Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Baptism tales
Friend of mine told me yesterday that he had a nephew, a teen, get baptized on Easter. The preacher was wearin' chest waders! That beats all. He might be -- no, he is a redneck. What a hoot! Niece of mine, age 10, is fixin' to get baptized. She told her mama she's thinkin' about takin' a test tube and stopper with her, so she can bring back some of the water. That way, she said, she could look at her sin and think about it. And that is pretty dang profound, actually.
Brother and I were sittin' in church one time 20-odd years ago, watchin' an 80-somethin'-year-old man get dunked in the baptismal waters. My brother was known for bein' a fan of the horses. Threw a little money at 'em, I mean. As the old fella was gettin' his sins figuratively washed away, finally, at age 80-something, brother leans over and says, "And they call *me* a gambler."
In college, a Methodist friend and I, then a Baptist, were always cussin' and discussin' the relative merits of immersion versus sprinkled baptisms. Finally, in what I thought was a genuine effort to come to peace with him on the matter, I said, in all seriousness, "Well, I guess it really doesn't matter whether you''re sprinkled or baptized." He turned red in the face and stomped off -- and I honestly didn't know what I'd said to offend him. He let me know the next time we saw each other. Live and learn.
Younger cousin of mine wanted to be baptized the old-fashioned way, in runnin' water, not in the baptistry at the church. So we all loaded up in the bus and some of us in our cars and took off for the Arkansas River one summer Sunday evening. Preacher and my cousin walked down a boat ramp into the river and commenced the ceremony with all of us standin' around on the bank. Here comes some guys in a pickup pullin' a boat on a trailer. They were not amused. Some kids who roared by in a hot rod and tossed out some beer cans -- they were amused.
I was baptised at age 8. I've always said they should've poured in some Tide and agitated the water some.
Got a baptism tale? Tell it!
--ER
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Your stories started me thinking down some of those paths my mind sometimes take. You know all the recent news about finding drugs in the drinking water; drugs that make their way through the human system and back out into the hydrologic system. I was just wondering if you would need to get the water inspected today before you dunked you cousin in "running water". Then it occured to me that the reason that they did not know about the drugs in the water was that they weren't testing for such. Well, do they test the water for sin? I mean if bapatism washes away your sins wouldn't they go downstream? I mean wouldn't you be safer to get dunked in the Mississippi in upper Minnesota than down river in say Baton Rouge. Couldn't a small time sinner be dunked in Memphis and loose their sin but then pick up some truely serious sins from a serial killer baptisted in St. Paul? If indeed sin could be transmitted that way then those waiders would be a reasonable profolactic precaution. Maybe then there should be a sin filtering system in front of the baptistry system to clean out the sin as it was filled, and another to keep them from flowing out into the system. But then what would you do with the filters? You would begin to run into the same problem that you would have for the disposal of nuclear fuel. My recomendation would be a railgun type system that would launch the aggregated filtered sins directly into the sun.
I'll think on it some more, there may be a logical flaw here somewhere.
I'll think on it some more, there may be a logical flaw here somewhere.
Maybe every church should have a sin septic tank. But then, they have to be cleaned out ever so often. ...
Yeah that's the problem. Just think of a whole congregation's sins all together festering and feeding on each other just out back of the church in the septic tank in the ground. I mean what if some innocent child fell through into the tank and then crawled out and became the newest John Wayne Gassy or Dick Cheney or something. Or maybe the stuff leaked out and osmosis-ed up a big oak tree and took it over and every time a squirrel or opossum climb the tree it disappeared down the little hollow hole about half way up the tree trunk, or maybe the preacher's children build a tree house in it and.... oh well that's why we would have to be careful disposing of this stuff. Real careful.
Now if we could come up with an anti-septic tank......
Now if we could come up with an anti-septic tank......
When I performed my first baptism, I went to a friend of mine who had more experience. We found a swimming pool and I asked him to help me practice before the big day.
So, he gave me all the needful instructions on how to keep water from going up the candidate's nose.
He said he would dunk me first. I agreed and he held me under and I think i got water up my nose. Of course, then he decided I'd do fine without me practicing on him. Although, I think I did anyway. It was a fun time splashing in the pool.
