“Where is the baptismal font?” I said to myself after taking a few minutes to look around. My wife and I were spending part of my sabbatical in Bergen, Norway, and while there, I was taking in every church I could, especially to check out the font. And in the case of Nykirke (New Church), the font was nowhere to be seen. Invisible. Or so I thought.
Invisibility, of course, is that last thinhg to expect of a baptismal font. In Lutheranism, baptism is a sacrament, the Word made visible. Along with the Word of God foundational to the sacrament, the water is what we see – and that container holding the water, the font itself. Be that container a bowl, a basin, a tub or even a pool, we expect to see it. But in Nykirke, no.
My hunt for that font made me think: what’s the message here? What did it mean that I couldn’t find the font? Was this not a Lutheran church after all? Wasn’t baptism practiced in this place? Was it perhaps a church of Word that looked down on “rites” as perfunctory, unhelpful, or even un-Christian – and baptismal font got tossed out with the baptismal water?
After that experience, I found myself asking wherever I went to church: What does the font here tell us? What does it mean when the font is front and center for me to walk right by when I enter the sanctuary for worship – and even more, it’s filled with water? What does it mean when the font is tucked away in a corner, a little non-descript stand with a glass bowl atop?
If baptism is the visible Word – Word – not only the water has a message for us, but also the whole font itself is telling us something about what happens here: that it’s important or not, central to the community of faith or not, and more. The visibility of the font, its size, design, location, and on-going use in the congregation come together with a message that helps or hinders the Gospel message of Jesus Christ. Yes, I know that fonts of many descriptions have served the church, and often have served well, but in a time when the Christian story needs ever more clarity, we need fonts that do a better job. I’ll come back to this point again.
Where was that font in Nykirke? My wife found a person to ask, and she offered, “Let me show you.” She disappeared for a moment, pressed a button – also invisible! – and before our eyes, the font descended from the ceiling as a flying angel with wing/arm outstretched and holding a wreath. Into that wreath a bowl with water would be placed and there was our now visible font. Check the photo here.
So what did that font say? That baptism didn’t matter? Probably not. That it was a gift from heaven? Maybe. Brought into our lives by angels? Like the angel appeared at Jesus’ baptism? I don’t know. And that day in Bergen we didn’t know enough Norwegian to get the answer. But there in that font, like the one in your church and mine, is a message that shapes our lives.
Tags: baptismal font, Christian story, font design, Norway, sacrament
