Until now, the Church has been celebrating the mystery of the Child.

Today, everything shifts.

We move from the hidden years of Nazareth
to the public ministry of Christ.
From silence
to revelation.

And the way Jesus chooses to begin
is striking.

He does not go to the Temple.
He does not gather disciples.
He does not preach.

He steps into the water
among sinners.

The first reading from Isaiah gives us the key.

“Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen one in whom my soul delights.”

This servant does not shout.
He does not crush the weak.
He brings justice quietly, faithfully.

Isaiah is describing the Messiah —
but not as people expected Him.

Not as a conqueror,
but as one who bears the weight of others.

That prophecy comes alive today at the Jordan.

John the Baptist cannot understand what is happening.

His baptism is for sinners.
For repentance.
For those who know they need mercy.

And Jesus steps forward.

John protests:

“I need to be baptised by you,
and yet you come to me?”

John is right.

Jesus has no sin to repent of.
Nothing to confess.
Nothing to be cleansed.

And yet Jesus insists:

“Allow it now,
for this is the way to fulfil all righteousness.”

That sentence matters.

Jesus is not saying, “This doesn’t matter.”
He is saying, “This matters more than you realise.”

Here is the heart of today’s feast.

Jesus does not enter the water to be purified.
He enters it to identify.

He who is without sin
takes His place among sinners.

He stands where we stand.
He enters the water meant for us.

From the very beginning of His ministry,
Jesus declares what kind of Messiah He is.

Not one who keeps His distance.
But one who goes down into the depths with us.

His baptism is already pointing forward —
to the Cross.

As He goes down into the water,
we glimpse His descent into death.
As He rises,
we glimpse the Resurrection.

This is not a symbolic gesture alone.
It is a commitment.

“I am with them,” He is saying.
“I will carry this all the way.”

Then something extraordinary happens.

“The heavens were opened.”

In the Scriptures, closed heavens mean separation —
sin, distance, exile.

Opened heavens mean access,
reconciliation,
life.

What humanity lost through sin,
Christ reopens.

And the Spirit descends like a dove.

For a Jewish mind, the dove speaks of sacrifice —
the offering of the poor,
the ordinary,
the acceptable gift.

From the start,
Christ is marked as the One who will be offered.

Then the Father speaks:

“This is my beloved Son,
in whom I am well pleased.”

In the Old Testament,
a sacrifice had to be without blemish, acceptable,
worthy.

The Father is saying:

“This is the One.
This is the sacrifice I accept.”

The hidden years of Nazareth,
the obedience,
the holiness —
all are affirmed here.

Jesus is revealed as Son,
Servant,
and Sacrifice.

St. Peter, in the reading from Acts,
tells us what flows from this moment.

Jesus is anointed with the Holy Spirit and power.
He goes about doing good.
Healing.
Freeing.

And this is where our own baptism enters the picture.

Jesus did not need baptism.
We did.

But by entering the water first,
He transforms it.

The waters that once symbolised death
now become the waters of life.

The flood that destroyed
becomes the font that saves.

In Baptism:

• original sin is washed away
• we are given sanctifying grace
• we become children of God
• heaven is opened to us
• the Trinity dwells within us

What happens to Christ publicly at the Jordan
happens to us sacramentally at the font.

This feast also reminds us of something we forget.

Baptism is not a cultural ritual.
Not a family tradition.
Not a box ticked.

It is the beginning of a mission.

Jesus’ baptism marks the start of His public life.

Our baptism marks the start of ours.

From that moment on,
our lives are no longer about comfort,
success,
or fitting in.

They are about holiness
and witness.

We are baptised into Christ —
and that means sharing His path.

That is why the Church asks us today
to remember our baptism.

Not nostalgically,
but seriously.

Have we lived as those who belong to Christ?
Have we guarded the life of grace within us?
Have we returned to it when we have lost it through sin?

The same Lord who sanctified the waters
left us the sacraments
so that grace could be restored
again and again.

What we could never do for ourselves,
He has done for us.

Today, Christ steps into the water.

Not because He must,
but because we must.

He takes His place with sinners
so that sinners may take their place with God.

The heavens are opened.
The Spirit descends.
The Father speaks.

And from this moment on,
nothing is the same.

May we remember who we are.
May we live our baptism with faith.
And may we follow the One
who entered the water for us
and went all the way to the Cross
to bring us home.