A reflection: John baptizes Jesus in the River Jordan

Focus on the others for a moment: human beings, persons by the hundreds, each one aware of the brokenness of his existence, the mistakes of her life. They have begun to be honest with themselves, to see what they have done, whether it be deeds of selfishness, words of cruelty or neglect, plans of deceit. They also recognize, if only imperfectly in their act of turning, of metanoia, the nature of their thirst. It springs from their separation from God, their failure to cultivate the seed of life in their souls, the imprint of the divine nature in whose image they had been created. And so they flock to John, groping, grasping, only half aware of the possibilities of this baptism, hoping against doubt that the waters poured on them by this prophet will restore them to the peace they dreamed in dreams and laughed in play as young children.

John, too, is a sinner, purified by God through trials present and yet to be, but fully aware of the limits of his fragility. His besetting fear is of doubt: doubt that the promises will be fulfilled, that He will come, that, when he comes, that he is truly He. Doubt yet to be, in the dank cell, in the waiting for the inevitable sound of steps down the cold stairs, to summon the silenced prophet to his ultimate silencing. John's life a wasted effort, Herod's rashness would exact its brutal consequences.

Yet today, he stands in cool, flowing water, encountering the scores of sinful souls and bodies as they come to him, one by one, in their own sinfulness and excited hope. And then: a familiar face, his cousin, one he has long known, a presence he recognized once long before. Now again, the moment of recognition: of the other, the Lamb-Victim, of the self ("I am not worthy"), of the relationship, the song of love and reassurance as sinless heart woos sinful: "Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting ..." (Mt 3:15)