20/365 Lazy River

Ok.

Our church was built in the early 20th century. At that point in history, baptisms were not especially public events. They didn't happen during mass, for instance. The Utah Vestibule was the baptistry, with a simple marble font watched over by cherub faces and a stained glass window of the baptism of Christ in the Jordan.

At some point in history, this font was moved to the front of church into the sanctuary. Then baptism became a public event, more at the heart of things than at the beginning (in the entryway).

I was baptized in a similar font--although 1970s groovier by far down in South County in a church with interior brick walls and chunky stained glass. My brother and one sister were baptized in the same place. My last sister, in 1985, in a similar small font at St. Bernadette's.

By the time I was having babies, our church had established this odd sort of hot tub fountain thing on wheels in the back of church. I cannot describe it more than that, really. It was paneled on the sides, there was a step up, dying plants adorned it, and the water was pumped up through a fountain to create the sound of running water at all times. That, I think, was the positive to this font. Nothing else. It was cumbersome, imposing, ugly, and awkward. Kind of like a guy named Bubba you don't want your daughter to date.

But my first two children were baptized there because that's what we had. I wasn't going to search around for someplace pretty. This was my parish.

In the general overhaul in the past few years, this font went away. Far away. We started using the small font up in front with the hope that someday we would be able to create a more appropriate one in the back (entrance area but still in the main part of church).

Three years ago, we had two adults who were going to be brought into the church at the Easter Vigil. The font in front was designed for infant baptism. We needed a new plan. We did not have the thousands of dollars required to build what had been recommended by the ad hoc committee on church redesign. But having Kevin, at over 6 feet tall, bend over that font to be baptized would have been ridiculous. So we improvised. We built a font in back out of a pond liner, stones surrounding it, and lots of plants. Lots. And it worked well for us.

Last Easter, we did the same. No adults coming into the church, but plenty of baby boys, including Leo. We baptized him there on Pentecost Sunday, Fr. Miguel splashing maybe a bit too much water in his face on that third go-round.

Lent is coming--and Easter of course after that. Easter water in a font in back? At coffee this morning Astrid asked about Worship Commission. I said I'd be going because we were going to talk about Lent and Easter. "Are we putting in that temporary font again?" she asked.

"Probably," I venture to guess.

She goes on to describe it to the other women at coffee. Astrid hates our temporary font. I believe she'd be fine with it if it were permanent instead of sort of makeshift. She has railed against it in the past and I'm sure she will again. She's not the only one. And in some ways I agree--when we used molded concrete bricks around it, it was, well, makeshift. But this past year we used cut stone and I liked it just fine. Of course what I want is a permanent one. But we have no money...

"And at that church in Kirkwood," she goes on to describe another church with a permanent font in back, "it's like a lazy river. Maeve would want to get in it and float down to the pool. That's not what we're going to do, is it?"

I assured her there would be no lazy river in the back of church.