By Colleen Only
One autumn night in Manhattan, a year after joining our church, Brad attended a party and ran into his minister. He, his wife Jamie, Jimmy, and I were attending a gala event. We were there to support Worldwide Orphans Foundation and revel in luxury- a sea of black dresses and Brooks Brothers suits, marble, a Wedgewood dome, silver trays of Bellini's floating by, and Heidi Klum: In Real Life. It was the privileged indulging in decadence to help the impoverished. It's weird, but a proven way to raise funds, and God bless, they raised a lot.
After an hour of brie and champagne we all sat down to dine. Two other friends, Carmine and Meg, had purchased our table for ten. Katie Couric emceed the program, and Broadway performers sang live. But the night's real stars were the children who've been helped by WWO. We watched videos of them singing, laughing, and simply being kids - so happy, so tender, and so vulnerable. Each of them pierced my heart. We ended the evening with everyone singing, "This Little Light of Mine," a familiar spiritual many of us learned when we were kids. "This little light of mine," we promised abandoned children, "I'm gonna let it shine."
After the song, our night drew to a close. We all made our way to leave, when the Spirit of Norma descended like a dove and alighted on Jimmy. And Jimmy popped the question to Brad: "Why not do your baptism now?" (You're never safe from salvation when seated by the minister.) Brad accepted the proposal. Then, just as we were, our table of ten came to God.
We came without Jimmy's preaching robe, or printed liturgy. We came without formal profession. We came just as we were. We were tipsy and sober, female and male, gay and straight, Jewish, Christian, and Undeclared. We came. We stood at the table and witnessed our supper turn into sacrament.
Cake plates, coffee cups, and wine goblets lay scattered, a testament to our shared time. Jimmy's water glass became the baptismal font. We were gathered together, silent and still. Jimmy dipped his fingers and traced the sign of the cross. "Brad Miller," he said, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen." Then, just as he was, Brad was baptized.
Baptism at 55 Wall Street. He couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried. What holier a night than one aimed at saving children? What holier water than that shared with family and friends? What better symbol of the Kingdom of God than a party you don't want to end?
"Just as I am, thy love unknown
hath broken every barrier down;
now, to be thine, yea thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come."
Just as I am, Without One Plea
by Charlotte Elliott
