The Richness of the Lamb (2nd Sunday of OT, Year A)

  The Christmas season is now over, but today’s Gospel drops us right back where we left off. Once again, we meet John the Baptist. This time, though, we hear him through the Gospel of John. Just before today’s passage, the priests and Levites have come out from Jerusalem to see the strange man with a wild appearance that everyone is talking about. This group of religious leaders asks John a simple question: Who are you? Are you the Messiah? No. Are you Elijah? No. Are you one of the prophets? No.

So finally they ask, Well then, what do you have to say for yourself?

John answers with one line that sums up his whole life, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: make straight the way of the Lord.” And then he adds, “There is one coming after me whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.”

When John sees Jesus coming toward him, he points him out and gives Jesus a name no one expected.

He doesn’t say, “Here comes the Messiah.”
He doesn’t say, “Here is the King of Kings.”
He says, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.”

That title tells us everything Jesus came to do.

John the Baptist was the son of a temple priest. He grew up surrounded by sacrifice, blood, altars, and offerings. When he calls Jesus the Lamb of God, he’s not being poetic or sentimental. He’s being very precise.

For us, a lamb sounds gentle and sweet; something fluffy and harmless. For John’s Jewish audience, the image was much heavier. When they heard “lamb,” several powerful images would have come flooding into their minds all at once.

First, there was the lamb of atonement. On the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur), the high priest placed his hands on the animal and symbolically transferred the sins of the people onto it. It was then sent into the wilderness where it would suffer and die. The lamb suffered so the people could be forgiven.

Then there was the daily lamb. Every single morning and every single evening, a lamb was sacrificed in the Temple…day after day, year after year…to keep the people in right relationship with God.

They also would have thought of the Passover lamb, whose blood saved their ancestors in Egypt from death and marked the moment when God set them free from slavery.

They would have remembered the lamb of the prophets, especially Isaiah’s image of the servant who would be “like a lamb led to the slaughter”; the one who would suffer not for his own sins, but for the sins of others.

Finally, there was the lamb of victory. In Jewish history, great leaders and kings were sometimes described as “horned lambs”; figures who looked gentle but carried God’s power to conquer and save.

When John points to Jesus and calls him the Lamb of God, he’s saying: All of that…every sacrifice, every prophecy, every hope finds its fulfillment in him.

That’s why those words still echo at every Mass. After the sign of peace, we sing or say, “Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.” Not long after that, the priest holds up the consecrated host and proclaims John’s words again: “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.”

In those two moments, we profess who Jesus is and why he came. He is the one who steps into a broken world and takes our sin upon himself.

For many generations, forgiveness came through repeated sacrifices in the Temple. But when Jesus arrives, all of that stops. He takes the place of every lamb that came before him. He stands where we should have stood. Our guilt is placed on him, and he freely accepts the cost so that we might have life.

The powerful symbol of the Lamb helps us understand something important: sin is not a small thing. It’s not harmless. It’s not just a mistake we shrug off or us failing to be our best self. Sin brings real destruction and real suffering. The price of sin is death. The only reason we have hope…the only reason we stand forgiven…is because Jesus took that price and punishment upon himself.

The Lamb of God is gentle and innocent. But he is also strong. Brave. Willing to suffer out of love. His meekness is not weakness…it is power restrained for our sake.

So as we echo John the Baptist’s words today, just moments before receiving Holy Communion, let’s pause and really mean them. Let us thank Jesus for being our sacrificial lamb. Let us never make light of sin, knowing what it cost. And above all, let us rejoice because we have been saved by the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!

You Are Pleasing to God!! (Baptism of the Lord, 2026)

  Some people see the world in a very different way. Tim Burton, the director of films like Edward Scissorhands, Beetlejuice, and The Nightmare Before Christmas, is one of them. When I watch his movies, I often wonder how his mind works to create such off-the-wall films. Yet Burton once said that nothing he ever imagined on-screen compared to the shock and wonder of a real-life experience: the birth of his first child. He described it this way: “You really can’t prepare for it. It’s the most natural thing in the world, yet somehow the most shocking.”

Nothing on this earth compares with the birth of a baby. Each child carries a dignity, value, and potential beyond measure. Babies embody hope and promise. Scripture tells us that we are created in the image and likeness of God; that we can participate in the creation of a human person whose soul is destined for eternity should leave us humbled and amazed.

That natural moment of birth, with all its power and mystery, rightly astonishes us. Today’s feast, the Baptism of the Lord, points us to something just as real and just as transformative. It reminds us that something extraordinary happens not only at physical birth, but at spiritual birth as well.

At the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus stepped into the waters of the Jordan and allowed John to baptize him. It was a risky moment. It could have appeared that Jesus was subordinate to John, or that he needed repentance. Neither was true. But Jesus accepted that risk because he knew how central baptism would be to God’s plan of salvation. Baptism would not be merely a symbol…it would become a true new birth.

The early Christians wrestled with this question: Why would the sinless Christ submit to a baptism meant for sinners? The Church Fathers, especially St. Augustine, answered clearly: Jesus was baptized not for his own sake, but for ours. The waters did not change him; he changed the waters, so that they might give life to us.

My own family has been blessed with many babies, including a brand-new niece born just this past Thursday. Being around infants has a remarkable effect on people. It softens us. That’s one reason I always want families with young children to feel welcome here…because their presence blesses the entire community.

Even science confirms what parents have always known. When people hold a newborn, their bodies change. Hormones shift. Men experience lower testosterone and increased oxytocin and prolactin, becoming less aggressive and more attentive. Women experience hormonal surges that awaken a powerful protective instinct. Holding a baby literally rewires the heart and mind toward love, care, and self-giving.