So, he gave me all the needful instructions on how to keep water from going up the candidate's nose.
He said he would dunk me first. I agreed and he held me under and I think i got water up my nose. Of course, then he decided I'd do fine without me practicing on him. Although, I think I did anyway. It was a fun time splashing in the pool.
Pech, the preacher who dunked me grabbed my dang nose and held it as he plunged me in! of coruse, i was a kid. Might not be fittin' to do that to a grown man or woman!
Oh, DrLobo, you reminded me of the other thing my niece said, which I forgot:
After she revealed her plans to take some water home with her, she did allow as to how if she were not the first one to get dunked, she would not want any of the ater because it would have somebody else's sin mixed up in it with hers.
To say I'm proud of that 10-year-old thinkin' is an understatement. What a mind.
After she revealed her plans to take some water home with her, she did allow as to how if she were not the first one to get dunked, she would not want any of the ater because it would have somebody else's sin mixed up in it with hers.
To say I'm proud of that 10-year-old thinkin' is an understatement. What a mind.
Are you saying I have a mind of a ten year old! :(
I've pondering more on the anti-septic sin tank thing. I'm pretty sure that us Disciples of Christ will be OK cause we do the Lord's Supper every Sunday. So we pretty well have a neutralizing blessed substance to add to the mix. We just have to insist that every member relieve themselves before they leave the church.
Tell your niece to seal that tube good and see if the water turns colors.
I've also been wondering if the LDS Church has ever really looked into this problem. I mean with their volume of current and past sinnner baptised they would have noticed it by now for sure.
I've pondering more on the anti-septic sin tank thing. I'm pretty sure that us Disciples of Christ will be OK cause we do the Lord's Supper every Sunday. So we pretty well have a neutralizing blessed substance to add to the mix. We just have to insist that every member relieve themselves before they leave the church.
Tell your niece to seal that tube good and see if the water turns colors.
I've also been wondering if the LDS Church has ever really looked into this problem. I mean with their volume of current and past sinnner baptised they would have noticed it by now for sure.
Many churches (my own included) have a special drain for both the consecrated communion wine/grape juice and baptismal waters. It does not go into the public sewer system but directly back into the earth.
Do you know that when Jesus was baptized they actually did have different places for baptisms, with heavier currents for bigger sins -- graduated pools in some places so the washing away was coordinated to the level of sin. (I would probably get stuck in a jacuzzi on that basis. Or a washer on spin cycle.)
Methodists have three types of baptism -- immersion, pouring or sprinkling, by the way. But you only get to do it one time. No do-overs recognized.
Do you know that when Jesus was baptized they actually did have different places for baptisms, with heavier currents for bigger sins -- graduated pools in some places so the washing away was coordinated to the level of sin. (I would probably get stuck in a jacuzzi on that basis. Or a washer on spin cycle.)
Methodists have three types of baptism -- immersion, pouring or sprinkling, by the way. But you only get to do it one time. No do-overs recognized.
Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha, Trixies said:
"Many churches (my own included) have a special drain for both the consecrated communion wine/grape juice and baptismal waters. It does not go into the public sewer system but directly back into the earth."
There is already anti-septic systems in some churches. See, I'm not so crazy. Slow, but not crazy.
"Many churches (my own included) have a special drain for both the consecrated communion wine/grape juice and baptismal waters. It does not go into the public sewer system but directly back into the earth."
There is already anti-septic systems in some churches. See, I'm not so crazy. Slow, but not crazy.
At the time of my daughter's birth a little over 12 years ago, the missus and I were not church goers. I knew I wanted to go, but didn't get off my duff to find a place. Once the youngun came around, I was more determined, but still it took a couple of years. Anyway, finally at the age of 10, we had the ceremony. Here's the punchline: I, a member of the choir, Board of Elders, Prez of the Church Council was so excited, I forgot to put water in the baptismal font. How embarrassing on my part!
Dude. LOL.
Coulda been worse. I'll bet that every Sunday, some baptistry committee chairman somewhere forgets to draw the water for the dunk tank the night before so it can get room temperature in time for the service.
