One day I intend to write a hilarious short story set exclusively within the context of the immersion baptismal font. Within that setting I have encountered intense intimacy, fear, wardrobe malfunctions, hysteria, near drownings, and transcendence.
If you have ever witnessed an immersion baptism and wondered what that encounter is like, here it is: It’s still semi-dark in the church. The water is warm. You’re inside an oasis while electric energy crackles through the atmosphere. An adult steps into the pool and you whisper a few reassuring words and instructions before submerging that person in blessed and refreshing water. This extraordinary experience is unlike any other human or divine encounter.
I suspect we are all looking for that submersion experience in life. To some extent we are enfolded in the seductive atmosphere of materialism when we enter a department store, absorbed into a story of courage and romance when we sit in a movie theatre, distracted by the pleasures of the palate when dining in a fine restaurant.
When attending church on Sunday, there is the opportunity of immersing oneself in the community, the sounds of sacred texts, the gestures and responses, the back and forth of music and spoken word. Liturgy is a world apart and there should be an atmosphere in the places where we gather that allows us to be submerged in the uniqueness of Lent, Holy Week, and Easter.
Suggestions for Lent
When entering the aforementioned department store, I often find myself exhausted by the burdensome amount of merchandise. In the store’s attempt to create an ambiance of abundance, I am visually overloaded and over stimulated. I don’t know where to look or what to buy. With that in mind, this year I would like to suggest that instead of planning what we can bring into our existing liturgical space, we might consider what we can take away.
Be honest. Aren’t you overwhelmed with clutter? Doesn’t it depress you every time you look at that towering pile of papers on your desk? Most of us already worship in spaces permanently adorned with statuary, art glass, frescos, and overly ornamented vesture. This Lent, instead of lugging in brambles, installing purple hangings, and filling the holy water fonts with sand, how about stripping the church of as much distraction as possible? Simplify the altar linen so that the structure of the table becomes the focal point. Store the ornate freestanding candlesticks at the ambo and replace them with two small hurricane candles placed directly upon the altar. Remove every gleaming, unnecessary element so that the assembly can be submerged in the Lenten world of fasting, prayer, and almsgiving.
Many years ago I had a vision of a cross constructed of vines and branches, lashed together with rough twine. After this cross was created we used it as a plain, unadorned symbol of the season. I asked two members of the assembly to lead the procession into the church with the cross and place it in the sanctuary. This cross became our single Lenten symbol throughout Lent and the Triduum; on Easter morning it was bedecked with blooming flowers. Art can have an important place as well. A colleague of mine has a significant collection of icons. Throughout Lent and Holy Week he places an icon on an easel and positions it prominently so that the image and its story become a focal point of the season. This is a fresh way of bringing art into the liturgical space. A well-placed piece asks a question of the assembly, a question slowly answered by the readings and themes of the season. In another circumstance, I was a guest speaker at the cathedral in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and witnessed the installation of a multi-panel crucifixion painting with the central canvas representing the Christ figure. The art was installed in pieces as the weeks of Lent progressed, providing the community with a question slowly answered as the days unfolded.
In Closing
More and more we find ourselves in this multi-platform, multi-tasking world where everyone’s attention is splintered in multiple—and far too many—directions. I believe we are longing for a place where our attention can focus on the hunger we all experience for grace, hope, and transcendence. We are craving immersion in the simple truth that we are loved and forgiven. Those tasked with the worship environment are given a unique opportunity to assist in the submerging of all seekers into a sacred space. Perhaps if we can pare away distractions it will be possible to immerse ourselves in the truth of this moment. And the truth is this: with God there are infinite possibilities.
You can find more seasonal resources on our Lent and Easter page, here.
Originally published in Today’s Liturgy © 2014 OCP. All rights reserved.