This coming Sunday we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord. The scene is filled with eschatological overtones. The heavens are opened, a voice comes from heaven, the Spirit is given. The Judaism of Jesus’ day tended to regard all of these elements as the revelatory gifts of God that happened in now-past OT times and that no longer occurred. But they also believed those signs would reappear in the “last days.” What becomes clear is it is not the baptism that is central to Matthew’s narrative, but the events that follow. Those events reveal the beginning of the long awaited eschatological events of salvation.
Different scholars will give varying accents and background to the three signs – mostly surrounding the idea of fulfilling all righteousness. In Jesus’ baptism, he and John fulfilled the OT by revealing the Messiah to Israel. This baptism, an inauguration of Jesus’ ministry to Israel, led immediately to OT fulfillment in that the Spirit, as a dove, came upon the Messiah and the Father endorsed his Son in the voice from heaven. In baptism, Jesus as the servant proclaimed and exemplified the righteousness envisioned by the prophets. Additionally he identified in baptism with the repentant righteous remnant within the nation of Israel (Mt 3:5–6). His baptism reveals his humility and anticipates his ministry to lowly but repentant people..
The Spirit. The Baptism, with all its import and significance, is followed by a quite revelatory event: “ …and behold, the heavens were opened (for him), and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove (and) coming upon him.” (Mt 3:16).
The opening of heaven is familiar elsewhere in the NT as an expression for a visionary experience occurring in John, Acts, and Revelation. In the OT, perhaps the significant parallel is Ezekiel 1:1. Standing beside a river, Ezekiel sees heaven opened and receives a vision and hears God’s voice commissioning him for his prophetic role, later giving him the Spirit (Ezek 2:2). In Isaiah 63, the prophet pleads with God to tear open the heaven, come down, and save his people. There is ample precedence for the opening of heaven to be the prelude to the divine communication and the giving of the Spirit.
The descent of the Spirit of God echoes the well-known messianic prophecies in Isaiah which say that God will place his Spirit upon his chosen servant. As R.T. France points out, this does not mean that before now Jesus has been without the Spirit, since Matthew has attributed his birth to the Spirit (1:18, 20). But now as the Spirit descends on Jesus, He is visibly equipped and commissioned to undertake his messianic mission. (Matthew, 121)
One wonders if Mathew also has in mind the hovering of the Spirit above the water of creation in Genesis. Does Matthew understand Jesus’ baptism as a “new creation,” a genesis? The word “genesis” is the word and idea with which Matthew begins the genealogy (1:1, 18).
When the Spirit comes upon people in Acts it is evident in their subsequent behavior, speaking in tongues and preaching boldly rather than in any visible “descent.” But such is not the case at Pentecost. (Acts 2:2–3) when we read of both audible and visible phenomena, wind and fire. The Baptism of Jesus is the only occasion when we hear of the Spirit appearing in visual, corporeal form, “like a dove.” Is there an OT precedence for this? There is certainly no direct connection, but some scholars think that perhaps Matthew has in mind a “fusion” of water, new creation, and the flood narrative when all begins again with Noah sending out the dove. Interesting, but speculative.
Image credit: The Baptism of Christ, Juan Fernández de Navarrete, “El Mudo” | Museo del Prado, Madrid | Wikimedia Commons | PD-US
It’s a new year and each time January brings a mixture of hope and anxiety. We have hopes for 2026, but we carry unresolved worries, unanswered questions, and fears that did not politely stay behind in 2025. The readings for today come at the right time.
In the Gospel, the disciples are doing exactly what Jesus told them to do. He sent them ahead in the boat. And yet obedience has not spared them fear. They are exhausted, battered by the relentless wind and just can’t make any headway – sound familiar? Then they are confronted with something they cannot interpret: Jesus walking toward them on the sea. This is way out of their comfort zone; they think it is a ghost and are terrified. We know those moments when we are out of our comfort zone and the unexpected initiates a fear response. Fear distorts perception. Like the apostles, when we are afraid, even the saving presence of God might be perceived as threatening. What is meant to help us can feel like something that will overwhelm us.
