Remembering baptism

My sister was baptized today. I wasn't able to be in Kansas City to see it, but I was certainly with her in spirit. I am so proud of her. Congratulations, Grace!

In our Easter service at church (or maybe whenever we have a baptism?) we have a ritual during communion called "remembering your baptism" wherein, after taking communion, people may share the date and place of their baptism with the pastor and be anointed with water. Our church allows "all who seek the way of Christ" to take communion, not just baptized members, so I like this ritual of calling attention to the importance of baptism. After all, as Mennonites, we are Anabaptists -- "re-baptizers". Our denomination was born out of the radical idea (for the 1500s, not for the early church) that joining the church through baptism ought to be a decision made by an adult believer. Traditionally, only the baptized take communion, which is how I was raised.

I think I was baptized in the spring of 2002. Possibly 2003. It was spring, but wasn't Easter, and I have forgotten the date. I was 14 or 15, but my birthday is in May, so I might remember that I was 15 when I hadn't actually turned 15 yet - hence the confusion about the year. I remember being baptized vividly. I wore a blue and white floral skirt I had bought on a trip to Europe and a white sweater. I sat in the right front pew with my friend Kate. We were so nervous; we giggled at the mundane image on the worship bulletin cover. We were baptized together - kneeling, her to my right, backs to the congregation, first Kate, then me. I remember Carmen, the deacon who held the water pitcher, and Beatrix, a beloved Sunday School teacher who held towels for us, though I didn't really need one; there was much less water poured on me than I thought there would be.

I chose to be baptized because 9/11 had happened, and the invasions of Afghanistan and maybe also Iraq, and I had uncovered my pacifist Mennonite roots. My spiritual upbringing had been a combination of my parents' somewhat mystic spiritual beliefs, a staunch prohibition of toy guns and violent media, Sunday School stories, and church camp. I started praying and going to church of my own accord in middle school. But 9/11 and its aftermath prompted the discovery that I was, as it turned out, "in the world but not of the world." And so I was baptized.

There was no conversion experience. I still do not have a "personal relationship with Jesus," although I believe that what he taught is worth following. As far as I'm concerned, my baptism doesn't secure me a place in heaven. What I do have is ownership of my heritage, a personal relationship with my church community, and a commitment to that community and to continual spiritual reflection and discernment. Baptism was choosing that commitment.

Ash Wednesday

Four years ago, I gave up meat for Lent. It was the first time I had given anything up for Lent. It was not spiritually edifying for me. Perhaps for some, the surrender of a too-beloved food or activity is a spiritual practice, but for me it was just a dietary change. The sentiment I have heard from some Christians observing Lent of "Jesus died for me; the least I can do is give up ___ for him" became utterly ridiculous to me. And my change from semi-conscientious eater of meat to vegetarian did not achieve the asceticism of early baptismal candidates, who spent the forty days before Easter fasting and praying.

After that meatless Lenten season, I gave up on giving up vices for Lent and decided that if I chose to observe Lent, I would do so by making time for a spiritual practice. Since then, I have chosen to meditate on scripture. I've found it much more meaningful.

I have chosen Psalm 139:1-18 as my meditation text for Lent. I had saved it as an option last night when I was looking for one, and it was one of the texts used in our Ash Wednesday service this evening. It is 40 lines, one for each day of Lent. Reason enough.

Psalm 139:1-18

O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down,
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
O Lord, you know it completely.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is so high that I cannot attain it.

Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.

If I say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night',
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

For it was you who formed my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
that I know very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.
In your book were written
all the days that were formed for me,
when none of them as yet existed.

How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
I try to count them -- they are more than the sand;
I come to the end--I am still with you.

During these forty days, I will have to deal with some big, life-changing decisions -- some made by me, some not. I am waiting to hear back from the one medical school I have a chance to get into. If I get in, Ross and I will start the process of leaving a place we love dearly, and we will need to make difficult financial and personal decisions. If I don't get in, I will need to reevaluate my career and educational prospects, a process I have already started. I will travel to Europe for two weeks, which will be a significant -- and hopefully very good! -- experience. There may be some significant changes at work, the details of which I don't yet know. This is a time when I sometimes hardly feel like I know myself, and I need to believe that I am part of something beyond myself. So, I'm looking forward to engaging this text.

Junior Youth

This afternoon I went to a concert that several of my junior youth girls from church performed in. One of the girls looked very serious through the whole performance. I don't think she took her eyes off the director for a second. I wondered if she was nervous, though she has a lot of choral experience. As the choir sang their last song and walked around the outside aisles, I caught the eye of that girl for the first time and her face just lit up. It made my day.

Since August, I've been one of the junior high youth group sponsors at church. I had really positive experiences with church as a teenager, and I want to help facilitate a similarly good experience for the youth at my church. (Hopefully they are, in fact, having a good time.) I chose junior high rather than senior high because the time commitment was less, the kids seemed interesting, and there's a bigger age difference between me and the oldest ones.

I used to think that people who worked with middle schoolers were crazy. However, I think I am now far enough removed from actually being a middle schooler that that terribly awkward experience is fading. Being a youth sponsor certainly reminds me that I am glad not to be 13 anymore, but they are actually pretty fun to work with. They are funny, energetic, honest, and willing to participate. They like hanging out with each other, which makes my job easy -- I think the most important part of being a youth sponsor is making time for them to just have fun together.

The most rewarding parts for me, though, are the brief moments when I can tell that they are happy that I'm involved in their lives -- whether that's telling me about a school dance, trusting me for advice about a social issue, outright informing me that the consensus is that they like me a lot but not quite as much as a previous sponsor who let them tie her up during a game during the lock-in (because you really can't beat that), or a smile from a kid who sees me at her concert.