800 Words

We are experiencing in northeast Ohio that time of year where we can go for weeks without seeing the sun. It has been an awfully dreary week exasperated by everything that took place on Wednesday in Washington. Yesterday was the first day in over two weeks where the sun finally peeked out behind the clouds and gave us something to cheer about. People were out everywhere: Walking. Exercising. Washing their car. Basking in the sun.

As I reflected on the liturgical readings for today, I began to see, for the first time since I moved to Ohio, a different way to appreciate the weeks of gray clouds and rain. For in those gloomy colors are a reminder of our baptism and how much God loves each one of us.

Methodist scholar, Laurence Stookey, who taught at Wesley Theological Seminary for many years, was once or twice heard shouting a joyous appeal to his students as he ran across the campus in the rain: “Remember your baptism and be thankful!”

“Remember your baptism, and be thankful!” Unfortunately, I could not remember my baptism. So, I called my mother on Friday and asked her to recount the details of that important day.

My baptism took place at the Old Bergen Reformed Church in Jersey City, New Jersey. I was four months old (September 1961). My father was serving as a seminarian at the church while he was studying for the priesthood at the New Brunswick Theological Seminary. Apparently, (according to my mother), I was the “center of attention” of the youth group.

On the day of my baptism, members of the youth group were keeping me occupied in one of the education rooms until it was time for the baptism. But, when the moment came I was not ready! For you see apparently I needed a diaper change and during the diaper change I decided that I did not need my socks on. As the story goes, I went into my baptism a bit disheveled (which is somewhat theologically comforting). All went well, as the water was poured on my head three different times in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Do you remember your baptism? If not, who can assist you in retaining the details? For it is important that we remember one of the most sacred moments of our life - the day when we were initiated into the life and fellowship of the Christian Church and started our journey with Jesus.

On Thursday, after the troubling events in Washington, I was not myself, not able to get going. I could not believe what I had witnessed the day before, saddened by what has happened to our country. And of course, the skies in Ohio were a dull shade of grey with light rain turning to snow.

I forced myself to get to work on Sunday’s service and stumbled upon this marvelous selection from Matthew Kelty’s work, Flute Solo: Reflections of a Trappist Hermit. His words brought joy amid all the chaos. Kelty writes:

“Water is always an invitation to immersion for me, an immersion with the quality of totality, since it would accept all of me, as I am. Some primal urge invites me to return once I came.

“At times I have done so. There is some special delight in simply walking into a stream, stepping into a lake. The child's delight in a puddle is my adult’s in the sea …..

“No rain falls that I do not at once hear in the sound of the falling water an invitation to come to the wedding. It is rare that I do not answer. A walk in an evening rain in any setting is to walk in the midst of God's loving attention to his earth, and, like a baptism, is no simple washing, but a communication of life. When you hurry in and out of the rain, I hurry out into it, for it is a sign that all is well, that God loves, that good is to follow. If suffering a doubt, I find myself looking to rain as a good omen. And in rain, I always hear singing, wordless chant rising and falling. I shall continue to heed water's invitation, the call of the rain. We are in love and lovers are a little mad.”

After reading Kelty’s words, I realized I needed a little “madness”. So, on Friday afternoon, I went for a walk in the rain and snow. I found myself at the near by golf course. I lowered the hood of my raincoat, took off my ball cap, stretched out my arms, and the let the rain and snow gently fall over me. After a moment, in a loud voice, I cried: “I remember my baptism and I am thankful!”

Carl Jung was once quoted:

“Whenever water appears in dreams or visions, it is usually the water of life, meaning a medium through which one is reborn. It symbolizes a sort of baptism ceremony, or initiation, a healing bath that gives resurrection or rebirth.”

The next time those grey Ohio clouds roll in off Lake Erie and it starts to rain: “Remember your baptism and be thankful!”