We had a beautiful baptism last Sunday at our 10 a.m. service! Baptisms are always joyful occasions, but this one felt especially warm and energetic, with full pews and lots of children running around. It was interesting to me that even with all that activity, the baby being baptized slept through the entire thing! In over twelve years of ordained ministry, I thought I’d experienced all kinds of baptisms by now. I’ve had babies scream, cry, startle, laugh, play with the water, pull my hair, and more! I’ve had babies who were happy at first but cried when the water touched their heads, and babies who screamed through all the baptismal covenant but found the water calming. But in all that time, I have never had a child sleep through the entire sacrament!
I’ve been thinking, this past week, about that variety of reactions, and I’ve come to the conclusion that this is really a beautiful representation of the diversity of experiences we have, as we join the Christian community. Some of us come to faith after sadness or trauma. We are crying inside (and possibly outside), but the faith community embraces us and supports us as we move into healing and wholeness. Others come to the church with joy and enthusiasm, but we may find that parts of life in this community of baptismal covenant are surprising, challenging, or disappointing. And like the baby who slept through the whole thing, some of us were baptized so early in life that we simply absorbed faith as we grew—we have never known any different.
I always tell parents during baptismal preparation, “Whatever the child does on the day of the baptism is fine! Whether they fuss, cry, play—it’s all holy!” After all, whatever happens at the font, in the end we’ve brought a new person into our fellowship. And have any of us ever witnessed a baptism at which that wasn’t a beautiful thing? I sure haven’t.
As Anglicans, we tend not to talk much about how we became a part of the church. Maybe that’s at least partly because deep down, we wonder if other people’s experiences are more “spiritual” or more “correct” than our own. Those who convert later in life might feel self-conscious about not having a Christian upbringing, while those who’ve been Christians their whole lives might wonder if they should have a more profound catalyst for their commitment. But what if we saw ourselves as we do the little ones who are baptized before they’re old enough to be self-conscious? Their reactions are unique, just as their Christian journeys will be. And they are all holy and beautiful. May we recognize our own faith stories as sacred and wonderful, too.
Mother Terry