Fr. Jo's Reflection for the 4th Sunday of Lent, Year A, March 15, 2026

Life came from water , or as Thales of Miletus philosophized, “Water is the urstoff of all things,” and it appears the Lord agrees. When He asked the Samaritan woman for water, He needed that commodity which was most essential to life. Nothing can replace a person’s thirst for water: not Coke, not wine, tea or juice. Water is the basic amenity which we didn’t make and which we cannot live without. The Igbos of South-eastern Nigeria have a saying: “Mmiri enwe iro” (water has no enemy); so, when it rains, it doesn’t discriminate. Water is so gentle that it follows the line of least resistance. But when ruffled, it can also be destructive, unleashing floods and tsunamis. When calm, it provides avenues for voyagers to traverse the earth and goods and services to reach their destinations. In the first reading, we learn that God can make water gush out of the rock to satiate the thirst of His people who cry out to Him. The desert thirst was, however, both a warning and an invitation for Israel to trust that their God is always in their midst. Our Lenten desert or fast is an invitation to an arid land where our trust turns from worldly allurements to the provision made by God’s spirit who leads our spiritual journey . When Jesus asked the Samaritan woman for water, it was her life (and ours), empty and lacking in the proper spiritual nutrients to support it that He beckons us to offer to Him. His request for water was an allurement to inveigle and seize our utterly worldly and sin-laden soul—represented by the reprobate woman of Samaria—for the unction of the Spirit. It was a betrayal of sort, from the recklessness of sensual pursuits to the inebriation of the Spirit. Jesus asks us to turn our poverty over to Him and become enriched, to give our distress and gain joy, to surrender our chains and become free. When the strong asks help from the weak, it should be provided in haste with the hope that such help would attract greater benefits. When God asks you for life, you need not be stingy in offering Him that which belongs to Him. God is much more generous with His spirit than the rich man with their money. To the woman at the well, He says, “Whoever drinks the water that I will give will never be thirsty again.” He makes the point that we have a spiritual thirst, more profound than our physical thirst for water. It happens that some do not recognize this; hence, they’re unaware of their inner poverty and nakedness. But the Lord knows. He knew that the woman of Samaria—five times divorced—hasn’t had any good fortune finding the perfect guy. But she could find in Jesus her soul’s desire. He is the one of whom the Psalmist says: “As a deer yearns for running stream, so my soul is yearning for you, my God” (Psalm 42:1). Isaiah similarly prophesied, “Come to me, everyone who is thirsty” (Isaiah 55:1). Jeremiah likewise calls Him, “the Spring of living water” (Jer 17:13). St. Augustine found after a life of desolation that our hearts are made for God, and can rest in him. Someone else wrote: “Our hearts have a God-shaped hole in them; that only God can fill.” Charlie Brower wrote about the foolishness of attempting to satisfy spiritual thirst with material things: “My friend Bill is one of those guys who’s still searching for success, even though he’s already found it...still scoring touchdowns, even though the game is over and won. He’s come to the end of the rainbow, but there’s no pot of gold there. He’s found the buried treasure, but it’s empty.” The point is: material success alone leaves us empty. There’s a void in us that no material object can fill. Man cannot live without God; the infinite haunts him constantly. As the sun rises without asking permission of the night so divine life invades us without consulting the darkness of our mind. Even when our intellects bar God’s passage by the false obstruction to belief that unsound thinking erected, He is able to penetrate to us through the secret door we have not known how to bolt (Fulton Sheen). Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

If you think you’re too old to change course, take a cue from Abraham and his wife Sarah. Abraham was 75 years old when God called him to abandon his native land to head out to some unknown land for a mission not too clear. It was an adventure that he undertook based solely on the strength of God’s word. Thus, Abraham’s journey to an uncharted future began—a journey which saw him depart from current day Iraq to Palestine. Had that journey not happened, we won’t be talking about a place today called the Holy Land. God might still have sent Jesus to us, but it is possible He would be called ‘Jesus of Bagdad’ rather than Jesus of Nazareth. We often speak of our “Spiritual Journey” or our daily journal—coined from the French word jour, to describe a daily record of events. Here is a lesson to learn from Abraham’s journey, unlike Adam and Eve presented to us last Sunday: We should never think that we know better than our Maker whose predilection is that we find happiness in him. We