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The Date is Set

As it turned out, the date of my baptism was set for September 11th, the fourth anniversary of the tragedy at the World Trade Center. Though a little startling, it felt right that this day of great personal joy for me would also have with it a permanent reminder of the suffering of others.

As my baptism drew nearer, I was surprised at how much I looked forward to it. I had read over the Episcopal Service of Holy Baptism many times, and the words moved me every time I read them. Aided by members of the Holy Apostles Church, people on the Reparations Task Force - especially Brother Reginald Martin Crenshaw in our talks on our subway rides home - and anyone else who cared to discuss such matters, I’d been having a wonderful time considering all kinds of Biblical and theological matters I’d never bothered with before. And most of all, I really loved discussing them over the phone with my mother. Slowly things were falling into place. I was able to tell her that I did accept Jesus Christ as the Son of God who died for my sins and was resurrected, and that I felt certain my understanding of other things would come in due time as I continued to read, ponder and talk. My heart was at peace.

The day of my baptism dawned bright and sunny. I felt a little like I was getting married and was a tad nervous, but not much. After all, I had my four sponsors who would “hold my hand” if necessary. They were my friend Barbara Davison who was like a sister, and Clyde Kuemmerle, Richard Longinetti, and Muriel Moore, who I had bonded with through our work at the Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen. I was also glad that several friends from my past were going to be there, as well as Kenton Kirby, the Managing Editor of Caribbean Life newspaper, who is such a pleasure to work for.

When Father Greenlaw had gone over the baptismal service with me, he had advised me not to get caught up in worry about doing everything perfectly. Instead, I should feel free to experience the moment to the fullest. I planned to do just that.

The Sermon

Sitting there in the front row with my sponsors, I was deeply moved by the Rev. Elizabeth Maxwell’s sermon. She did a masterful job of bringing together the anniversary of 9/11 and the resulting quagmire in Iraq “in which we find ourselves with so many deaths, so many billions of dollars spent, and no end in sight”; the devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina which exposed the clear divide along racial lines where “the rich were able to escape and the poor were left to drown”; and my baptism. “Surely, because of recent events,” Mother Maxwell said, “this sacrament, which uses water as the element by which Christ’s death and Resurrection are accomplished, is made all the more potent, for we know the power of water now in a new way. Let us also remember the power of water to bring us into new life, into Christ.”

Much of Mother Maxwell’s sermon, which was based on Matthew 18:21-35, dealt with the imperative to be forgiving in order to experience forgiveness. “We hold onto our grievance because we think it hurts the other person, but actually it damages us,” she noted. “In the immortal words of Ann Lamott, ‘Not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and then waiting for the rat to die.’ We are tortured by the closing of our own hearts that will not let real forgiveness and love in if we cannot give them out.”

I Get Baptized!

Accompanied by the inspiring music of the organist David Hurd and the choir, following the sermon we proceeded to the Baptismal Font where Father Greenlaw was to baptize me. When the moment came and he asked, “Do you desire to be baptized?” I was glad to respond with a resounding, “I do!” And when he asked the congregation, “Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support this person in her life in Christ?” the church rafters rang with the vigor of their, “We will!”

Perhaps the most emotional moment for me came when, tracing on my forehead the sign of the cross with oil of Chrism, Father Greenlaw pronounced, “Donna, you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.”

So that, friends, is how I came to get baptized in the Episcopal Church at the age of 56. I’m grateful to my mother for starting me down this path, and I look forward to the rest of the journey.