The Feast of Baptism of the Lord
"Behold, my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights: I have put my Spirit on him. He will bring justice to the nations. He will not shout, nor raise his voice, nor cause it to be heard in the street. He won't break a bruised reed. He won't quench a dimly burning wick. He will faithfully bring justice. He will not fail nor be discouraged, until he has set justice in the earth, and the islands wait for his law."
"I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness. I will hold your hand. I will keep you, and make you a covenant for the people, as a light for the nations, to open the blind eyes, to bring the prisoners out of the dungeon, and those who sit in darkness out of the prison.
Ascribe to the Lord, you sons of the mighty, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength. Ascribe to the Lord the glory due to his name. Worship the Lord in holy array.
The Lord's voice is on the waters. The God of glory thunders, even the Lord on many waters. The Lord's voice is powerful. The Lord's voice is full of majesty.
The Lord's voice is on the waters. The God of glory thunders, even the Lord on many waters.
The Lord's voice makes the deer calve, and strips the forests bare. In his temple everything says, "Glory!" The Lord sat enthroned at the Flood. Yes, the Lord sits as King forever.
Peter opened his mouth and said, "Truly I perceive that God doesn't show favoritism; but in every nation he who fears him and works righteousness is acceptable to him. The word which he sent to the children of Israel, preaching good news of peace by Jesus Christ — he is Lord of all — you yourselves know what happened, which was proclaimed throughout all Judea, beginning from Galilee, after the baptism which John preached; how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power, who went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.
Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. But John would have hindered him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and you come to me?"
But Jesus, answering, said to him, "Allow it now, for this is the fitting way for us to fulfill all righteousness."Then he allowed him.
Jesus, when he was baptized, went up directly from the water: and behold, the heavens were opened to him. He saw the Spirit of God descending as a dove, and coming on him. Behold, a voice out of the heavens said, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased."
What strikes me most about Jesus's baptism is how unnecessary it seems. John himself protests – why would the sinless one need a baptism of repentance? Yet Jesus insists it's the right thing to do "to fulfill all righteousness."
This moment reveals something beautiful about how God works. Jesus doesn't stand apart from our human experience; he steps right into it. He joins the line of people seeking God, getting his feet muddy in the Jordan, participating fully in our condition. The one who needs no cleansing chooses to be cleansed anyway.
What I find moving is that this act of solidarity unleashes something extraordinary – the heavens open, the Spirit descends, and the Father's voice declares his delight. It's as if God can't contain his joy at seeing his Son so completely united with humanity.
Peter's words in Acts capture this perfectly: God anointed Jesus "with the Holy Spirit and with power, who went about doing good." That's what flows from this baptismal moment – a life poured out in service, healing the oppressed, bringing light to those in darkness.
We carry this same anointing from our own baptisms. Like the servant in Isaiah who won't break a bruised reed or snuff out a smoldering wick, we're called to handle the fragile places in our world with extraordinary gentleness. This might mean choosing patience with a difficult colleague, offering encouragement to someone who's struggling, or simply showing up when others might walk away.
The voice that called Jesus "beloved" speaks the same words over us. We are God's delight, anointed for mission, sent to bring his justice and mercy into ordinary Tuesday conversations and weekend encounters.
How might you step into someone else's experience today with the same solidarity Jesus showed? What "bruised reed" in your life needs gentle tending rather than harsh judgment?