Baptized into a community of faith

One of my favorite things is to have a baby take my finger and hold on to it. A friend and first-time mom told me there is no greater feeling. I agree. There is an incredible tenderness there between new and innocent life with a somewhat seasoned and tested life. The baby simply trusts and holds on without any care or desire to let go, content at being grasped, held, cared for, loved and marveled at without knowing any of these thoughts. 

These feelings are heightened and profoundly intimate when the one grasping you is a niece or nephew, or for me now, a grandniece or nephew. I am overwhelmed contemplating another of God’s masterpieces and how automatically and unconditionally loved and accepted is this child years away from her need to prove herself or resume build. The delicate fingers, the soft skin, the searching for what it can grasp and in what it can be delighted, all treasured moments like none other.  Then, to thrill even further, she smiles in wonder and amazement. 

Baptism is that special sacrament when we as parents, godparents and church welcome this child into the faith. There are times when we will extend our finger for the baby to grasp, to assure him that all is fine. This is not the only touch. Immediately, we mark the baby’s forehead with the sign of the cross, offering him in thanksgiving to the God from whom he came and dedicating him to our shared life of faith. We touch the baby’s breast with the oil of catechumens, the oil of salvation, freeing him from the inherited stain of original sin, a sin of solidarity, much easier to explain at an older age than in infancy.

We bless the water in which she will be baptized, recalling the peak moments when God used water to touch the world: the Holy Spirit hovering over the waters of creation breathing life into the world, later separating the waters of the Red Sea to bring God’s people to safety, the water poured by the Baptist over Jesus who “humbled himself to share in our humanity, so that we may share in his divinity,” the water flowing from his side as he was pierced on the cross by the soldier on Mt. Calvary, the Mount of Lovers, and the subsequent mandate to use water to “baptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

Faithful to this command, we touch the water of the font and pray God’s blessing for this child who will be buried with Christ by a baptism into his death, to rise to new life with him. We touch her newborn life by our common profession of faith, recalling our own baptism and reaffirming this faith to enrich the baby’s life by example.

The mother or father (or godparent) holds his head, as we pour water or immerse him three times using the Trinitarian formula with which the child will sign himself thousands of times thereafter. 

The crown of the baby’s head is covered in the magnificent scent of chrism anointing her so she may remain in Christ, priest, prophet and king until eternal life. We touch his body with the white garment for he is a new creation, and we see that he remains in this dignity of a son or daughter of Christ by our prayers, guidance and example. 

Then, we give the family the lighted candle, exhorting the parents to make sure that this light is kept burning brightly so their loved one may always walk as a child of the light. 

Finally, we touch the baby’s ears and mouth, so she may hear the word of God and proclaim it boldly as a new child of God.

Then, the hard work begins — that of being faithful as parents, godparents, parishioners to ensure this child is raised in a life of grace, faith and love. It is an arduous task requiring constant attention as every parent knows. But this child is a gift entrusted to the parent and, though not easy at all, I cannot imagine a greater and more awesome vocation. This truly highlights our human dignity of being co-creators with God. Baptized into a community of faith, it is the responsibility of all of us to touch this child’s life by prayer and example. How blessed.

Now, we are living in a world devoid of touch, and I am not convinced many of us know how profoundly this impacts us. We desire to be touched, to be held and to be embraced. Like the baby, we feel the assurance of being recognized, cared for, and confident that others are with us on this journey. The need to keep distant prohibits the intimacy for which we long. It breaks our heart to see empty pews, touching loved ones through glass, and smiling at grandchildren virtually. I wonder if this loss of touch is making us colder.

As a nation, I have never seen us as unforgiving as we are now, judging everything in the past so definitively with knowledge that we have now that others lacked then. Those “feel good” stories aired at the end of news broadcasts maintain our hope for a better tomorrow.

Rightly so, now more than ever, we need to be vigilant about mask wearing, social distancing and hand washing. So, what to do with the loss we are all experiencing? Offer our finger to God. Let God grasp it and assure us of God’s presence most profoundly during these troubling times. Approach God taking off the mask that we try to hide from God and others. Come on, now, God knows us better than we know ourselves. As Saint Augustine notes, God is “closer to us than we are to ourselves.” 

Let God in to wash us away what separates us from God’s merciful, complete, total, life giving and absolutely awesome gift of unconditional love. It is here in the shadows of our life, those areas we try desperately to hide from others which we even hide from ourselves and leave unaddressed, unhealed and unforgiven, that God is most delicately and wonderfully present asking permission to love and to accept us whole and entire. Let God hold on to us. Let God shower down love and mercy, unmerited and undeserved, for this is who God is. Then, we can shout as did Saint Francis de Sales, Tenui Nec Dimittam, “I have taken hold and I will not let go.”

Father John J. Fisher, OSFS, is rector of the Parish of the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Camden.