Swimming Lessons

When Monk first started talking about having a desire to be baptized, last January, he was curious about the process. And he wanted to know how D and I were each baptized. I was baptized (the first time, I admit with some chagrin) in a Methodist church when I was twelve years old. My brother and I were baptized on the same day; he needed to be "done" so he could get confirmed later in the same service. (Clearly our Methodist church hadn't engaged with the liturgical renewal movement yet and didn't know that one does not need to be "confirmed" if you're baptized as a believer. But that's another point altogether.)

So because we were Methodist at the time, I was baptized by pouring--a small amount of water dribbled carefully on my head. I remember my hair was pulled up and back into a bun that morning. And I feel like I can still go back to that moment, the gentle graciousness, almost caress of the water as it trickled through my hair and down along my neck. Ever play the game where someone pretends to break an egg on your head and they run their fingers gently over your head and onto your neck before you squirm away?

When I told Monk about this, he immediately exclaimed: "Can we become Methodists? Can't we get a Methodist pastor to baptize me?" The idea of being dunked under water in our big baptistery felt pretty overwhelming to him. And, in fact, with good reason. It's one sign the Baptists definitely get right.

But we wanted to pay attention to his fear, too. Not just dismiss it or try to simply talk him out of it. There is something to fear in our baptism, I think. Our participation in the death and resurrection of Christ is overwhelming. Even God's grace is overwhelming. If we cozy up to these kinds of things too much, then we have lost something of their meaning.

We knew that the greater part of Monk's fear, though, lay in his increasing discomfort at not being able to swim yet. Although he's had lessons each year since Kindergarten through his public school, they have never been sustained enough to get him comfortable in the water. Last summer would have been the ideal time for us to get him swimming lessons, but we were at a loss about how to do it. We don't have a pool, of course. And we don't belong to a swim club. And, frankly, it's pretty darn cold in this part of the country in July and August.

But sometime over the past year, swimming morphed from a fun thing that he wanted to learn to a frightening thing that felt just plain dangerous. And this danger, it was clear, was represented by the baptismal waters as well.

I shared some of this with my students a month or two ago in our class on baptism. Afterwards, one of my students came up and suggested that we intentionally tie the two together: Give him swimming lessons as his baptism gift. She said that for her, learning to swim was the most empowering thing she felt she'd ever learned to do. Why not link the empowerment of learning to swim with the powerful moment of baptism? The idea seemed brilliant to me.

So classes start tonight. In fact, in a few minutes--so I have to run. But I'll try and write some more later...

Preparing for Baptism

Last evening we had a long conversation with Monk about his desire to be baptized. We're still trying to get a sense of his desire, wanting to make sure that he is not asking to be baptized simply because he senses it would please us or make us proud. Monk is going to be turning nine years old in just a couple weeks. So he's really at about the youngest I would think he ought to be baptized. That is, speaking from my Baptist perspective. If I switch theological hats, back to my Lutheran one (where I went to seminary), I'm perfectly fine with infant baptism. But we are Baptists--so I feel it's important to be respectful of that tradition in this case.

Several of Monk's thoughtful responses were very beautiful to me and I decided I wanted to share them here. As much to have some friends and family aware of how he's feeling about things these days as to have me remember these "thick" days myself someday.

When D asked why he was feeling he wanted to be baptized, Monk responded: "I feel as though Jesus was a really important person who made very good decisions in life. And I want to live my life in a way that follows Jesus' example. And I figure baptism is the place to begin."

Monk also said that he wanted to be able to tell kids that he was a Christian and not to be embarrassed about that, but to simply be able to tell them that that was a part of who he is.

When we asked what he thought it meant to follow Jesus' example, he answered: "To live in a way that is kind to other people, to be thoughtful, and generous, and loving. To help people. And if I get signed someday as a hockey player for millions of dollars that I would give away half of it to help other people. Because it's not right that I would have so much when other people don't have enough food to eat every day."

Then D asked Monk: "A lot of people talk about Jesus dying on the cross for our sins. What do you think that means? Is that something you believe?"

"Not really," Monk answered. "I think Jesus was killed because the Roman government thought he was a real threat to their power. And that worried them a lot. When he wouldn't back down, then they killed him to set an example for all the other people in case they were thinking of resisting the government, too. The Romans thought they had won, but then God proved to them that love is stronger than death."

Because we're reading the Bridge to Terebithia right now, we had just the night before encountered the scene where May Belle is worried that if Leslie doesn't believe in Jesus that "God would damn her to hell." Monk giggled every time I'd read the line, because all he heard in it were the curse words. But last night I explained to him more about why May Belle would say that. "Some people are taught a theology that if someone doesn't believe in Jesus then God will send them to Hell."

"Do you have that theology?" he asked.

I told him I did not. D admitted that when he was baptized, he did believe that. But that he didn't believe it anymore.

"Well, I think that's a pretty dumb theology," Monk said. "I mean, God created different genders, right? And God created different species. And different continents. And different vegetables. And different kinds of people. Why wouldn't God also create different faiths? Doesn't that just make sense?"

So that's where our boy is right now.