should never think that we are too old to start over or to make a change for the better. The perduring reality of our existence suggests that the invisible and the unknown are much truer than what we can see, feel, or touch. From our naked world of nature, we often realize surprisingly that deep beneath a flowering meadow, a volcanic eruption has been forming for many years. And that leads us to the mountain experience of Peter, James, and John, reported in today’s Gospel. The Evangelist, Matthew, masterfully related the story of the Transfiguration. He was not at the scene, and thus didn’t own this story. He was a reporter of an experience that Peter, James, and John recounted to the Church. Hence, like the other evangelist, he unleashes his journalistic skills to report an experience so strange that it was almost impossible to sketch. We find him groping for the most striking terms, yet unsatisfied as he notices that his expressions were far too inferior to describe the reality. Mark, who is known for brevity in expression sounded even more laconic in his description of the event. For each of the apostles present at the Transfiguration, it marked a turning point in their perception of Jesus. For them, it remained an experience unlike no other in the visible world. Jesus took Peter, James, and John. Why not Judas, Thomas, and Phillip? Because He knew those who best understood His teachings, as well as those whose pantry of spiritual foods needed more supplies. Next, He led them up a high mountain. Why not the plain? Because divine realities are to be perceived from an exalted position, not in the plain. Spiritual life involves climbing a mountain from where we can be given the vision to perceive ultimate things. St. Theresa of Avila notes that there are no plains in the spiritual life. One must continue to climb and should double up effort when the journey becomes tough. The spiritual plain is the cafeteria where the gullible pick and choose what aspect of God or His word to accept. Intentional Catholics remain on the incline. We’re invited this Lent to climb the mountain with Jesus, experience His glory, and become similarly transfected (as scientists through a process called transfection introduce purified nucleic acid or DNA into mammalian cells to produce a desired protein). Introduction to the life of Jesus is our way to glory. Hence, Transfiguration is “the sacrament of our second regeneration” (CCC, 556). Unlike Moses, who coming from Sinai as mediator between God and Israel exuded a reflected glory, Christ entered the cloud with a glory that is His own: a glory He revealed to the apostles who saw Him converse with the greatest of the greats—Moses and Elijah. Eternal reality dawned on them and they begged to not go. But Jesus was preparing them for the Scandal of the Cros s so that amidst the doom and gloom that will accompany His saving death they may be strengthened by this vision of the likeness of the glory of heaven . Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Whenever I see an icon on my phone asking me to update the software, I usually grow apprehensive, not knowing what changes are coming to the little machine. Sometimes, it’ll mean relearning everything you already knew, as our little devices appear to have a mind of their own that you’re expected to figure out. The technology experts at Silicon Valley are at a mad rush to innovate, not knowing that it’s very challenging for people to keep up with their unending updates. Yet, because we seem to have become sucked-in to technology, we patiently get to work and in no distant time, we learn it all and move on with our devices, even loving the new changes, until another call for update. The Christian life often sounds similarly like a constant call to update. When Jesus says that He has come not to abolish the law or the prophets but to fulfil, it sounds like a call to update our spiritual software. We have been following Matthew’s account of the Sermon on the Mount . Before we even get lost, let’s recap. After Jesus moved out of the house of Mary and Joseph, He began announcing the message for which He came, namely: “Repent for the Kingdom of God is at hand.” Next, He sees a crowd anxious to get the full gist about this message and climbs uphill. There He sits down and starts to lay out His vision for the New Way . He issues eight Beatitudes associated with the kingdom. As they get sucked-in, He excites them all the more with indications that they belong to nobility, simply by choosing the new way; hence, they are like salt which would season the earth and preserve it from corruption, and like light that shines on all revealing things hidden and paths clogged with dangerous obstacles. In essence, they are to add flavor to life in order to reveal its true and lasting taste and shine the light to others so that they may see and know the way to the kingdom. But He warns them that should their salt become insipid or their light grow dim, they’ll not only lose the taste of the kingdom and miss their way, they’ll even lead other people astray. From there we