Dedication

“It takes a community to raise a child.” I believe it. But then I begin to wonder when we stop being a child. Is it when we move out? When we first have sex? How about when we turn 18 or when we get our first job? Maybe it’s when we have a child of our own. Christ says we should never stop being like a child. Perhaps we never do.

Something tells me it "takes a community" for a lot longer than we think.

Tomorrow morning I’m going to a Baby Dedication. My pants are hot out of the dryer, and while they’re a little ratty around the edges, they are the nicest “comfortable pants” I have. I’ve already fussed about the possible wrinkles in the shirt I would like to wear. I don’t know exactly what to expect, but as a general rule, I try to look nice when I go to a church. It’s not a fear of God thing, just politeness. You take off your hat when you enter a house, even if no one’s home.

A Baby Dedication. My mind wandered and wondered (as it usually does with ceremonies, traditions, and celebrations), and I realized how little I knew about the event. Are we dedicating the baby, like we’d dedicate a book or an award? Seems awfully objectifying. Upon re-reading the invitation I learned that it’s more of a dedication to the child, not of the child. The parents are dedicating themselves to raising the child with strong and proper Christian values, in front of the glory of God, and asking Him to dedicate His own watchful eye to the raising of the kid. That makes a lot more sense.

It’s also a lot more endearing. Any ceremony that calls forth a public display of unity for the sake of a person’s well-being is okay in my books. And I can’t think of a better reason to celebrate. What we dedicate our lives to is more than just a passing fancy: alongside ceremonious oaths, it is the very motivation of our being.

But then it seems to be a prickly thing; the very word “dedication” inspires a sense of drudgery and duty. Dedication is the thing that involves a lot of work and effort. Toil and trouble. On the surface, it sounds exactly like being trapped.

But I have a friend who has these goofy baby pictures... her child in oversized traveller’s hats and outrageous scholarly glasses. As I look at them, I’m reminded of the power that’s found (and expressed!) in dedication. When we dedicate ourselves to pursuits and passions, we empower ourselves to take on more than we did before. In doing so, we become more than we were.

We have the opportunity to dedicate ourselves to whatever we’d like: the moral or immoral, pleasure or prudence, the meaningful or the relative. We can become artists, dedicated to a pursuit of the aesthetic. We can become scholars, dedicated to a pursuit of some knowledge. And, in the case of my two friends tomorrow, we can be parents, dedicating ourselves to the raising of a child.

We do not become Christians by going to church, but by dedicating ourselves to the teachings, glory and leadership of Christ.

Living takes dedication. It’s sometimes easy to believe that, when we don’t dedicate ourselves to something with a grandiose label, we aren’t living at all. Recently, I have dedicated myself to playing through old video games. Not a world changing pastime. And as I see my friends buy houses and have children, I wonder if I have let myself slip. A friend, over breakfast, suggests the same about his life, using the opening words “I wish...” and I begin to hear the most common North American sonata in our tones.

But we should remember 2 facts. The first is that no dedication is without its value. Dedications are multi-faceted, and can span over years. They can become hidden, latent or docile. The same one can also take many different forms over different experiences. A father provides, for example, but will provide in many different ways over the course of his child’s life.

The second is that we, too, are children. We can always put on a goofy traveller’s hat.

And so, as I stand folding tomorrow’s shirt, thinking over what I have to offer in private dedication tomorrow to a child that won’t understand what I’m saying, before a God I don’t think exists... an old, familiar, personal dedication creeps into my brain and reminds me that it is still there.

Truth.

Let it sound however it might to your ears. To mine it has all the enchantment, foundation and excitement of real value. It is an anchor and an updraft. My rock and my cloud. It is something of ultimate importance to me, that helps me to define who I am and elevate my self into something more.

Tomorrow, parents and family and friends dedicate themselves to a young child who is of ultimate importance to them. And, as he grows, I cannot wait to see what he will dedicate himself to.

- Z