Baptism of the Lord, Year C

I have a question for you:  Did Jesus Christ need to be baptized?  Approaching this question academically, knowing that Baptism is one of seven sacraments the Church recognizes, we might begin to answer that by asking, “What is a sacrament?”  The classic definition of a sacrament is that it is an outward (that is, a visible) sign, instituted by Christ, to convey God’s grace for our sanctification — to help us grow in holiness.  So does it make sense that Jesus Christ would receive a sacrament instituted by himself to convey God’s grace when he is already fully divine — God the Son?  Yeah, doesn’t make much sense, does it?  And on top of that, if we consider that one of the primary sacramental effects of Baptism is the forgiveness of all sin, both original sin and personal sin, and we consider that Jesus Christ, fully divine and at the same time fully human, is like us in all things except sin, then Christ has no need to be baptized to receive this sacramental effect!  So pulling those few strands of logic together, I think we can conclude that Jesus does not need to be baptized for the reasons that you and I need to be baptized!


…But does Jesus Christ need to be baptized…for our sake?  That is a different, and interesting, question.  Today we hear from Luke’s version of the Baptism narrative, but in Matthew’s version, when John the Baptist questions whether he is worthy to baptize Christ, Jesus says “Allow it now ... to fulfill all righteousness” (Mt 3:15).  Considering the definition of a sacrament I gave you a few moments ago — that a sacrament is a visible sign instituted by Christ — some theologians and Church Fathers point to Christ’s own Baptism as that very institution, or at least the beginning of the institution of the Sacrament!  By physically entering into the waters of the Jordan, and by extension the waters of all the earth, Christ blesses them and sanctifies them, that they may in turn become the matter of our sanctification in Baptism.  Each of the seven Sacraments of the Church has form and matter:  the form consists of the words and actions of the sacrament, and the matter is the substance or prerequisite for the sacrament.  Water is the matter for the Sacrament of Baptism.  So in a manner, Christ needs to be baptized to establish the sacramental matter and form of Baptism for our benefit.  He leads the way for us, that we may watch, listen, and follow him, leading the way by having himself baptized.  Interestingly, we re-present Christ’s sanctifying entry into the waters of the Jordan at his Baptism at each Easter Vigil before we baptize our adult candidates when we dip the large Paschal candle, the Christ candle, into the waters of the Baptismal font three times — Father, Son, Holy Spirit — Christ again blessing them, making them holy, making them the matter for Baptism, the matter of our sanctification, symbolic of our cleansing from sin through Christ.


There is another connection to the waters of Baptism and the sacramental effects of Baptism that is pointed to in the imagery of Luke’s Gospel we heard today:  it is the descent of the Holy Spirit from heaven “…like a dove.”  The dove reminds us of the action of the Holy Spirit, literally the breath of God upon the waters of the earth at the dawn of creation, bringing forth new life.  The Holy Spirit descends upon Christ, revealing him as the new creation of humanity.  Jesus Christ — God the Son, the Word of God — became flesh, became one of us, that we might become a new creation in Him.  In Baptism we die to our old human nature of sin and its consequences that lead to perpetual separation from God and one another.  In the waters of Baptism we are united to Christ’s death, with our sins washed and buried in the waters of Baptism.  And from the birth-waters of Baptism we rise with Christ, sharing in His Resurrection to new life, united to Christ forever, sharing in Christ’s divine nature. 

We invoke this symbolism, and our faith, not only at each Baptism, but each time we bless ourselves with holy water, and at each funeral, when we sprinkle the casket or urn with holy water and pray: 


“In the waters of Baptism [person] died with Christ and rose with Him to new life.  May he/she now share with Christ eternal glory.”   


