"Remember your baptism" is a popular phrase in my life. My colleagues and I are urged to do so--and to encourage others to do so--every once in a while throughout the year. There are good reasons for this, of course. When we remember this moment in our lives, we recall our relationship with God. We also recall our relationship with the holy people who gathered together to witness the moment. At least some of those people are our family, or chosen family. Sometimes it is done in the midst of a congregation as well. In my congregation on Ingathering Sunday we bring water from places that have been important to us. Then we use it for baptisms and other things so the congregation is always there in spirit. A baptism doesn't need witnesses. However, when they are present, they remember their baptisms, too. Of course, many people don't literally remember. They were infants at the time. Also--after the baptism--some people have few opportunities to be reminded of it. Families don't attend worship like they used to. In the absence of anything other than a very occasional visit for Christmas Eve, more and more adults give little thought to their children's spiritual lives or their own. The ritual can be just a thing you do in those early days before other things take precedence. I am not saying this as a complaint. It is just a statement of fact. In fact, I literally remember my baptism. I was 18. The reasons my parents decided to encourage me (along with my siblings) to be baptized were complicated. Neither we nor they attended church regularly. However, even at the time I found it moving. I had been hovering around the edges of my friends' churches for a while by then. I had questions about life and its meaning and the people I met in church--while they didn't have answers--seemed to have a path. Now I am a pastor and so is my mom. During worship this past Sunday, I officiated a baptism for an adult who was formerly a member of the youth group. It reminded me of my own experience. Before the service I told him that there would be times when it meant very little to him and times when it meant a great deal. That is how these things work. Baptism is one string that connects us in every direction to Creation. We don't always notice it, even when we know it is there. Then...we really do when we need that connection. Baptism is a sacrament in the tradition I represent. There is only one other. That is communion. The reasoning is that they are the only ones that appear in the Gospels. John the Baptizer stood down by the river. Jesus sat in the upper room. Other traditions range from having no real sense of sacraments to having seven or nine. Each tradition chooses different things as well. That is the richness of how we see God. We are humans, the Divine speaks to us in a language we understand. We all have different "languages" that we speak. We had communion on Sunday as well. It was, in fact "World Communion Sunday," which is a celebration of diversity and ecumenism held on the first Sunday in October. It is another opportunity to consider our spiritual connections. At Eliot we pass the tray of bread cubes and little glasses through the pews. We do this so we might serve each other in the process. Also, it is a recognition of the divine spark within each of us. Other congregations go to the front to break bread off a communal loaf or take a wafer from a priest. Frequently there is a communal cup as well. That we recognize each other in our diverse manifestations of ritual is important. These are small differences that reflect the wide variety of roads we take toward God. When I was first getting interested in the United Church of Christ, a UCC colleague asked me how I planned on dealing with participating in a more sacramental tradition. I had spent some time as a Unitarian Universalist pastor where the word "sacrament" when it is used doesn't have the same weight. She had also entered the UCC from a less sacramental tradition. I didn't have an answer then and she didn't expect me to. It was more of a "head's up" that I might want to start thinking about baptism and communion more seriously and systematically.
I am glad I took her warning. I have learned over the years that ritual can be built over differences in style and belief. It creates common ground upon which we can sit and converse. We can see our commonality in the quest toward unknowable mysteries. It also gives us a way to show our love both to God and the world. Amen to that.
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Adam Tierney-EliotI am a full-time pastor in a small, progressive church in Massachusetts. This blog is about the non-church things I do to find spiritual sustenance. Archives
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