arrive at the instructions of today, which illustrate how the new way far outpaces the old order in clarity and perfection. The next three Sundays will be a continuation of Matthew’s famous mountain discourse of Jesus. This year, though, we’re interrupted with Lent coming early. Today’s discourse peers into our internal thoughts and even desires revealing how they can bear moral consequences, either for good or for bad. Jesus first states that there is something called “murder by intention.” We may never be able to physically kill someone, either because the opportunity does not present itself or because we lack the courage (or cowardice) it takes to murder someone. Yet, a definite intention to do so is enough to infer moral culpability. What should we guard against? Anger and hatred. Similarly, we commit adultery not just when we’re caught with another person’s spouse. If that is all it takes, then unmarried people, those who have same-sex attraction, pedophiles and prostitutes would be exempt. Lustful eyes and heart are as egregious as physical acts of adultery. In this online age, the act of adultery can be completed online through pornography and masturbation, indecent exposures through snapchat, aka sexting, hours upon hours in immoral chatrooms, indecent dressing meant to seduce, etc. We must repeat this truth over and over to ourselves: pornography is adultery . Contrary to the view that the Church has become lenient with divorce, Jesus reiterates today that divorce is equally adultery. What should we guard against? Lust and Moral Indiscretion. Finally, Jesus is spot on about the different forms of falsehood prevalent in our time. Whether they’re boldface lies, malicious twisting of other people’s words, innuendos, contradiction of facts, aka alternative facts, fake news, and the like are all from the evil one. Children of the kingdom should flee from lies. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Whenever I see an icon on my phone asking me to update the software, I usually grow apprehensive, not knowing what changes are coming to the little machine. Sometimes, it’ll mean relearning everything you already knew, as our little devices appear to have a mind of their own that you’re expected to figure out. The technology experts at Silicon Valley are at a mad rush to innovate, not knowing that it’s very challenging for people to keep up with their unending updates. Yet, because we seem to have become sucked-in to technology, we patiently get to work and in no distant time, we learn it all and move on with our devices, even loving the new changes, until another call for update. The Christian life often sounds similarly like a constant call to update. When Jesus says that He has come not to abolish the law or the prophets but to fulfil, it sounds like a call to update our spiritual software. We have been following Matthew’s account of the Sermon on the Mount . Before we even get lost, let’s recap. After Jesus moved out of the house of Mary and Joseph, He began announcing the message for which He came, namely: “Repent for the Kingdom of God is at hand.” Next, He sees a crowd anxious to get the full gist about this message and climbs uphill. There He sits down and starts to lay out His vision for the New Way . He issues eight Beatitudes associated with the kingdom. As they get sucked-in, He excites them all the more with indications that they belong to nobility, simply by choosing the new way; hence, they are like salt which would season the earth and preserve it from corruption, and like light that shines on all revealing things hidden and paths clogged with dangerous obstacles. In essence, they are to add flavor to life in order to reveal its true and lasting taste and shine the light to others so that they may see and know the way to the kingdom. But He warns them that should their salt become insipid or their light grow dim, they’ll not only lose the taste of the kingdom and miss their way, they’ll even lead other people astray. From there we arrive at the instructions of today, which illustrate how the new way far outpaces the old order in clarity and perfection. The next three Sundays will be a continuation of Matthew’s famous mountain discourse of Jesus. This year, though, we’re interrupted with Lent coming early. Today’s discourse peers into our internal thoughts and even desires revealing how they can bear moral consequences, either for good or for bad. Jesus first states that there is something called “murder by intention.” We may never be able to physically kill someone, either because the opportunity does not present itself or because we lack the courage (or cowardice) it takes to murder someone. Yet, a definite intention to do so is enough to infer moral culpability. What should we guard against? Anger and hatred. Similarly, we commit adultery not just when we’re caught with another person’s spouse. If that is all it takes, then unmarried people, those who have same-sex attraction, pedophiles and prostitutes would be exempt. Lustful eyes and heart are as egregious as physical acts of adultery. In this online