Pope Leo: “God Doesn’t Watch from Afar — He Steps Into Our Suffering”
As Leo XIV baptized 20 children, the pope preached God’s nearness to the broken — and called for peace in war-torn lands.
Under the frescoed vault of the Sistine Chapel, Pope Leo XIV cradled one infant after another, gently pouring water over their foreheads. Continuing a 45-year Vatican tradition, he baptized 20 babies of Vatican employees this morning during Mass for the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord.
In his homily, Leo reflected on the astonishing humility of Christ’s own baptism.
John the Baptist was stunned when Jesus queued up with sinners at the Jordan — “I need to be baptized by you, and you come to me?” he wondered.
The pope explained that in this moment, the Son of God placed Himself where no one expected: “He is the Holy One among sinners, who desires to dwell among us without keeping distance, fully assuming all that is human.”
By descending into the waters, Jesus showed that God’s righteousness is not remoteness but solidarity — making baptism a “new sign of death and resurrection, of forgiveness and communion” for all of us.
Turning to the families gathered, Leo highlighted why the Church baptizes infants in the first place. Just as moms and dads give their children life, they are called to give them “the meaning with which to live it: faith”.
We naturally provide babies with food and clothing — the basics of life — yet the pope noted that faith is an even more essential gift, the one that gives ultimate purpose.
“With God, life finds salvation,” he said, thanking parents for bringing their little ones to the font. He offered a gentle, poignant image: one day these newborns will grow too heavy to carry, and later still “they will be the ones to support you” in old age.
In Baptism a new Christian life begins, a light of hope that can sustain an entire family through every trial.
The sacramental symbols — cleansing water, a white garment of new life, a lit candle from the Easter flame — all testify that these children now shine with the light of the risen Lord.
Leo prayed that they continue on this joyful path, confident that “the Lord will always accompany your steps”.
Later that morning, addressing a crowd of pilgrims in St. Peter’s Square, Pope Leo widened the lens to the whole human family.
He stressed that God’s closeness in baptism is not a one-time event but a constant reality that guides us through darkness.
“This first of the sacraments is a sacred sign that accompanies us forever. In moments of darkness, Baptism is light; in life’s conflicts, it is reconciliation; at the hour of death, it is the gateway to heaven,” Leo said during the Angelus prayer.
Above all, he reminded the world that our Creator is not indifferent to human suffering. “God does not look at the world from afar, without touching our lives, our wounds and our hopes,” the pope assured, explaining that in Jesus’s baptism “the whole Godhead is made present in history” and God “comes among us” in the flesh.
I Love This Church. I Love This Country. And I Refuse to Give Up on Either.
At the beginning of the year, I’m asking you to help build something sturdy enough to stand against cynicism, authoritarianism, and despair.
To the great astonishment of John the Baptist, the Lord himself chooses to be baptized like all sinners, in order to reveal the infinite mercy of God. By becoming our brother in the water, Christ shows that the Father’s heart is open to every sorrow and hope we carry.
Pope Leo then put that faith into action with a plea for today’s suffering peoples.
After the Angelus, he prayed especially for those caught in turmoil in the Middle East and Eastern Europe.
He highlighted Iran and Syria, where “persistent tensions are causing the deaths of many people” and families are weary of violence. Leo voiced his hope that “dialogue and peace will be cultivated with patience, in pursuit of the common good of the whole society” in those countries.
He also turned attention to Ukraine, lamenting that civilians are “suffering under Russian bombardment,” with brutal strikes crippling the energy grid amid winter cold.
“I pray for those who are suffering and I renew my call for an end to violence and for intensified efforts to achieve peace,” the pope said, extending a hand of solidarity to all victims of war.
From the baptismal font in the Sistine Chapel to the battle-scarred cities of Aleppo and Kyiv, Leo wove a single message: God is near to those in pain, and his people must be as well.
This compassionate vision also carries a gentle rebuke to worldly rulers who choose force over fellowship.
In fact, Pope Leo’s appeals for mercy and patience sharply contrasted with the approach of former U.S. President Donald Trump — who is now threatening military action in Colombia and even Greenland.
Leo spent much of the past year at odds with Trump’s agenda — first by condemning the administration’s hardline immigration crackdowns, and now by urging peace in places where Trump often preferred muscle.
Just months ago, Chicago’s Cardinal Blase Cupich (one of Leo’s close allies) released a viral video denouncing the White House’s brutal ICE raids, saying “the Church stands with migrants” and warning that you can’t claim “family values” while tearing immigrant families apart.
Pope Leo wholeheartedly backed that stance, expanding the pro-life ethic to include migrants and rebuking policies that “treat human beings like garbage.”
Now, by praying for dialogue in Iran and Syria, Leo is effectively challenging the same “might makes right” mentality on the global stage.
The Trump administration’s confrontational moves — from scrapping peace accords and saber-rattling with Tehran to abruptly abandoning Kurdish partners in Syria — stand in stark relief against Leo’s call to cultivate peace through patient dialogue.