We symbolize this new creation we have become through Baptism with the white garment that is donned following the Baptismal rite.  Infants are traditionally dressed in white outfits.  Here at St. Mary’s, we use white garments for infants, hand-made by parishioners, itself beautifully symbolic of the child joining and being welcomed by our parish Christian community.  Baptized adults don a white alb, similar to what Fr. Chris and I wear under our vestments.  The white garment is symbolic of the newly-Baptized having put on Christ and risen with him.  St. Gregory Nazianzus, a fourth-century bishop and Doctor of the Church, also taught that the white clothing of Christ also veils our shame, the wound of our sin.  Baptized and resurrected with Christ, the sin is gone, but we bear the scars, just as the Resurrected Christ bore the wounds of His crucifixion.

God’s rich love and mercy are poured out upon us as salvation and grace through the Holy Trinity in the Sacrament of Baptism.  There is nothing we do to merit or earn this salvation:  it is God’s free gift, poured out upon us.  This is what St. Paul spoke of in his letter to Titus:

…not because of any righteous deeds we had done

 but because of his mercy, He saved us through the bath of rebirth

 and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he richly poured out on us

 through Jesus Christ our savior. (Titus 3:5-6)


We are only called to seek, accept, and cooperate with God’s grace in leading a holy life.  In Baptism we are incorporated into Christ and configured to Christ, marked with an indelible spiritual mark upon our soul, that claims us as belonging to Christ.  And once we have been claimed by Christ, we can never be unclaimed.

Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Rev. Christopher Welch • September 27, 2026
In today's parable we meet two brothers; one says he will go and doesn’t, the other says he will not go and does. The listeners decide the second did his father’s will. In life we judge people not by their words but by their actions. Those who act upon their words we honor. We are given second chances to reconsider our words and decide to do what we are asked to do. Too often it is hard to say 'yes' and act upon our 'yes'. This may have been the case with the second brother, but in time he said 'yes' by his actions. I am reminded of a meditation by Michael Quoist: I am afraid of saying "Yes," Lord. Where will you take me? I am afraid of drawing the longer straw, I am afraid of signing my name to an unread agreement, I am afraid of the "yes" that entails other "yeses." And yet I am not at peace. You pursue me, Lord, you besiege me. I seek out the din for fear of hearing you, but in a moment of silence you slip through. I turn from the road, for I have caught sight of you, but at the end of the path you are there awaiting me. Where shall I hide? I meet you everywhere. Is it then impossible to escape you? But I am afraid to say "Yes," Lord. I am afraid of putting my hand in yours, for you hold on to it. I am afraid of meeting your eyes, for you can win me. I am afraid of your demands, for you are a jealous God. I am hemmed in, yet I hide. I am captured, yet I struggle, and I fight knowing that I am defeated. For you are the stronger, Lord, you own the world and you take it from me. When I stretch out my hand to catch hold of people and things, they vanish before my eyes. It's no fun, Lord, I can't keep anything for myself. The flower I pick fades in my hands. My laugh freezes on my lips. The waltz I dance leaves me restless and uneasy. Everything seems empty, Everything seems hollow, You have made a desert around me. I am hungry and thirsty, And the whole world cannot satisfy me. And yet I loved you, Lord; what have I done to you? I worked for you; I gave myself for you. O great and terrible God, What more do you want? * * * Son, I want more for you and for the world. Until now you have planned your actions, but I have no need of them. You have asked for my approval, you have asked for my support, You have wanted to interest me in your work. But don't you see, son, that you were reversing the roles? I have watched you, I have seen your good will, And I want more than you, now. You will no longer do your own works, but the will of your Father in heaven. Say "Yes," son. I need your "yes" as I needed Mary's "yes" to come to earth, For it is I who must do your work, It is I who must live in your family, It is I who must be in your neighborhood, and not you. For it is my look that penetrates, and not yours, My words that carry weight, and not yours, My life that transforms, and not yours. Give all to me, abandon all to me. I need your "yes" to be united with you and to come down to earth, I need your "yes" to continue saving the world! * * * O Lord, I am afraid of your demands, but who can resist you? That your Kingdom may come and not mine, That your will may be done and not mine, Help me to say "Yes." — Michael Quoist in Prayers