age, the act of adultery can be completed online through pornography and masturbation, indecent exposures through snapchat, aka sexting, hours upon hours in immoral chatrooms, indecent dressing meant to seduce, etc. We must repeat this truth over and over to ourselves: pornography is adultery . Contrary to the view that the Church has become lenient with divorce, Jesus reiterates today that divorce is equally adultery. What should we guard against? Lust and Moral Indiscretion. Finally, Jesus is spot on about the different forms of falsehood prevalent in our time. Whether they’re boldface lies, malicious twisting of other people’s words, innuendos, contradiction of facts, aka alternative facts, fake news, and the like are all from the evil one. Children of the kingdom should flee from lies. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Though the term “witness” is attached irrevocably to the exercise of religion, many Christians prefer to live like others, ignoring their Christian identity and witness. One of the disheartening things we heard during a past election season was that Christians should change their beliefs to conform to popular ideas. We were told to update our beliefs to agree with the world; that the Bible was an archaic literature that no longer serves our time; that we have overgrown reliance on an old creed and way of life. Many believed it and joined the rank and file of those who want to strip the world of all allegiance to God. But here comes Jesus today in His Sermon on the Mount instructing about our exalted position in relation to the world: “You are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world.” First, He says, “You are the salt of the earth.” He means two things: one—salt adds flavor to our food and drinks. Imagine cooking an important meal with no salt. The food will taste bland and won’t pass for a tasty dish. Two—before we learned to preserve food in ice-boxes, the ancients used salt for this purpose. For example, salt kept meat from going rotten, and in fact, the Greeks had a saying that salt was to a dead body like its soul . Pickle meat with salt and its freshness returns. Salt defended against corruption. It was at a time the most important commodity. Wars were fought for control of salt mines; and Rome used salt to compensate soldiers and for trade; hence, from the Latin word for salt salarium , we derive the term “salary.” It is even claimed that the word soldier comes from the Latin expression “ sal-dare ,” which means “to give salt.” These explanations are necessary for unpacking Jesus’ saying that we are the salt of the earth. Not only are we to give flavor to a wearied and insipid world as does salt to the dish, it is also our vocation to defeat the corruption of the world in the same manner that salt attacks dead meat. The flavor and purity of the Christian is so essential that people should be able to take a cue from us about nobility of life, and, like gallant soldiers, we’re to give the salt of protection to our society attacked by our vicious enemy—the devil. Our Lord is literally saying that if we fail to give flavor to the world, preserve moral virtues, retain godly values, and defend our spiritual borders, we are good for nothing. The world would trample on us; and unfortunately, it appears that’s where currently we are or the road to which we are dangerously heading. Second, Jesus says “You are the light of the world.” He compares believers to Jerusalem—the city set on a hill. It’s a call to action, not words; to shine light, and not hide away. St. John Chrysostom was convinced that if we truly lived in imitation of Christ, obeyed God’s precepts, bore injuries without retaliation, rendered good for evil, blessed when we’re cursed, there’ll be no more pagan in the world. It is because of our failures to be light that the world is such a hateful place filled with the darkness of error and unbelief. To answer the call to be lightsome, I invite you to say this prayer by St. John Henry Newman that you may be illumined by Christ and bear His light to the world: “Dear Jesus, help me to spread Thy fragrance everywhere I go. Flood my soul with Thy spirit and life. Penetrate and possess my whole being so utterly that all my life may only be a radiance of Thine. Shine through me, and be so in me that every soul I come in contact with may feel Thy presence in my soul. Let me look up and see no longer me but only Jesus! Stay with me, and then I shall begin to shine as Thou shinest, so to shine as to be a light to others; the light, O Jesus, will be all from Thee; none of it will be mine; it will be Thou shining on others through me. Let me thus praise Thee in the way Thou dost love best by shining on those around me. Let me preach Thee without preaching, not by words but by my example, by the catching force of the sympathetic influence of what I do, the evident fullness of the love my heart bears Thee. Amen.” Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Jesus’ mission statement, which we heard last Sunday says: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Today marks the announcement of His vision for the kingdom, which, unlike the commandments of old that carried prohibitions, issues benedictions. In place of “Thou shall not,” we hear, “Blessed are you.” The eight Beatitudes form a litany of blessings spoken from an exalted position. Just as the law that issued prohibitions came from the mountain, so the beatitudes are addressed from the mountain—both evoking distinctive arrays of exaltation. The new vision, however, arose not as a correction for disorderly conduct, rather, as a message embedded in God’s love, and the responsibility to which He calls the people of the new covenant. For, even if the entire commandments were meticulously observed—which they weren’t—such observance would only promise an orderly world, not necessarily a blessed one. The beatitudes teach that through Christ we gain fullness of blessings for conditions that fall often out of sync with worldly paradigms and appeal. Let’s examine them one after another. 1. It has to be nerve-racking to hear Jesus contradict the assumption that poverty is a sign of divine retribution or that wealth is allied to divine blessings (Psalm 112:3). But Jesus speaks about the “anawim” or the poor in spirit , which, in the Hebrew sense, implies those so overwhelmed by need that they absolutely depend upon God. While it involves the materially impoverished, it also embraces those who absolutely rely on God’s help—whether materially poor or rich. Both the rich man, Zacchaeus, and the poor woman who gave the “Widow’s mite” (Mark 12:4-44; Luke 21:1-4) are counted among the anawim . You who trustingly depend on God for your help and salvation are the anawin , regardless of your socio-economic status. 2. Mourning and tears that stream from a broken heart that seeks God’s justice, mercy, and forgiveness, will bring comfort. Selfish tantrums for not having one’s way may rend the heart, but will attract no blessings. 3. The meek who will inherit the land of promise are the humble, patient, and long-suffering. The vicious and self-righteous who think themselves the center of the universe will have the grave as their only inheritance. 4. Does your heart hunger for righteousness and upright living? Your satisfaction will be like an overflowing stream. On the contrary, life for those who crawl back into blatant narcissism, cruelty, rudeness, and willful ignorance shall be like muddy, swampy water infested with vermin of all kinds. 5. Mercy is an attribute of God, and those who live by this divine attribute will experience its reciprocal effect: they shall obtain mercy in return. The merciless will reap fierce judgment for themselves and their deeds. 6. The pure in heart who seek God with undivided attention will experience the glorious face of God. The depraved who let their hearts to be caroused by debauchery and practice every abominable act will grope in eternal darkness. 7. The peacemakers who seek harmony with others share in the mission of Jesus to reconcile the world to Himself (2 Cor 5:19), and are rightly children of God. Those who cause division and hatred among people are rightly children of their own father—the devil, whose essence is division. 8. Persecution and social ostracism on account of the faith and righteous living are passports to heaven. Those who blackmail, gossip, and damage others’ reputation have signed their deportation orders from the reign of God. Finally, Jesus emphasized the eschatological nature of the beatitudes and personalizes it when He turns from “blessed are those” to say “blessed are YOU” and asks you to rejoice and be glad over any affliction you suffer in His name, because you’ll not fail to receive your reward. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

From the theme of “Manifestation to the Gentiles” on the Epiphany of the Lord, to last Sunday’s theme of the “Lamb of God who takes away sins,” we’re greeted on this 3rd Sunday with the theme of “light that overpowers darkness.” The arrest of John the Baptist is used by Matthew to introduce this theme of darkness begging for the light, which only Christ can bring. Christ is the true light to all nations. He became the light for the forgotten towns of Naphtali and Zebulun. These were called the “Lost Tribes of Israel” because they were decimated by the Assyrians in 722 BC, but later became influential because Christ the true Light of the World began His ministry there and was called “Jesus of Nazareth.” Nazareth was north of the Sea of Galilee. In the first reading and the gospel, both Isaiah and Matthew referred to this city by their original names—Naphtali and Zebulun. These names would conjure a feeling of dread in many who would remember nothing but the assault by the Assyrians. Yet, Matthew, quoting Isaiah, declares the Good News that their darkness has been overpowered by the light of Christ. In the summer of 2007, it was reported that while a group of tourists were inside the Arch of St. Louis, the lights suddenly went out. Among those trapped in the dark were two children, an eight-year-old boy and her five-year-old sister. It was a very scary