A New Baptistery

This is what you'll see if you attend church on Sunday. We are creating a permanent location for the baptismal font, at the entrance to the Cathedral. The platform and custom-made oak railings are in place. We're dedicating this space to give the sacrament of baptism the prominence it deserves. The materials and details will match those of the sanctuary, where we celebrate the other great sacrament, the Eucharist. The project is estimated to take 60 days.

Immediately after Easter 2023, construction will begin on a permanent baptistery -- the place where baptisms take place -- in the empty space at the back of the church where the movable baptismal font and the paschal candle now stand.

"The sacrament of baptism is unbelievably precious," Dean Morris said. "It deserves a permanent place that is as beautiful as the sanctuary, with its marble floor, the pink marble altar, and the beautifully detailed oak railing." The new baptistery will match the materials and details of the place where we celebrate the Eucharist.

Plans for a permanent baptismal site have been in the works since 2020, but the work was delayed by Covid and by construction limitations of the location. The baptistery has been designed by Bill Harvard, our parishioner and resident architect.

The location of the baptistery was once the site of a sound booth, which was removed several years ago. We will remove the last pew on the south (right) side. A raised platform, up one step, will be ringed by custom-made oak railings. The font will stand on a permanent marble pedestal. A movable ramp will be available to assist those for whom steps are difficult.

When we have a baptism, after the sermon the family and sponsors and the candidate will process from the front of the church -- the east, symbolizing light -- to the back, the darker west. After the baptism they will return to the front.

"We enter the church through baptism," Dean Morris said, "so it's very appropriate that the permanent site of the baptistery be at the literal entrance to the worship space."

The movable font on casters, parked in a dark corner of the cathedral with old vinyl tile and worn carpet, sends the incorrect message that baptism is a lesser sacrament not worthy of the best we have to offer, the dean said.

The work should be completed in 60 days. Cost of the work has been covered by a generous donation from a parishioner.

A series by The Rev. Canon Dr. Thomas Williams

What We Do in Baptism, Part 1: Getting from Here to There

In my last three articles, I talked about what we say in baptism: the renunciations and affirmations, the Baptismal Covenant (with particular emphasis on the Apostles' Creed), and the Thanksgiving over the Water. In this and the next article, I turn to what we do, and how we might make what we do a better expression of both our theology of baptism and the words of our liturgy.

Apart from the actual act of baptizing, the most obvious thing we have to do is get people to the font. Clergy, candidates, and sponsors have to come together from their various places in the church and assemble where the sacrament is to be administered.

This is not merely a practical necessity: The act of "getting from here to there" is symbolic of what we might call the "kinetic" or "dynamic" character of baptism. Baptism gets someone from here to there: from the periphery of the Church to full membership, from sin to new life. Now the best way to express this aspect of baptism would be to make the act of getting from here to there, in the purely physical sense, as deliberate and symbolically rich as possible.

So imagine that the candidates are introduced and the Baptismal Covenant said at the front of the nave. Then, as the prayers for the candidates are being said, the candidates, sponsors, and clergy solemnly process to the west end of the nave, where the baptism takes place.

Then the newly baptized — being now full members of the Body — process back to the front of the church, are welcomed by the congregation, and take their seats in the front of the nave, so that they can be the first to receive Communion. Would that not be a powerful witness to the great change that is made and sealed in baptism?

But here we come up against every liturgist's least favorite truism: "The building always wins." Our building, at least as currently configured, doesn't permit a measured and solemn procession to the font at the back of the church, where no one would be able to see what's going on. So we have a quiet and unseen procession of the baptismal font — typically by the sexton, and no more dramatic than simply moving furniture — from the inner narthex to the front of the nave before the service begins. When the time comes, the clergy, candidates, and sponsors assemble around the font. The sense that there is any significance, beyond the purely practical, of getting from here to there is lost.

The dean has noted a number of times that having a baptismal font on casters sends a seriously discordant message: The sacramental significance of baptism is entirely obscured by having a font that can be rolled down to the front of the church and then rolled back out of the way and left in what is basically a dark corner. We don't venture out to seek the font; the font comes to us at our convenience.