Where Trump often stoked division, Leo is modeling a different kind of authority: one that trusts in humble service, persistent prayer, and the ultimate power of God’s mercy.
Pope Leo’s Feast of the Baptism message thus resonated far beyond the Sistine Chapel’s walls.
By joining the ancient rite of baptism with urgent prayers for peace, he showed how the Gospel meets our present moment.
The lesson for all, from world leaders to ordinary faithful, is unmistakable.
The God who once stepped into the Jordan to share our human lot is still with us today — consoling those who suffer, challenging those who harm, and guiding our feet always toward the path of justice and peace.
The Holy Father’s words invite everyone to remember our own baptismal calling: to reject cruelty and conflict, and to shine as lights of compassion in a world that too often walks in darkness.
To my surprise, the Advent Reflection Series became one of the most widely read and shared parts of Letters from Leo in 2025.
Many of you wrote to tell me that these reflections helped steady your hearts during a difficult year for our nation — one marked by political division, anxiety, and real moral uncertainty.
Because of that response, I’ve decided to make these reflections a permanent part of this work in 2026.
Beginning this year, I’m publishing a weekly Sunday reflection, rooted in the Mass readings of the day, and written to help us think more clearly about what it means to follow Jesus in the middle of today’s political realities — not by retreating from public life, and not by baptizing any party or ideology, but by letting the Gospel form our conscience, our courage, and our compassion.
These reflections will be available to all paid subscribers, as a small but sincere way of saying thank you for making Letters from Leo possible. Today’s edition is below.
The Only Thing More Original Than Original Sin
Baptism isn’t just about forgiveness of sins — it’s a missioning into the work of salvation, here and now, with and for others.
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Human Identity and Baptism in Luke’s Gospel
The Gospel of Luke tells a story about God’s restorative work in history that reshapes human identity. Across its narrative, Luke moves characters and communities from marginality and fragmentation into persons situated within God’s saving purpose. Identity in Luke is not merely private or psychological; it is public, social, and ethical. Who a person is becomes visible in relation to God and neighbor.
The poor, the repentant, and the outcast repeatedly receive God’s favor—the Magnificat and the beatitudes set this frame—so to be oneself is, in Luke’s view, to stand within a community ordered by mercy and justice. Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection provide the decisive reinterpretation of identity: recognition of the Messiah, whether by Simeon, the grateful leper, or the repentant thief, marks entry into a renewed existence defined by covenantal belonging and restored dignity.
Central to Luke’s portrayal of identity is baptism, presented as both a public enactment and a formative rite. John’s baptism in Luke 3 is a summons to repentance that requires ethical transformation. John’s call for sharing, honest practice, and justice shows that baptism marks a turning point away from former patterns and toward a life of practical righteousness.
Jesus’ own baptism, with the Spirit’s descent and the attendant heavenly voice, publicly identifies him with God’s purposes and functions as a revelatory commissioning. That moment models for Luke’s readers how baptism both reveals and constitutes a vocation.
Luke’s theological project extends into Acts, and together the two volumes show baptism as initiation into the community of the risen Lord. Baptism in this trajectory is both sacramental—signing inclusion—and social—incorporating persons into a new people. At Pentecost and in later scenes, the Spirit’s coming and baptisms of new believers join to confirm that those baptized are not merely forgiven individuals but members of a Spirit-empowered community sent into the world.
Theologically and pastorally, baptism in Luke reshapes human identity in several interlocking ways. First, conversion functions as reorientation: baptism symbolizes and enacts repentance, forgiveness, and a decisive pivot from former loyalties. Second, incorporation and belonging follow: baptism marks entrance into a community that lives by Jesus’ priorities—care for the poor, mercy, and reconciliation—so identity is communal rather than individualistic. Third, the link between baptism and the Spirit gives identity a vocational edge: the baptized receive the Spirit’s empowering for witness and service. Finally, Luke insists that identity is tested by action; baptismal belonging carries ethical consequences, so that concrete moral change—justice, hospitality, care for the marginalized—must follow.
Reading Luke today, then, requires attending to identity as narrative and baptism as communal initiation. Persons in Luke are seen as beings whose pasts are reinterpreted by God’s acts: past wrongs and exclusions are neither erased nor ignored but are reconfigured within God’s restorative story.
Contemporary practice should emphasize baptism’s social and missional dimensions: it joins people into a visible community with obligations to the world.
Spirit and mission belong together; spiritual experience in Luke is inseparable from ethical transformation and public witness. Pastorally, ministries that form identity ought to teach repentance, cultivate belonging, and foster active discipleship—recognizing that baptism is a beginning that must be followed by lived faith.
In Luke’s theological vision, then, human identity is reconstituted by God’s decisive intervention in Jesus.
Baptism is the visible, communal, Spirit-empowered moment that marks this reconstitution: it enacts repentance, secures belonging, and commissions a life of justice and witness.
To be baptized, in Luke’s story, is to be called into a new narrative—one that redefines who you are by where you stand in God’s restorative purpose and by what you now do for neighbor and world.