Richard Bollman, S.J.

SCRIPTURE: Isaiah 42:1-7; Acts 10:34-38; Matthew 3:13-17.

The Baptism of our Lord is the closing scene of the Christmas season:

all about the revelation of the Christ,

about his name and presence and mission.

Who is this Jesus who has come now?

We begin with one of the passages from Isaiah

about the ideal servant of God, the one foretold.

You’ll notice that the words of God about the servant

are almost the same as the words of God about Jesus:

my chosen one, in whom I am pleased, on whom the spirit rests.

Isaiah speaks of the calling of Jesus too: a way of power from God

that brings justice through compassion, and attention to the broken.

And in the Gospel we witness how Jesus

is drawn to the ministry of John the Baptizer;

he stands with sinners; he believes that God’s way and power

is close now, coming upon us.

In the water of the river, he joins himself

with everybody of his era who wanted to new start,

and were ready to give something of themselves for the sake of this.

This was to do what we can do among ourselves

to be useful and respect God.

Early preaching about Jesus always began the story here

his connection to John and to the baptism and the spirit.

You catch a glimpse of that in the second scripture

from Acts of the Apostles,

part of a sermon by Peter, introducing Jesus to the Gentiles.

Notice the way Peter chooses to identify Jesus.

Let us listen.

HOMILY, Baptism of the Lord, 2008, Year A "Looking Back on Birth and Rebirth."

We are who we are because of God’s revelation of God’s self in Jesus.

Sometimes that’s called God’s sending Jesus, or as here,

God claiming Jesus as son, as beloved.

Later on in the Gospel this same voice will be heard claiming Jesus,

and it will conclude: Listen to him.

He stands at that place where the heavens are open.

No matter what you’re going through, it’s good to stand there

and to notice this Jesus coming up out of the water.

A new moment and a new kind of person,

spirit invested: and this is our way too.

We do what we can to open up to him

and we keep listening, to let God send the spirit.

Last Tuesday at the religious education evening here

with parents and children,

the last half hour we witnessed very young children

doing what they can do to move close to Jesus, to enact the story.

It was the Christmas play, an annual event,

done by the Montessori pre-school class, a dozen of them,

and the older children helping out, bringing drums they had made,

and joining in the carols. (The Drummer Boy was the featured finale.)

The dramatic part was easy enough: their teacher crouched in front

and read the main phrases of the story,

and the actors repeated the narration with gestures,

and moved around to act it out:

angels standing on stools, sheep on all fours,

Mary and Joseph uncovering the child in the manger,

a donkey who had learned to reach back and wag his tail.

That’s what got to me: the costumes: the crowns and wings and robes,

and everybody was there, the Magi included.

I kept wondering what this would mean to these kids years from now.

I remember our Christmas play from third grade at St. Clement’s myself,

no costumes, but some dynamic effects.

The overhead globe of light was the star.

Sister Louis Ann would turn it on or off,

depending on where the wise men were,

and I was one of them, with Charlie and Glen who I walked to school with,

and we met King Herod, a more surly guy named Victor:

(I never knew if he was a friend or a foe in those days).

He sat at the teacher’s desk, a brilliant idea.

All of this made the story part of my imagination and body,

and enlarged my sense, even, of walking to school season after season,

following out something, a story of God in Jesus that I could count on.

We are who we are because of this birth.

This is that moment of something new in us from heaven.

And that birth comes to term, you might say,

in the water of the Jordan River,

the new womb of birth where Jesus makes his own pilgrimage.

There at the river he stands with people ready to make a new start,

doing what we can do as human beings: pledging repentance

and respect for one another, giving up blame and prejudice

because we see there’s a better way. We hope for that.

And so in Jesus this way of new spirit and connection begins:

you are my Son, my own, my child, I am full of love for you.

We learn this story too and act it out,

sometimes even as adults being baptized,

or as parents doing what we can do, bringing children

for all of us to be involved in the water with them.

We learn our lines as in the Christmas pageant, we listen,

we offer our own hope for life and new fire.

The creche of Christmas we put away:

but the pool there, our Jordan river, stays open all the time.

Getting connected to our baptism again,

that’s what the pool there is about,

passing it each Sunday, living around it

like villagers live near water, their source.

So now, with the children, with these families, with Jesus

we come to that powerful place where we just have to let God do the rest.

Descend upon me, rest upon me.

Listen for that voice. Children on Tuesday heard it

through their parents I think, after the play: you are my Susan, my Andy,

I’m really pleased with you , I’m delighted with you.

Really wise parents know who their children are through the costume,

even through their occasional glum and surly moods.

What shall we hear together this morning,

concluding our Christmas season at the waters of baptism.

God will surely recognize us through our own costumes, isn’t that so.

We do what we can. We step to the edge. We listen there.