At the start of 2026, maybe our fears are not as dramatic as the apostles – maybe they are. Great or small, the fear, the uneasiness we might sense is real:
fear of instability in the economy, the end-of-January potential shutdown of the government, inflation, and more;
fear of illness, aging, or decline – those small aches and pains that no longer resolve themselves;
fear of loneliness, being misunderstood, or left behind – our friends moving, passing away, or in their decline, no longer recognize us.
Fear that a loved one has reached the end of their earthly life.
…name the fear that lurks in your life. We all have them.
Like the disciples, we are rowing hard and making little headway, and we wonder what’s next.
It is into these moments that Jesus speaks – then and now: “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.”
Those words, “It is I,” are not casual reassurance. In the Greek they echo the divine name — “I AM.” Jesus is not simply saying, “It’s okay.” He is saying, “God is here.” The One who comes toward them across the chaos is not a ghost, not an illusion, not a threat, but the living presence of God entering their fear. Notice that He does not shout instructions from a distance. He gets into the boat. And only then does the wind die down.
That is crucial for us. God does not usually remove our fears by eliminating all danger or uncertainty. He removes fear by sharing our vulnerability. Love steps into the boat. This is exactly what the Letter of John names so clearly: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear.”
Fear is sinful or a sign of weak faith. Love does mean never feeling afraid. Jesus tells us something more realistic and more hopeful: fear loses its power when we allow ourselves to be loved and when we choose to love in return. Think about it: fear makes us close us in on ourselves. We become defensive, cautious, and suspicious. Love does the opposite. Love opens us up and makes room for others. Love steps into the boat even when gale winds continue and the wave unrelenting. Love is what can make fear loosen its grip.
We don’t have to love perfectly or fearlessly. It is enough that we love faithfully. It is in the active decision to love that we become free and more easily live a life of patience, generosity, forgiveness, and hope. Our vision clears and we recognize Christ in our midst and in others.
Maybe a prayer for our mornings might be, “Lord, get in the boat with me. Still the storms or at least give me the courage to not need to control, but to love freely. Your presence is stronger than my fear.”
Christ stilling the storm on the Sea of Galilee | Ludolf Bakhuizen | 1695 | Indianapolis Museum of Art | PD
At the end of the previous post, a question was posited: “How did the currents of history bring the U.S. and Japan to this point in history when sanctions and an embargo were the final domino that moved the flames of war to become the firestorm that was the Asia-Pacific War from December 1941 until September 1945?” There is a lot of history upstream of the 1930s and 1940s to consider, but when one reads widely about the period, one recurring topic is China. Japan seemed to be possessed by an inexorable attraction for China. Look at a modern map of China and compare it to a map of East Asia in 1940. Japan occupies all of Manchuria (while trying to pass it off as the independent nation of Manchukuo), has encroached southward into what the Japanese called “mainland China” or simply “China.” Japan also controls virtually every major port along the South China Sea, East China Sea and the Yellow Sea. Meanwhile in the interior of China, Japan controlled vast areas to the Northeast and set up collaborationist regimes, with the Nationalist (KMT) government under Chiang Kai-shek and a loose affiliation of local war lords retreating to the interior and the Communists fighting from their bases to the Northwest. It created an incredibly complex military and political landscape.
If the Japanese were interested in securing the flanks of their advance to the oil and resource rich areas to the south, it would seem diplomatic means and mutually benefiting treaties and agreement would be more efficient and economical. But when one looks at the arc of history between the two nations it tells the tale of an apprentice who grows up and seeks to dominate the one who was once master. And so, in this post, I will attempt to paint with the broadest of strokes and cover 2,000 years of history between the two nations. There will be gaps, a lack of historical details, and a rash of broad assertions trying to summarize periods of the history. But the purpose is to place the 20th century conflict in a large current of regional and world history.
In the beginning
The Japanese archipelago was largely inhabited by the Jōmon people who were hunter-gatherers. During the 1st millennium BC, the Yayoi people migrated to Japan and quickly became dominant. There are different theories as to their origin: Korea or different parts of China, but what is clear is that they brought rice farming with them, beginning a slow transition from a hunter-gathering period to an agrarian society. If one took a snapshot of Japan in the 3rd century (AD), it would largely be an agrarian society. The people (known variously as Wajin or Yamoto) were marked by settled farming (largely rice), metal tools and metallurgy learned from mainland Asia, the development of fortified villages, early social stratification where accumulation of wealth through land ownership and grain storage fostered social hierarchy, and all the elements for later more developed social and political structures. Over time, as with most cultures, the politics moved from clans to chiefdoms, but without centralized government. But by 300 AD Japan experienced the rise of powerful regional leaders. The history of this period is thin, but the legends are plentiful.