situation, especially for the kids. As the little girl began to cry, her eight-year-old brother was heard telling his sister, “Don’t worry, Amy! There’s a man around who knows how to turn the lights on again.” As he said this, the lights came back. Each of us needs a voice that promises hope in our darkness. Perhaps our own darkness is fear, sickness, some hurt or grudge we refuse to let go of, unforgiveness or a pattern of unhealthy behavior to which we’re sliding and conjuring hard substances and excuses with which to numb our brain and conscience. Our only help might be a thorough illumination of our darkness, a shining of light to our darkest nights and secrets so they can become cauterized and healed. A question that each of us should direct to no other than ourselves is: “Where in my life do I need some shining of the light of Christ?” Certainly, we have areas of our lives that need some illumination, without which we may remain in our darkness and confusion. But the light of Christ brings clarity, love, and healing. Gradually, we’ll realize that we have more peace, more joy, more wholeness, and have become more lightsome and able to fix other minor dark spots both in our lives and those of our loved ones. If we honestly seek Him with all our heart, we’ll realize that He is that man around the “arch of our soul” who knows how to turn on the light and banish our fears. St. John Henry Newman was someone who knew something about this light, understood it, and sought it himself. During the period when every long-distance travel was by boat, Newman was returning from Italy to his native England when his boat was detained in Sicily. There, he fell ill and nearly died. During his convalescence, he penned down a poem that has become a popular hymn for night prayer, describing his search for the light of Christ: Lead kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom; lead Thou me on The night is dark and I am far from home; lead Thou me on Keep thou my feet, I do not ask to see; the distant scene, one step enough for me. As we enter the week of Prayer for Christian Unity in this cold deadness of winter, we pray for the light of Christ, which alone would lead us out of the ghettos of isolation to the bond of love and unity. St. Paul reprimands us for creating and holding on to factions and claiming that we understand and possess Jesus more than others. After 500+ years of division, all Christian people must let the light of Christ destroy our darkness of division. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

John the Baptist is unlike many of us in many ways. For example, we have a natural tendency to take the credit when things under our watch turn out right, though we might not have contributed effectively to those outcomes. John the Baptist, however, refused to be a “wannabe Messiah;” though his entire entourage thought him to be the Messiah and wanted to proclaim him one. He refused that accolade: “I am not the one you imagine me to be” (John 1:20). Today’s Gospel starts with him pointing to the people the one who is the Lamb of God. Once he saw Jesus, he proclaimed the words we hear at every Mass “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). He went further to describe in detail the characteristics of the Messiah, one of which is that “the Spirit will come down like a dove from the sky and remain upon him; hence, he will baptize with the Holy Spirit” (John 1:32-33). John the Baptist will never take credit for a feat he didn’t perform or a role for which he hasn’t been called. He is content to assume his true identity and be himself. His name is “the voice,” and not “the Word.” But there’s something curious about this Messiah: He is a Lamb. Lamb? Imagine a football team emerging for the Superbowl with the name: “The Lambs.” That’s not the type of names we’re used to or a name to which hard-hitting players would want to be associated. Avid fans and stars prefer names like the Panthers, the Tigers, the Lions, the Bulls, the Hurricanes, and the Cowboys etc., which depict strength. Isn’t it so? What is rather strange is that the one who is truly Almighty chose a rather humble name for his own team: “The Lamb.” Tt teaches us something about how the Almighty sees and understands real strength and the spiritual meaning of power? You may know that the Book of Revelation referred to Jesus as the “Lion of the tribe of Judah” (Rev 5:5), but the symbolism of the Lamb is more intimately connected with his Messianic role. In fact, the Lamb symbol does have a rich history that is associated with precise salvific events, like the lamb of the Passover (Exodus 12:5), linked by Peter to the “lamb without blemish or defect” (1 Peter 1:19), the lamb of the Last Supper (Mark 14:12), and the Lamb of the Book of Revelation that “appeared as if it had been slain” (Rev 5:6). This victorious Lamb is the one of which we sing in the great work of Handel Messiah “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain,” often depicted in Christian art as wounded, yet holding triumphantly a pennant victory flag. Significantly, the lamb is