I had a leisurely start this morning, my first service being the St German's Solemn Mass at eleven. After this came the baptism of three children - two little girls of four and five in white dresses, and a boy of toddler age. It was at the mother's insistence that the children were christened. He partner is a Kurdish Muslim. She hadn't expected him to attend, but he came and sat through the service with the family. I noticed he had lost his left hand, and wondered by what act or violence or misfortune this had occurred, but there was no time to ask.
Each girls' had a godparent standing by them and steadying them as they stood on a stool to bend over the font for the pouring of water over their heads. Then, to my surprise and delight, Dad stepped up with his son in arms, and tipped the boy's head over the font with reassuring words for him while I poured water over the child's head. On each occasion the baptismal action was met more by cheers than by a liturgical 'Amen', but nobody could question peoples' involvement in the ceremony. His family didn't come, although invited. Perhaps another time.
Afterwards, Dad stood at the door, radiant, and greeted everyone as they left the church. I'd like to think that for him this was a special moment of acceptance and bonding with her family. I greeted him afterwards with Salaam eleikum to acknowledge his Muslim identity, and expressed appreciation for his willingness to participate in the service. For the mother of his children, this must have been one of life's small triumphs, a little victory in capacity of her faith to bring people together.
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