The first recorded encounters, taken from Chinese dynastic histories, describe Japan (Wa) as a group of polities engaged in tribute and trade. It was clear that China was in the dominant position as the Japanese leaders sent tribute missions to Chinese courts to gain prestige, acquire recognized titles, and especially to gain access to advanced technology and knowledge. The Chinese character 倭 denoted the nation and the people of Japan. It translated to “dwarf” – which as you can imagine did not find favor with Japan who replaced it with 和 “harmony, peace, balance”.
Nonetheless, unwanted moniker aside, Japan gained writing (Chinese characters), bronze and iron technologies, and the introduction of Confucian ethical ideas. In the mix and middle of all this It is noteworthy that Baekje (one of the ancient three kingdoms that form Korea) often acted as a main intermediary. Its geographical location allowed it to trade with China and Japan and made it the natural route from Japan to the heart of China. Baekje’s contribution to Japanese culture is notable in pottery and Buddhism.
In what is known as the Yamato and Asuka Periods (6th–7th centuries) there was an active effort on the part of the Japanese to learn Chinese models of statecraft. Japan adopted and adapted centralized bureaucracy, legal codes and a calendar system. Students were sent to study administration, law, architecture, and religion but one can see the first movements of the apprentice beginning to rise. Records reveal correspondence asserting Japan’s dignity and implying an equality with the Chinese Emperor.
Part of that insistence is likely related to the idea of the Japanese Emperor. Legend holds that the first was Emperor Jimmu believed to have been born around 711 BC on the island of Kyūshū. He is said to be a descendant of the sun goddess Amaterasu. Most modern scholars regard Jimmu and the nine first emperors as mythical. Emperor Sujin, the 10th emperor, may have been a real historical figure, but even then the reach and reign of control was likely very regional and not across the entire archipelago.
In any case, in the early 8th century, known as the Nara period, was the age when the Emperor began to exert control. Administrative, civil and criminal codes were introduced (Ritsuryō), the land was organized into Provinces and Districts, and a caste system was introduced. The city Nara was the first urban population center. It had 200,000 residents – approximately 7% of the nation. The Nara period was the high point of Chinese influence. At this point Japan was fully embedded in the East Asian order with all traces of subordination to China largely gone.
By 894 AD, Japan stopped official missions to China. The Chinese Tang dynasty was greatly diminished, the Japanese were confident in their own institutions, and Chinese knowledge was considered acquired and was beginning to be considered “classical” rather than current/modern. For the next 800 years or so, until the late 16th or early 17th centuries, the relationship was largely trade with occasional moments of diplomacy when one side or the other wanted something. When China was in the ascendancy, it required Japan to become a tribute state in order to trade. When Japan was in the ascendancy, it left the tribute status. But in the big picture of East Asia, for thousands of years, China had been the intellectual, economic, military, and political center of East Asia.
During the Edo Period, things changed – and not for the better. On the Korean peninsula an internal reconfiguration of power led the Korean Emperor to become a tribute state to China – but as the most favored state – now a virtual part of China. Meanwhile, by the last decade of the 16th century, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the most preeminent daimyo, had unified all of Japan, bringing about a period of peace. Hideyoshi was not emperor or part of the imperial lineage (and that is a complicated story, best left to others) but he was a “man with a plan.” He planned to invade China, in effect attempting to claim for Japan the role traditionally played by China as the center of the East Asian international order. As relayed to Jesuit missionaries, Hideyoshi spoke not only of his desire to invade China, but also subjugating the smaller neighbouring states of the Ryukyu Islands (Okinawa), Formosa (Taiwan), and the Philippines.
This was the first evidence (I found) of a Japanese vision of supreme leadership of East Asia. If the metaphor of apprentice-master once had meaning, that was no longer true. From this point in history, China and Japan are dedicated rivals.
