I Witnessed Your Baptism Today

by Rob Goodale

There were two other baptisms, actually, though it was the last one -- yours -- that etched itself into my temporal lobe. No disrespect to the other two tots, who were equal recipients of sacramental grace. They simply were not as striking as you.

I watched from my pew with barely muted awe as a tiny human was completely disrobed, there literally in front of God and everybody, and thrice dunked into surely frigid water. You screamed and kicked and spit and probably shouted all kinds of words that would have made your mother blush, had anyone been able to understand you. No one did, which is fortunate for your mother, although it probably just made you even madder.

Once, twice, three times submerged into the living water, and then wrapped back up in your robe, caterwauling the entire time. Your father held you higher than Rafiki held Simba, the proudest dad in the whole dang place. It was then that I considered, despite our language barrier, whether perhaps I really did understand you after all. And I became a bit envious, truth be told, because there have been a great many times that I wanted to scream and kick and spit and shout all kinds of words that would make my mother blush. Since I am 26 and not currently being plunged into frigid water, such a reaction would not be met with same the smiles and laughter that greeted your crisis.

You did not comprehend what was being done to you, only that it was unpleasant and unfamiliar and probably entirely shame-inducing, what with the public nakedness. How could you have known that at that very moment you were being plunged not only into the water, but into the most beautiful wild tragic desperate love story in the history of everything, one that spans millennia, and one that already has a happy ending.

The real hang up of the thing is, even if you had known that, the experience would have been just as excruciating, which is a word I use advisedly. I daresay this will not be the last time that someone you can barely see and do not recognize thrusts you headlong into a vast pool of incomprehensible grace.

Gazing at you up there on the altar made me do some real deep thinking, man. I thought of my favorite cantankerous child-turned-dragon, who had a somewhat similar experience. When I touch the water, they tell me I could be set free. Nobody seems to want to talk about how painful or terrifying it might be, except for you. Thank you for your prophetic screams, pleading with me to see the depth of love that made all this possible. Someday, perhaps you will see the significance of this day, and know why it made me cry.