Epiphany 1C (Luke 3:15-17, 21-22)

John the Baptist does something profoundly similar to Joseph in his relationship to Jesus. Just as Joseph breaks away from the conventions of tribal loyalty by accepting the divine call to protect Jesus and Mary, John distances himself from familial familiarity, recognizing a divine purpose within his cousin. While Joseph steps into his role as protector by embracing an unconventional obedience, John reorients his relationship to Jesus by transcending the ordinary bonds of family, seeing Jesus not merely as his relative, but as the one through whom the kingdom of God is to be revealed.

In declaring Jesus “the one who is more powerful than I,” John sets aside any temptation to reduce Jesus to the identity of “just a cousin” or an ordinary family member. He willingly embraces the countercultural view that Jesus’ identity surpasses biological ties, recognizing a sacredness in his cousin that he feels called to honor and serve, not to limit or claim ownership over. John’s profound act of humility and recognition contrasts with the common human tendency to define our family members based on our familiarity with them. How often do we truly consider our loved ones as bearers of divine purpose, or as those worthy of reverence and respect? 

In our own lives, we may struggle to acknowledge the potential or greatness within those closest to us, often because we convince ourselves we know who they are—flaws and all—and dismiss the possibility that they might hold a unique calling or role beyond what we see. John’s recognition of Jesus calls us to transcend our own familiarity and biases, inviting us to look upon those we know best with fresh eyes, open to the mystery and potential within them that we may have overlooked.

How do we view our family members and friends, those we know so well and are so accustomed to? We may think we know exactly who they are, and that belief might give us a sense of comfort. But do we ever anticipate their change, growth, maturity, and transformation? This lack of expectation for others’ transformation might mirror our own lack of anticipation for change within ourselves. Do we ever expect ourselves to be transformed? If not, it’s likely we don’t expect it of others either.

To shift this mindset, to break open our resistance to spiritual maturity, we must change the way we see ourselves. We must see ourselves as capable of growth and always becoming a more skillful, authentic version of who we are. This journey requires solitude. In solitude—stripped of the masks we wear, the images we create, and the labels others place on us—we learn to see ourselves anew. This is the sacred space where we can hear the voice from heaven at Jesus’s baptism: “You are my beloved. With you, I am well pleased.”

To hear this quiet, inner voice of grace, we confront and go beyond our inner critic, that judgmental self-talk of perfectionism. We face ourselves not as fixed and unchanging but as beings in constant growth. We also reflect on what we’re feeding into our self-image. What thoughts, feelings, and images are we taking in that shape our sense of self? Before becoming anything or anyone, we first become the breath itself—grounded, present, open.

Whenever we hear the loving voice of grace, our baptismal nature is renewed. As we are rejuvenated, so too are others continually renewed. No matter how well we think we know someone, we must recognize that they, too, are constantly transforming. Likewise, no matter how well we think we know ourselves, we may not—and perhaps should not—hold too tightly to that certainty. Our baptismal nature calls us to be in a constant state of becoming, growing ever more skillful as we discern from the depths of contemplation, patterned by the breath of God moving through our own breath.