there is no other way. If history teaches us anything with certainty, it teaches us that violence has never put a decisive end to violence.

And yet I believe that the message has to be learnt by every successive generation. Sin is endemic. The process of conversion - of repentance - will always be necessary, and its price will always be the same: nothing less than a death to our own self-interest and a deliberate, painful, adoption of the ways of non-violent love.

Homily 2 - 2008

Matthew had made clear earlier that John’s baptism was a baptism of repentance. Jesus accepted that. Without claiming that he had sinned himself, he certainly accepted that he belonged to a sinful humanity – and he longed for a better world. He had seen enough of what people in society do to each other and to themselves.

If “the cry of anger is the cry of pain”, then those who adopt the ways of coercion and violence are victims of unrecognised pain within themselves: among other things, of deep insecurity, emptiness, frustration and absence of intimacy. Why do people drop bombs, shoot people, or engage in intertribal and ethnic savagery? Ultimately because they fear – fear that others will do the same to them, fear that they will miss out on, what others have or might have – fears that arise spontaneously or fears that have been cunningly implanted by others in power.

Jesus knew that kind of world. His was a world where people were heartlessly impoverished by conquerors and collaborators, and where some retaliated with violence or fought among themselves. That was his world of Galilee – a world conquered and subdued by Rome’s military might, a world where some collaborated to squeeze from the poor whatever they could tax to fill the coffers of the conquerors and to line their own pockets in the process – a world where some spoke of revolution, and some were determined to maintain the status quo.

John the Baptist called for change, but he did not raise the banner of revolution. He called for repentance, conversion, for a whole fresh look at how people interacted. He wanted people to wake up, to see reality as it was. He called for personal change and for social change. Herod, the puppet king of the Roman conquerors, saw John as dangerous, imprisoned him and eventually executed him. Jesus saw John as sent by God. He joined the steady stream of people coming out to John in the wilderness, away from the cities, to be baptised.

It was a life-changing moment for Jesus. It is one of the few events that figures in all four Gospels. Jesus quickly came tor realise that he himself was to take up John’s call to conversion. But he also saw, with an insight that John found hard to understand, that the only way to genuine change would be to draw on the power of love, on respect for people – on respect even for enemies. He came to see that the only real source of irrepressible love lay in the heart and will of God. He came to see that the option to love, to respect, even to forgive, would be resisted; and that those who opted for it, like himself, would be misunderstood, laughed at, opposed and possibly killed. In accepting John’s baptism of repentance – commitment to change – Jesus embarked on a journey that not only led to death for John but led to death also for himself.

The source and support of his relentless commitment to do all that righteousness demands was insight into the heart of his God, and his recognition that, since God is love, the only truly constructive, creative and healing energy in personal relations and in social life can be love – and the practical shape that love takes in structures of justice and work for peace.

Homily 3 - 2011

For over forty years the Church has observed New Year’s Day as the World Day of Peace – not really an enlightened choice of days for us in the Southern hemisphere when most people are trying to make the most of the holidays and the warm weather. Each year the Popes have published statements on particular issues relevant to the broad question of peace in the world.

This year, Pope Benedict wrote on “Religious Freedom – the Path to Peace”. Towards the end of it, there is a brief paragraph on the question of moral truth in politics and diplomacy. With Wikileaks in the news, his comments have struck a sensitive spot – particularly his call that nations act responsibly on the basis of the real facts. He also mentioned the importance of being alert to and countering, as far as possible, the ever-present tendency in our modern world to supplant truth and human dignity, under the pretext of peace, development and human rights. He also urged nations to be committed to base positive law on principles of the natural law.

A current topical issue here in Australia is that of Gay Marriages. The Federal Government has asked parliamentarians to canvass the opinion of their electorate during this holiday break as to whether committed relationships between people of the same sex may come under the general banner of marriage. It would be a good idea for you to make contact with our local member and to tell him what you think – as citizen and as Catholic. As I see it, there are three issues that would be worth discussing with him.

