Last weekend, I attended a wedding in a huge Catholic church in the Triangle. I arrived Friday evening for the rehearsal. With a simple role in the service, I was free to roam around the gorgeous sanctuary with its icons and statues of saints—sacred objects one does not find in a Protestant church.
As is true of most Catholic churches, the baptismal font was located at the entrance to the sanctuary rather than up by the pulpit. The faithful apply a little holy water to their foreheads in the sign of the cross. Some might consider the act a kind of good luck charm; others see it as a reminder to pray. Still others might remember their baptism and also their responsibilities to a larger community.
While the priest was instructing the wedding party in front of the sanctuary, I watched a man in jeans and a T-shirt enter from a side door and amble to the font, swinging a bucket of soapy water. He might have been a janitor, perhaps a volunteer. I watched as he carefully emptied the water, then softly whistled while cleaning every inch of the font’s basin with a soft sponge.
This gentleman left and promptly returned with a different bucket marked FOR HOLY WATER ONLY. As he poured the contents into the font, I wondered where they kept the holy water and what distinguished it. One might claim that all water is holy and sacred, including (perhaps especially) the water that is dirtied from making something or someone clean. I think of the bathtub after my children’s nightly baptism—the dirt, marker, and spaghetti sauce swirling in a kaleidoscope of color down the drain.
One might also offer the belief that all people are holy, whether the professional clergy leading the solemn ancient rite or the cheerful one with a bucket and sponge.
Andrew Taylor-Troutman is the author of “Little Big Moments,” a collection of mini-essays about parenting, and “Tigers, Mice & Strawberries: Poems.” Both titles are available most anywhere books are sold online. Taylor-Troutman lives in Chapel Hill where he serves as pastor of Chapel in the Pines Presbyterian Church and occasionally stumbles upon the wondrous while in search of his next cup of coffee.
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