Sara Miles is a journalist in California who came to faith kicking and screaming, but came nonetheless and now writes about her emerging to faith in a book called “Take this Bread.”In it she writes about a baptism that happened at her unique church that also offers a service ministry to the poor with a food pantry.
The sacrament of baptism, as practiced in churches, initiates believers into a specific denomination as well as into a covenant with God: You’re baptized as an Episcopalian, a Roman Catholic— even, well a Baptist.But at the church of the food pantry, an impromptu baptism demonstrated what I thought was the true meaning of the sacrament, far beyond denominational niceties.And the rite would reverberate through St. Gregory’s [Church], stirring up new questions and insights for believers— as all acts of the Spirit do.
I was unloading groceries one Friday when I spotted Sasha standing out back by the baptismal font, as if she were waiting for someone.Sasha was a very small black girl, maybe six or seven years old, who usually came to the pantry with an impatient, teenage aunt.I’d never met her mother.Sasha’s hair wasn’t always combed, and this day she had a split lip.“Sweetheart!” I said.I was glad to see her again.“Want a snack?There’s some chips inside.”
Sasha looked at me, not smiling.“Is this water the water God puts on you to make you safe?” she demanded abruptly, in a strangely formal voice.
I put down my boxes.What was she asking for?Was I being asked to baptize her?My mind raced, flashing back to when I’d stood at the font for my own baptism just a few years ago.
Nothing about that water had made me safe.It had pushed me further out from the certainties and habits of my former life, taken me away from my family, and launched me on this mad and frustrating mission to feed multitudes.It had eroded my identity as an objective observer and given me an unsettling glimpse of how very little I knew.I was no less flawed or frightened or capable of being hurt than I’d been before my conversion, and now, in addition, I was adrift in this water, yoked together with all kinds of other Christians, many of whom I didn’t like or trust.
How could I tell this child that a drop of water could make her safe?I had no idea what Sasha was going through at home, but I suspected it was rough.And Baptism, if it signified anything, signified the unavoidable reality of the cross at the heart of Christian faith.It wasn’t a magic charm but a reminder of God’s presence in the midst of unresolved human pain.
“Do you want it?” I asked
Sasha locked her eyes on me.“Yes,” she said.“Yes, I want that water.”
In a little while we are going to baptize a little girl about the same age as Sasha.Her home life with Steve and Jennifer is safe, but no doubt she’s wondering on some levels about these baptismal waters too.What should we tell Natalie?Are these the waters that will keep her safe?Yes or no?If yes, in what sense will it keep her safe, and from what?If no, then what?What are the dangers that await?What should we tell Natalie?
As Sara Miles suggests, baptism holds no magical powers to protect from the dangers of this world for Natalie or Sasha.On one level, as a friend of mine puts it “baptism doesn’t do anything… but it means everything.”The only magic involved is in the mystery and grace of God’s love that can never be removed.
~These waters will keep her safe if you and I live up to our role as members of this community (even if she dislikes us and distrusts us at some point).
~These waters will not keep her safe from the normal dangers of this world and the pain of growing up and living in this world.
~These waters will keep her safe with the pronouncement that whatever happens, she is God’s beloved.
But ultimately, these waters will not protect her from God’s own agenda for her, which is to remake her, to have her grow beyond herself.This is the paradoxical reality of baptism— the waters save us on one level, and they seek to kill us off on another— our ego… our small selfish self as we emerge to a larger life that looks like Christ’s.So the baptismal waters are going to be rough at times… as the call of Christ will come (as it continually comes to us all), to deny ourselves…take up the instrument of our own death, and follow Christ into serving and love for all, even enemies.Rough waters… tough sledding ahead.
Not everyone was able to be there when Natalie came into this world at birth.But, now we get a chance to be here together at this kind of replaying of birth…the font as the womb… and the community of family and church that is here to catch and hold her, as safely as we can… vulnerable to God’s presence.
Returning to Sara Miles, standing there with little Sasha by the font:Sasha says,
“Yes, I want that water.”
There was something serious in her face that it stopped me cold.I dipped my fingers into the font, and Sasha turned her face up to me, concentrating.I made the sign of the cross on her forehead….
Two weeks later, Sasha came back to the pantry with her aunt, who was hugging another baby.She ran up to me, leaped into my arms, kissed me, and said, “Let’s go find [the priest] Lynn.I want a special blessing.”We anointed her again, and again Sasha received the oil deliberately, with great attention, listening to every word of our prayers. Then she corrected the priest, “It’s not AH-men,” she said, “it’s A-men.”
