Tradition

Often, I think we mistake the word "traditional" for "stuffy" or "conservative." In some contexts these other words may be synonymous or even more accurate. However, recently, I have been considering what "traditional" worship is.

At the root of the word "traditional" is "tradition." This, I believe, gives a lot of insight to traditional worship. I also think it explains why, as of late, I long for "traditional" worship.

Traditional worship is singing songs that connect you with other Christians, generally, and (in the case of my church) Lutherans, specifically. It connects you with the community of saints past and present (and hopefully future!) who have sung, sing, and will sing the same songs. It binds you together in a way that, I think, is often overlooked.

Traditional worship is reciting a creed--words carefully chosen 1500 years ago to explain core Christian beliefs. When we recite the creeds we are joined together, once again, with Christians reciting the same words today and those who have said them in the past. We are connected to early church theologians who were seeking to articulate the faith and defend it against heresy. To me, saying the creeds provides a bridge that spans centuries, geographical locations, and denominational differences.

Traditional worship is observing the Lord's Supper--eating the bread and drinking the wine together as a community along with churches worldwide who are also coming to the table. Additionally, when we eat and drink we are participating in the meal Jesus shared with his disciples, thus connecting us to Christ and his earliest followers.

Traditional worship is baptizing babies and/or new believers and remembering our baptism. Recently, I was given the opportunity to remember my baptism, along with everyone else in the congregation. Together, we dipped our hand in the water, made the sign of the cross, and remembered that God chose us and together, we have been baptized into the same community.

So, traditional worship is not so much about singing the right song to the right instrumental arrangement as it is singing the songs, reciting the creeds, uttering the psalm, etc. that connect us to other Christians around the globe and to the "great cloud of witnesses" that have come before us.

I think this is what draws me to traditional worship these days--wanting to be part of something larger than the 250 people who come to the service I attend, something that extends beyond the hip worship tune written in 2001. I want to participate in the traditions of the faith, as I experience what it means to be both Christian and Lutheran.

Baptism

"Child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever." Those words stuck with me from my baptism.

Unlike most Lutherans, I was not baptized as a baby. My former denomination was not opposed to infant baptism, but the more common practice was to dedicate infants--the parents and the church community would vow to raise the baby in the faith and to walk with them, spiritually.

Typically, you were baptized once you were old enough to make the choice. My particular church would hold one or two baptism services a year in which all of those interested were baptized. The procedure usually went something like this: the person would give her personal testimony, the pastor would then give a trinitarian baptism pronouncement, and then the person would be fully immersed in what resembled a bathtub. Then, afterwards, you were expected to cry and talk about how different you felt. Seriously, people talked about how different they were within the second they went into the water and were raised. The concept sounds good. There is a sense of appeal to literally being "raised to new life." However, there's a lot hinging on the moment. What if I didn't feel new?

Since baptisms rarely took place in my church, there was never a real urge, on my part, for it to happen. Plus, the whole thing made me a bit shy. I wasn't a fan of getting up in front of the church and have a spectacle made of me, a spectacle which warranted a public testimony and an emotional response. It just never seemed important to me, and why should it have? It was something that took place, out of duty, a couple of times each year. The church didn't reflect the importance of baptism in its infrequent practice.

By the time I got to college and began to reflect on baptism, I knew that my local church was not the church in which I wanted to be baptized. There was a lot of brokenness and betrayal there, and I didn't want to give them the "privilege" of sharing in that moment with me. So, time went on and I remained unbaptized.

Once I started my doctoral program, I was somewhat embarrassed to admit to my advisor, an anabaptist, that I was not baptized. I think she was a bit surprised, since I had grown up in the church, but she said it was up to me to figure out my theology of baptism.

When I started going to my first Lutheran church, communion was offered to all who were baptized. I understand that that qualification is likely meant to be one of inclusivity--all Christians, regardless of denomination, were invited to the table. However, I had not been baptized, so each week, I went forward for the blessing rather than the body and the blood. I knew I wanted to be baptized; it was just a matter of timing.

My current church is the one in which I was baptized. On the same day I became a member of that ELCA congregation, I was also baptized. My small group members were my sponsors. The date was also memorable for me, as it was the 100 "birthday" of the Church of the Nazarene. Nazarenes all over the world were celebrating that Sunday, and it was on that day I was making my official exit from the denomination in which I had been raised and with which I had grown weary.

Perhaps most notable to me were the words the pastor used--that I had been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked by the cross of Christ....forever. I am not sure to what "forever" is intended to refer. But to me, it meant I was sealed by the Holy Spirit forever and marked by the cross of Christ forever. To me, who grew up fearing losing my salvation because of something I had done, those were words of promise--promise of what had been done for me in Christ.

I recall reading my baptism program to my mom who was unable to make it. I know she was skeptical regarding being eternally sealed by the Holy Spirit and eternally marked by the cross of Christ. It probably made her a little nervous, as she--like me--has spent most of her life in a church that requires so much from her.

I, on the other hand, find it to be a relief that Christ has taken care of the hard stuff and because the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, and my participation in that through baptism, the pressure is not all on me!