Beneath the Surface

When I was seventeen, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be confirmed. It was a rough period in my life, and I was having some intense questions and doubts. It upset my mother, understandably. She knew that, at such a pivotal and difficult moment, I needed the grace of the sacrament more than ever. So, she called our priest and asked him to talk to me.

After that meeting, I made the decision to be confirmed.

To be honest, I can’t remember anything he said to me. All I remember is that he sat with me. He listened to me. He let me talk and talk and talk (and cry). And when he said whatever he said, whatever it is that I cannot remember, it was obvious that he had listened to me.

Reading today’s Gospel, it makes perfect sense that everyone thought John the Baptist was the Messiah. He was the guy pouring the water. Of course, it seemed natural that he would be “the one.” The one they were all waiting for.

But instead, the Messiah was the man who came to be baptized. He was the one who descended into the waters, submerging himself in our experience of death and pain and sorrow — and in doing so, he sanctified it. He made it a means of redemption.

Jesus is our Savior, yes. When we dig ourselves a hole of sin and confusion and we can’t climb out, he is the one who brings us back to the surface. But he doesn’t pull us out; he lifts us. He jumps down into the pit. He looks around. He offers his hand, gives us a leg up, and by his strength and not our own, we are brought back into the light.
 
©LPi