Which means somebody is gettin' a colde immersion in the n-n-n-ame of the f-f-father, the s-s-s-son and the h-h-h-oly g-g-g-host!
Coulda been worse. I'll bet that every Sunday, some baptistry committee chairman somewhere forgets to draw the water for the dunk tank the night before so it can get room temperature in time for the service.
Which means somebody is gettin' a colde immersion in the n-n-n-ame of the f-f-father, the s-s-s-son and the h-h-h-oly g-g-g-host!
There were six or seven infants to be baptized along with my infant brother years ago at our Catholic church. All interested parties were crowding around the font and the babies were getting a little freaked out. The priest, a grumpy, bald, old man who had always frightened me barked out "Alright people, back up! We're here to baptize these babies, not scare the holy hell out of them!" I still love that man.
# posted by 
: 6:40 PM
: 6:40 PM
I wish I could remember the source and details of this story. In the wee hours this morning I tried to find it but failed. Anyhow, it goes like this:
In the late 19th century two missionaries were in competition for church members among the Choctaw and remnants of the Texas tribes in Southeastern Oklahoma. One was a Methodist and one was a Baptist. The Methodist preacher had a small rundown church building, he was dull, uninspired, and barely spoke the language. The Baptist preacher had a large new building with stain glass windows, cushioned pews, song books and Bibles in the Choctaw language in which he also was articulate and inspiring. But the Methodist church was always full, and new converts came in almost weekly. While the Baptist church was home to a congregation of just a few non-Indians. This went on for years like this. Finally the Baptist Home Missions Board despaired of placing resources in such a barren field and sold the building to the Methodist for one single dollar.
As the Baptist preacher was leaving the Territory he saw the Methodist preacher looking at his new building and stopped to say goodbye.
I just have to ask, he said to his fellow pastor, why is it you think for all of these years you have thrived and I languished?
You mean you didn't know, asked the Methodist? It was our difference in Baptism. You see, I sprinkle my converts in my church as their baptism, and you took yours down to the river crossing and immerse them in the waters where the Cooie Scooie water monster lives and possesses people when they merely set their foot in the river.
In the late 19th century two missionaries were in competition for church members among the Choctaw and remnants of the Texas tribes in Southeastern Oklahoma. One was a Methodist and one was a Baptist. The Methodist preacher had a small rundown church building, he was dull, uninspired, and barely spoke the language. The Baptist preacher had a large new building with stain glass windows, cushioned pews, song books and Bibles in the Choctaw language in which he also was articulate and inspiring. But the Methodist church was always full, and new converts came in almost weekly. While the Baptist church was home to a congregation of just a few non-Indians. This went on for years like this. Finally the Baptist Home Missions Board despaired of placing resources in such a barren field and sold the building to the Methodist for one single dollar.
As the Baptist preacher was leaving the Territory he saw the Methodist preacher looking at his new building and stopped to say goodbye.
I just have to ask, he said to his fellow pastor, why is it you think for all of these years you have thrived and I languished?
You mean you didn't know, asked the Methodist? It was our difference in Baptism. You see, I sprinkle my converts in my church as their baptism, and you took yours down to the river crossing and immerse them in the waters where the Cooie Scooie water monster lives and possesses people when they merely set their foot in the river.
Back about 30 years ago a friend of mine was baptized by immersion in Lake Superior. It was a cold, dreary gray day, definitely not the sort of day when anyone would actually want to step into that lake for any reason (we joke about there being ice floes in it in July), but her faith was strong. Right about the time the pastor brought her back up out of the water, a ray of sunshine broke through the clouds and hit them so they were bathed in light while everything around them was still dark. It was so unearthly that it almost made a believer out of even a heathen like me.
DrLobo, that is a great tale. Cooweescoowee was the name of one of the districts of the old Cherokee Nation. I wonder if there's a connection?
Nan. Another great tale! :-)
If I thought, though, that "heathen" and "believer" were discrete sets, I'd be worried. I'm a believin' heathen, myself.
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If I thought, though, that "heathen" and "believer" were discrete sets, I'd be worried. I'm a believin' heathen, myself.
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