Giotto, The Baptism of Christ, circa 1305

I cannot pretend that The Baptism of Christ captivated me with its composition. That's not to say that I don't appreciate the theatrical staging of the piece, the driving focus on Jesus created by the rift in the rocks and the forceful downward thrust of God's arm, nor that I don't understand the rich blues, blacks, and reds that have endured seven-hundred years after they were first put to plaster. One could even persuade me, with little coaxing, to admit that the interplay of color in the heavens makes the piece's sky my favorite of all those in Giotto's work. Seriously, I'd like to have that painted on my ceiling. But these elements are not what made me choose to cover this work.

So what compelled me to choose the work for this weeks post? I just like the story behind the painting. The Baptism of Christ by John the Baptist marks one of the most important points in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. In this moment, the Son of God puts himself on the same level as the people he had come to save. He humbles himself to John and accepts the baptism by water so that he may go on and baptize others.

That's why it strikes me as so odd that we insist on being prideful. Sure, a high score on the ACT or the highest essay grade in the class is great, but Jesus is supposed to be God's son. That's a pretty big deal. The man who the very heavens are said to have opened up for insisted that he be baptized by a poor man from the woods. He also dined with prostitutes and liars and thieves, and washed the feet of his disciples. The story compels me because it conflicts with so many parts of day to day life. It begs us to better ourselves. To take ourselves less seriously. The Messiah did it, now why can't we?