I was wandering as I usually do.  I don’t mean to, it’s just that after such stressful weeks, going to church on Sunday is an opportunity to sit quietly with my family.  I’m not answering phone calls, programming, submitting proposals, configuring equipment, not having the TV on, toys, scrambling everything up into a mish mash.  No, I just get to be quiet and there’s no escape.  It’s nice.

As is usual with my church time, I am somewhat disconnected from the experiences of my fellow parishioners.  I know what it is to think differently, to be different, but I still enjoy the perspective and insights that such a burden provides. 

So I wander.  I wander into the minds of others, poking around, taking snapshots.  I was a mental tourist today in church.  The theme of today’s excursion?

Baptism.

My first stop on the mad dash trip was into the minds of those that are not now and have never
been Church-goers, some of whom sprout a full plumage of disdain at
the mere mention of religion. 

"Ewww.  I don’t believe in organized
religion.  I think you’re all full of it, and you’re ruining America."

"Haha," I chuckled with my guest, "that is a distinct possibility."  We passed the time most enjoyably and when it was done and we had said our goodbyes and thank-you’s, I was reluctant to take my leave.  They are a good sort, a tad inflexible, but I don’t hold it against them.

My next stop was a little closer to home.  Familiarity breeds contempt, I said to myself, so let’s take a new look through fresh eyes.  I peered into the scene unfolding right in front of me.  There it was, the ritual, the pouring of the water, the snapshots, the frilly little outfit, everybody in their Sunday best, the priest anointing with oil, saying prayers, the parishioners mumbling their acclamations self-consciousnessly.

And there was the baby, oblivious to it all.

What is this magic that is being performed over me, the baby seemed to ask?  Is Baptism magic, divine magic brought to bear upon a young-ling in order that he may be good, that he may have salvation? 

Once the act was complete, the sigh of relief was almost palpable.  It was a sigh that this child is now protected with his aura of Christly force, that he is now brought into the fold, into the arms of God that the devil may not snatch him up and to do evil.

This is how many people see Baptism, a magic incantation and pouring and anointing.  But its true purpose has been forgotten.  I closed my eyes to remember, to journey back, to look with new eyes on an old scene.  My mind flashed over my own children.  I paused to remember how I held them when they were so tiny, how Laura and I (but mostly Laura) rushed to them when they would cry.  You are not alone in this world.  Just thought you should know. 

You see, we have forgotten.  We’ve buried Baptism so deeply in abstractions that we’ve forgotten its true spirit, its true meaning.  We’ve abstracted God to such a degree that we think he does stuff for us, that by chanting prayers and rubbing oil, we’ll all be saved or we’ll have something more than what we have now. 

What do you need anyway?

In my continuing philosophy of "things are no more than what they appear", I tell you this:  the rubbing of the oil is the touch, the gathered people are the presence, and the prayers are the solace of a soothing voice.  Tu estás acompañado, you are not alone, you are accompanied on your journey through your life. 

Have you ever heard stories of little babies of Christian families that have died soon after being born?  Priests and ministers are on call to Baptize these little souls so that they may take quick flight to a heavenly place without the stain of original sin.  Have you heard that?  Doesn’t that sound silly? 

It’s a lot of words that mask the true purpose of such an act, and it is this: little child, you are not alone in your death.  We love you, your people love you, you will not die alone in the cold.  We will be there until the end for we are a people with great empathy.  We love you.

Have you head of people in car crashes or other traumatic accidents where death is a mere step away.  There are some that have not lived a life in Christ, and in the last moments call for a Baptism or magic ritual.  Our response should not be magic.  Our response to such a person in need is nothing more and nothing less than to hold his hand so that he may know that he is not alone.  He may have been alone throughout his life, living selfishly, thinking little of others, but at the hour of his death, he is a child of creation, loved and lovable – as he has always been.

Baptism isn’t a religious exercise, folks.  Baptism is a communal gathering of souls who hold up an individual, weak and fragile, to let them know that they are supported by the hands of their fellows, that they are not alone, and that they will always be and have always been, supported by love.

Tell someone today, you are not alone, you will never be alone, and you have never been alone.

Okay now that I’ve straightened out the rhetoric, we just have to do it.  Okay?