Sunday, October 25, 2009
Went for sushi to celebrate Older Daughter's birthday last night, her choice.
Waiting for our loaves and fish, Younger Daughter wanted to know about the ritual of Baptism. Not sure why. But yes, I started to explain: in our church there was a tradition of expecting very young children to feel the spirit and "come forward," preparatory to the full immersion that would wash away our sins. Or something.
And of course, as a diligent six-year old who'd been frightened to death of hell-fire-- not by Mom and Dad, but by the churchly agents of "good" they'd chosen to immerse us in, for our alleged own good-- I found myself moving down the aisle one Sunday as the old hymns cycled and the congregation sang. No clue what I was up to, but apparently that didn't matter. The point was not to question, but to be "saved."
So, yes: I was Baptized. Preacher must not have done it right, though. It clearly didn't take.