A more profound look at the baptism of the Lord

Jan 08, 2015

By Marge Fenelon
On the day I visited the Jordan River, it was hot and sunny with barely any breeze. It was May 2014 and I was traveling with a group of journalists from the Catholic Press Association. We'd worked our way through the busy visitors center, and the river was perfectly still as we made our way down the bank and to the shore. Trees and lush flora lined the riverbanks.

A short distance downriver, a band of tourists in white robes were waiting by a shaded area. They were going to be baptized. This is a popular custom among pilgrims to the Holy Land, our guide explained.

We were across the river from the place traditionally held to be Jesus’ baptismal site. Pope Francis was scheduled to visit the spot a bit later that day, and so the entire area had been closed off. But I didn't need to see the exact place to get a good idea of what Jesus’ baptism might have been like. I was at the same river. That in itself was an incredible gift.

I could imagine John the Baptist, standing waist deep in water, gesturing for the people lined up for baptism to come forward. One by one, he gently lowered them into the water and then helped them back up. His face was beaming with joy at the souls who had repented and turned to God. As he was about to reach for the next penitent, a man approached the river and stood quietly on the bank. John noticed him, stopped midbaptism and a look of amazement came over him. It was the Messiah.

Jesus had come to be baptized by John, but John resisted. Jesus told him, “Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness” (Mt 3:15). Then John baptized him.

Before I saw the Jordan River for myself, I’d always thought that the most magnificent part of Jesus’ baptism was the fact that the Son of God humbled himself and requested baptism from his cousin.

He didn’t need baptism. He was the source of all baptism. He’d come to baptize others in the spirit. Yet, he had committed himself to becoming human, became just like us and lived in perfect accordance with God’s laws.

In my mind’s eye, I could see the heavens opening and the dove descending. The tourists awaiting baptism down the river from us gave me an image of the many who had come to be baptized by John and who had, in awe, witnessed the heavens open, the dove appear and the voice from heaven proclaim, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

Here, in this unassuming place, the extreme love of God for his Son was revealed to all of mankind for all generations. Many times I had heard or read that Gospel passage. I always took it as a matter of fact. But being present in that spot changed the way I read it or thought about that moment.

It’s even more astounding to picture the scene when one considers that there are rarely clouds in many parts of Israel. The entire 10 days I was there, I did not see a single cloud, nor the slightest hint of one. I wondered what exactly had opened. Did the sky itself part? If so, what was behind it? And what did God’s voice sound like? Whatever the case, it had to have been absolutely magnificent.

This year, the feast of the Baptism of the Lord will appear very different to me in all its dimensions. I'll again be awestruck by Jesus’ utter meekness and obedience. But, I'll also “see” the heavens open and hear the voice, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”