01/11/2026
Baptism of the Lord
“Indoctrinate” - I think that word gets a bad reputation. I mean, there are malicious circumstances in which that is the right word. But at face value, I think that it doesn’t mean anything more than training or raising our children the way we see fit, passing on to them those things we believe are supremely important.
For instance, as a child, I was taught all the most important things: we are Mets fans in this house, and God help you if you root for the Yankees. And then, my cousin not only rooted for the Yankees, but got a job with them! Anathema! We never saw him again,
Of course, I’m kidding. Because once my uncle and my father learned that it was his job to drive back and forth to practices at spring training, Yogi Berra, almost all was forgiven. Yes, Yogi was Yankee, but he had coached the Mets for a time. Besides, he’s Yogi Berra; he’s baseball royalty!
But aside from this all-important lesson I was taught, to be a Mets fan, to root for the underdog, so many other important things were passed on, were taught, were indoctrinated into me: an enjoyment of (and the development of the skills for) music, including Irish folk music, how to swim, an appreciation of the quiet and of the enjoyment of being out in nature, humility, self-reliance, honesty, not to be pushy, but patient, and other virtues, like maintaining the connections to family, of attending those family events even if we’d rather be with other friends.
Some of these may have taken some time and practice to set in, to become a part of my being. But “practice makes permanent.” Especially something like instilling in us the proper relationship to food and drink. It’s a fight every year at Easter and Halloween, with all the chocolate around, for parents to teach temperance and avoid gluttony (and diabetes). And it was the same in our house. And of our relationship to alcohol, we weren’t going to go through life drinking cheap light b**r. No, my brothers and I were going to appreciate the good stuff! To appreciate the complexities and richness of, say, a Belgian dunkel. Oh, and of course that we weren’t going to become alcoholics.
See, it’s about the relationship to the thing. And “well-begun is half-done.” As it is with our relationship with food, drinks, family, swimming in a body of water, and sports teams; which require careful guidance from the outset to avoid gluttony, alcoholism, alienation, drowning, or (God forbid) rooting for the wrong team, respectively; so our relationship with Jesus must have a good beginning and healthy guidance. And that beginning is Baptism, when from that moment we are referred to as “children of God.” It’s so easy to get off track, to fall into, say, alcoholism, and it can take an extraordinary effort to get back on track. For instance, when that damage is done, often the relationship can never really be again what it’s supposed to be. It might not be possible for someone to just have a glass of w**e with dinner any more. Or bringing back together estranged members of a family might be a very painful process. (This is also the reason the Church’s abuse crisis is so painful for people, because finding Jesus within the community (or the system) that was also the setting of the abuse involves, to put it extremely mildly, mixed feelings.)
We have in our reading from the Acts of the Apostles today, an interesting passage about Cornelius and his family. Cornelius is a centurion, a Roman military man in charge of a “century,” 100 soldiers. Cornelius was from Italy, and lived in Caesarea with his family and directed his soldiers from there. He happened to be well-known and well-liked among the Jewish people, because he was devout, generous with the poor, and prayerful. But he is a foreigner, having grown up with all sorts of different beliefs and Gods back at the center of the Roman Empire. Living in Israel for so long, he had most likely been following all the news for years. He knew the Jewish people and politics, maybe he had heard about the ministry of John the Baptist, had likely heard of this new figure of Jesus that had gained a following, had maybe even heard about the conflict between Jesus and the religious establishment, would have understood Pilate’s role in the whole affair, and would have heard about the Resurrection and everything that followed after that with the zealousness of his apostles. So he invited Peter, the head of this group, over to his house, to hear more about it. This man is intrigued; he probably noticed something very different (and better?) was happening here than with his former Roman beliefs. In the end, Cornelius, wanting the best for his family, asks for he and his family to be baptized, to join them on their path, their journey, with Jesus. And Peter baptizes the whole family, the adults down to the babies.
This example of Cornelius is a pattern for how the OCIA process works nowadays: there’s a period of curiosity, of inquiry, including conversations of who Jesus is and what he and the scriptures and the sacraments are all about, after which time the people are baptized.
Let’s be thankful for the baptism that we have, that either our parents and godparents brought us to or that we came to as adults with the help of other members of the Church (here on earth or by the saints in heaven!). Let’s appreciate it as a new beginning, a new birth. Let’s take the lessons, the guidance that Jesus gives not as merely an indoctrination into rules that must be followed, but as guidance in the life that we are called to live, with Jesus as our savior and guide along the journey, from day to day and from here to eternity.
