September 03, 2002 - 10:34 p.m.
Marcus was baptized this weekend. The parish handbook of the church we attend states that infant baptisms are held during the masses on holiday weekends to make it more convenient for relatives and friends to attend.
Someone explain to me what's "convenient" about getting into and out of Virginia Beach on Labor Day weekend...
But I digress.
Infant baptism is a new thing for me. In the Southern Baptist churches, only "adults" are baptized. I use quotes there because the congregations where I held membership were generally relaxed about their definitions of "adult." I was 8 when I was baptized - old enough to express the desire to join the church, but hardly an adult. In fact, at the time, I asked to be immersed (Baptists dunk you all the way under the water) because I thought it was something I should do - not out of fear of eternal damnation or a particular conviction in my faith, but because it was what my family had done and it was part of our religious life. Should my sons decide that Catholicism is the way to go in their adult life (adult here being defined as when they no longer live under my roof), they can choose to be Confirmed. That sacrament I intend to leave entirely to their decision, though I'll do my best to make sure it's an educated one.
So Marcus was presented to the church, dressed in his white baptism gown (a very traditional looking garment that's sure to elicit "Why did you dress me in that?" comments when he's a teenager) and Father Ianucci, who had sprained his back and couldn't hold the babies to dip them into the font, poured water over his head. Jason (foxphotog) and Shannon stood with us as his godparents while Regan enjoyed the company of blackbear, educaitlin and the minivan samurai (who really needs to get a diary here - hint hint). And then we all went back to the house to pass around the babies, play with the toddler, and eat ham biscuits - because no religious event south of the Mason Dixon is complete without ham biscuits. Ironic, but true.
