Even

He'd listened to the message attentively enough to have a question for me afterward. That always does my heart some good.

His question?

"Do you mean that even I can get baptized?"

Yes. That was the heart of the message. God loves all of us, offers forgiveness to all of us, and invites us all to the waters of baptism in sacramental relationship with Him. Through it he could fully become a member of the church.

That was a question that my middle-class self had never really pondered.

Even I?

I come from a world where opportunity abounds. I come from a world where inclusion is expected to the point of it being my right to belong. In my world I expect to have a variety of choices of groups who all would (or should) want me to be a member.

And in my world sin seems to have limitations. We describe our sinful state with terms like "issues" or "things I struggle with" or "personal weaknesses." Our past behaviors are referred to "youthful indiscretions" or "lapses in judgment." If many people like me are enmeshed in a particular sin, ranging from racism to "fudging" on our taxes, we say something like "that's just how things are" or "that's what everyone does."

My middle class world also has the resources to cover up or deal with our oft unnamed sin. We have financial resources that pay for rehab or cut a child support check each month. We have educational and emotional and family resources that help us navigate through sin-induced crises. We have social resources with polite company that help keep skeletons safely in our closets.

But he didn't have any of these things. His sin, both by nature and actions, had been lived out publicly. They had cost him dearly. There was no glossing over them and no one to pick up the pieces. He bore the scars and carried the stigma of his sin.

Plus, his was not a world full of opportunity. It was a world where exclusion was the norm and any hopes of inclusion had been dead so long that he didn't really remember that that even existed. He never felt that any group had ever wanted him to be a member.

So to be invited, to be welcome, to be included was radical. The hope of forgiveness was true liberation.

This makes me wonder how even I could have been baptized. With my privileged birthright and social safety net, with help in the waiting for my next crisis and my (if I were willing to admit them) skeletons in my closet, could I have even begun to grasp the magnitude of this sacrament?

Even I?

If I were attentive to my own and my social class's sinfulness, might I be more able to fully engage in the radical liberation of the Christ?

That would really do my heart some good.

Lord, free me from the things that keep me captive.