Symbols of Grace

By Caitlin

As a seminary intern one of my main job descriptions is that every week I have to splash around in a bowl of water…in front of the whole congregation. I work at a church in which it is a weekly practice for one of the leaders (usually me) to walk over to the baptismal font, cup my hands full of water and hold them out splashing water onto the rug and the wooden floor as I proclaim God’s forgiveness. I have gotten used to the fact that it is okay to make a mess (although I always worry a bit about the wood floor) and that I never know before hand whether the water will have been drawn from the hot of cold faucet. I have even gotten used to having damp hands as I pass the peace immediately following this ritual. It is a great part of the service; we remember the forgiveness and grace of our baptisms every single week.

But the past few weeks it has started to feel a little constraining. I like to pick a scripture passage to recite as I splash. Proclaiming forgiveness feels to me like it calls for official sounding words-- big scripture words not little Caitlin words. But… I am running out of passages that include references to water. That is okay of course; the water is the reference to water. My words just need to proclaim forgiveness; the water speaks for itself as a symbol.

But it is now the season of epiphany and every week I am struck over and over with the image of light in the scripture verse I am coming across. Christ is the light of the world, God makes Israel a light to the nations, we are like people who have walked in darkness but have seen a great light, the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it. You get the idea. And I find myself wishing that for a few weeks I could use light as my symbol of forgiveness instead of water to match with our scripture readings during this time of year.

I imagine us confessing in darkness, and then the acolyte comes forward bringing the light of Christ and lights the candle as I speak the words of scripture. And then when I turn to the people to say, “Friends believe the good news of the gospel” and they respond, “In Jesus Christ we are forgiven!” the lights would fill the sanctuary and we would be bathed in the light of forgiveness, the light of God come into the world—since that is what epiphany is about after all.

But that wouldn’t work; it only works in my imagination. The sanctuary of the church where I work is mostly naturally lit and at it’s brightest is still pretty dim. Flicking the switch on our lights would be pretty anticlimactic. Maybe if we had curtains that we could suddenly draw back we could get the effect I imagine, but we don’t. And to be honest, my splashing in a bowl of water is pretty anticlimactic in terms of imagining justice rolling down like waters and righteousness like a never-ending stream. I find myself wishing I could pour the water and just keep pouring until the bowl overflows and the water gushed over the rim and turns into a tidal wave of forgiveness. That wouldn’t work either, a handful of water on the floor is fine, but imagine how big a jug of water I would have to pour to get that effect! I would need to start lifting weights.

So I guess what I am saying is I am feeling a little disappointed with my ability to convey God’s forgiveness. I know this is totally absurd. But it frustrates me that there is no symbol that is big enough to actually get at the magnitude of God’s grace, and I wish there were. Maybe I am saying I wish I were a Baptist and I could dunk someone all the way under and watch the water run down their face as I proclaim God’s forgiveness. Of course I could do that-- there is no rule implying that Presbyterians should only sprinkle water! But even full immersion is not enough. Physical symbols of grace just can’t do it justice, but I sometimes wish they could.