The Rector done been meddlin’ again. At least that’s what it feels like to some, having seen our historic baptismal font temporarily located just inside the front door of Christ Church. It is there for the moment, but will be returning to the baptistry after All Saints Sunday. Its move to a central location in the congregation was both practical and theological, with the latter driving the former. With a baptism two Sundays ago, and a request to use the historic font, I found myself in a quandary; our font’s location is not in keeping with the baptismal theology of the last fifty years (and arguably longer). I wanted to use the font - the symbolic value of our font is superior to a table and bowl – but I couldn’t bring myself to use it in its place in the baptistry (more on that to come). Ultimately, I realized we could have both, if the font moved. Which is not so radical an idea as it sounds. Regardless, it provides an impetus to spend some time on our baptismal identity and how we strengthen it through our regular practices.
In my sermon on the occasion of this most recent baptism, I took the opportunity to teach about the sacrament of baptism and its importance. Baptism and the font itself remind us who and whose we are. Baptism, for the Christian, is the most defining symbol of our identity as those who have been buried and been reborn in Christ, cleansed from the sin of this world, and adopted into the household of God. Baptism is the only requirement for full inclusion in the Body of Christ, and it signifies our status as brothers and sisters of Jesus himself. For those of us who periodically renew our baptismal covenant, as we will on this All Saints Sunday weekend, our baptism is also our inspiration. It reminds us that we are sacramentally set apart as Christ’s followers to go out into the world and live out our calling. We bear the Spirit in us as we go about our daily lives because we have been sealed and marked as Christ’s own. Baptism is not a once-and-done event, but an ongoing, central reality of our lives.
Bringing the font out of the baptistery has undoubtedly allowed us to reflect on baptism and what it means to us. This is precisely why the location of fonts is so crucial in church architecture. One of the beautiful things about Anglican liturgical and architectural theology is that the furniture and the decorations convey meaning. Like most aspects of our worship, we do what we do with intention. It is never just the words that matter, but the movements (like bowing or crossing), the colors, the tone of the music, the use of silence, the places we stand – all of it. At our worst, when we forget such intentionality, we are guilty of what our critics accuse us of; empty practices more akin to a formulaic, magical Christianity. At our best, our liturgical worship and our sacred spaces communicate something so much deep and rich than words alone could ever convey.
For example, when you look at an Episcopal Church, you notice the place of prominence given to the altar and the cross – right in the center. The pulpit and/or lectern are also given prominent locations. Together these pieces of furniture are not just practical, they also signify the importance of word and sacrament, with the latter getting the top billing, as it were. You have probably been in churches where the word (preaching, perhaps?) takes precedence, with a large pulpit dead center on a raised platform. That location tells us something. Likewise, where we put our font and how we treat it sends a message too.
As baptismal theology has changed, so too has baptismal architecture. It is highly unusual today to build a church that does not have a baptismal font with a prominent location at the front (akin to altars and pulpits), in the center aisle, or near the door. Christ Church has its font off to one side in a baptistry. Baptistries are still built; however, they are built as a part of the entrance to a worship space and large enough to allow the community to gather around the font in that space. In many cases, there has been a return to large fonts with flowing water to signify the earliest practices around baptism. Some churches and cathedrals have also reworked their spaces, either moving fonts or adding an additional font in an attempt to wed practice, theology, and design. Baptisteries with fonts off to one side or in a separate room are not wrong; they just represent an era of Christian thought that ultimately conveys a diminished understanding of the sacrament. That understanding of the importance of the sacrament of baptism has been reimagined in the last one hundred years, in the hopes of capturing some of what we’ve lost.
Some of this is the result of a specific American liturgical revision process. In 16th-century prayer books, baptism was recommended for public practice on Sundays. The 1559 prayer book of Queen Elizabeth noted the “old old tyme” [the book contained two “olds”!] practice of baptism when it was, “opely ministred in the presence of al the congregacion,” and was, “not to be ministred but upon Sondayes, and other holy dayes, when the most nombre of people may come together.” The rubrics encouraged the same in that modern Elizabethan era. There was also a service for private baptism in that same prayer book; however, it was intended for emergency circumstances where a parent or someone other than a priest was baptizing out of necessity, most often for a child that was not expected to live long. Apart from that, baptism was intended as laid out in the public service. The 1979 prayer book reinstated these older expectations for baptism (and still contains a brief rite for emergency baptism).
Baptisteries like ours exist because for whatever historical reasons the Episcopal (read American) Church removed the rubrics suggesting Sunday baptism and public prominence in our 18th-century prayer book revision. This opened the way for private baptisms performed in the church by a priest, which became the norm. Families would gather whenever it was convenient for them, often in small numbers, which is indicated by the limited space in our baptistery. It was not constructed with full congregational participation in mind. What we end up with in churches, with a layout like our own, is a font that is relegated to a corner, not on full display to the congregation, and not effective at revealing the vital role of the community in baptism. This is, no doubt, why the use of a table and bowl in the center aisle of Christ Church predates me – though not by much from what I have heard.
The table and bowl method of baptism is a necessary compromise; it gets baptism into the midst of the people, yet the symbolism of a temporary and mobile means of baptism sends a subtle message that leans towards impermanence and priority – we literally move the “font” out of the way when we’re done with it! Someone commented to me on Sunday, “that out of all the priests that have come to Christ Church, no one had a problem with the font until Tom Purdy!” Fair enough. I would hazard a guess, however, that I’m the first rector of Christ Church who has been trained, raised, and steeped in the 1979 BCP’s theology of baptism. These ideas are not new; they were being debated just as the 1928 prayer book was published and were mostly “settled” while I was still in diapers. It is a part of our anachronistic and quirky charm at Christ Church that some of the theological discussions many congregations engaged in decades ago we didn’t address until the last ten or fifteen years. Again, these aren’t conversations about right and wrong, but more to explore what practices are the most appropriate and in keeping with the teaching of the church.
The adage that we hear concerning liturgical worship like ours is, “praying shapes believing.” That is why our prayer books are so important to us as Episcopalians. The words we pray, how we go through worship, what we see, hear, smell, taste – all of it informs what we believe as a result. As a part of that conversation, so too, we can admit, does the way we administer the sacrament of baptism (where we do it, the font we use, etc.).
As I said, our historic, stone font will return to the baptistery, yet I want the conversation to continue. The majority of reactions to the font’s temporary placement have been positive. Nonetheless, the font will return to its location as promised. As we continue the discussion, we can discuss whether it ever needs to move again, or what other options we have for capturing appropriate baptismal theology in our space. Perhaps our best course is to leave the historic font in the baptistery as an act of historical reverence and add a new font somewhere else in the space? We can discern this together as we learn more about how our font informs our understanding of baptism. At the end of the day, I hope we can capture a way of remembering who and whose we are, never losing sight of the ongoing importance of our baptismal identity.
Tom+
O God, you prepared your disciples for the coming of the Spirit through the teaching of your Son Jesus Christ: Make the hearts and minds of your servants ready to receive the blessing of the Holy Spirit, that they may be filled with the strength of his presence; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
~ Prayer for those about to be Baptized or to renew their Baptismal Covenant. BCP 819