Holy Saturday

I am reaffirming my baptism at the Vigil tonight.  There are many, many reasons for wanting to do it particularly now. After cancer, every day is resurrection. I know that my actions within the homeless community claim my identity as a baptized person of God; I need to do it ritually, as well. And I’ve been wanting to do it since I came back to the church—before I thought of seminary; before I was sick. I’ve been going to the Catechumenate on Thursday nights, since I organize Thursday community dinners. (We feed homeless and church people, at the same tables, together.) I go because I enjoy the practice, and the conversation.

One of our priests mentioned reaffirmation a few weeks ago; she said that anyone could do it at any point. That was all the permission I needed. So I told her, wrote my name in the book, and here we are.

Because I’m reaffirming, I went to the Holy Saturday liturgy this morning.  I'd never been to one.  All of us candidates for anything (baptism, confirmation, reception, reaffirmation) were called up front for an Ephatha rite.  This same priest anointed each of us, may our ears and our mouths be opened.

She came to me... and put her fingers directly below my left ear, on my cancer scar.  It felt all sparkly. The nerves aren't normal from the surgery yet, and there was power in her touch. I knew she was saying, "May your ears be opened so you can hear the words of Jesus."  But all I could hear was, "Be transformed for the whole world."

I told her about it afterward.  She knows the cancer story, though I met her after it was done.  She knows why this touch was holy.  But that anointing wasn't her intention.  It was God's.

Amen.