Margaret's Bench -- May 2007
This month is the 10-year anniversary of my
confirmation in the Episcopal Church.
I had affirmed my baptismal vows once before, in the
Evangelical United Brethren Church, when I was about 12 years
old. Then a few years later, I took it back. I wrote a letter
saying I’d been too young at the time of my confirmation to
responsibly vow to follow Jesus as my Savior and Lord, and I
rescinded that vow. I addressed the letter to our family
church’s minister and board of trustees, dropped it in a mail
box, and didn’t expect to hear any more about the matter.
Which shows just how clueless I was about how church works. Both
my parents attended the next board meeting and were stunned
when my letter was read out loud to everyone present. At home
afterward they let me know just how
bad the shock had been.
Nevertheless, from my standpoint I was now unconfirmed.
So after hooking up with the Episcopal Church in my middle
years, I decided to take the adult Confirmation class offered at
St. Paul’s, and then to follow through and affirm my baptismal
vows with the rest of the class.
Some church folks say that it wasn’t necessary or even possible
for me to be confirmed a second time, because the rite of
Confirmation is a sacrament. Once it happens, it’s happened, and
that’s it. I might have wanted to take it back, but I didn’t,
‘cause I couldn’t.
I respectfully disagree. Baptism is a physical act that can’t be
undone, a sacrament that can’t be taken back. But affirming my
baptismal vows is a choice. A particular confirmation may well
be sacramental. The second time I did it, it certainly felt that
way to me. But I don’t see that getting a 12-year-old to say she
believes in the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the
life everlasting puts her in a state that she can’t rectify when
she’s 17, and then rectify again when she’s 46, if she so
chooses.
My second confirmation didn’t pass without incident. Ten years
ago, my parish of St. Paul's didn’t have a space big enough for the whole
congregation to be present at one service. So our rector at the
time, Jim Phinney, arranged for the service to be held at the
local Roman Catholic church. It seemed like a nice, friendly
ecumenical gesture on both sides.
Then a few members of the Catholic parish found out that my
confirmation class included two lapsed Catholics who were being
“received” into the Episcopal Church. (They’d each been
confirmed in the Catholic church when they were kids, just like
I was in the E.U.B. church. Since the Episcopal Church
recognizes Catholic confirmation, they were being received
rather than confirmed. I would have been received too if I’d
seen my earlier confirmation as valid.)
The Catholic parishioners protested to their priest about giving
shelter and sanction to this “apostasy” and even floated the
idea of walking a picket line outside their church before and
after the service. So, at the last minute, Jim called around and
switched us to the local Lutheran church. The Lutherans had no
problem with what we were doing.
Confirmations are conducted by bishops. Shortly before our
service, the members of my confirmation class met with Bishop
Vincent Warner, who had traveled to Port Townsend from the
diocesan seat in Seattle. Bishop Warner asked each of us why we
were there and what we thought we were doing. I explained about
being raised in the E.U.B. church, leaving church, then
returning when I felt an emptiness in my life that, surprisingly
enough, organized religion seemed to help me address. I told him
I was currently dividing my time between St. Paul’s Episcopal
parish and the local Unitarian Universalist fellowship. (First
and third Sundays Episcopal, second and fourth Unitarian.) He
thought that was an interesting approach and hoped it worked out
for me.
The two members of our class being received from the Roman
Catholic church talked about what their faith meant to them and
what drew them to practice that faith in the Episcopal Church.
Some tears were shed.
At the close of the meeting, Bishop Warner told us that he’d
soon be attending a gathering of one of the governing bodies of
the Episcopal church. Might have been the diocesan convention, I
don’t remember for sure. I do remember that the homosexuality
issue consumed agendas and tore apart the fabric of unity at
such meetings, even back then.
So I said to Bishop Warner, “May God go with you.” He looked
right back at me and said, “And also with you.”
It was a nice moment.
Jim joined us, and the bishop commented to him, “You have an
unusual class here.” Then we all moved toward the sanctuary of
the Lutheran church.
During the ten years since the nice moment with the bishop, my
attendance and activity in the church has waxed and waned and
waxed again. I haven’t had the urge to take back my confirmation
vows. If I did, it wouldn’t be by writing to the local parish
vestry, who, I now realize, has little or nothing to do with the
question. My relationship with God is between God and me, and
through the years we’ll say to each other whatever needs to be said.
-- Margaret
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