Hideyoshi’s first international action was to invade Korea. He tried to solicit the assistance of Portugal, to no avail. Nonetheless he started what became known as the Imjin War, a series of two Japanese invasions of Korea. The first was in 1592 with a brief truce in 1596, and a second invasion in 1597. The conflict ended in 1598 with the withdrawal of Japanese forces from the Korean Peninsula after a military stalemate in Korea’s southern provinces. This period is interesting in that it sets a pattern: unified government, warrior culture dominated society (samurai), a reasonable naval force was available, and a vision of regional leadership as ordained by the gods – and in the background was the Imperial line, descendents of the sun goddess Amaterasu.
While still in the Edo Period, now post-1600, Japan stabilized internally during the Tokugawa shogunate. This ended the period of expansionism, but also restricted diplomacy. China remained a cultural source but no longer considered politically superior. The Tokugawa shogun initiated policies designed to limit the access of the word to Japan. The collection of policies issued between 1633 and 1639 are known today as Sakoku which essentially translates as the “locking of the country.”
And so remained the nation until Admiral Perry sailed into Tokyo Bay.
Image credit: various photographs from Naval Aviation Museum, National World War II Museum, and US Navy Archives. Top image generated by WordPress AI on Jan-526
This coming Sunday we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord. 14 John tried to prevent him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?” 15 Jesus said to him in reply, “Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.”
Righteousness (dikaiosýnē) is a complex concept rooted in the Hebrew ṣedeq-ṣĕdāqâ and mišpāṭ. In short, as used by Matthew, dikaiosýnē refers to right conduct before God. This is the consistent usage in Matthew. Jesus is baptized so as to do what is right with God (3:15). The hungering and thirsting of 5:6 is for a right state before God. Yet this righteousness is God’s gift (6:33). It is to be sought with his kingdom. It brings persecution (5:10). It includes the practice of piety (6:1). The way in which the Baptist came is that of right conduct (21:32).
Boring (Matthew, New Interpreters Bible, 160) comments on the phrase:
Both righteousness and fulfillment are key Matthean theological themes. Righteousness here means, as often elsewhere, doing the revealed will of God. Here, fulfill seems to mean simply “do, perform,” and the meaning is that it is necessary for both John and Jesus to do God’s will, which includes the baptism of Jesus. The plural “us” links John and Jesus together as partners in carrying out God’s saving plan (11:2-19).
The First Temptation of Christ. Brian Stoffregen has an interesting insight about righteousness as “do, perform” what God requires of us.
John, by trying to prevent the baptism, tempts Jesus not to do all that God requires of him. He tempts Jesus to assume his proper position now: to be the more powerful one; to baptize with the judgmental Holy Spirit and fire; to meet John’s need. I don’t think that these are too dissimilar to the devil’s temptations that occur immediately after the baptism (4:1-11) — temptations for Jesus to use his power now, for his own glory; and avoid his emptying and eventually the pain and suffering of the cross.
What does God require of Jesus? Is it just the baptism? I think that baptism is only part of the picture of Jesus identifying with sinful humanity: the Sinless One is baptized for the forgiveness of sin; the Holy One eats/fellowships with unholy sinners; the Immortal One dies on a cross as a criminal. It is part of the emptying of himself — the God who becomes truly human.
In fact, the “emptying,” occurs even earlier in Matthew. We have been told that the child has been conceived from the Holy Spirit. We have been told that “Jesus” will save his people from their sins. We have been told that he will be called “Immanuel” — God is with us. What happens to this very special child after his birth? He has to flee for his life. The one, who will save his people, has to be saved from Herod. The one who is “God-with-us” has to flee from the Promised Land. He (and his parents) are acting as people who have been emptied of power.
This thought is highly reflective of Philippians 2:6-11 in which Jesus empties himself “becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.” This passage from Philippians strongly echoes Is 53:12 which speaks of the “Suffering Servant” of God – one who does what is right before God and thus fulfills all righteousness.
Image credit: The Baptism of Christ, Juan Fernández de Navarrete, “El Mudo” | Museo del Prado, Madrid | Wikimedia Commons | PD-US
Depending on how one phrases and frames the question, one will arrive at different and often conflicting conclusions. While writing and posting the series on World War II in the Pacific (late August – early November, 2025) one of the recurring comments was that the United States started the conflict with its complete oil embargo on Japan on August 1, 1941. This followed the freezing of Japanese financial assets held in the United States during July 1941. Some folks asserted that those two actions were a blockade, which by international agreement is an act of war – hence the U.S. started the war.
