Coming into the Family of God

In an earlier blog post I mentioned that I was participating in a discipleship class with my daughter. Only I was not leading the class, I was present as my daughter’s mentor. Each day we had a bit of reading and discussion from the book we were using, “Baptism Ahead.” We met for five weeks with a two other kids and their parents. This has been a wonderful journey to be on with C. I am humbled to admit that it was not only C that learned on this journey. I discovered that I too had much to learn. I had to learn to step back and let her guide me and by doing so we went to some amazing unintended places off the curriculum path discussing about diversity of our world and the image of God as male and female, to name a couple. I was blessed to hear some of her deepest thoughts and wonderings. I was also blessed to rediscover some of the simpler, pure, faith filled answers that can come only from the eyes and heart of a child. More than once in this time the phrase “and a little child shall lead them” came to mind. This preparation experience was a sacred meeting of the place where my role as mother meets my experience and training as clergy.

Even at the tender age of seven it became very clear that she had a deep understanding of what it means to be disciple and so I was not surprised when she told us that she was ready to accept Christ and be baptized. I found myself appreciating this at an even deeper level having been present to some of her innermost thoughts coming to this decision. What I was not prepared for was the way my soul jumped and sang with joy as she asked me to be the one to baptize her. Our church has a tradition of doing baptisms in a local lake and parents or important mentors being in the water with the baptism candidate and our pastor. We were to get the privilege of being the ones to do the baptizing. Even knowing this would be what would happen, it was nice to have C acknowledge that she wanted me to be an integral part of this sacrament.

Today we celebrated her baptism. Before we went to the lake we sat down as a family to give C a family blessing and equipping. Her Grammie and Boppa, my parents, gave her a Bible, my husband gave her a CD of music familiar to her from worship, and I gave her a cross that had been given to my mom, who gave it to me when I was in need of a cross. We each spoke words of why we were giving her these gifts, these tools for her faith journey. I spoke about how these were more than just gifts, but our way of equipping her for her ongoing path of discipleship.

Even at a young age, she gets the importance of ritual and how important this day is to her. This was deeply evident by her words in the car to the lake. She spoke about how excited she was to gain so many brothers and sisters in Christ. To hear her connect so deeply to this gaining of family gives me pause. To have such words of welcome and belonging being spoken by her reminds me of the many ways church has been family to me. Hearing it from her, nudges me to remember that more intentionally.

Standing in the water listening to the words of baptism I remembered the day my own father, also an American Baptist Pastor, baptized me and marveled at how I was blessed to do the same for my daughter. The ritual of baptism, as we practice it, is simple in and of itself. When you add the layers of family and church tradition, it becomes more than a simple ritual, it becomes a sacrament beautiful and life giving. The baptism began with our pastor speaking the words of baptism, my daughter making her profession of faith and my husband and I laying her back into the water and bringing her up out of the waters with a glowing, smiling face to the celebratory clapping and cheers of her church family who is so important to her. And much like Mary, I cherished all of these things in my heart.

The service concluded with communion. I was blessed to serve my daughter her first communion. I was even more blessed to be the first person she served communion to. To the accompaniment of Amazing Grace I watched her serve our church family communion with her other newly baptized brothers and sisters in the faith. I got teary and my heart grew just a bit more knowing I was once again in that holy place where my motherhood runs smack into my ministry. I am left with no deep theological thoughts, only deep, deep awe at the grace that runs so fully in this place.

Baking the Sacrament of Hospitality

One of the things I enjoy doing is baking bread. I long ago gave up my bread machine and started teaching myself the art of baking bread by hand, from scratch. It is a hobby that I love. Part of why I love it is because it is something that I can share with others to nourish their bodies as well as spirit. So when my church offered me the opportunity to make the bread for communion each month, I accepted with a glad heart. At the time I had no idea what this once a month baking would teach me about hospitality. You see our communion table needs to accommodate multiple food allergies and sensitivities. So I set out to find a recipe that would accommodate our needs so that no one would be excluded from or singled out at Christ’s table. For several years now this inclusive bread has graced the communion table of our church and other tables.

As I have taken on this task, it has caused me to reflect deeply on what inclusion at the table means and what hospitality at Christ’s table looks like. I have come to the conclusion that hospitality of Christ’s table is more than just providing bread that all can partake of. It goes deeper than that. By having the same loaf of bread that everyone can eat from we create community. Community is shared when we break and eat of the same loaf. When I eat from the same loaf of bread created for someone with special dietary needs, I am reaching beyond my own ability to eat what ever I want to connect with them in their place of need. It may seem like such a small gesture, but to those that have this need the symbolism and meaning of this deep hospitality is not lost and it connects at a spiritual level.

                  Recently this act of inclusive hospitality was expanded a bit. My daughter is still learning what it means to be a follower of Christ, so she partakes only of the grapes provided during communion for the youngest at the table. This has not stopped her from showing an interest in helping me make the bread each month. So the first Saturday in November she and I went to the kitchen and embarked on the journey of me teaching her how to make the bread. This went beyond just showing her how to measure each ingredient and mix it together. It meant teaching her why we use each type of flour that we do; why there is no dairy or eggs. I was teaching her that the table of Christ is there for everyone, no exceptions, and that the hospitality of the table means that we do our best to be sure everyone is invited and can partake. This is why we make the bread we do and take such care in making it.

                  Another tradition of hospitality that my church engages in is that there are two loaves of bread, one for the table and one loaf to share with a family to take home. In the past, I have been the one to give the bread to a family. This time I had my daughter take the bread over to the chosen family. Not only did she get to help make the bread, she got to participate in the hospitality of giving. The joy on her face at being included in such an important tradition reinforced to me the importance of finding a role for even the youngest at Christ’s table.

                  So now I have a new first Saturday of the month tradition, baking communion bread with my daughter. She has a new role at the table, delivering hospitality. And as we continue in this tradition, I cannot think of a better or more hospitable way to teach my daughter about communion and its meaning.