2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time – 18 January 2026
January has its own distinct feel. The roads are quieter. Emails come a little slower. There’s space to breathe. For some, it’s been a time of rest; for others, a pause before the next surge of activity. But now, the rhythm is beginning to change. Workplaces are stirring back to life. We are beginning to think about school again. The year, in all its demands and possibilities, is starting to press in on us again. And yet we are grateful that we still have another week or so before the holiday feel becomes a distant memory.
Into this quieter moment, the Church puts before us a revelation in today’s gospel: “Behold, the Lamb of God.” John the Baptist begins his ministry by pointing to someone else. He gives direction before he gives instruction. He names Jesus not as a project, but as a presence — the One who takes away the sin of the world, the One who baptises with the Holy Spirit.
This is an important shift for us as we move from January into the working year. Only a few weeks ago, we may have been full of New Year’s resolutions. Yet, such resolutions tend to be about self-improvement: doing more, eating better, living more healthily. But the Gospel asks a deeper question: not “What will I improve this year?” but “Who will I follow?” Not “What will I change?” but “What is my purpose?”
John says, “I did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptise said to me: the man on whom you see the Spirit come down and rest is the one.” In other words, John’s mission becomes clear when he recognises where the Spirit rests. So too with us. Through baptism, the Spirit rests on us. Not because we are perfect, but because we are chosen. Baptism is not simply something in our past; it is something active in our present. It is the source of our identity and our mission.
Therefore, the question that might be uppermost as we edge towards the start of the work year is, “What witness do I bring?” Every one of us who is baptised shares in Christ’s mission — in classrooms, offices, hospitals, building sites, kitchens, boardrooms, and homes. We are sent into ordinary life with an extraordinary calling: to make Christ visible by how we speak, how we act, and how we treat others.
This brings us to the live and sensitive question in our national life currently: how to legislate in the tension between free speech and hate speech. The duty before the Australian Parliament in the coming days is complex and remarkably difficult to navigate. Perhaps at no other time has the “competition of rights”, which is a mark of our time in history, been exposed as acutely.
Without becoming partisan in the debate before us, as a Christian people it is good for us to centre on some foundational principles. We rightly value freedom of expression. It is part of a healthy democracy. But the Gospel reminds us that not everything that can be said should be said. Not every opinion deserves a microphone. Not every “freedom” is faithful to love. In the gospel today, John’s speech serves truth. It doesn’t inflame fear. It doesn’t humiliate others. It doesn’t create enemies for the sake of attention. It creates space for conversion.
An old Jewish story might help us find our footing in this. A rabbi once asked his students, “How do you know when the night is ending, and the day is on the way back? One of his students replied, “Is it when you can see an animal in the distance and tell whether it is a sheep or a dog?” “No,” answered the rabbi. Another pupil said, “Could it be when you look at a tree in the distance and you can tell whether it is a fig tree or a peach tree?” “No,” said the rabbi. “Well what is it?” his pupils demanded. “It is when you can look on the face of any person and see that they are your kin. Because if you cannot do this, no matter what time it is, it is still night.”
As baptised people, our words and actions are meant to be with this same attitude. In a climate where voices are loud and outrage travels fast, our mission is not to win arguments, but to bear witness. Not to cancel people, but to call one another higher. Not to retreat into silence, but to speak with courage shaped by charity.
As we begin to move out of the quieter mode of January and into the full tempo of the year the Gospel offers us more than motivation. It offers us direction.
May this be a year in which we know who we follow, where the Spirit rests, and how to speak in ways that heal rather than harden — so that in our ordinary lives, others may come to recognise, through us: “Behold, the Lamb of God.”
