Going all the way back to my childhood, one of my interests has been World War II. It was probably prompted by the fact that my father and my uncle were both in the Army Air Corps. And I have vivid memories of seeing the plexiglass hearts that my grandmother wore, which bore the insignia of the Air Corps.
Of course, there are more than personal reasons for familiarizing ourselves with the choices that World War II generation faced. Hard as it may be to believe, the War was, in fact, not that long ago as history goes, and the dynamics that led to it have never really evaporated.
What has surprised me about that lifetime of reading, though, is that the early days of the War have become a particular interest. The reason, I think, is that in those early days – long before the United States became involved – the challenge that the United Kingdom faced was deciding how to respond.
Even as Nazi Germany violated one treaty after another, prominent leaders were asking: Can we make peace with Hitler? Can we avoid war? Can we avoid making the kind of decision that will up-end our lives?
At an elemental level, these questions were really about the nature of the world. Is evil real? What does it mean to choose the good? How much are we prepared to sacrifice in choosing the good? Can you really compromise with evil?
Now, all of this may seem remote from the topic of baptism. But, in fact, the decision to be baptized revolves around the same kind of elemental questions, and the earliest Christians had to ask them. Do I really believe that life confronts me with the choice between that is of God and not of God? Is there a difference between what Christians believe and what others believe? Is sin a reality? Is evil a reality? Am I prepared to let the choice to be baptized shape my life? Am I prepared to let that choice put me in harm’s way?
In the ancient world, the choices were just as stark as the choices the United Kingdom faced. If you chose to be baptized, you were choosing to let your participation in the body of Christ shape your life from the ground up. There was no more important choice. And the vows that you took were vows that you internalized and let determine all the other choices that you made.
If you were baptized, you acknowledged that the world was under the influence of evil. You were choosing to side with Christ. You were choosing a position in a spiritual war for your own heart and the hearts of other human beings. And you were committing yourself to a set of priorities that would govern your life.
And everything around you confirmed just how serious a choice to be baptized really is. It marked you out as someone who gave your life exclusively to the Triune God. You abandoned the comfortable perspective that was regnant in the Greco-Roman world that worshipped multiple gods. You risked your livelihood. You risked alienating your neighbors. Even your family could reject you — and often did. And, depending upon the emperor, or the sociology of your community, baptism could cost you your life.
So, if baptism was that important in the ancient world, how did it become so inconsequential in our own? Why has it become a matter of “getting the baby done?” Why does baptism seem to have such a limited effect on the people we baptize and on the church in general?
Part of the problem is a lack of formation. Of late, the church has not been spending nearly enough time alerting people to the gravity of the choice to be baptized. We have not underlined the seriousness of the obligation that parents, godparents and congregations assume alongside the baptized.
Another part of the problem is that, ironically, it is too safe to get baptized. In some parts of the country there is thinly veiled hostility to Christianity. But we don’t live in a part of the world where you can lose your life or suffer very much for getting baptized.
But probably the biggest problem is that we live in a materialistic culture, that treats spiritual concerns as “less real” than other concerns and, therefore, as less important. Faith commitments, baptism, and involvement in the life of the church becomes little more than a talisman. A protective measure we take, just in case spiritual choices are “more real” than we assume they are.
In the meantime, other priorities govern their lives: building careers, amassing money. All in order to send their children to good schools where they can be taught to repeat the cycle. I say this, not to single anyone out or to denigrate those goals but to prompt us all to ask whether our baptisms occupy the place in our lives that they should.
In the meantime, I’ve been trying to imagine what kind of argument might be made that brings the importance of baptism home to people. And onn the one hand, it seems to me that it ought to be obvious just how important it should be.
If we really believe what we say about our faith, then our baptism ought to be fundamental to the way that we live and our baptismal vows ought to guide our commitments. If we believe that baptism is the beginning of our spiritual journey, then it ought to be a point of departure for the rest of our lives. And if – in our baptism – we enter the life of Christ, then that ought to be defining for the way in which we understand ourselves.
But thinking back on my interest in World War II, I realize that there is no argument that is necessarily decisive. Even in the face of broken treaties and advancing lines of Panzer tanks, in the early days of the war there were those who didn’t want to believe that Nazism was evil. They had been so traumatized by the losses of World War I that they could not see the reality in front of them.
They wrapped layers of rationalization to explain Hitler’s behavior. They resisted the conclusion that that war was necessary, even when it was already under way. They believed that the United Kingdom could negotiate with Hitler and make peace with the concessions he forced on them. And they tried it all, because they didn’t want to change the way that they were living. Logic didn’t matter, nor did the evidence.
It may seem strange to you for me to say this: But our situation is the same as it applies to the spiritual challenge presented by our baptism. The relative comfort of suburban life, our relative security, and our cultural scripts makes it easy to assume that there is no spiritual battle for the souls of our children or for the souls of our neighbors. It is easy to resist the notion that there is reason to be so serious about our faith.
But let me suggest that until you choose to take your baptism seriously, you won’t understand how truly important it really is: How much meaning it can give to your life. How much purpose it can give you. How it will inform your view of your neighbor, your world, your existence.
My prayer for you this day is that your baptism will assume a deep and formative place in your life. There is much at stake. May you choose to let your baptism to do its work in your life.
Amen.
Photo by Julia Michelle on Unsplash