Binding Words
Conversations and public examination; Contrarian Ides, and St. Patrick's and our confession
March has been full of important words.
In the last few weeks, beyond the normal juggle of the newborn, the preschooler-cum-private-school-wannabe, and the six older kids, we’ve had both day visitors and overnight visitors at our house. Hosting is something we enjoy, and while it takes some work, when you already have ten people in one house, adding more usually isn’t that big of a deal. For the whole purpose of visitors is, of course, to visit. To catch up and to chat, to share coffee or a quick soup for lunch, or maybe grilled pork chops and homemade coleslaw for supper. But mainly, it’s the words.
When time allows, and when visits are longer, visits sometimes contain deep, soul-revealing exchanges. Mostly, the gift is in the physical and aural togetherness, a rebinding of good company in the present, in time, so relationships mellow and gold with Christ’s Truth at their cores. Our words can further tie us together in the ways that matter. Thankfully, I don’t mean like the Ides of March yesterday, which was—erm—a different kind of camaraderie.
So our recent experiences, unlike that of Julius Caesar on March 15, have been joyful and fulfilling in the ways that we need. God made us for each other, and He gave us words, and so it follows that both together can make for deep wells of heart bounty. This last week, we savored an awesome time with family from far away. It was wonderful: cousin time whispering in the dark before sleep, shouting in the yard during made-up games, laughing in the van between excursions. And Jon and I both had precious time with my brother, who is extremely well-read, thoughtful, pious, self-deprecating, hilarious, and generally amazing (you have to be, to have actual, sincere fun running around with anywhere from three to eleven kids at a time).
I also enjoyed conversations of a different kind over the last few days. Sort of by accident, I had three—yes, three—deep and intellectual conversations over the phone with three different women. All are wise and knowledgeable, and they were caring and deliberate about the subjects we covered. We talked about IVF (in vitro fertilization), classical education and Charlotte Mason, the varied and complex social dynamics and moral positions at play in certain groups, and many other sundry topics. I appreciated their valuable time, as well as their conscientiousness about others as they articulated truths with Christian virtue and love.
Which brings me to today and this morning’s public examination.
Before young people are confirmed at our church, which takes place on Palm Sunday, they undergo two years of study with the pastor and parents, grandparents, or other loving adults in their lives who attend confirmation class with them. At our church, Pastor Olson (that’s Jon, for those who don’t know) gives the second-years 140 questions and their answers to study before the public examination. Yes, that’s 1-4-zero, not a typo. Public examination usually happens on a Saturday morning a week before Palm Sunday. This year, our oldest daughter and one other young man were the entirety of their class, so they had to really know the answers. Next year’s class has about ten kids in it, so in theory, they’ll have a bit more wiggle room in terms of having to have the 140 down cold.
The answers echo Luther’s Small Catechism, covering topics like baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and the Office of the Keys. Others go into important subjects that these young people will invariably encounter that codify who they are as human beings made in the image of God—things like sexuality and marriage. A lot of them, naturally, cover sin, repentance, and forgiveness, which the confirmands must understand to be ready to publicly make a confession before our congregation and before God.
Because that’s what confirmation is: a confession meant to last a lifetime. Binding words.
As I thought about all of the words that have been shared under our roof and elsewhere nearby these last weeks, the recent visits, the phone calls, the long hours of study, I realized how crucial ongoing conversations are to a life lived in faith. Memorizing Bible verses, the six chief parts of Luther’s catechism and their meanings, as well as other important words, from hymn verses to poetry, help us do this. They give us the words that remind us, over and over again, of the Truth we never want to forget. And talks with other people, whether relatives or friends of all kinds, also give us the opportunity to share words that mean literally everything to us. We need community to gird us along, as from exile home we are wending, back to and toward Christ.
It is a sort of extrovert writer’s dilemma, too, this wanting and needing spiritually nourishing conversation. It fills my tank, certainly. It also takes up time, which is as it should be. That also means I have less time to do what I’m doing now, which is writing out my thoughts. But the time I spend in real exchange, in hearing words that retie me to Christ, and in sharing them myself, is vital to me. And the time and words are vital to this Substack, too.
Tomorrow is Judica Sunday, in which we say Psalm 43, and pray to God in our time of trouble. We actually are asking God to be our judge, which presupposes words said against and for us. For judges need words, prosecutorial and accusing as well as defensive, in order for a definitive outcome. They render judgments, and we seek that which God has promised to us in Christ, namely His full justification for us. “Examine us,” we are saying, “O great Examiner who saves us.”
Tomorrow is also St. Patrick’s Day, where we commemorate the famous saint who penned the mighty words, “I bind unto myself this day/ the strong name of the Trinity.” St. Patrick confessed Christ, the Word made flesh. We confess Christ, too. For this Word has been written upon us in our baptisms, and tomorrow morning we will confess it with our children, who are just beginning to take these binding words to heart. We will receive the Word in our mouths. In the afternoon, we will share other words and sustenance with friends in the afternoon, sharing stories and our seasonal favorites, corned beef and cabbage and Irish soda bread.
And we pray that the Word will keep giving us binding words to live on and to go on, that we may keep confessing as we converse, and converse as we confess.