the animal that sacrifices everything: its wool, its skin, its flesh. It keeps nothing to itself, and hence, is God’s chosen sign of victory. Some Christians with many in our world have a hard time grappling with this idea that Christ frees us from our sin. Perhaps they do not understand because sin is like living in a bubble. The culprits do not see it. We often do not see how sin affects us, how it damages our relationships, and causes us to hurt each other. Recent events show that we are more likely to shove sin away and blame other people, rather than look inward to see the terrible cancer eating our lives away. Politicians find ways to change the narrative of an event so that the blameless becomes the blameworthy. Shifting the discussion to something else means we remain in the mud. The lamb theology is what the world generally misses in the clamor for power and prestige. The world will readily hand the flag of victory to the Caesars, Alexander the Great, George Washington, etc., but Christians declare that victory belongs to the Lamb through whom alone our sins can be washed away and who speaks words of gentleness, love, and peace. We declare that the lamb is stronger than the lion and that the gentlest ones are the toughest. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

The feast of the Baptism of the Lord is like a climax of the Christmas feast. Christmas celebrates the incarnation or God becoming a human being. God has a nature different from ours, the same way humans have a nature different from plants. We do have something in common with plants: we are creatures. With regard to God, scripture tells us that we are made in His image. And while that says something significant about humans, we need not be overly elated about that, just as a grass effigy need not rejoice that it is fashioned in the likeness of a human being. Incarnation or Christmas for plants would mean that one of us took the nature of plant, just as for us it means that God took our nature. I don’t really know what the most despicable thing about plants is. But I know what it is for human beings. It is the three-letter word: SIN. Today’s feast is about God’s identification with our sin condition. This explains why John the Baptist, who perhaps understood well who Jesus was, protested that he was unworthy to baptize Jesus as He didn’t have any sin. Jesus’ insistence to be baptized is curious; yet, it actually looks like the climax of the incarnation—for He desired to become one with us in our sinfulness, even without having any sin. This was a moment of great divide: the old would give way to the new. The Spirit of God which hovered over the deep on the original creation (Gen 1:2) would now descend like a dove upon Him, signaling a new creation. This new beginning was sometime in the past signaled to Noah after the dove returned to him bearing an olive branch to indicate that salvation—symbolized by dry land and fruitfulness—have appeared after the great flood (Gen 8:11). It was Noah’s dove, not Noah himself, which found dry land, and returning brought an olive branch, also symbolizing peace. The flood in Noah’s time is a prefigurement of the baptismal waters that make an end of sin and a new beginning of goodness (The Rite of Baptism). And through the waters of the Red Sea, God led Israel out of slavery, to be an image of God’s holy people, set free from sin by baptism (The Rite of Baptism). Christ’s descent into the Baptismal water was meant to sanctify it, in order to quell its destructive power over God’s people, just as He did at the Red Sea. The Holy Spirit descending as a dove on Jesus, just as He brought an olive branch to Noah, signals the arrival of God’s favor and peace, a form of dry land, and an assurance of salvation. Baptism is full of rich symbolisms. Whenever you’re present for a baby’s baptism, look out for symbolisms—like the shape of the baptismal font. Here at St. John, it is shaped like a womb from which children are begotten in the Spirit. The baptismal fonts at St. Pius X and St. Bernard’s in Tulsa are made in the form of a grave from which Christians are raised to new life in Christ. The cathedral of Burgos-Spain, for example, (one of the cathedrals we visited during our last pilgrimage) has a very large circular section where the baptismal font is located. It’s large enough for the entire congregation to gather around the baptismal font to witness the first entrance into the living family of God of those born anew and redeemed by Christ. St. Hilary of Poitiers taught that “everything that happened to Christ during his Baptism happens to us. After the birth of water, the Holy Spirit swoops down upon us from high heaven, and we become adopted by the Father’s voice, calling us His sons and daughters.” Baptism is our greatest gift from God: it is God’s very life and love that we share when we’re baptized. Through this new life, we overcome Adam’s sinful death. It is a love that overpowers and wins us away from love of self to the love of God and our neighbor unto His glory. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo