Happy (Re-)Birthday To Me

Tomorrow is my other birthday, my born-again birthday, the anniversary of my baptism 44 years ago. I was 11 days shy of my ninth birthday when my parents, my siblings and I were baptized. I have some clear memories of that event and some not-so-clear ones.

In our branch's building (now a stake center), the baptismal font was in the hallway outside the cultural hall. I think our baptismal service was held in the chapel (because I think I remember being confirmed there).

At the time, I had no idea how unusual it must have been to have a baptism of an entire family of six. We were introduced to the gospel by a family up the street. I went to school with one of their nine children, and he invited me to a Primary Halloween activity. (I chickened out on the activity when I realized my store-bought costume sans mask looked completely dorky next to his uber-cool pirate get up.) Fortunately for us, my friend invited me again, and I became a regular Primary attender. His sister invited my sister, and eventually his folks invited the six of us to join the 11 of them for a family night.

My mother, to be polite, invited the parents only to a quiet dinner at our home. They ate in the dining room (we kids were banished), and Brother and Sister S. invited my parents to hear the missionary lessons. My parents accepted. (Twice before my folks had been tracted out, but the missionaries did not return either time; we were far from any chapel, and maybe the elders didn’t have enough miles on their car to make the long trip to see us a second time.)

Over the next few months we took the lessons from Elder Kelly and Elder Gledhill (and once in a while a stake missionary or another full time elder on a split). Those were the flannel board discussion days; the lesson I remember was one in which Christ is show as the cornerstone with apostles, prophets, etc. added on. The flannel board display was contructed so that when the cornerstone was removed, the rest of the pieces fell off the board, as well.

I smile when I think about what the missionaries must have thought when – after several months of lessons -- my folks told them we were going away on vacation, driving from Pittsburgh to Idaho to see my dad’s parents and that we would call when we got back. They must have thought they had lost us forever. (I would have thought that as a missionary, for sure.) But we read the Book of Mormon in the car across the country.

We did return, and plans were made for the baptism. I remember practicing how to hold onto Elder Kelly and how to plug my nose at the same time. I remember asking the missionary in my baptismal interview what the O in David O. McKay stood for (he didn’t know; he said it probably didn’t stand for anything). I remember our baptismal night, though I don’t really remember standing in the water and actually being baptized, though I remember blue tile in the baptismal font (was it really blue?) and the excitement in the dressing room as each baptism was performed. I have a vague memory of being confirmed – surrounded by men with their hands on my wet hair.

As a boy I was thrilled to have been baptized. I loved being a member of the church then, and I do now. I had what I considered then (and still do) to be significant spiritual witnesses of gospel truth. I spoke freely about our family’s baptism with people I knew. Our family began immediately to be involved; Dad helped with scouts and became an assistant clerk; Mom taught Junior Sunday School. We prepared to be sealed in the Salt Lake Temple (which we were about ten and a half months later, with special permission to go early).

Happy (re-)birthday to me.

How do we mourn with those that mourn?

When Mormons are baptized, we enter into a covenant with God to keep His commandments and to remember the Savior. Part of what that covenant means is captured in some verses from the Book of Mormon: we should be "willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light; Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort" (Mosiah 18:8-9).

So aside from the rather obvious feeling sad at funerals for families who have lost loved ones, what does this passage really mean? Especially in our often self-reliant attitude, how do we bear one another's burdens? How do we comfort those who stand in need of comfort?

These questions came to mind as I read the third part of an interesting series on clinical depression over at the By Common Consent blog. Some of the commentary there points out that sometimes we are better at mourning and offering comfort when the need for it is in the past tense, and I wondered why that is.

I have some ideas of my own, and would be interested in your experience.

Sometimes when we see someone else in an emotionally difficult place, we turn away because we do not want to embarrass the person who is hurting.

Sometimes we simply do not know what to say.

Sometimes we believe that we are respecting a person's privacy by not intruding.

It is interesting to me that it often easier for us to offer help when someone is physically ill than when there is emotional pain or mental illness. I wonder if this distinction is cultural (and broader than our Mormon culture). In any case, I believe it is often easier for us to drop off a casserole than to lend a listening ear. And why not? For the giver, the dropping off a tangible show of support is much less risky than an offer to listen. (The offer to listen might be rejected; if the casserole is tossed into the garbage, we'll never know.) Offering a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear is also a much larger investment of time and emotional energy, beyond the risk of rejection – we don't know how long the support will be required, and we often don't know what to say.

In my limited experience, however, I can say this: Often we don't need to say anything. Often we just need to listen. And while it may be difficult to get someone to talk (especially men), if we can engage the person who needs support in an activity that would allow for conversation on the side (weeding the garden, knitting booties, tying quilts), it might make the conversation less forced. Just listening without solving anything is hard to do, and it's a skill worth learning when trying to comfort those who stand in need of comfort.

I have a friend who sometimes stops me, looks me in the eye and says, "How are you?" I know he doesn't mean "how's it going today?" He really wants an answer. Now if every acquaintance did that to me, I might be a little freaked out, but having this friend ask me sincerely from time to time is touching. And I know if I'm having a rough time, I can tell him.

As I said above, I'd be interested in your experience. How have you mourned with those that mourn? How has someone comforted you when you stood in need?

Ordinances

The Lord taught that the power of the priesthood is evident in the ordinances thereof (see D&C 84:21).

Priesthood is the power to perform ordinances, physical expressions of inner commitments that signal a covenant with the Lord. For latter-day saints, there are a number of crucial ordinances, including baptism and confirmation.

The age of baptism in the Mormon Church is eight. Children younger than eight, we're taught, are not accountable for their sins and therefore have no need of baptism. For those eight and over, and for converts to the church, baptism (by immersion) is the ordinance that signifies the entering in at the gate and embarking on the path back to God. I'll speak more about the significance of baptism in another post

Confirmation follows, in which hands are laid on the person's head and that person is confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and given the gift of the Holy Ghost.

These ordinances, performed by those who are ordained to do so, are the beginning of one's membership in the church. There are other ordinances that may be performed: ordination to the priesthood, blessing of the sick, blessings give for comfort, the naming and blessing of children, and perhaps the most regularly performed ordinance: the sacrament.

Sacrament in the LDS Church is the ordinance in which bread and water are taken as tokens of the body and blood of Christ, reminiscent of his action at the Last Supper. The sacrament prayers teach us that these emblems should remind us of the covenants we made at baptism, and the taking of the sacrament allows members to renew those covenants. As a result, with proper repentance, we can start fresh each week in our desire to do the Lord's will in our lives.

The ordinances of the gospel are a chance for us to connect ourselves by covenant to the Lord, to become His and to signal our willingness to walk in His path.

For me, some of my most spiritual moments of my life have been while I’ve been involved in ordinances of the gospel, either receiving them or performing them. Standing in the water with my children at their baptism has been a remarkable experience each time (my seventh was baptized last year). I have felt close to them and close to the Lord, and have wondered if I have caught a glimpse in those times about how He loves me.

- Paul