They say it only takes one winter in a new place to change your blood, and I'd have to say I agree. I have never loved the snow or the cold, especially in my adult life when snow and cold means waking up a half hour earlier to clean off my car and struggle to get to work. This weekend's "snow" storm (which was mostly ice in my area) has not exactly been my cup of tea (although it has inspired me drink a lot of tea). Now mind you, I lived through the blizzard of 2010 in Pittsburgh:
{my car}
{a lawn chair}
{our road}
But on Saturday morning, I spent a couple of hours watching the snow fall with my southern kitty, George Hairyson, who had never seen snow. I relished in the warmth of my home and did everything in my power not to leave. On Sunday morning, I woke up late for church and went about my normal routine. At 10:00 I went out to find that unfortunately the snow had not melted off of my car and neither had the ice. I sighed and turned the car defrosters on full blast. I crawled into the trunk to find the flimsy scraper/brush that I have (my nice one was left to my brother in Pittsburgh) and began to work on the rear windshield. After 20 seconds of hard work and not much progress made, I sheepishly looked around the parking lot. Of the 8 people out scraping their cars, I was the only one with a real scraper. All others were glaring at me with contempt or outright envy as they scraped their cars with pancake flippers, sleeves, and scrub brushes. Even with the proper equipment this was going to take a while.
I finally gave up on the back, figuring the defroster could help me if I waited patiently, and walked to the side of the car, only to find I had absentmindedly left the driver-side door open, allowing all this cold air to come in and nullify the effects of my blasting defroster. Cursing myself, I shut the icy door and continued my process. All the while, I could hear my father's voice in my head telling me not to leave any snow on my lights and to be very thorough so the ice and snow didn't fly off my car while going down the road. I confess, at 10:25, I grumpily got into my car, tossing my puny scraper onto the floor and began running the windshield wipers like mad. I pulled out with only two small spots to see out of, and hid under the brim of my winter hat to avoid being associated with this absolutely terribly scraped car. Even though no one would know I'm from the north by my North Carolina license plate, it felt as though the southern sun was glaring at me, exposing my quickly fading northern winter survival skills. I arrived at church much later than I had hoped, completely out of my routine, with cold ears, cold fingers, and cold toes....not to mention a rather grumpy disposition. This week's blast of winter weather altered my routine and knocked me off-kilter. And of course, I moved to the south on purpose: this was not a welcome winter weather system in the White household.
Baptism of the Lord
It just so happens that this Sunday was Baptism of the Lord Sunday. We celebrate Jesus' baptism by John in the Jordan River, and we remember with joy our own baptisms. But what does that really mean?
Baptism in the PCUSA
Baptism means lots of things in different denominations, and in the Presbyterian Church USA, we believe that baptism is a sacrament in which everyone may participate. The Book of Order (our constitution) states, "Baptism is the sign and seal of incorporation into Christ." In other words, baptism is the physical sign and secure assurance that the individual being baptized is a member of the family of God. That's why we baptize infants - because before we could think for ourselves, God claims us and seals us as belonging to the family of God. The congregation promises to contribute to the upbringing of that child in the family of God. The sense of inclusiveness found in baptism is essential to our Presbyterian beliefs on the matter, and it is what we emphasize as we wipe the cool water across the heads of infants and adults who come to the waters.
Super graphic death and resurrection
There is a less cute and fluffy side to baptism, however. The Book of Order continues, "In Baptism, we participate in Jesus' death and resurrection. In Baptism, we die to what separates us from God and are raised to newness of life in Jesus Christ, who died for us and was raised for us." We participate in death. We die. Not exactly appropriate for Disney's next animated feature.
{p.s. this picture is so creepy and weird...gah...}
In baptism, the parents and the congregation promise to reject a life of sin, a life without Christ, and to be committed anew to a resurrected life following Jesus Christ. God promises to let the life of sin be washed from us in the waters of baptism and cast to the bottom of the sea; God promises to see us as resurrected and new, as recreated in God's Kingdom.
While I love the Presbyterian Church's attention to joy and celebration and commitment to practicality (and I'm grateful I don't have to wade in rivers and dunk people's heads under water), I think the Baptists capture something we don't in their "slam-dunk" approach. I was baptized as an infant, so I don't remember, but I've watched immersion baptism, and I can imagine the discomfort and challenge. The person being baptized comes, probably feeling awkward and exposed before the pastor and the congregation. He/she leans back into the arms of the pastor and trusts that as he/she goes under the water, that they will surface again, trusts that the pastor will not drop him/her in the water, that the submersion is temporary. The one being baptized emerges from the water at a pull from the pastor's hand on their neck, breathing in that first breath as though they were being born again, born anew. I can imagine the cool pressure and slight panic of the water surrounding you and then the sharp relief of that first gasp of air as you come up. There is something totally vulnerable and deeply uncomfortable about immersion baptism, about being dunked in the water, that we don't fully capture in the Presbyterian Church with our sprinkle and smear. It exposes our needs, our fragility, our dependence on God for survival. It is challenging, uncomfortable, and unpleasant.
So back to the ice...
It seems fitting to me that on the weekend of Baptism of the Lord Sunday, we should be washed over by ice and snow. On Friday night, as we ventured out for dinner in the 35 degree weather and rain, my husband declared in a most crotchety voice, "This is absolutely my least favorite weather." I must agree: those cold drops will chill you to the bone and it seems that my toes and my nose will never be warm again. This type of weather is uncomfortable: it disrupts our routine, calls us to change our clothing and our awareness, and forces us to pay attention to the water on the road and the droplets on the trees. The only thing I look forward to when winter weather rolls through the region is the possibility of a snow day or snow delay when I get to stay home and cuddle George Hairyson and knit and make soup.
{I mean, who wouldn't want to cuddle this cutie all day?!?!}
And weirdly this same type of disruptive discomfort found in a storm of frigid precipitation is strangely similar to what we celebrate in Baptism. We celebrate the uncomfortable, vulnerable submersion of our sin-sick selves into God's cleansing and purifying waters; we celebrate our explosion from the waters, our gasping for air, our disorienting first breath. We celebrate the challenging call found in a life of discipleship, a life that asks us not to sit comfortably with George Hairyson all day long; a life that commands us to stand in uncomfortable places as we follow Jesus.
So as we celebrate cold weather and startling baptisms, let us feel the challenge and call of our baptism in our lives. We are called to a life of discipleship that takes us to the frozen windshields of life. Unlike this terrible northern example, we are called to continue the job even when it is difficult, when our hands our frozen and our patience is fried and we are cranky and embarrassed and inconvenienced. There are opportunities every day for us to step out of our comfort zone and into the cold weather of Christian discipleship. How will we respond to that challenge today? This week?
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