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Column Heirs to the force of the water's keen fire
By KRIS BERGGREN
The first weekend of February we
commemorate the Presentation of Jesus. Forty days after Jesus' birth, his
parents brought him to the temple to be formally presented to God in a
traditional Jewish ceremony. As described in the gospel of Luke, Anna and
Simeon, two faithful Jewish elders, upon seeing the baby, proclaimed his status
as the long-awaited redeemer and savior promised throughout the ages. Simeon,
in fact, felt he could now die happy because he had seen the One who would
serve as "a revealing light to the Gentiles, the glory of your people
Israel."
Anna and Simeon weren't just buttering up two new parents who
think their baby is the most spectacular thing ever to wear a diaper. Mary and
Joseph certainly had an inkling of their son's uniqueness, what with special
stars appearing and visits from angels, kings and shepherds. But the
Messiah?
The elders' words were bittersweet. Simeon warned Mary that she
would be "pierced with a sword" because of the deep divisions and turmoil that
would follow her son. In the Old Testament reading for the day, Malachi
compares the coming of the Promised One to the transforming force of "refiner's
fire," the sanitizing sting of "fuller's lye." This is not a warm, fuzzy
image.
Today we present our children to the temple in the sacrament of
baptism. Certainly baptism is, on one level, a happy family celebration of the
absolute beauty of each child, each small spirit as perfect, trusting, pure as
an angel. On another, it's a welcoming to faith, to a community, to a religious
tradition. Yet more deeply, it's a ritual with enormous implications for
parents and child. When we are baptized into covenant with this Messiah, we are
invited -- committed -- to feel the sting, to walk through the fire.
My parish community celebrates baptism during Sunday Mass every
couple of months. Last baptism Sunday, I took my children up into our rickety
choir loft to gain a bird's-eye view of the cluster of parents, godparents and
babies directly below us around the circular copper baptismal font. Our
presiders, the pastor and the youth and family programs coordinator, guide each
family through questions and answers: What do you ask from the community for
this child? Together, presiders and assembly, we say to each child: "We baptize
you in the name of Jesus, who fished and played, laughed and wept." Then the
parade of families -- proud, self-conscious, exuberant, pleased -- lift up to
the congregation their little ones, wrapped in towels or dressed in infant
finery, as the voices of the assembly rise up to the loft in a strong refrain:
"Blessed by God, oh blessed be God/Who calls you by name/Holy and chosen
one."
This is a celebration of new life, a welcoming into our community
but also a dedication to faith. It is the beginning of letting go; we are
giving them roots and wings, as the saying goes. If we as parents and faith
community are doing our jobs, we are raising children who may plunge into the
fire and lye. We may be raising a Martin Luther King, Jr., a Dorothy Day, a
Jean Donovan, a Roy Bourgeois. My child's spiritual wings may carry him, carry
her far away from me.
Before my third child was baptized, the facilitator at our
sacramental preparation class related a story told by a woman, a Lutheran
minister, at a conference. One evening, a young man out walking heard troubling
sounds of a scuffle in a nearby alley. He approached the scene to discover that
a woman was being assaulted. He had to think fast, to act immediately. The
young man intervened, saving her from further harm, but he was killed in the
altercation. The minister then said, "That's exactly what I raised him to do."
The young man was her son, and she a mother "pierced by a sword" because of her
child's integrity and selflessness.
The Feast of the Presentation is a good time to reflect on the
sacrament of baptism. What does this public commitment of my child to a faith
community mean? Am I raising my children to fight for someone else's life or
human rights? To go to jail for their beliefs? To "comfort the afflicted and
afflict the comfortable"? To resist the sometimes skewed values of the
predominant culture? To preserve their integrity and purity of heart despite
the despair and cynicism they will encounter?
We are baptizing the heirs to the line of Abraham, of David, of
Jesus -- if not direct blood descendants, then descendants in spirit. And this
is a time for us to reflect on our own baptismal call. It is through us and our
children that the word lives on.
National Catholic Reporter, February 7,
1997
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