At the edge of the Jordan, there is a line of ordinary people stepping down into the water—tired, hopeful, carrying secrets, searching for a new beginning. John stands there, calling hearts to turn back to God. Then Jesus arrives. Not as a spectator. Not as a judge. He walks into the same river, into the same current, into the same place where sinners are admitting they need mercy.
John recoils, because he recognizes the truth: Jesus has no sin to wash away. He has no stain that needs cleansing. Yet Jesus does not keep himself at a safe distance from the human condition. He chooses nearness. He chooses solidarity. He chooses to take on the weight of humanity—not because he is forced, but because love is never afraid to step into another person’s burden.
When John hesitates, Jesus answers with a line that sounds simple, yet opens a doorway into the whole meaning of baptism: “Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” Righteousness is not a cold word for rule-following. It is the right ordering of things: God’s faithful love meeting our real lives, right where they are. Jesus fulfills righteousness by joining himself to us completely, beginning a mission that will carry him all the way to the cross.
That is why baptism cannot be reduced to a religious “cleaning” or a kind of spiritual fireproofing. Yes, sin is forgiven. Yes, we are freed from the old captivity. But baptism is far more than what we are rescued from. Baptism is what we are sent into. It is the beginning of a new life that looks like Christ’s life: a life poured out.
The baptized are people who, in Christ, learn how to bear weight. Not with grim determination, but with grace. The weight of a family member who is struggling. The weight of someone’s loneliness. The weight of a neighbor’s need. The weight of a world that can be harsh and anxious. Baptism unites us to the One who stepped into the river with sinners and then stepped into every human sorrow. It plants his mission inside us.
This parish needs the baptized—not in the abstract, but in the flesh and blood of your gifts. God gave you particular strengths and experiences, not by accident. In baptism he made you new, and he gave you the grace to place every other gift at his disposal: the ability to listen, to organize, to teach, to encourage, to build, to sing, to serve quietly, to show up faithfully when no one is clapping.
So step up and live what you have already received. Pray like a baptized person who knows he is not alone. Serve like a baptized person who knows that grace is meant to move through hands and schedules and patience. Find a place in the parish where your baptism can become visible—in a classroom, on a phone call to someone homebound, in a meal brought to a family, in the steady work that keeps a community alive.
Jesus rises from the water and the Father’s delight is made known; the Spirit rests upon him for the road ahead. Baptism always leads to a road. It leads outward. It leads into the world’s needs. And it leads there with Christ, who always walks before us.