I know I just wrote one of these, but I've been promising a post about my confirmation, and I thought I'd better get that done before I start to forget the details.
It was a wonderful experience, and one I'll always remember. Angela emphasized that, from the church's perspective, I didn't need to do this to be part of the community, which I really appreciated. I wanted to do it because I felt that it was a way for me to enter this community, and also to recognize how my faith has grown and matured since I've been here. That's why I wanted to do it. And I'm so glad I did.
Just a quick note on what this is all about: If you're raised Anglican (which I wasn't), you get baptized (usually) as a baby. At this ceremony, your parents, godparents, and the church community make a commitment to raise you well and do their best to teach you about what they believe is true and important. There is also a belief among Anglicans that God is actually acting on the person in some way at the baptism. It's definitely not your "ticket to heaven," but it is a sacrament--"an external sign of an internal grace." God claims you during a human act of submission. Then, when you're older, you decide when you're ready to return the favor and make your own commitment to God, so you take a confirmation class to discuss what you're actually committing to, and then you get confirmed.
My upbringing was a little different. In the Baptist church, you get baptized when you're older, when it's your decision, like Jesus did when his cousin John, a rabbi, baptized him. We emphasize that it's not a magical ceremony, it's not the price of admission to heaven, and it doesn't change how much God likes you. It is like a wedding. When I was baptized at 13, I was saying that I was going to do my best to follow God for the rest of my life. We do it because we're told to. Jesus said it's good to be baptized, so we get baptized. So the "what happens" of baptism differs a little bit, but we agree that it's a good thing to do, it's important and a duty, and it's representative of becoming a follower of God. Baptists don't have confirmation because that public promise is at the core of our baptism ceremony.
So I had already made the promises involved in confirmation at my baptism. For me, Anglican confirmation was a way to learn about the tradition in which I now find myself, a way to join the community and participate fully, and also just a personal statement: a reiteration of commitments I made twelve years ago but continue to hold to.
Still with me? Excellent. The rest will be lighter. :) I'm going to give you a slightly irreverent account of some of the features, but be assured that at no point do I mean to be contemptuous or dismissive. Some of you who read this might not know me very well--I love finding whimsy in situations, including situations I think are meaningful and important. Please don't mistake my amusement for disrespect.
I showed up for rehearsal at Christ Church Cathedral on the afternoon of the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter. John, a priest at the cathedral and someone of whose I am a big fan (give me a second to recover from that disastrous game of grammatical Twister), asked me if I was ready, spiritually and otherwise, and I went off to the side to let the little butterflies of stage fright accumulate and gather speed. The Bishop of Oxford, who would be conducting the ceremony, wasn't actually there yet, so for a lot of the time John had to go through the program and say in effect for each item, "We're not going to rehearse this part now because the Bishop isn't here, and I don't know how he's going to do it, but it will be fine." Move on to the next item in the program, and: "We can't rehearse this part because the Bishop isn't here yet..." and repeat. So a lot of the rehearsal was us going through each thing in the program and not rehearsing it.
When the service started, it was of course before Easter, so we were observing that period of time when Jesus was dead. They constructed a somber atmosphere to reflect this, with each congregant holding a candle to dimly illuminate the otherwise dark and gloomy cathedral. The fire for the candles came from a little symbolic fire lit outside using some kind of scented wood that smelled really good.
As I learned only last week, the Anglican church celebrates the start of any particular festival at sunset on the previous day, so at a certain point in this service, it was suddenly officially EASTER. And boy did we know it. All at once, in the same sudden moment, the lights blazed on, the choir brought forth a fanfare, somebody in the back shook bells like he'd just stuck his finger in an electrical socket, a choir member whipped a pair of giant cymbals out of nowhere and crashed them together, and the organist--oh, the organist. It was like bam lights on PLAY SOME LOUD STUUUUUUUFFFFFFFFFF. I bet he looks forward to that moment all year. I would.
For the confirmation itself, each candidate was presented to the Bishop by the clergy member responsible for preparing him or her for confirmation. Angela Tilby, a canon at the cathedral, had given me my confirmation class, so she presented me to the Bishop when the time came. Then the great Bishwop himself asked the eight or so candidates a short list of questions, asking us to commit to a few basic ideas. Each of us went up to him individually to be confirmed after this. When I went up, he looked me in the eye and said, "Anna, God has called you by name and made you his own." He pressed both his hands onto the top of my head and prayed. I got a little slimy oil smeared on my forehead for good measure and returned to my seat an Anglican.
I was so grateful to be surrounded that night by good friends. It meant a lot to me to have them there.
This memory is on my mind today because this morning I had the privilege of going to the University Church to witness Rachel, a friend of mine from choir, being confirmed herself. The Bishop conducted her ceremony as well and gave a magnificent sermon based on two assertions: all this stuff only matters if it's true, and all this stuff only matters if it somehow makes you, your life, different.