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Deacon Paul Cerosaletti • September 20, 2026
One of my most favorite responses I get from people when I greet them and ask “Hey, how are you?” is the response, “Better than I deserve.” There is something in that response that not only strikes a chord of humility but also of God’s generosity and mercy. Most of us have a strong sense of fairness. The response “better than I deserve” is rooted in our sense of fairness and justice, a sense that might lead us to understand, and perhaps even sympathize, with the reaction of the vineyard workers who labored all day, in the heat of the day, and yet are paid the same amount as those that worked only one hour. How is that right? But the parable we hear in the Gospel is not about what is ‘right and just’. The themes of this parable are about the lavish generosity and mercy of God and , as the Gospel always is, a challenge to examine what is going on in our own hearts — what is happening with our own conversion of heart . These two themes might come alive more for us, as God speaking directly to us, if we change one word in one verse in the parable to express what God intends for us. What if the verse, “Am I not free to do as I wish with my own money?” was instead read, “Am I not free to do as I wish with my own mercy ?” See how that changes things? We are often, so often, fixated on fairness, equity, and justice. There is nothing wrong with those concepts and virtues, except when we fail to live beyond them to generosity and mercy . We have a God who lives beyond justice, in generosity and mercy, and who calls us to do the same. You see, if we stop at fairness and justice, we find ourselves in the same place with the early laborers in the vineyard, exercising judgment on what is equitable, and in so doing end up metering generosity and mercy — not even our own generosity and mercy, but God’s! Now our response becomes, “Better than they deserve…” Our true motivations get called out by the owner of the vineyard when he says, “Are you envious because I am generous?” We end up subject to the same temptation the vineyard laborers experience, the capital sin of envy , the resentment at another’s good fortune. What instead should be the disposition of our hearts? Jesus himself tells us in a related parable about conversion of heart when he says, “There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance” (Lk 15:7). Joy! We are called to fill our hearts with Joy at God’s generosity and mercy lavished upon our sisters and brothers who hear and heed a call to conversion of heart in Christ, no matter the stage in their lives; joy over one lost sheep who is found and brought home at the end of the day. Joy is the antidote of envy. Joy is our participation in the generosity and mercy of God, the fitting response to God’s generosity and mercy. And it is nothing short of an exercise of Love, which is to will the good of the other. None of us is deserving of God's generous grace and mercy. We do not merit it, nor should we meter it with our judgement, for we are all in need of it.  How are we? I hope and pray, by the grace of God, with Joy in our hearts, “Better than we deserve.”

Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Rev. Christopher Welch • September 13, 2026
In the Masterpiece production of The Count of Monte Cristo , the main character is sent to prison; there he meets another prisoner who advises him, “If you seek for revenge, you should first dig two graves.” After the count achieves revenge he tells his friend, “The prisoner was right.” She responds, “Love can heal.” The readings today speak about forgiveness. Forgiveness is about choosing to love. When we forgive the other, we may not receive what we hoped for from the other. Forgiveness or love are not about the other person, but about me. There are many I will choose to love whom I do not like. Love is not simply about feelings, but love is a choice to forgive the other, means not hearing the words “I was wrong” or “I forgive you.” The choice to love may not change the other, but it will change me. One reason Jesus tells Peter to forgive 7 times 70 is that it may take time for the forgiveness to have an effect upon him. Jesus is familiar with the words of Sirach: hate not your neighbor; remember the Most High’s covenant, and overlook faults (Sir 28:7). Sometimes people will ask me why such and such is allowed to act as they do. I find myself reminding them that it is God who judges. King David knew he had done wrong, yet he was able to write the words of Psalm 103 — The Lord is kind and merciful, slow to anger, and rich in compassion — the psalm for today’s Mass. For the many things he did as pope, Pope Francis may be best remembered for a short phrase: "who am I to judge?" When asked who he was, Pope Francis responded, “I am a sinner.” We all have people in our lives who we would like to punish to seek revenge, but the better way is to forgive from our heart. When we forgive, we leave the judging to our God. Remember, it is “love that can heal.”