I've been suggesting that the impossibility of solemn movement from east to west and back to the east is likewise in tension with our theology of baptism. So how might we address that problem? I will make some suggestions in a future article.

What We Say in Baptism, Part 3: Thanksgiving over the Water

Although many Church fathers held that all water has been set apart for baptism through the baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan, the desire for a liturgical blessing of baptismal water is evident as early as around AD 215. The Thanksgiving over the Water in our baptismal rite is a descendant of such prayers.

The prayer begins by evoking the rich symbolism of water. Water was the womb of creation over which the Spirit moved. Water was the path of deliverance for God’s chosen people, the flood that washed away their bondage. Water was appointed for the first revelation of Jesus as the Christ — the Anointed One — who would “lead us, through his death and resurrection, from the bondage of sin into everlasting life” (Book of Common Prayer, Page 306).

But the water is not merely symbolic: it is the essential element of a sacrament, and sacraments are signs that effect what they signify. So the second paragraph of the prayer interprets the symbolism of water in light of the reality that happens in baptism. The whole Paschal mystery, through which “we are buried with Christ by Baptism into his death, and raised with him to newness of life” (BCP Page 292, from the Easter Vigil liturgy), is realized and made efficacious in the waters of baptism. And just as Jesus was anointed by the Holy Spirit at his baptism, we are “reborn by the Holy Spirit” (BCP Page 306) in ours.

Having proclaimed the extraordinary reality of baptism, the celebrant then touches the water and asks God to set it apart by the power of the Holy Spirit, “that those who here are cleansed from sin and born again may continue for ever in the risen life of Jesus Christ our Savior” (BCP Page 307).

In this article and the two before it, I have written about what we say in baptism. I want to turn next to what we do, and to how we might make our practice of baptism better reflect both our theology of baptism and the words of the baptismal liturgy.

What We Say in Baptism, Part 2: The Baptismal Covenant

After the renunciations and affirmations, we come to the Baptismal Covenant. It is the most distinctive feature of the baptismal rite of the 1979 Prayer Book. It is also, I must say, the most selectively quoted. How often we hear about the social dimensions of our baptismal promises — and of course we can hardly hear about them often enough — and how seldom we are reminded that the Baptismal Covenant begins with, and is dominated by, the Apostles’ Creed.

So let’s start there. Yes, the Baptismal Covenant begins with an affirmation of belief, one that has been part of the baptismal liturgy from pretty early in the life of the Church.

In early centuries it was forbidden to write down the Creed. Those preparing for baptism would be taught the Creed by rote and then would recite it at the Easter Vigil; we have to reconstruct what the Creed looked like back then from allusions in sermons.

In earlier American Prayer Books candidates were asked whether they believed in the articles of the Creed, but the Creed itself was not recited. The English Prayer Books had the priest recite the Creed, and the candidate was to respond, “All this I steadfastly believe.” Having baptismal candidates recite the whole Creed is a new and powerful witness to the centrality of these essential beliefs in undertaking the Christian life.

But as resigned Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams explains in Tokens of Trust, the kind of belief we profess in the Creed is not merely belief in some fact, or purported fact, “as if God were the name of one more doubtful thing like UFOs and ghosts to add to the list of the furniture of my imagination.”

Rather, it is the kind of belief that expresses trust and confidence; it is “about where I find the anchorage of my life, where I find solid ground, home.” To proclaim our baptismal faith in the words of the Apostles’ Creed is to say: “I trust, I have confidence in, I take refuge in, the God who has made everything and so can have no selfish purpose and has made visible for us the sort of God he is and the sort of purpose he has in the life and death and resurrection of Jesus.”

Because we trust God and God’s purposes for us, we can then undertake, with God’s help, to live out the implications of that trust through serious and committed discipleship. We promise to be faithful in corporate worship and prayer, to repent when — not if, but when — we fall into sin, and to proclaim the Good News in what we say and in how we live. We promise to love our neighbors as ourselves, to “strive for justice and peace among all people,” and to “respect the dignity of every human being.”

