POW!

By Adriane Dorr

My pastor slapped me on my confirmation day.

On the face.

During church.

I didn’t see it coming. After all, the last person you expect to haul off and smack you is your pastor. Your confirmation day is supposed to be special: a service, some “I do so intend with the help of God” stuff, a cake with too much frosting, and pictures. Quick, easy and painless.

And there most certainly isn’t slapping involved.

But there I was, standing in front of the church, my back to the congregation, wearing one of those goofy white robes with a gigantic red carnation on my shoulder. Embarrassing. I was a little out of my element. Plus, I had an audience. My whole family was there from grandmas to parents. The church was full. It was a big day. Nobody wanted to miss this.

So there I stood, nervously yet piously folding my hands, rolling over in my mind all the agony I’d gone through to get here, especially the part where Pastor sat my parents and me down in his office, opened the Small Catechism, and said to me, “Start reciting.”

I did. From the Ten Commandments to the Sacrament of the Altar, I rattled off the questions and their answers, Bible passages and their references. I had prepared for this. I knew my catechism.

When I was finished, he looked at his watch. “That might be the fastest anyone’s ever said the catechism.” I smiled to myself and thought, “Whew. Well, that’s over.” And that was that. The rest would surely be easy.

I heard it before I felt it. He didn’t just tap my cheek. I think it even echoed in the sanctuary, and if we had been in a movie, I’m pretty sure his hand would have moving dramatically in slow motion.

It stung. My cheek felt hot. I looked at him, shocked. I was speechless.

“Pax tecum,” he said. “Peace be with you.” I paid a lot more attention after that. It was Threat Level Orange. I was on heightened alert, just waiting for the minute when he’d sucker-punch me or kick out my knee cap. Peace? I’ll show you peace, man!

That fear helped me remember my confirmation vows, the ones that I said while watching him warily out of the corner of my eye. I confessed that I believed the Holy Scriptures are inspired and inerrant, that I would be faithful in going to church to receive the Lord’s body and blood, that I believed everything in the Apostles’ Creed, and that I would remain steadfast in my confession and would suffer all, even death, rather than fall away from it.With the knowledge that my pastor was now capable of slapping me, death seemed imminent anyway.

After church, my pastor walked up to me. “Did I startle you up there?” he asked.

Looking around for the protection of a baseball bat, I stuttered, “Uhh . . .“

“Did you hear me explain why I did that?” he asked.

“No.” I was too busy fearing for my life.

“That,” he began, “was the slap of peace.”

“Ha!” I interjected.

Thankfully for me, he’s a very patient man. I really liked my pastor, even if he did scare me in front of the entire congregation. “That slap is an ancient rite in the church,” he said. “Bishops slapped their confirmands as far back as the medieval era as a sign that they were ready to fight the good fight. You’ve been marked, Adriane, as one ready to defend the faith.”

“You do realize these are the 1990s, right, Pastor? Not the Crusades.”

“Satan hates confirmation,” he said seriously. “He’s furious that you’ve promised to suffer his worst rather than fall from away the faith. This is serious business. I didn’t slap you as a joke. I slapped you to remind you that you are a soldier in a very real war between good and evil, and the pain will be much worse than a little tap on your cheek. Your Baptism and confirmation will cost you: friendships, dreams, honor. But the Lord won’t let you be taken. You’re safe and secure. Our Lord has promised to protect you, and you hold Him to that promise. He is faithful. He will do it.”

“Oh,” I said again. Maybe he wasn’t going nuts after all.“So...my parents can’t sue you for child abuse then.”

“No, no,” he grinned. “I talked with them beforehand. They said you deserved it.”

“I do,” I retorted smugly. “I do deserve to be slapped, because I did take a vow today. I’m ready to suffer because...hey, is that my cake that little kid’s eating? Hey, you! Bring that back here!”

I was slapped on my confirmation day, and I’m okay with that. You may not have been, but you’re marked too. Your life as a baptized Lutheran will be difficult.You will suffer. But with that pain comes great joy, the peace that comes in knowing that God is faithful, that He has a good purpose for you, and that right now, at this very moment, He is fulfilling it on your behalf.

Adriane Dorr is a student at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, Indiana, and Managing Editor of Higher Things. E-mail her at adrianedorr@higherthings.org.