Pic: Newhalen
celebrates the Great Blessing of Water at Theophany
Sunday 11 January 2026 The Baptism of the Lord
Lectio Divina:*
Meditatio:
“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17)
The baptism of Jesus marks the beginning of
his public ministry—a decisive turning point as he steps from obscurity into
the full light of his mission. From this moment, the path toward death and
resurrection is already in view. Jesus, the Christ, is God’s anointed one, the
fulfilment of Isaiah’s prophecy in our first reading. Now the call passes to us:
to stand in God’s light and share in the ministry entrusted to Jesus and his
followers.
This feast is especially cherished in the Eastern Orthodox churches. The Baptism of the Lord—Theophany—is one of their highest celebrations, gathering into a single feast the birth of Jesus, the visit of the Magi, the wedding at Cana, and the baptism in the Jordan. The Eastern tradition is less concerned with historical sequence and more intent on celebrating the glory of God made flesh: the One who transforms water into wine, old ritual into new life, fallen humanity into risen humanity, sorrow into joy.
While the Western focus often rests on Jesus’ humility in receiving a baptism he did not need, the East emphasises the manifestation of God who enters the waters to cleanse them and, through them, renew creation. Their liturgy includes a full vigil, special hymns, the Great Blessing of Waters, and in many places, processions to rivers, lakes, or seas.
Yet the story of Jesus’ baptism remains
something of a puzzle. John the Baptist himself asks the obvious question: why should
Jesus come to him for baptism? That he even raises the issue tells us how
deeply he sensed Jesus’ uniqueness. Still, nothing could have prepared John—or
the crowd gathered along the Jordan—for what followed. Whatever the precise
historical details behind Matthew’s brief account, we sense that a threshold
was crossed that day. A new phase in Jesus’ life began, one that would take up
and surpass John’s own ministry. In a mysterious way, the destinies of these
two cousins had been intertwined since their mothers first met, when John leapt
for joy in Elizabeth’s womb (Luke 1:40–44).
Imagine the scene.
John, rough and weathered, stands by the winding Jordan, surrounded by pilgrims—some devout, some troubled—seeking healing, forgiveness, renewal. We are there too, part of the crowd, wanting to move closer yet holding back. Something is at stake. Suddenly a stir runs through the people. Jesus appears, accompanied by a small group—perhaps including his mother and relatives, according to some accounts. A conversation follows between the two cousins, animated enough that it seems one of them might walk away. Rumours ripple through the crowd. Confusion. Then silence.From a vantage point above the river, many
can see Jesus step into the water, John following. What happened next is
remembered differently. Some witnesses spoke of a brilliant light. Others
claimed to see something like a dove. Some insisted they heard a voice calling
Jesus’ name; others heard nothing at all. But whatever the variations,
something unmistakable stirred in the hearts of those present. The story was
told and retold for decades before it was written down by small communities of Christ-followers
scattered around the eastern Mediterranean. Many remembered this moment as the
true beginning of The Way.
From here, Jesus would travel through
Galilee and beyond, preaching, healing, and proclaiming a kingdom both already present
and yet still coming. People were often puzzled, but even his opponents
recognised the authority and integrity with which he spoke. His words matched
his life, and his life matched his words. He was no passing prophet or
political agitator.
So what is at the heart of this story?
Jesus goes down into the waters—into the depths of human struggle and bodily reality. Our God becomes one of us and stands in the river with sinners up to their necks in water. He did not need to do this. He did not need to become human. He did not need to create us at all. But this is how our God acts: unafraid of the mess, close to the broken, utterly compassionate. However, more than going down with us, he raised us up and along with us all of creation. The whole world has been sanctified and we are its guardians.The passage ends with a voice: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” The Father’s gaze rests
not only on Jesus but on each of us, in the real circumstances of our lives.
That same gaze falls upon the seeds of grace planted in us at our own baptism. It
is, indeed, a wonderful world—and we are marked as being all the more unique
and special.
Oratio
Collect of the Word
God
of justice and compassion, at the Jordan you revealed your Beloved Son,
the Servant in whom your soul delights, the One anointed with your Spirit to
bring light to the nations and freedom to the oppressed. As we listen to your Word, renew in us the
grace of our own baptism: open our eyes where we are blind, steady our steps
where we falter, and make us servants after the pattern of Christ, who lives
and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.
Amen
Footnotes
*
These readings are taken from the Sunday lectionary used in most
Catholic churches. The source is BibleGateway.com:
A searchable online Bible in over 150 versions and 50 languages (using
the New Revised Standard Version - anglicised catholic edition). Psalms in this
Blog are numbered according to the Hebrew (Masoretic) text with the Greek
Septuagint/Vulgate numbering in parenthesis where applicable.
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