What we say in baptism, Part 1: The renunciations and affirmations

When I was baptized (by total immersion, of course), I was asked whether I had accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I said yes, and the Baptist minister said something like, “Upon your profession of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, I baptize you, my brother, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

We Episcopalians use a lot more words at baptism, and not just because we’re Episcopalians and, well, we like that sort of thing. What we say at baptism underscores the seriousness of the new relationship that baptism inaugurates, the vital role of the Body of Christ into which the candidate is being initiated, and the unsparing demands of the Christian life that begins at the font.

After the candidates are presented, the Celebrant invites three renunciations and three affirmations from the candidates who can speak for themselves, and from the parents and godparents who speak on behalf of the children they present.

The renunciations in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer expand upon the traditional renunciations of “the world, the flesh, and the devil.” First, the devil: “Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?” Then, the world: “Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?” And, last, the flesh: “Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God?”

Pause for a few moments and think about the life to which these renunciations commit us. We say no to rebellion against God; we pledge resistance to anything that would break in on God’s creation and do it harm; we set our faces against everything that would stand in the place of God’s love for us and our love for God.

Then, having said what they are rejecting, the candidates say what they are accepting. They “turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as [their] Savior”; they “put [their] whole trust in his grace and love”; and they “promise to follow and obey him as [their] Lord.” (So my Baptist pastor would at least be pleased that we get the Lord-and-Savior part in there; he’d be distressed by the paucity of water. But we’ll get to that.) Turning away from the world is an empty gesture unless we turn toward the One who has overcome the world.

And finally, the congregation promises to do everything in its power to uphold the newly baptized in their life in Christ. Baptism incorporates people into the Church, and in this promise the Church commits to doing the ongoing work of supporting the renunciations and affirmations made in baptism.

The four great baptismal feasts

As I noted in my last article, the incredible richness of the grace of baptism, and its importance for the Church as a Body, mean that in ordinary circumstances baptism is administered only in the context of public worship, with the solemnity and exuberance that baptism calls for, and only on occasions of particular significance. There are four such occasions: the Easter Vigil, the Day of Pentecost, the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, and All Saints’ Day or the Sunday following.

In the early centuries of the Church the Easter Vigil was the preeminent—and in some places the only permissible—occasion for baptism. One of the main functions of Lent was preparation for baptism. Moreover, the liturgy of the Vigil tells the story of God’s saving work throughout history, culminating in the Paschal mystery itself. What more appropriate occasion could there be to write new characters into that story and plunge people into the Paschal mystery?

Pentecost also has good historical credentials as a baptismal feast, and the theme of the Holy Spirit bringing life and power to the Church is echoed in the words addressed to each new Christian, “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own for ever.” As St Paul reminds us, “No one can say Jesus is Lord except by the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor. 12:3b).

The Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord (the First Sunday After the Epiphany) “offers a clear link between the action of Jesus at the river Jordan and the action of the church and the new initiate today” (James F. Turrell, Celebrating the Rites of Initiation). Epiphany baptism was particularly valued in the East, and it remains an important occasion for us to celebrate our incorporation into Christ and his total identification with us.

All Saints’ Day lacks the historical credentials of the other three baptismal feasts, but it makes a lot of sense, because in baptism we join the communion of saints. There’s also a practical advantage: adopting All Saints’ Day as a baptismal feast gives us an opportunity to baptize roughly once a quarter.

So our first baptisms of 2020 will take place on January 12, the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord. The other baptismal occasions are the Easter Vigil (Saturday evening, April 11), the Day of Pentecost (Sunday, May 31), and All Saints’ Day (Sunday, November 1).

