Martedí
scorso, dopo oltre due anni di totale silenzio, questo blog si è
ridestato dal sonno. Era proprio necessario? La situazione ecclesiale
rispetto a quando esso vide la luce (sette anni fa, ma sembra un
secolo...) è profondamente mutata (e forse anche questo ha
contribuito, insieme ad altri fattori, all’“assopimento” del
blog). In questi anni sono accadute e continuano ad accadere tante
cose su cui si potrebbe intervenire (e molti, lodevolmente, lo
fanno), ma sulle quali si può tranquillamente anche glissare,
concentrandosi sull’essenziale, che consiste nella fedeltà: «Sii
fedele fino alla morte e ti darò la corona della vita» (Ap 2:10).
Ma ci sono altre questioni su cui non si può far finta di nulla,
perché toccano l’essenza della fede cristiana, che è il tesoro piú
prezioso che abbiamo, e che dobbiamo mantenere integro per noi stessi (se
vogliamo salvarci) e per le generazione a venire. Una di tali
questioni è la mediazione salvifica universale, e quindi esclusiva,
di Cristo. Beh, vedere che in un documento, ancorché non ufficiale,
della Santa Sede si potesse in qualche modo mettere in discussione
tale verità, mi ha direi quasi costretto a ridiscendere in campo.
Non sono nessuno, ma ciò non significa che anche l’ultimo nella
Chiesa non abbia il dovere di dare il suo piccolo contributo alla
difesa della fede. Ora, siccome non vorrei che, dopo il brusco
risveglio, il blog sprofondasse di nuovo nel sonno, ho pensato di
tenerlo desto con la pubblicazione delle mie omelie domenicali. Non
mi costa nulla, dal momento che, in ogni caso, devo preparare
l’omelia per i miei pochi fedeli: ci vogliono cinque minuti per
passarla dal file al blog. La mia piccola comunità è
internazionale, per cui sono costretto a usare l’inglese; ma è un
inglese elementare, accessibile a tutti. Anche questo è un modo per
condividere con gli amici e con i fratelli di fede ciò che lo
Spirito dice a questa povera comunità dell’estrema periferia della
Chiesa.
Ulisse Sartini, Battesimo di Gesú, 1999
(Kabul, Cappella dell’Ambasciata d'Italia)
Last
Wednesday we were still contemplating the Infant Jesus visited and
adored by the magi; and today, with a thirty-year jump, we find
ourselves in front of an adult Jesus, who is starting his public
ministry. This kind of temporal leaps, intolerable for a historian,
are common in the liturgy. Why? Because, even though the events we
are commemorating are different and far from each other, the mystery
we are celebrating is the same, that is, the mystery of the
manifestation of the Lord. The baptism at the Jordan is also a kind
of “epiphany”: Jesus appears to us in his real identity.
Usually,
when we talk of Jesus’ baptism, we focus on this specific event:
Jesus who goes to John at the Jordan to be baptized by him. And then
we are in trouble, because we do not understand why Jesus did so: he
was sinless, and so he did nod need to be baptized. That is why we
have to look for other explanations; and so we say: Jesus has himself
baptized for us, not for himself; in a way, he takes all of us into
the Jordan; he enters the waters shouldering our sins; he anticipates
another “baptism”—his death—by which he will wash away the
sins of the world.
All
this is true: theologians, through the ages, have reflected upon this
mystery, and the liturgy itself lingers over it. Just to give you an
example, the antiphon at the Magnificat in the first Vespers
of this feast says: “Our Savior came to be baptized, so that
through the cleansing waters of baptism he might restore the old man
to new life, heal our sinful nature, and clothe us with unfailing
holiness.”
But
it is not that the reason why we are celebrating today the baptism of
the Lord. I do not know if you have noticed that today’s gospel
does not stress the event of Jesus’ baptism. Luke first tells us
that people were wondering whether John the Baptist might be the
Messiah. And John gives his testimony: according to the fourth
gospel, he says, “I am not the Messiah.” In today’s gospel, he
just explains the meaning of his baptism: “I am baptizing you with
water, but one mightier than I is coming … He will baptize you with
the Holy Spirit and fire.” Then Luke mentions Jesus’ baptism in
passing, without dwelling on the details: “After all the people had
been baptized and Jesus also had been baptized...” But he points
out another detail: Jesus “was praying.” It means that this is a
remarkable moment in Jesus’ life. In Luke’s gospel, when Jesus is
doing something important, he prays. This is a turning point in
Jesus’ life, because, after thirty years of hidden life, he is
starting his public ministry.
Then
Luke adds: “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 Son; with you I am well pleased.’” That is why we
are celebrating today the baptism of the Lord: because, on that
occasion, his divine nature was manifested to us. The whole Trinity
moves to reveal to us who Jesus really is: the Holy Spirit descends
upon him like a dove; the Father testifies that he is his Son. Jesus
is not a simple man: he is the Son of God. Somebody could think that
Jesus becomes Son of God at that moment; but it is no deification,
it is just a manifestation: Jesus has always been the Son of
God, since the very first moment of his human conception; now his
divine nature is shown publicly. He is the Son of God incarnate, that
is, made man; not a man deified, that is, made God.
But
this divine manifestation (“Theophany,” in Greek) of Jesus is
also the announcement of our “deification”: through
baptism we become children of God. When we are baptized, we are
adopted by God as his children: we become, by adoption, what Jesus is
by nature. And so we finally can understand the motive for the
incarnation: the Son of God became man, so that we might become
children of God!
