Reflections on Life and Faith,
by David Keating

Anointing

January 19, 2008

Those who read this column regularly know that I don't talk about "churchy" stuff much. There are a couple of reasons for that. First, I'm one of the millions who are "more spiritual than religious" and I try to write as much for those who are outside traditional church as for those who are in one. I'm not as interested in church structures as I am in the faith that we share together and yet live individually.

Second, not long after this column started appearing in print, it was made known to me that there were those who wanted to ensure that my liberal inclusive views were not mistaken as something "they" were associated with. Since I totally agree with that view, I generally try to ensure that readers are aware that my reflections come from my personal relationship with God and not any particular institution (no, no, they're not in institutions, it just means organized religion). I have been in many places of worship of many descriptions and God has been present in all, whether the people there knew it or not.

But this week I'm going to break with that rule of thumb policy, at least partially. I hope that you will indulge me.

For those churches that follow the lectionary (a guideline of topics spread over a three year cycle) this past Sunday marked the baptism of Jesus. The little guy grew up pretty quick didn't he? Seems like only a couple of weeks ago that we had a birthday party for him.

In any case, in some churches this is one of the Sundays when folks can have their own little ones sprinkled or dunked. However, as it happened, there were no babies to do this to at the service I attended. Instead, the minister did something that, for me, was incredibly meaningful. I did not want to let it go unremarked.

She invited any, and made it very clear that "any" meant just that; no exclusions, no one discouraged from participating, to be "anointed." Now, just the use of that word will bring a funny look to the faces of many. I'm one of them. I'm not big on religious language, mostly because of the baggage it tends to carry. Every time I hear "anointed" I can't help but think of televangelists selling packets of olive oil to fix whatever ails ya - for just $29.95.

This wasn't like that. It was an expression of community in the most positive and uplifting sense of the word. It was an opportunity to connect with that Spirit that motivates all and of which we are all, without exception, a part.

As each person approached, they were greeted with a warm smile and were grasped by a hand damp from the water of the baptismal font. Although it was repeated many times, it wasn't a ritual. It was a sharing; I might even go so far as to call it an embrace. It was like the warm greeting that we use to meet a friend at the door when we are truly glad that they came by.

One of the problems with institutional churches is that they get caught up in institutional things. It's not intentional. It's done with the purest of motives. And it serves a purpose. The social work performed by churches wouldn't be possible without it. Sometimes, though always present, God tends to hang out in the background.

And then there are times when we are touched by the Holy. It might be in a sunset. It might be in some far off meditation.

And it might be in the warm, damp grasp of an anointed hand.