The Weapon of the Church Militant
Baptisms are a sweet spot in the Venn diagram of things that my family loves: sacraments, babies, Chrism Oil, opportunity for connection, celebration, well-done liturgy, and fashion choices. When we sit down in the pew on Sunday and see a baby dressed in white, we know it’s gonna be a good Mass.
Babies can do no wrong during a baptism. The ones who coo and smile win every heart. So do the ones who scowl and howl at the shock of the water. And so do the hungry, the tired, and the sleepy. We don’t care in that moment what the baby does – we welcome the baby, just as he is, into the bosom of the Church.
We baptize babies and we rejoice in new life.
We don’t usually look at a baby in their white garment and think, “This baptism is to bring about a death in you.” But it’s true. Death of original sin is the seed out of which, miraculously and mysteriously, new life will grow. God defeats the rot and produces eternal life.
So, we’re also witnessing a death, but we often tiptoe around that. No one wants to take up the role of Maleficent in a child’s life, the harbinger of doom. Although baptism isn’t the mortal death of the child, we don’t want to bring up any connection with death during the celebration. It’s like being the kid who pops all the balloons at the birthday party.
But mortal death will happen. All of us will die; we have the Hallowtide season every year to contemplate memento mori (remember, you will die). Baptism is closely linked to death of original sin and our physical death.
The waters of baptism cleanse, heal, and offer us the thirst-quenching living faith of the Spirit. Since the beginning of time, the waters have also been God’s natural and supernatural weapon of destruction.
Imagine us gathering at the baptismal font, saying in celebration, “We praise the destruction God brings to you through these waters!” And yet, we could. We here on earth are the Church Militant and our key weapon is baptism.
Liberal republicans that we are (in the sense of living in a free republic), we’re constitutionally suspicious of a militant church. It smacks of a time in history when kings bowed to a pope who demanded obedience in spiritual and political matters.
But baptism cleaves us from Death through death and ultimately places us beyond Death’s authority. Unless we acknowledge that, we’re shying away from wielding our weapon.
I grant you, it’s harder to see baptism as a weapon with the babies. They’re so adorable. It’s ridiculous and off-putting to suggest holding them up over the font while shouting, “Death to the sin within you!” However, the rite contains intercessory prayers asking for Jesus to eradicate death and sin within the baptized person. We already say what needs to be said. We just need to hear it for what it is: a prayerful weapon.
I remember during my own OCIA process (then it was RCIA) being a little jealous of the unbaptized catechumens at the end of our Lenten retreat. While the rest of us baptized candidates had to stay and go through our first confession, they were dismissed. I sat there, preparing to make a good confession for the first time, terrified I’d leave out something grave that I needed to vocally confess, and watched my unbaptized classmates skip out the door. Their upcoming baptism would remove every sin they’d ever committed no matter what. They’d never have to confess those sins. Not that I’m bitter. (Really, truly, now I’m not bitter.) In that moment, as I felt the weight and depravity of my sins and my uncertainty about confessing well, I thought, “That water is some powerful stuff.”
From 2014-2019, I had the privilege of sponsoring a woman into the Church every year, getting to know her through the OCIA process, and standing behind her during her sacraments of initiation. I have the great honor of calling three of these adult women my goddaughters. During a year of accompaniment, I’ve listened to their hopes for a life of faith and, on Easter Vigil, I’ve squeezed their hands as they waited anxiously for their turn to let all that sin die in the water.
As I’ve stood close to baptismal fonts Vigil after Vigil, singing litanies to the saints, soothing jittering nerves, and watching water glow in the light of the Paschal candle, I thought the experience was affecting because these adults had the opportunity through baptism to have their personal sins forgiven. I thought it was simply the appeal of an unusual night.
But it’s so much more.
St. Antoine Daniel, one of the eight North American Martyrs, died in 1647 as he ran among the Huron people he loved baptizing them during an attack by the Iroquois. Rather than trying to escape, he soaked rags in water and sped into the heart of the danger to squeeze the water over the heads of the catechumens and pronounce the words of baptism. Christ’s people, through Antione, would live or die in a state of grace. Antione was pierced by arrows and burned alive in his church for the glory of Christ’s baptism.
While torturing St. Jean de Brébeuf, another of the North American Martyrs, the Iroquois poured boiling water over his head. One of the many agonies he endured, the Iroquois picked this mockery of baptism to break Jean’s quiet resolve. But Jean didn’t cry out in pain, not once. Instead, he encouraged his fellow captives to die as Christians who remembered the true baptism they had received. The ridicule only enlivened the graces of his baptism and enabled him to die resolute in life to come.
Antonie Daniel and Jean de Brébeuf died for baptism because it had already destroyed the original sin and mortal death within them. Baptism gave them eternal life and the grace to express that life. Baptism was their chosen weapon in actual battle. It didn’t matter the storm. It didn’t matter the terror. The weapon is stronger than any struggle.
What I saw at those Easter Vigils of my goddaughters, what’s present at every Easter Vigil, is the mighty weapon of baptismal grace writ large through water. The unbaptized come to the Church with all their sins. They watch the water before their baptism with proper and holy fear. Through baptism, they experience a flood in their lives which will wash away all that isn’t worthy of Jesus and give them a new life. Adults come to baptism ready for Christ’s sword to tear away the rot within them.
We, the baptized, have received the effects of that same watery weapon and authority to wield it as we can. Every baby, every adult. God created and corralled the waters. The storms obey Him. The gentle way the baptismal water cascades over a head – imagine crashing waves, with all their power and glory, destroying death forever.
Readings for the Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) on the USCCB Website