There are two problems with that position. The first problem is that there is an important difference between a blockade and an embargo. A naval blockade is a military tactic where a belligerent power uses its navy to cut off a coastline or port, preventing all ships (enemy and neutral) from entering or leaving the nation under blockade. The intention is to stop supplies, trade, and communication, effectively starving the enemy’s war effort or economy. And yes, a blockade is indeed a recognized act of war under international law; an embargo is specifically excluded as an act of war.
In 1941 there were no U.S. naval forces operating in or around Japan. There were no restrictions on marine traffic in the western Pacific; Japan’s economic activities were unhindered for any nation that wished to trade with Japan. They were however finding that list of willing trading partners growing ever shorter given Japan’s aggressive expansion policies and military actions in the region.
And that leads us to the second problem. It is a completely myopic view to think war in the Pacific began on December 7, 1941. War in the Asia Pacific region was more than four years old with Japan being the provocateur and initiating agent in every instance. It is clear that the Asia Pacific War started in 1937 when the imperial ambitions of the nation of Japan launched military action against the nation of China, a conflict that some argue had started and been simmering since 1931. In previous posts we traced the rise of Japanese militarism that served as the agent of their colonial ambitions.
To be sure, the oil embargo was one of the dominoes in the chain. A few dominoes later, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, bringing the United States into the war as an active belligerent. The series to date followed the dominoes from the attack on the Hawaiian island of Oahu to the Japanese surrender in September 1945 – with few looks to events before that fateful day.
In case you are wondering about the phrase “the attack on…Oahu” it is good to remember that other installations were hit hard and suffered heavy casualties: Hickam Field, Wheeler Field, Bellows Field, Kaneohe Bay, and Schofield Barracks.
Long before December 1941, dominoes began to fall across the Asia Pacific region. China wasn’t the only nation that had been subjected to Japanese expansion. Japan had annexed Korea in 1910, taken over Manchuria in 1931 (setting up the puppet state of Manchukuo – that no nation recognized), and these are just two of the territories Japanese expansion had acquired by military means. Well prior to 1941, other nations included the Kingdom of Ryukyu (including Okinawa), Taiwan and the Penghu Islands, South Sakhalin, Saipan and Tinian in the Mariana Islands, the Marshall Islands, and the Caroline Islands. The following map shows the Asia Pacific region in September 1939 at the outbreak of war in Europe.
If the Dutch (Netherlands) East Indies and their oil field are the critical domino, you can see why French Indochina (Vietnam) was essential to the Japanese in order to secure and safeguard merchant shipping from the East Indies to Japan.. However, there are still two barriers in the way: (1) the U.S. Territory of the Philippines and (2) the British presence in Malaya, notably the major British port of Singapore. These two represented bases of operation that could interdict any marine traffic in the South China Sea and choke off critical supplies such as oil, rubber, and metals.
Without elaborating, let me simply say that there was great rivalry between the Imperial Japanese Army (IJA) and the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN). This rivalry had existed since before the start of the 20th century, ebbing and flowing in intensity. When the 1939 IJA forays into the border areas of Soviet controlled Mongolia and Siberia (the Nomohan Incident) were easily repulsed, Japanese attention and planning turned to the Southeastern Asia region – which had always been the strategic priority in the eyes of the IJN.
If Korea and Manchuria served as a food basket and new homesteads for an exploding Japanese home population, then Java, Malay, Borneo and other nations were seen as sources rich in oil, rubber, and other materials needed for Japan’s military-industrial complex. There was a strong sentiment among Japanese leaders that their national destiny was to be the rightful leader of the “Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.” It was an ideology that was part of the education system and propaganda from the 1920s onward. The ideology was promoted as a means to free other Asian nations from the colonial rule of European nations, but in reality it was to establish themselves as the new colonial master. The underlying motivations for their territorial expansion was explored in a previous post, The Eight Corners of the World. In any case, the 20th century saw Japan transform itself from an island nation to an Asian Imperial Empire founded on military action.
