Homily for the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

January 11, 2026

A young girl named Cindy glanced nervously at the clock on the kitchen wall. “They should be home any time now,” she thought as she put the finishing touches on the chocolate cake she was frosting. It was the first time in her twelve years she had tried to make a cake from scratch and, to be honest, it wasn’t exactly an aesthetic triumph. The cake was…well, lumpy. And the frosting was bitter, as if she had run out of sugar or something. Which, of course, she had.

And then there was the way the kitchen looked. Imagine a huge blender filled with all the fixings for chocolate cake—including the requisite bowls, pans and utensils. Now imagine that the blender is turned on. High speed. With the lid off. Do you get the idea?

But Cindy wasn’t thinking about the mess. She had created something, a veritable phoenix of flour and sugar rising out of the kitchen clutter. She was anxious for her parents to return from their date so she could present her anniversary gift to them. She turned off the kitchen lights and waited excitedly in the darkness. When at last she saw the flash of the car headlights, she positioned herself in the kitchen doorway. By the time she heard the key sliding into the front door, she was close to exploding.

Her parents tried to slip in quietly, but Cindy would have none of that. She flipped on the lights dramatically and trumpeted: “Ta-daaa!” She gestured grandly toward the kitchen table, where a slightly off-balance two-layer chocolate cake awaited their inspection.

But her mother’s eyes never made it all the way to the table. “Just look at this mess!” she moaned. “How many times have I talked to you about cleaning up after yourself?”

“But Mom, I was only…”

“I should make you clean this up right now, but I’m too tired to stay up with you to make sure you get it done right,” her mother said. “So, you’ll do it first thing in the morning.”

“Honey,” Cindy’s father interjected gently, “take a look at the table.”

“I know—its’s a mess,” his wife said coldly. “The whole kitchen is a disaster. I can’t stand to look at it.” She stormed up the stairs into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

For a few moments Cindy and her father stood silently, neither one knowing what to say. At last, she looked up at him, her eyes moist and red. “She never saw the cake,” she said.

In today’s gospel reading, a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”

Now, let’s compare that with some of the things said about Jesus in the Bible.

When Nathaniel is invited to become one of Jesus’ disciples, he responds, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (John 1:46)

At one point, we are told that Jesus’ family “came to take charge of him, saying, ‘He is out of his mind” (Mark 3:21)

When Jesus said that he had the power to lay down his life, and the power to take it up again,

some of the people said, “He is possessed by a devil—out of his mind! Why pay any attention to him?” (John 10:20)

When some of the people reached for rocks to stone Jesus one day, he asks “Many good deeds have I shown you from the Father. For which of these do you stone me?” “It is not for any ‘good deed’ that we are stoning you,” they retorted, ‘”but for blaspheming. You who are only a man are making yourself God” (John 10:32-33).

When Jesus is being crucified, some of the leaders “kept jeering at him, saying, ‘He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, the chosen one.’ The soldiers also made fun of him, coming forward to offer him their sour wine and saying, ‘If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself’” (John 23:35-37).

These contrasting voices offered to Jesus make me want to ask: whose voice do I listen to? Which voices mean the most to me, or have power over me?

I was thinking back to the time of my adolescence. It’s a time when you want to fit in, you want to feel accepted. And you can be very sensitive to remarks people make, even in passing. Plus, there are people who are natural bullies; they have a knack of making life miserable for those they pick on.

Today, I think social media adds to the pressure. If you post a statement, or a photo, and you have 200 “friends”—that’s a lot of people who can pass judgment on you, what you’re doing, what you’re thinking. Plus, now you have AI, which can take almost anything and turn it into something else. I’ve seen some pretty wild things that President Donald Trump has supposedly said or done. And then, I ask myself, why isn’t this being covered by all the networks? Simple: it’s generated by AI. It isn’t true.

Today’s gospel has God the Father saying that Jesus is his Son with whom he is pleased. It happened at Jesus’ baptism. And I believe the same thing happens at every baptism—no, even before that, at every birth: You are my beloved son, my beloved daughter. I don’t make junk. I’m very pleased with you.

I think we have to ask ourselves: Does that matter to us? Does it make a difference for the strength of our ego that God thinks we’re terrific? What about all the people that are put down or bullied, and have all kinds of horrible things said about them, but never hear what their Creator thinks? Wouldn’t it be nice if someone let them know?

So…to whom do you listen? Who can make your day or make you feel like an utter failure? I’m glad you’re here, so that you know God’s opinion of you: “You are my beloved sons and daughters. I love you more than you can imagine. Now, stop listening to all that other garbage! Believe in yourself, as I believe in you!”