The scenes out of Los Angeles this past week have been beyond comprehension, looking more like something Hollywood itself would produce in one of their epic blockbuster disaster films. Entire neighborhoods wiped-out, block after block charred beyond recognition. Cars abandoned on the state's beloved freeways. People wandering the now-barren wasteland in a state of shock.
Every time something of this magnitude happens -- be it a natural or man-made disaster -- we find ourselves asking: why did God permit this? Why does He seem either uninterested or powerless to stop it? Is this some sort of punishment owed to a city often known for its sinful and lavish lifestyles? Is God using this moment to wake people up?
I don't know the answers to these questions, of course, but asking them -- and wrestling with them -- brings us to a space where we see things from a perspective we often miss when our daily lives distract or distance us from the things that really matter: the value of life; the fact that all things can be taken from us in a moment's notice; the view of eternity upon discovering that our possessions can't save us or be taken with us.
Los Angeles -- and the nation -- was reminded once again that although we live in the world with all its complexity and beauty, we were not made for this world alone, and the only thing that lasts beyond us is the light and love of God which we are tasked to bring forth through the witness of our very lives. The Baptism of Jesus – this solemn feast that celebrates the end of the Christmas season and the beginning of Ordinary Time -- points to the power of Christian witness and the call to be a reminder of everlasting covenantal love for others. If we aren’t, in fact, witnessing Christ-like love with our lives, then what is it that we are doing with the gift we’ve been given? There may not be a more important question to ask ourselves.
When we are introduced to John the Baptist in today’s Gospel, notice that he is baptizing the people who were flocking to the Jordan River looking for new beginnings, a new way forward. John was not baptizing with the same understanding or power that we know sacramental Baptism to be; John’s baptism didn’t wash away sin as our Christian baptism does. However, he was preparing the people to change their lives so that they could see – both physically and spiritually – the Savior when He appeared, the promised Messiah who was coming to baptize in a completely different way: with water, spirit and fire.
When Jesus came to the Jordan that day after having left the desert of temptation, he didn’t need to be baptized. He who is without sin went to the water in order to bless it for all time -- to make it holy – so that it would become a source of our healing and our salvation. He led the way so that we would follow. We’ve seen this past week in Los Angeles what the power of water can do. It can stop destruction in its tracks; it quenches what is parched and dying. And when there is no water to be had, life is lost. How many times during the past days did we witness Californians standing outside the shells of their once beautiful homes and shops, crying out that there was no water to be had when firefighters hooked-up hoses to hydrants? How often did we see neighbors scrambling to gather water from backyard swimming pools in buckets and trashcans in an attempt to save what was most valuable to them?
To put it bluntly: When it could be found, water saved lives this week in Los Angeles. The very same thing can be said about the waters of Baptism. More than just a quaint ritual for us as Christians, the waters of Baptism are the source of our salvation in Christ – the very waters he uses to call us into relationship with His Cross and Resurrection and wash away the original sin that left us adrift, like sheep without a shepherd.
Why then are we denying that gift to our children, allowing them “to choose when they get older?” Why are we ourselves failing to return time and again to the gift of living water – the grace of God -- that flows from the sacramental water we have received?
Without water, things perish. Without the waters of baptism, so too does our soul. John, of course, goes a step further, knowing that the Baptism Jesus brings will be one that radically changes everything – a Baptism with water, yes – but one that also pours forth the power of the Holy Spirit and of fire.
The Spirit of God – the very love between the Father and the Son poured out upon us – is as unpredictable and powerful as the Santa Ana winds that whipped-up the inferno that devoured entire neighborhoods like Pasadena and the Palisades. It’s why the wind is an appropriate symbol -- and one that Scripture often uses -- to describe the Spirit’s power: It blows where it will and has the force to
upend everything.
I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have not tapped the full power that the Spirit of God wants to bestow upon my life and this parish community. How many gifts is the Spirit wanting to pour out that I have refused? In what ways have I not allowed the Spirit to help me fight against the power of Satan, as the Acts of the Apostles (our second reading) points out? Imagine if you will the incredible force the Spirit would have if we allowed that Love of God to whip through our church, our world and our souls with the same intensity as those California winds.
Oh, you say: but those winds bring fire – destruction. In saying this, you are correct. Why would John the Baptist proclaim Jesus as the Divine Bringer of Fire through Baptism? Who wants destructive fire?
God does.
As terrible as fire can be, it is necessary – necessary to burn away the dead underbrush that keeps new life from forming. Fire purifies and sets things right again. The fire that Christ brings is the fire of the Cross, and it’s this very Cross we are called to embrace, to live and to allow it to transform us into His image and likeness. Without the fire of the Cross, we stay stagnant and selfish; chained to sin; dead inside.
Yet if we allow the fire of the Cross to torch our lives – if we are willing to let it transform us and burn away the dross of sin – we become the embodiment of the words of the prophet Isaiah: “I will take you by the hand to be a light to the nations, to open the eyes of the blind and to set prisoners free.” By embracing the fire of the Cross, we learn how to love like God. The fire of the Cross makes us other Christs.
Just the other day, one of the many acts of selfish love seen in the Los Angeles disaster came when a local TV station captured a gentleman – soot-covered and crying – filling a trashcan with water from a pool and throwing it on shrubs that had started to burn. The reporter gently asks the man: “Is this your home, sir, that you’re attempting to save?”
To which he replied: “No. Mine just burnt to the ground. This is my neighbor’s. I’m doing whatever it takes to save his.”
The power of water and wind and fire.
The power of the Cross that teaches us how to love.
That’s the gift of Baptism – the power of the Spirit – at work in the lives of all who come to the waters of grace and mercy.
In the City of our Lady of the Angels, we are witnessing both Calvary and Resurrection; sorrow and hopefulness; darkness and light. May we forever be willing to choose the Light, especially in moments when the world is figuratively – or literally – burning down around us.