A homily for The Baptism of the Lord, January 11, 2026
Isaiah 42:1-4, 6-7, Acts 10:34-38, Matthew 3:13-17
According to legend, in the early centuries Anno Domini, when followers of the carpenter from Nazareth were being persecuted and prosecuted for their beliefs, they were cagey about identifying themselves when they encountered strangers.
One Christian might trace an arc in the sand with his foot and then sidle back a few steps, eyeing the scratch with an occasional side glance. Aware, but not obvious.
If another person scratched a mirror-image arc, thereby creating the outline of a fish, the believers might nod to each other and start a conversation and a connection.
Fortunately for modern cars’ metallic paint jobs, no scratching is needed to affix the ΙΧΘΥΣ symbol to bumpers or trunk lids.
Years ago, at a college alumni reunion weekend, a gent I knew only casually reached out to greet me, clearly offering his fraternity’s secret handshake. I smiled and gently reminded him they had not chosen me for membership (brotherhood), and he was kind enough to suggest the group had made a mistake. Such is life.
The fish or other archetypal symbols, the handshake, certain colors, secret passwords or passphrases, a variety of rituals and many other entre nous actions or items let insiders know they’re part of something bigger than themselves. Sometimes inclusive, mostly exclusive.
The people have been initiated.
Christians, and notably Catholic and catholic Christians, call our initiations our baptisms. Our sacramental ritual, with millennia-old watery roots in the River Jordan, is intended to be inclusive and welcoming.
The love of God through Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit awaits everyone who embraces it. Everyone.
Yes, there are symbols and actions — the pouring of water in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, the anointing with holy and sacred oils, the lighting and giving of a special candle, the clothing with a white garment.
But there’s no secret handshake, no club uniform or windbreaker, no “ack-ack-a-dack, dack-dack-a-ack” to get past a sergeant-at-arms guarding the door.
Definitely no mandatory tattoos (though optional ones are fine, if they’re your thing).
And in much of the world, there’s no need to scratch a semicircle in the sand to reveal who we are. (Let’s pray for the people who lack our religious freedoms.)
So then, how do we recognize our fellow initiates?
How do we know who’s who if we don’t wave a flag or dazzle each other with jewelry and embroidered fashion?
See how these Christians love one another.
See how these Christians love God’s Creation and care for it.
See how these Christians love every human being on the face of the Earth.
And our Creator will be well-pleased with us.