“Holy Baptism is full initiation by water and the Holy Spirit into Christ’s Body the Church.” — Book of Common Prayer (1979), Page 298

Being a Christian is not a do-it-yourself project. We cannot be Christians apart from a community that supports us, prays for us, teaches us, and brings Jesus to us in Word and Sacrament. And that community precedes us, not just in time, but in reality. It’s not that a bunch of people who love Jesus get together, join forces, and create the Church. The Church comes first and incorporates us. Baptism is the sacrament by which the Church incorporates us — makes us part of the Body, joins us to Christ, who is the head of the Body. The lifeblood that flows through that Body begins to flow in us when we are baptized.

There is, therefore, an extraordinary seriousness about baptism. Because baptism makes us part of the community of saints — because it joins us to Christ and to all others who have been incorporated into the fellowship of the Church — every baptism involves responsibilities of the utmost gravity. We baptize with the solemn expectation that the baptized person will be a part of the community of the faithful, and that the community of the faithful will uphold the baptized person. Yes, baptism may also be a personal milestone, a family celebration, or a cultural rite of passage; but those things are accidental to what the Church is doing when we baptize.

Baptism as a sacrament

Baptism is a sacrament: it is, in the familiar definition, “an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.” The outward and visible sign is of course water, along with the words, “I baptize you in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” But what is the inward and spiritual grace? It is “union with Christ in his death and resurrection, birth into God’s family the Church, forgiveness of sins, and new life in the Holy Spirit” (BCP Page 858). That’s a lot. And when we say that baptism is a sign of that grace, we don’t just mean that it indicates or witnesses to such grace; we mean baptism actually makes all that happen.

In addition to talking about sacramental signs and sacramental grace, theologians talk about the minister of a sacrament: that is, who can perform the sacrament? For example, the minister of ordination is always a bishop; the ministers of matrimony are (here comes little-known fact #1) the couple who get married. (Yes. A priest can bless the marriage on behalf of the Church, but it is the spouses who actually administer the sacrament.) Historically, the minister of baptism was the bishop. But as the church grew, and as people worried about the eternal fate of the unbaptized in an age of high infant mortality, it became impractical for bishops to do all baptisms, and priests were authorized to baptize as delegates of the bishop. So the ordinary minister of baptism is a priest, though the bishop’s involvement is still maintained through the use of chrism, olive oil (typically scented with balsam) consecrated by the bishop for the anointing of the newly baptized.

But (little-known fact #2) the Church has long regarded baptism as so important and indispensable that, in cases of emergency, any baptized person may administer baptism. (See Page 313 of the Prayer Book.) A parishioner tells the story of a nursing student who administered emergency baptism and then called her seminarian fiance to let him know that she had had the opportunity to baptize before he did! Still, the incredible richness of the grace of baptism, and its importance for the Church as a Body, mean that in ordinary circumstances, baptism is administered only in the context of public worship, with the solemnity and exuberance that baptism calls for, and only on days of particular significance.

Baptismal days

There are four such occasions: the Easter Vigil, the Day of Pentecost, the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, and All Saints’ Day or the Sunday following.

In the early centuries of the Church the Easter Vigil was the preeminent — and in some places the only permissible — occasion for baptism. One of the main functions of Lent was preparation for baptism. Moreover, the liturgy of the Vigil tells the story of God’s saving work throughout history, culminating in the Paschal mystery itself. What more appropriate occasion could there be to write new characters into that story and plunge people into the Paschal mystery?

Pentecost also has good historical credentials as a baptismal feast, and the theme of the Holy Spirit bringing life and power to the Church is echoed in the words addressed to each new Christian, “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own for ever.” As St Paul reminds us, “No one can say Jesus is Lord except by the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor. 12:3b).

The Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord (the First Sunday After the Epiphany) “offers a clear link between the action of Jesus at the river Jordan and the action of the church and the new initiate today” (James F. Turrell, Celebrating the Rites of Initiation). Epiphany baptism was particularly valued in the East, and it remains an important occasion for us to celebrate our incorporation into Christ and his total identification with us.

All Saints’ Day lacks the historical credentials of the other three baptismal feasts, but it makes a lot of sense, because in baptism we join the communion of saints. There’s also a practical advantage: adopting All Saints’ Day as a baptismal feast gives us an opportunity to baptize roughly once a quarter.