This past Sunday, February 1, my wife, Caroline, and I
travelled to Hudson Falls, north of Saratoga Springs, to visit with our son,
daughter-in-law, and grandson. We try to
get over to visit them every now and then, because (1) they are so close, relatively
speaking, and (2) we get to see our grandson.
(Okay, we love seeing them, too, but, come on... being a grandparent is
amazing!) This weekend was special because
our grandson was being baptized.
Our son, Michael, is the pastor of the First Presbyterian
Church in Hudson Falls, and, although he preached and led much of the worship
service, a friend and close colleague of his led the baptism. Frances is not only an amazing and gifted
minister, but she also has been pastor to our family, as you'll read about in
just a moment.
Baptisms always have been special to me. They have been special for me to do. They have been special for me to
remember. They have been special because
they represent such a basic, fundamental part of the Christian Faith. Years ago I wrote a brief paper on how we
Presbyterian and Reformed folks view baptism, a paper which I used whenever I met
with someone to talk about their baptism or, more often, the baptism of their
child. Among other things, this is what
I wrote in that paper:
"Baptism is a sign that God
has claimed us, that God has established the covenant with each of us, and that
God will be our God, no matter what we later decide to do. It also is a sign that we have become
inseparably a part of the Church, the community of faith. The Church becomes both responsible to us and
responsible for us. The Sacrament of Baptism is about love. It is about acceptance. It is about inclusiveness. It is about belonging."
As I said, this is a basic, fundamental part of the Faith
for us.
We thought we might want to reserve a few pews in the
sanctuary that morning, but then realized that we were going to want to sit in
the front, and nobody ever sits in those pews!
So we knew we'd be just fine. As
I sat in church with my family and with my daughter-in-law's family, I couldn't
help but get teary at the mix of feelings that were washing over me. This was my grandson. This was a significant act of religious
tradition that was being reenacted and passed on. This was about the wonders of human and
familial love. This was about the
personalization of God's love as it was being symbolized in and for and with my
grandson. As if all those emotions
weren't enough, what my son said during the sermon added even more. Here's part of what he said from the pulpit
Sunday morning:
"Baptism is something we do to
mark ourselves as members of a community. It is something done to us so that
others can see that we are members of that
community. In baptism we are claimed by God and claimed by the
whole community of all those who have
ever followed Christ; and the grace in baptism is so complete that no response
on our part is expected or necessary.
That's why we allow for the baptism of infants. It is how we mark and
claim that infant as a part of our community, and how we make sure that
everyone sees that we have claimed him or claimed her.
"When my colleague and friend
Frances baptizes Harvey, he will forever be marked as a part of this church. He
will be forever marked as one who belongs to God. He will be forever marked as
one who the followers of Christ throughout the ages have accepted. He cannot
possibly understand that. But neither can I.
"That grace claimed you when
you could not respond. It claimed you when you were baptized as a squirming
infant or as a youth or as an adult. It is how we have always affirmed people
and said: you belong with us. And it is why, in hospitals, people will even
baptize those whose life is over. Frances came to St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital
in New York City a year and a half ago and baptized our stillborn daughter Aliza.
And if Harvey has no way to respond to that claim, then Aliza, whose heart had
stopped beating the day before, had even less. But it doesn't matter. Because in
baptism, we as her family, Frances as a pastor, and by extension, you as the
church, and God as her God, said 'you are mine.' Beyond anything you can
respond to, beyond anything you can earn, beyond anything you can lose is the
claim that God placed on you when God looked at you and said 'you are
mine.'"
I'm not sure where and how my son got so smart and so
eloquent! But what he said Sunday morning
applied so much to all of us who were gathered there. And what he said Sunday morning applies just
as much to all of us now... to you, wherever you are when you read this. God looks at you... loves you... accepts
you... calls you... gives you gifts for ministry... and says to the world,
"This person right here? This
person is one whom I love. This person
is mine, and will be forever."
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