Japan signed the Tripartite Pact on September 27, 1940, in Berlin, forming a military alliance with Germany and Italy as the primary Axis powers in World War II. The reasons were to deter the United States from intervening in Japan’s expansion in Asia, formalize its alliance with Germany and Italy, and establish distinct spheres of influence (Europe for Germany/Italy, Greater East Asia for Japan) for a new world order, all while securing mutual defense against potential attacks, especially from the U.S. and the Soviet Union (which Germany invaded on June 22, 1941)
At this point in time, France was fully occupied by German forces with the south of France (Vichy France) as a puppet government of the Nazis. In an arrangement with the Vichy government, Japan occupied the region of modern-day North Vietnam (French Indochina) starting in September 1940. At the same time Japanese troops began to encroach into “South Vietnam” (also part of French Indochina). By July 1941 Japan expanded its occupation to include all of South Vietnam. Another key domino in the chain fell.
The 1941 occupation of French Indochina was a tactical and strategic military move by the Japanese to position themselves to secure the Dutch East Indies oil fields and to control the sea lanes from those fields to the home islands for merchant shipping. The Japanese viewed the Dutch colonies as vulnerable since Germany had occupied Holland in May 1940. Although Holland was occupied the Dutch army, navy and air forces had not surrendered and were able and willing to defend its colonies and the oil resources. As well, the British military held strongholds in Singapore and Malaysia, bases from which to assist the Dutch, as well as to keep open Burma Road and its supply line to the Chinese fighting the Japanese invaders – and threaten the sea lanes to Japan.
The August 1941 oil embargo did not start the war. The war in the Asia-Pacific region was already underway. One only needed to ask the Chinese, Vietnamese and Mongolians, as well as the Koreans. The embargo was a calculated political action in reaction to the occupation of French Indochina. It was a political action whose hope was to deter Japan from further expansion. Nonetheless, one can ask:
What was the background, purpose, and hope as regards the August 1941 oil embargo from the United States point of view?
The U.S. understood the goals for Japan southwest incursion, but did the U.S. truly understand the underlying motivations?
Was the embargo the decisive reason why Japan attacked Pearl Harbor or just more proximate than a collection of other reasons?
Was the embargo a virtual declaration of war hoping to draw Japan to military action so that the U.S. could enter the war in Europe?
Clearly the December 1941 and early 1942 “blitzkrieg” across Southeast Asia, the Southwest Pacific, and Central Pacific regions accomplished the mission of (a) capturing the resource rich nations and (b) setting a “line of defense” west of Hawaii – why did the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor? Couldn’t they just have left the sleeping giant alone?
But all of the above only leads to a larger question: how did the currents of history bring the U.S. and Japan to this point in history when sanctions and an embargo were the final domino that moved the flames of war to become the firestorm that was the Asia-Pacific War from December 1941 until September 1945? It is not just an interesting question in history. Consider the terms “sanctions”, “embargo”, “frozen financial assets” and others that are current in our news here in 2026. Are there lessons to learn from history?
Stay tuned.
Image credit: various photographs from Naval Aviation Museum, National World War II Museum, and US Navy Archives.
This coming Sunday we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord. As John the Baptist mysteriously appeared in the wilderness, so too Jesus. John appeared proclaiming: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (3:2). It was a very public appeal to which people responded: “Jerusalem, all Judea, and the whole region around the Jordan were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins” (3:5–6.) Jesus appears on the scene and Matthew makes it clear that Jesus’ purpose is to be baptized by John (v.13).
These verses are found only in Matthew: “…to be baptized by him. John tried to prevent him, saying, ‘I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?’ Jesus said to him in reply, ‘Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he allowed him” (vv.13b-15). It seems as though John has recognized the nature of Jesus’ mission. Matthew gives us no clue of the means by which John recognized Jesus (it is Luke who reveals the family connection between Mary and Elizabeth). The intention of Jesus to be baptized ignites an oppositional tone in the dialogue between John and Jesus. Clearly John tries to dissuade Jesus from being baptized at John’s hand. The verb (diakoluo) is imperfect, implying a continued action in the past (“was preventing”); in other words, it could have been an extended argument.
