Baptism
14/07/24 01:48
I served a church that has a very broad recognition of baptism. Over the course of a 44 year career, I was blessed to officiate at baptisms of infants and adults, by sprinkling and by immersion, in churches and hospitals and homes and camps. For over 500 years Christians have found ways to argue over the sacrament with some preferring the baptism of infants and others advocating a believer’s baptism of those who are old enough to make their own choice for baptism. Christians have been baptized by sprinkling, by pouring, and by full immersion. Christians have argued that one means of baptism is superior to others. Some Christians have refused to accept certain baptismal ceremonies and required those who wish to join their denomination to be baptized again if their first baptism was in a form that they do not recognize. Our church, however, has recognized and embraced all forms of baptism.
One of the things I miss most about being retired is that I am no longer a regular officiant at the sacraments of the church. In the case of baptism, the Covid-19 pandemic shut down my role as an officiant suddenly and without warning a little over four years ago. And the congregation we now attend doesn’t have many families with young children. I’ve only witnessed one baptism in this congregation since we joined.
There are baptisms that I will always remember. I have officiated at the baptisms of children whose parents I baptized. I will always remember the baptisms of our two children. One was baptized at an Easter service by one of the pastors who officiated at our wedding and who was one who laid hands on us at our ordinations. The other was baptized at a ceremony officiated at by a Conference Minister on whose search committee I served. The vows we took at parents at those sacraments are among the deepest commitments I have made in my life. It is deeply meaningful to me that I stood before the same pastor to say the vows of our marriage, the vows of ordination, and the vows of a baptismal parent.
I remember sharing baptisms with our partner pastor in Costa Rica. The ceremony was conducted in a public swimming pool. I don’t speak Spanish, but I found the words for the sacrament and waded into the water looking earnest young people in the face as they made commitments to become members of the universal church. I remember the baptism of a nephew in a fountain at a park int he mountains. I remember the baptism of a great niece in the river that flows by the place where I grew up. I remember the baptism of a man a few years older than I in the immersion tank at a Baptist Church that opened its doors to our congregation to celebrate the sacrament when we did not have an immersion tank. I have kept the tiny ink pad footprint of a baby born prematurely at whose baptism I officiated in the neonatal intensive care unit of a hospital in Boise, Idaho. The child is now grown and we have moved on, but the tiny slip of paper with the tiny footprint was on my desk for more than three decades and still is a treasure I keep. I remember the baptism of our second grandson at the chapel of Misawa Air Force Base in Japan almost 5 years ago.
Today is the day of another special baptism that will be forever in my memory. In a few hours, I will stand before our congregation and be the one to dip my hands into the font and place the water on the head of our youngest grandchild. We have five grandchildren and we have co-officiated at the baptisms of four of them. Today makes five. Five grandchildren. The other four will all be present. Over dinner last night we spoke of today’s ceremony and remembered the ceremonies of the others. One granddaughter remembers the quilt she received from the congregation and keeps it as a special treasure. Our older grandson has pretty clear memories of the baptisms of his two sisters and a pretty clear sense of what will happen today. All of them appreciated the time last night when we and their parents recalled each baptism.
This grandson is two years old and he is a pretty quiet child. He is unlikely to complain when we tie the baptismal cape around his shoulders for a few family pictures. The cape is now in its fifth generation. It was worn by Susan’s grandfather at his baptism and is one of the treasures that has been passed down to us. Five grandchildren and a cape in its fifth generation make for a memorable occasion.
We had a very large family presence at the baptism of our first grandchild. It took place on the weekend of our daughter’s wedding. The pictures show both sets of grandparents, our daughter’s in-laws, my sister and her children, Susan’s sisters, and others. One of the treasures of our time serving the church in Rapid City was that there were many occasions that combined the worship of that congregation and the gathering of our family. The congregation got to know our extended family through baptisms and weddings and funerals.
It is an honor and a humbling experience to witness the commitment of our son and daughter in law, the commitment of our daughter as sponsor, and the commitments of our other grandchildren at the baptism. It is an honor and a humbling experience to witness the commitments of love and care and support of our congregation. We now count many members of this congregation as our friends and their presence will be treasured.
I don’t want to be maudlin on this occasion. Baptism is always a sacrament of the church and not an act of an officiant in our tradition. This is not about me. But in the back of my mind I know that it is possible that this will be the last baptism at which I am the officiant. There will be tears of sentiment at the occasion, partly tears of gratitude for the blessings of grandchildren and family. But they may also be a few tears of grief. Growing old is a process of learning to live with grief and to recognize that grief is a companion and not an enemy.
