This coming weekend we will baptize our newborn son. Although that seems like a familiar event, and a common thing to do to a newborn, my wife and I attempt to make it as uncommon and unfamiliar as possible. We attempt to see baptism as the pagans saw it: a strange, new action, whose ritual of pouring water is common enough, but whose characteristic formula sounds like something out of a spell book: "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit." Who is this Father? Who is this Son? Who is this Spirit?
We try and recall the moments in history when the promise of Christ could be accepted as something which everyone longed for but could not find in the gods of the pantheon, or the philosophies, or the mystery religions, or the natural world. We try and see Jesus for the first time again - the hope of eternal life - the god who was man - the god who died - the god who rose from death - the god who is three yet one - the god who promises that my son will live in newness of life, and one day, be saved from death. Nothing has brought us greater joy than the birth of our son - but we do not mock death, we face it head on. We know that our son, now alive, will also die. That terrible truth, that unnatural truth, is why we stand in need of the promise of baptism. If Christ's death is to mean anything, it will mean life for our son when his life is gone.
It brings us to a moment of commitment in our own lives. For we do not baptize him because of tradition, or because that's what everyone does, or because our families would be upset if we didn't, or because that's what our parents did. The last thing we desire is to go through the motions. If we did not believe, we would not baptize. For how strange a thing to do to a child - to dress him in white, to anoint him with oil, to pour water over him and recite the spell - how strange a thing to do to a child if we did not believe that by this very act our son becomes changed? And not just the physical change of becoming wet with water, but the ontological change of being adopted by God?
Late at night on some nights this week, I laid awake in my bed, pondering the mystery of the faith I profess. Doubt cast a shadow on my mind. Is it real? Do I really believe this? Do I really want to baptize my son? The priest will ask us again if we believe in God, in Jesus, in the Church. Saying yes will not be easy. It will be again a commitment to Christ in my own life. It will be nothing less than an act of faith.
There is hope in Christ. My son can live forever in glory with God. This weekend, through water and prayer, he takes his first step towards Paradise.
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