What gave John pause? At a minimum John recognizes Jesus as the one “coming after me [who] is mightier than I” (3:11). At the level of operative culture, it is not John’s place to baptize Jesus. That being said, it is not clear that John is aware of the full nature of Jesus or his mission (cf. 11:3). Later Christians would raise the specifically theological question: why does the sinless Son of God submit to John’s baptism? John is clear that his baptism is associated with repentance (v.2), that people were acknowledging their sins (v.6) and were required to show the fruit of their repentance (v.8). Perhaps this is on John’s mind – what is clear is that John did not view his baptism as worthy of or appropriate to Jesus. In any case, Matthew makes clear that John is not superior because he had baptized Jesus.
Jesus’ baptism is not a prefiguring of Christian baptism, it is not a gateway to prepare people for baptism in Spirit and fire (v.11). What is it then? In this first public appearance in Matthew’s narrative, Jesus is identifying himself with the faithful remnant of people who recognize their own sinfulness and their dependence upon the mercy of God. This becomes the active symbol of Christian life viewed as a relationship with God through God’s chosen people. It was this relationship which John’s baptism demanded (cf. 21:32), and which now requires Jesus to identify himself with the penitent people of God in order to fulfill his mission. So Jesus regards his baptism among repentant Israel as a necessary step in his accomplishment of God’s purpose of salvation – to fulfill all righteousness” (v.15).
Image credit: The Baptism of Christ, Juan Fernández de Navarrete, “El Mudo” | Museo del Prado, Madrid | Wikimedia Commons | PD-US
In today’s Gospel, Matthew deliberately situates the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry in a very particular place: “The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali… Galilee of the Gentiles.” This is not just geography. There is a meaning: Galilee was not Jerusalem. It was distant from the Temple, religiously mixed, politically suspect, and culturally porous. It lay along trade routes on“the way to the sea” where ideas, goods, and beliefs constantly crossed paths. For many in Judea, Galilee represented religious compromise and spiritual danger. And yet, Matthew tells us, this is precisely where the light appears.
Isaiah’s prophecy is fulfilled not in the center of religious certainty, but on the margins among those who “sat in darkness,” among people accustomed to sorting truth from error, faith from superstition, hope from disappointment. Jesus does not wait for people to come to the light; he enters the shadows and shines there. And that context matters when we hear the first line of Jesus’ preaching: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
Repentance is an invitation to reorient oneself toward the light and turn away from whatever false illuminations have been guiding one’s steps.
That brings us naturally to the First Letter of John, which offers a sober warning to precisely the kind of community living in a “Galilee of the Gentiles” world: “…do not trust every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they belong to God.” John is writing to believers who are not persecuted from outside so much as confused from within. False teachers claim inspiration, insight, even spiritual authority. Not every voice that speaks confidently speaks from God. Not every enthusiasm is born of the Spirit. Notice John’s test is not mystical or emotional. It is profoundly Christological and practical. Does this spirit confess Jesus Christ come in the flesh? Does it lead to obedience, love, and fidelity to what has been handed on? In other words, does this spirit draw us into the light — or does it merely glitter in the dark?
This is where the two readings meet. Light clarifies, but it also exposes. The Light of Christ reveals competing claims, rival voices, and false paths. In our day we live amid many spirits coming from many directions. Think about all the self-help books, podcasts, social media and more – they are a modern form of “spirits” but are they of Christ.
But even in the life of everyday practicing Catholics. Our faith has the same stream of advice from books, videos, social media, podcasts and more. People ask me about the sources all the time. Some are amazing and help shine the light of Christ onto the path we are walking. Others, well… It seems to me they broadcast a spirit of fear masquerading as prudence, anger disguised as righteousness, or their view presented as authenticity. Intense and loud do not equate to truth or authority. Neither does novelty offer genuine insight. Discernment is needed
John reminds us that discernment is not optional. It is a daily discipline of faith. And Matthew shows us that discernment begins by staying close to Jesus, the Light Himself, who teaches, heals, and proclaims the Kingdom not from a distance, but by walking among the people right there in the messiness of life. Jesus entered the ordinary and human in order to redeem it.