We will tell the stories of this baptism and the stories of other baptisms to our grandchildren over and over again. The fifth is likely the last grandchild for us. However, the fifth may not be the last generation for the baptismal cape.
One of the things I miss most about being retired is that I am no longer a regular officiant at the sacraments of the church. In the case of baptism, the Covid-19 pandemic shut down my role as an officiant suddenly and without warning a little over four years ago. And the congregation we now attend doesn’t have many families with young children. I’ve only witnessed one baptism in this congregation since we joined.
There are baptisms that I will always remember. I have officiated at the baptisms of children whose parents I baptized. I will always remember the baptisms of our two children. One was baptized at an Easter service by one of the pastors who officiated at our wedding and who was one who laid hands on us at our ordinations. The other was baptized at a ceremony officiated at by a Conference Minister on whose search committee I served. The vows we took at parents at those sacraments are among the deepest commitments I have made in my life. It is deeply meaningful to me that I stood before the same pastor to say the vows of our marriage, the vows of ordination, and the vows of a baptismal parent.
I remember sharing baptisms with our partner pastor in Costa Rica. The ceremony was conducted in a public swimming pool. I don’t speak Spanish, but I found the words for the sacrament and waded into the water looking earnest young people in the face as they made commitments to become members of the universal church. I remember the baptism of a nephew in a fountain at a park int he mountains. I remember the baptism of a great niece in the river that flows by the place where I grew up. I remember the baptism of a man a few years older than I in the immersion tank at a Baptist Church that opened its doors to our congregation to celebrate the sacrament when we did not have an immersion tank. I have kept the tiny ink pad footprint of a baby born prematurely at whose baptism I officiated in the neonatal intensive care unit of a hospital in Boise, Idaho. The child is now grown and we have moved on, but the tiny slip of paper with the tiny footprint was on my desk for more than three decades and still is a treasure I keep. I remember the baptism of our second grandson at the chapel of Misawa Air Force Base in Japan almost 5 years ago.
Today is the day of another special baptism that will be forever in my memory. In a few hours, I will stand before our congregation and be the one to dip my hands into the font and place the water on the head of our youngest grandchild. We have five grandchildren and we have co-officiated at the baptisms of four of them. Today makes five. Five grandchildren. The other four will all be present. Over dinner last night we spoke of today’s ceremony and remembered the ceremonies of the others. One granddaughter remembers the quilt she received from the congregation and keeps it as a special treasure. Our older grandson has pretty clear memories of the baptisms of his two sisters and a pretty clear sense of what will happen today. All of them appreciated the time last night when we and their parents recalled each baptism.
This grandson is two years old and he is a pretty quiet child. He is unlikely to complain when we tie the baptismal cape around his shoulders for a few family pictures. The cape is now in its fifth generation. It was worn by Susan’s grandfather at his baptism and is one of the treasures that has been passed down to us. Five grandchildren and a cape in its fifth generation make for a memorable occasion.
We had a very large family presence at the baptism of our first grandchild. It took place on the weekend of our daughter’s wedding. The pictures show both sets of grandparents, our daughter’s in-laws, my sister and her children, Susan’s sisters, and others. One of the treasures of our time serving the church in Rapid City was that there were many occasions that combined the worship of that congregation and the gathering of our family. The congregation got to know our extended family through baptisms and weddings and funerals.
It is an honor and a humbling experience to witness the commitment of our son and daughter in law, the commitment of our daughter as sponsor, and the commitments of our other grandchildren at the baptism. It is an honor and a humbling experience to witness the commitments of love and care and support of our congregation. We now count many members of this congregation as our friends and their presence will be treasured.
I don’t want to be maudlin on this occasion. Baptism is always a sacrament of the church and not an act of an officiant in our tradition. This is not about me. But in the back of my mind I know that it is possible that this will be the last baptism at which I am the officiant. There will be tears of sentiment at the occasion, partly tears of gratitude for the blessings of grandchildren and family. But they may also be a few tears of grief. Growing old is a process of learning to live with grief and to recognize that grief is a companion and not an enemy.
We will tell the stories of this baptism and the stories of other baptisms to our grandchildren over and over again. The fifth is likely the last grandchild for us. However, the fifth may not be the last generation for the baptismal cape.
