What Do We Think We’re Doing?

A Sermon on the Occasion of Baptism

By Harry T. Cook

If I thought for one minute that all we were actually doing today was providing a photo-op for additions to family albums, I would quit my job and go find honest work. I mean it. And if that really was all that we were doing, what would be the point? None of us knows precisely what we are doing in the sacrament of baptism. Should any theologian try to tell you exactly what it means, you have my permission to laugh in derision.

Christians have been doing in one form or another what we are about to do today to Richard, Grace and Myles . . . and have been doing it for all of 2000 years. Some of our Jewish forebears for longer than that. Cultural anthropologists tell us that Homo sapiens has performed symbolic water-based rites for as many as 11,000 years. Different religions and cultures in different times have decided differently as to what the rites mean.

I can tell you what I think I’m not doing today by participating in this water rite known as baptism: I will not be thinking of myself as washing away any original sin from these three beautiful babies. There’s a bankrupt and vicious piece of theology that belongs on the ash heap of religious history, if ever there was one. I will not be thinking of myself as doing something magical to these babies to save them from hell. There’s another idea that only sick and demented people and their churches believe in. I will not be thinking of myself as “baptizing them Episcopal,” as is often said. One is not baptized “Episcopal” or “Catholic” or “Baptist.” One is baptized a Christian.

Period.

What I think I will be doing is leading the congregation in welcoming Richard, Grace and Myles into one of the world’s strangest communities. Trying to be a real, bona fide Christian in the world as it is can be something between a pain in the neck and a life-threatening proposition – if one does it right. In the course of the baptismal liturgy, the congregation will say, I will with God’s help given through the church. That is its collective answer to the question: Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being? This being part of what the Episcopal Church calls “the Baptismal Covenant.” During a rehearsal for a baptism a number of years ago, a last-minute stand-in for a godparent stopped me to ask if, by answering the question that way, he had to be (and I’ll use his words) some friggin’ kind of United Nations and Mother Teresa, too. Other persons in the baptismal party were covered with embarrassment. I exploded in laughter, walked over and shook his hand and said, Mister: You’ve got it. You understand what’s going on here. Your honesty is refreshing. And, by the way, the answer to your friggin’ question is Yes.

So depending on how honestly and sincerely Richard’s and Grace’s and Myles’ parents and godparents fulfill their intentions made and promises given today, these little ones could grow up to be really hard-core Christians who demand justice for those who deserve it, who work for peace where it is required, who insist on respect for all sorts and conditions of people. For all we know, they may grow up taking this stuff seriously and end up turning their parts of the world upside down. That, essentially, is what a guy named Jesus is said to have done. – Come to church next Good Friday and be reminded of what it apparently cost him.

No wonder he told his followers: Anybody who signs up with me needs to put her own agenda on hold, take up her own cross and follow me. If you try to save your life, you’ll lose it. If you’re willing to lose your life, you’ll save it. – That’s the upside down world into which we are about to welcome Richard, Grace and Myles. The trick is to hang in there with them, come what may.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

© Copyright 2008, Harry T. Cook. All rights reserved. This article may not be used or reproduced without proper credit.