What’s the good word: remain in the light, but do not be naïve. Be open to the Spirit, but not uncritical. Follow Jesus into Galilee that is a real and complex life. Test what you hear. Does it speak with the Church? True light does not confuse or divide. It lights the way to peace in Christ.
Last year (2025) I explored World War II in the Pacific in order to consider the moral framework of the war considering the counter-factual that no atomic weaponry was available. If you are interested in the series you can read (or review) it here. In the course of reading and research I came across lots of other interesting information. Some was related to specific campaigns, others to strategy, and others still to a range of topics large and small. But there were also questions.
Some of the questions I received most often was allocating some share of the blame for U.S. involvement in the already on-going Asia-Pacific War by its support and aid to China, freezing of Japanese financial assets, the oil embargo of August 1941 or negotiating in less-than-good faith. In some cases, the question was framed to imply that the U.S. wanted the Japanese to initiate military action to give the United States a reason to enter the war in Europe.
Starting tomorrow, a related series begins that explores the currents and eddies of history that brought Japan its wars with China (1894-1895 and 1937-1945), with Russia (1904-1905), the annexation of Korea, Manchuria and French Indochina, and to wider war in the Pacific that stretched from Hawaii to Australia and nations in between, notably the Philippines, Malay, Borneo and the Dutch East Indies.
Perhaps the question that all of this raises is this: how did Japan think it could win such a war? Did its strategic and tactical planning understand the classic Clausewitz dilemma: a nation can be easy to conquer but extremely difficult to hold. Was Japan able to hold on to their gains and fight a war of attrition? We know the answer to the last question: no. But did Japan have other options it believed were viable?
This coming Sunday we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord. The story of Jesus in the larger context of Matthew 3:1–4:16 is bracketed by John the Baptist’s ministry.
In those days John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea (and) saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” (3:1-2).
From that time on, Jesus began to preach and say, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” (4:17)
John prepared the way for Jesus and his ministry. Where John’s proclamation is that the kingdom is “right around the corner,” Jesus announces that the kingdom is here in the person of the Messiah, the Son of God. The “inauguration” of the in-breaking of the kingdom (kairos)into Time (chromos) occurs at the baptism of Jesus which serves as the occasion for the coming of the Spirit and the Father’s approval of his beloved son.
And all of this is then immediately tested by Satan (4:1) in the periscope that follows our text. There Matthew continues to show Jesus as the fulfillment of the Covenant – where Israel failed in the dessert, giving into temptation, Jesus is obedient and faithful to his Father. Tested, Jesus then becomes the “new Moses” announcing far more than the promised land – announcing the presence of the Kingdom of God.
That Jesus was baptized by John is undoubtedly a historical fact. According to the Gospel accounts, Jesus received from John a baptism connected with the forgiveness of sins. It is inconceivable that the early Christians, who held Jesus in such high esteem, would have invented a story in which Jesus received something from John and that this reception would involve the baptism of repentance.
Matthew uses this scene to bring the adult Jesus onto the narrative stage for the first time, to present him and his mission to the reader in terms of his own Christology. By bringing Jesus into the on-going story of John (3:1-12) Matthew preserves the continuity of salvation history from the OT through John to Jesus. It is clear that the continuity is at the initiative of Jesus.
The gospel text naturally divides into two parts: (1) the discussion that precedes the baptism, and (2) the scene following the baptism when he came up from the water (v.16). Within the first division there is one question which begs to be answered – why did Jesus receive the baptism of John? The ancillary context is “….Jesus had no sin, and so had no need for baptism – did he?” Within the second division is the more basic question – “What does all that happened – the voice from heaven, the coming of the Spirit – what does it mean?”
Image credit: The Baptism of Christ, Juan Fernández de Navarrete, “El Mudo” | Museo del Prado, Madrid | Wikimedia Commons | PD-US
Consider what is said to you: Love God. If you say to me: Show me whom I am to love, what shall I say if not what Saint John says: No one has ever seen God! But in case you should think that you are completely cut off from the sight of God, he says: God is love, and he who remains in love remains in God. Love your neighbor, then, and see within yourself the power by which you love your neighbor; there you will see God, as far as you are able.
Begin, then, to love your neighbor. Break your bread to feed the hungry, and bring into your home the homeless poor; if you see someone naked, clothe him, and do not look down on your own flesh and blood.
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