People can sit for hours holding a child, simply gazing at them in peace and wonder. The smallest things…a tiny smile, a soft sound…bring immense joy. Parents delight in their babies not for what they do, but simply for who they are.

What we do instinctively for babies, God does perfectly for each of us. You might say God spends all eternity gazing upon his children, and his attention is never divided. Because of baptism, God has spoken to each of us the same words he spoke to Jesus in the Jordan:
“You are my beloved son.”
“You are my beloved daughter.”
“With you I am well pleased.”

We do not earn the Father’s love. It is given freely, fully, and unconditionally. There is nothing we can do to make God love us more…and nothing we can do to make him love us less. And yet how often we live as though his love depends on our performance, as though we must somehow deserve it.

No wonder we are hard on ourselves. No wonder guilt, fear, and shame creep in when we fall short.

So consider this: What would change in your life if you truly believed that God’s love for you is unconditional? How might it affect the way you face failure….or the way you treat others, knowing that the same God who delights in you delights in them as well?

Imagine the freedom of knowing, deep in your bones, that no success or failure could ever separate you from the love of God.

How powerful it must have been for Jesus to rise from the waters and hear his Father’s voice. And if you have never heard that voice, know this: God speaks those same words over you every day. You exist because God is actively loving you, thinking of you, rejoicing in you, and never turning away.

That is why he sent his Son: to reveal the depth of the Father’s love and to make us his children not in name only, but in truth.

When your faith is tested; by illness, financial strain, family struggles, or deep disappointment, remember this: in baptism, Jesus claimed you for his Father. Even if the people you should have been able to rely on have failed or walked away, God never will. He does not abandon. He does not grow tired of you. His love is not fragile, conditional, or temporary.

Because of Jesus, we are never orphaned. Because of baptism, we are always loved.

So today, give thanks for the Baptism of the Lord, which opened the waters of new life. Give thanks for the day of your own baptism, when God adopted you as his son or daughter. And live with the quiet confidence and grace that come from knowing who you are…and whose you are.

You are God’s beloved. And with you, he is well pleased.

The Gift of Self (Epiphany, 2026)

 Giving gifts is not an easy thing to do…at least not truly personal and meaningful gifts. It’s not just a matter of spending more money, although sometimes that helps. It’s not just about surprise or beautiful wrapping. And it’s not even primarily about what the gift is, whether an object, an experience, or words. What makes a gift truly good…what makes it memorable, is the combination of thoughtfulness, self-sacrifice, and love embodied in it. More often than not, the gift itself matters far less than the intention behind it.

Looking back on my childhood, I can admit I wasn’t very good at giving gifts, especially to my parents. Like many kids, we would ask what they wanted for their birthday or Christmas. And more often than not, the answer was something painfully simple: “Stop fighting with your siblings,” or “Just do your chores the first time I ask.”

When I heard that, my heart would sink. I was willing to give almost any other gift, but not that one. Because it wasn’t the gift I wanted to give. And maybe you’ve experienced that too: giving a gift that was more about you than the person receiving it, or receiving a gift that didn’t really feel like a blessing because it missed the mark entirely.

As my parents and our family have gotten older, this truth has become even clearer. What matters most to them now isn’t money or expensive presents. What they ask for, again and again, is time: visits, shared meals, simply being together. That kind of gift often means more than anything flashy, because it is the gift of self. And it can feel more costly than money, because only we can give it. No one else can take our place.

Which brings us to the Epiphany.

More beautiful and pleasing to God than the gold, frankincense, and myrrh of the Magi was the simple fact that they brought themselves. These were wealthy and powerful men. They could have sent servants with their gifts. Instead, they personally made a long and difficult journey…months of travel, uncertainty, and risk; so they could place their gifts before the Christ Child with their own hands and see him with their own eyes.

That is the deeper beauty of their offerings. The gold, frankincense, and myrrh mattered because they expressed something greater: love, reverence, humility, and worship. They were outward signs of an inward offering: placing Christ before themselves. Whenever we encounter the living God, the proper response is worship and adoration, not because God needs it, but because worship changes us and restores right relationship with God and one another.

So how does this apply to our lives?

The same principle still holds. God doesn’t need anything from us. If there were something he lacked, he could create it. But there IS something he desires, something only we can give. God wants our love and friendship. He created us with free will, which means love must be chosen. It cannot be forced… even by God. And when we freely choose him, it brings him such great joy!

Take some time this weekend to reflect on the blessings in your life. Try to name one good thing in your life that cannot be traced back to God. Every breath, every joy, every moment of love has its source in him. Practicing gratitude gets us in the right mindset to think about what we can give him in return

One final thought. God has shown us what gifts he loves most. Like any good parent, he wants time with his children, and he delights when his family gathers for a meal. That is why Sunday Mass matters…not as an obligation to check off, but as a gift we freely give.

Too often we ask the wrong questions: “What do I get out of Mass?” or “How late can I arrive and still have it count?”But those are the questions of consumers, not gift-givers. Good gifts are never about minimum effort. They are about presence, attention, and love.

When we come to Mass faithfully, week after week, we give God something he desires deeply: our time, our attention, our hearts. And that gift does not leave us empty. It forms us. Sunday after Sunday, worship teaches us how to become better gift-givers everywhere else in life…more patient, more generous, more willing to show up even when it’s inconvenient.

Our gathering here may look ordinary, but when it is offered thoughtfully, sacrificially, and lovingly, it becomes one of the most precious gifts we can give. Like the Wise Men, we come ourselves. We don’t send substitutes. We bring what we have, our joys, our struggles, our time, our love, and we place them before Christ.

May this Mass, and every Mass we attend, gladden the heart of God. And may our faithful presence here shape us into people who know how to give good gifts by offering not just what we have, but who we are.