The first is what you think personally about committed relationships of people of the same sex. The Church has made its position clear. But party machines also know that what the Church teaches and what individual Catholics believe, particularly on moral matters, are not always the same. Let the local member know what you think.

A second issue is whether the issue is simply one of individuals’ rights, or whether society as a whole is involved. If people are not obviously hurting anyone, should they be free to do what they want? Or could it be that the issue is more than simply individual rights. Could it be that society as a whole is involved? Would calling such relationships marriage affect other people? Would it undermine the relationships of people presently married or have a negative effect on future ones? Does the issue also involve the common good? Let the member know your thoughts on that matter, too.

The third issue is the question of legislation, and the relationship between morality and law. Whatever about how people behave, is the issue sufficiently important to warrant either legally extending the definition of marriage or maintaining the status quo – which some feel to be hurtfully discriminating? Such matters perhaps are ones of discernment, and therefore of conscience – and that calls for reflection and prayer. Fill your local member in on where you stand on this question, too.

As disciples of Jesus, we face the imperative always to spread the Kingdom. A question that constantly troubles me is: Do we do that best by attraction, and conversion or by imposition or by legislation? Depending on the situation, both approaches may call for courage .. and both could be compromise: in matters of the Kingdom of God, as St Thomas å Beckett declared in T.S. Eliot’s play, “Murder in the Cathedral” …the ultimate treason is to do the right thing for the wrong reason.In Thomas’s case, his decision led to his martyrdom.

Homily 4 - 2014

Why did Jesus insist on receiving a baptism of repentance from John? It wasn’t just like going to confession. John’s baptism was meant to mark a significant change; to mark a fresh way of seeing life and reality. Did Jesus experience moments of such significant change? I presume he did. All human growth involves new insights, new ways of seeing things, recognising that up to now we have seen only half the picture, that we have had missed what now seems so obvious. The gospel is quite clear that Jesus grew in wisdom as he grew older. We all can.

Jesus did not personally sin. But his baptism of repentance seems to have been for him a stand for solidarity with those who do sin. In his Jewish world, sin often meant different things than it does in ours. It wasn’t necessarily a moral matter. More often it was the infringement of rules about ritual. Jewish culture was theocratic. To be labelled a sinner was to be relegated to the margins, to be judged inferior, to suffer social exclusion. To be poor put enormous pressure to cut ritually constituted corners, and meant, too, not having the finance to buy the necessary animals to offer in sacrifice and so to be made ritually clean once more.

Jesus chose to work in Galilee. It was a fertile area, but in Jesus time, the bulk of the population were dispossessed former peasants – now underemployed or unemployed – so, poor, and consequently wide open to hunger and malnutrition, and the sicknesses that result from that. Those were the ones primarily to whom Jesus held up the vision of God’s Kingdom, and whom he invited to join his movement. Among the righteous he got the reputation of mixing with the riff-raff, with tax-collectors, prostitutes and sinners. That is what he deliberately chose. That is what he said YES to at his baptism.

Surprisingly, the moment he did it, he experienced that incredible insight of the closeness of God, and of God’s affirmation of the stance he took: The heavens opened – God is close. God’s Spirit descended on him. He heard, with his ears, or deep in his heart, or both, “You are my Son. I love you.” I suppose he needed that affirmation, as his life unfolded and his stance for the marginalised took practical shape, and as he encountered only a lukewarm response from the Galileans and fierce opposition from the religious and secular authorities. We all need that affirmation as we live out our mission as disciples of Jesus and apostles of God’s Kingdom.

In late November, Pope Francis had a “Question and Answer” session with the Superiors of Religious Congregations meeting in Rome. During the conversation, he said: Truly to understand reality we need to … direct ourselves to the peripheral areas. Being at the periphery helps to see and to understand better, to analyze reality more correctly.… This is really very important to me: the need to become acquainted with reality by experience, to spend time walking on the periphery in order really to become acquainted with the reality and life-experiences of people.

A few days before that, he had launched a wonderful document on the Church’s mission to the world. Allow me to read a few comments from his official Apostolic Exhortation: I want a Church which is poor and for the poor. They have much to teach us… In their difficulties they know the suffering Christ. We need to let ourselves be evangelized by them. The new evangelization is an invitation to acknowledge the saving power at work in their lives and to put them at the centre of the Church’s pilgrim way. We are called to find Christ in them, to lend our voice to their causes, but also to be their friends, to listen to them, to speak for them and to embrace the mysterious wisdom which God wishes to share with us through them.

As I grow older, perhaps like a few of you here, I am not sure I have the energy any longer to dance to his tune, but I can certainly sing as I pray and ask what change it asks for in my life.

Homily 5 - 2020

Over the past few weeks we have been confronted with frightening images of the horrific bushfires ravaging our dear country. There have been deaths; injuries; destruction of wildlife on an incomprehensible scale; stock losses; properties destroyed; towns and villages threatened. The litany goes on. But that is not the whole story. There have been wonderful instances of courage and self-sacrifice, an outpouring of national grief, financial assistance and offers of help to those in need. Tremendous reserves of sheer human goodness and of love have been on display.

If only we could somehow succeed in maintaining and even extending such beautiful attitudes when life eventually drops back to “business as usual”. We need them. We need to deepen our capacity to weep, to reach out consistently to those in need. We need to succeed in cooperating beyond times of danger and stress. We need to broaden the circle of those whom we are prepared to love. We need hearts of flesh all the time.

Today’s readings strike me as significant. In today’s Gospel passage, when Jesus first met John the Baptist, he seemed motivated, like any good Jew, [indeed, like his father Joseph, like a lot of us], simply to do the right thing, to do God’s will as best he could: “it is fitting that we should do all that righteousness demands”. He was loyal to the institution of Judaism, interested even in helping it become better.

But loyalty gets us only so far. Loyalty is good, but we can do better. To persevere in difficult, disheartening times, we need more than loyalty to institutions, whether it be to the Church or the nation. We need something more human. We need to treasure relationships and move beyond limiting boundaries. We need to respect each other. We need to care.

As the Gospel showed, the factor that led Jesus beyond the reform movement initiated by the Baptist to his own special mission was his personal experience at his baptism of the love of God his Father, when the “voice from heaven” declared: “This is my Son, the Beloved.” At our baptism, God called each of us beyond any servant/master relationship to astonishingly more: “You are my son/daughter”. Every child/parent relationship is quite unique. There is no other relationship that in its spontaneous potential is quite like it. It generates a fierce love, enabling parents to risk their lives for it.

But the “voice” said more, referring to Jesus as “the Beloved”. “Beloved’ belongs particularly to adult, peer relationships that move beyond spontaneity through intimacy to commitment. We can “fall in love” with God, as it were. And when we do, it makes all the difference, releasing an extraordinary eagerness and joy.

Yet even this love can be too narrow. However, in it lies hidden an energy that seeks to move us beyond the constricting boundaries of family, ethnic culture, supportive community, political loyalties, even national interest. We need to recognise and surrender to that energy if we are to be of real use in facing the problems confronting our Church and our world.

Today’s second reading commented, “God does not have favourites”. We can make peace with that idea as we come to realise that all true love is inclusive love. God loves each of us, each nation, no more, no less, than anyone else, than any other nation. To appreciate that, we need to have discovered that all true love is totally unconditional. That takes maturity; and maturing takes time and practice. The more we grow, the more peace-filled we, and our world, become. We can check how honest we are with ourselves by noticing how we relate to Jesus’ surprisingly realistic invitation to “love our enemies”.

Humanity will destroy itself [we already have the capacity] unless a critical mass of our human family quickly evolves to love inclusively. We face real danger.

There is hope. Our world is constituted from love by love for love. Evolution unfolds towards inclusivity. People’s response to the current bushfire catastrophe is one clear sign of hope.