(Minor details are changed in insignificant ways throughout this report.)

Recently, I happened to attend a Community of Christ church on the day of a young boy’s baptism. My previous experiences with baptisms have been of infants, in Protestant churches, by sprinkling water on the baby’s head. Usually, they shriek and cry.

This event was the central purpose of Sunday’s worship. No collection was taken. The few other children present were not making the rounds to every attendee, seeking coins for a “Change” program. There was no sermon. There was no input from the congregation listing people to remember in prayer (basically, a gossip grapevine). Instead, the entire event revolved around Hunter’s baptism.

Although a written program of events was available, one of the morning’s hymns was a mystery – unless you were one of them and it was familiar to you. No hymn books: a very odd way to put any visitor at ease. Other songs were so repetitious that the few words were printed in the program. No music, but at least there were words.

The Bible reading was from some updated, modern, hip translated version of the Bible I’m not familiar with. It talked about the wonder of Baptism, how the person being baptized in the parable received such a wondrous, wonderful, awesome experience. Certainly raised the expectations of young Hunter, if he were listening.

There were several visitors, people who drove for 1-4 hours to support Hunter (whether they knew him or not) in his promise. Attendance was at least double the usual in this location, from previous observation. People sang the praises of Hunter. The parents read statements about their hopes for him; they presented him with his own Bible and other works (contained together in a hefty volume). A sibling read a statement of support. Then Hunter read his own promise. Among other things, he promised to “be a good boy” and hoped aloud that if things got rough, he would get divine help. This was certainly a lot of building up of the experience. Expectations were surely quite high!

Despite the absence of a dozen oxen like at an LDS baptism (I’ve never attended one, only toured a Temple when it was open for public view) in an artfully-inspired font, this font was more like a large bathtub, waist-deep and there was some family member, a member of the high priesthood, to immerse him fully. With a few whispered words to Hunter, then a sentence or two of babble describing who “authorized” this dunking, in, out and dripping wet he was.

Next came a very long wait filled with music while Hunter and the man changed into dry garb to return to the seating area with the rest of us. When Hunter’s sibling leaned over to ask “how was it?” the response was “the water was cold.” I hope the kid wasn’t disappointed that the heavens didn’t flow forth with rainbow sherbet, candy sprinkles and great music, he didn’t suddenly feel wiser or more powerful nor anything else discernible. Instead, he was cold and had wet hair. He didn’t shriek and cry, I’ll give him that.

After the service, as the adults were mingling, Hunter was running around with a baseball and mitt looking for someone to go outside to play catch with him…typical of any other boy his age.

The basin resting on the back of oxen is only used for vicarious baptism of the dead. The living only need enough water to be totally immersed. Any pool, river, lake, pond, tub or font will do.

Why are you anonymous.....today? Why go? How do you know several people drove 1-4 hours to support "Hunter" whether they knew him or not? I was "sprinkled" at my baptism at age 28. So what? Churches are different. It's obvious you don't approve of Hunter's parent's choice. Why not say your name? Does making fun of a little boy's experience bother you? It must or you would not be ashamed,yes ashamed of being " Anon-today!