The Baptism of the Lord
January 13, 2013
10 AM Liturgy
J.A. Loftus, S.J.
“...Heaven was opened and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in
bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “you are my
beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
All three synoptic gospels record essentially the same story. There are
minor differences. Only Luke, for example, says the dove descended “in
bodily form.” And only Luke has the voice from heaven being heard by all
present. The others have only Jesus hearing or seeing anything. John’s
gospel, while it doesn’t record the actual baptism, does have John the Baptist
saying that he saw the heavens open and the Spirit descend upon Jesus.
That’s how John knew that Jesus was the one everyone awaited.
So, in a way, this is one of those few places where all four gospel
accounts converge. “Heaven was opened,” they all say. Something crashed
into the world’s everyday experience. And they all use that same phrase:
heaven was opened. Do you find that as fascinating, or at least as strange, as
I do? What if that’s not a metaphor?
It led me back to other strange places we’ve explored together in
homilies in the past year. To theological explorations of the resurrection of
Jesus. Perhaps his risen body is just one manifestation of the
multi-dimensional universe in which we actually live, Jesus is still with us in
both body and Spirit.
We remain for the most part, completely unaware.
And it led me to scientific explorations as well: we know for a fact we
do live in a multidimensional universe. And we also know scientifically that
there are many more dimensions than the ones we are familiar with. Is there
a heaven that may be much closer than we usually think? Much closer?
I am, apparently, not alone in my curiosity. There is a book that just
last week celebrated its 91st consecutive week on the New York Times’ best
seller list. It’s called Heaven is for Real (by Todd Burgo with Lynn Vincent).
[No relation to our own Michael Burgo–though I bet he would wish to share
some royalties.]
About two years ago, a friend of mine asked me to read this book and
give her a quick impression. It’s the story of a young boy who has a routine
appendectomy go south and who then experiences heaven in a near death
experience. I found it easy to read (it must be to last 91 weeks on a best seller
list), but fanciful and strangely filled with very stereotypical images of
heaven: angels with big wings and fluffy feathers. You get the picture. This
heaven struck me as a place I might be bored sharing. But millions and
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millions of people are obviously enjoying it.
But now, lo and behold, the number one place on the same best seller
list is a book by a neurosurgeon called Proof of Heaven. It is written by a
physician who worked for many years at Harvard and Brigham and
Woman’s hospital here in Boston, Dr. Eben Alexander. There is yet another
book by a orthopedic surgeon called To Heaven and Back (Mary C. Neal).
These two bear the weight of being written by two scientists, two medical
professionals hardly given to flights of fancy, one of whom is a recognized
expert in brain physiology.
It appears that people of the 21st century are just as taken aback as
others were on the banks of the river Jordan when the heavens get opened.
And they, too, are fascinated. At least fascinated. And maybe hopeful and
searching as well.
This story of Jesus’ baptism, the one that concludes our Christmas
season, is unlike all the other stories of Christmas we’ve just passed through.
All the others, the infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke, were wonderfully
imaginative creations crafted to tell in mini-gospel fashion who this baby was,
and is. The Baptism may mark the first historical detail of the story. There
are too many virtually identical accounts to imagine it did not actually
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happen.
But history is not just about “facts.” All history contains its own
interpretation as well. And everyone seems to have interpreted this event in
a remarkably similar fashion. “Heaven was opened,” and what sounded like
a voice was heard by some at least. “This is my beloved, one with whom I
am delighted.”
These are strong words. “One in whom and with whom I delight.” I
like this one passionately. I love this one completely. This one is finally
heart or my heart and soul of my soul.
No wonder the heavens broke open. This is God speaking. The God
whose voice shatters mountains and oceans and rents the earth open. Just
listen to the Psalms of Israel. The heavens weren’t just opened; they broke
open!
Did the heavens break open at your baptism? Did the heavens break
open at my baptism? I can only answer for me, and I have no recollection
whatsoever. I was a little baby. I certainly don’t remember anything
significant. I have heard adults speak of being baptized at an Easter Vigil
and having the experience of a very strange feeling, or sound, or emotion at
that moment. Makes me wonder sometimes?
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Is heaven broken open at every baptism? Do clouds part and a voice
try to speak at every baptism? Our faith suggests yes. Every baptism is the
inauguration into a stranger-than-real world, a world of grace and
possibilities, a world of love and forgiveness, a world of unconditional
acceptance.
And the voice is always the same. “Here is the one I love passionately.
Here is the one in whom I take great delight. Welcome to your true home.”
That voice is meant for you and for me. And it has already been
spoken in our hearts. That voice will keep on speaking these words
throughout our lives and even into our deaths. Heaven may be a lot closer
than most of us realize. Maybe that’s what Jesus’ baptism tells us. Listen
for that voice in your own life. Peace!
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