You might think the week after Christmas Day is a little early to be talking about emptying the baptismal font. Actually, it’s late. I walked into a local church during the fourth week of Advent to see what they had done with their environment. You guessed it. The baptismal font was bone dry and covered with a purple cloth.

So I’m on a mission. I’m asking all my friends to pledge never to empty their baptismal fonts again. And let’s all get T-shirts that say: “Friends don’t let friends drain fonts.” Why is this such a big deal? Here are seven reasons.

1. The liturgical seasons are not historical reenactments

When otherwise-pastoral people empty the font in Lent, the argument goes something like this. Jesus went into the desert for 40 days. There is no water in the desert. So we shouldn’t have water in our churches while Jesus is in the desert. Okay, here’s the thing. Jesus isn’t in the desert. Hasn’t been in the desert for 2,000 years. Isn’t ever going back to the desert. Jesus has transcended the desert and all the deprivation and desolation the desert symbolizes. Where is Jesus present? Truly, really present? In the primary symbols of the assembly of disciples gathered for worship: bread, wine, altar, word, oil, fire, and…water. Lent is not a time machine that takes us back to when Jesus was absent for 40 days. As for what might be the pastoral justification for emptying the font in Advent, I haven’t a clue. But whatever it is, it doesn’t override the necessity of having baptismal water lavishly present when the assembly gathers for worship.

2. Draining the font is bad catechesis

Everything present—or absent—in the liturgy catechizes. What water teaches us is that we are a people who have died to ourselves and risen to new life. Every time we enter a church and cross ourselves with the saving waters of baptism, we teach ourselves, our children, and our catechumens that we will never die. To remove that life-giving water says that our baptism was not everlasting and eternal. We are teaching that our salvation is seasonal and occasional.

3. There is no such thing as a “fast” from baptismal water

One of the arguments for removing the water from the font in Lent is that Lent is a season for fasting. So some say that it makes sense to fast from water. Really? Maybe in some gnositc universe. But in Christianity—or even just in the ordinary material universe—water means life. No water means death. When we fast, we don’t fast from things that are good for us. We fast from temptations, from indulgences, from all that masters us that is not God.

4. Emptying the font violates church teaching

About ten years ago, somebody got tired of dipping his fingers into a font full of sand every Lent, and so he faxed a “What up?” to the Vatican. The Congregation for Divine Worship wrote back saying, “This is what you Americans spend your time on?” Well, they didn’t say that exactly, but they did say that an empty font “is contrary to a balanced understanding of the season Lent….” A balanced understanding, they said, recognizes that, in addition to being a season of penance, Lent “is also a season rich in the symbolism of water and baptism, constantly evoked in liturgical texts.”

5. An empty font violates the spirit of Vatican II

Related to the issue of balance noted by the CDW, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy reminded us that Lent has a two-part character.

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By recalling or preparing for baptism and by repentance, this season disposes the faithful…to celebrate the paschal mystery. The baptismal and penitential aspects of Lent are to be given greater prominence in both the liturgy and liturgical catechesis. Hence, more use is to be made of the baptismal features proper to the Lenten liturgy. (109)

And why would we want to make more use of the baptismal features of Lent? Because we have a whole group of people (the elect) preparing for baptism—the very purpose of Lent. So instead of draining the font, we should be filling it to the brim.

6. An empty font weakens the funeral liturgy

When we celebrate a funeral, we are celebrating a life lived in baptismal grace. A powerful symbol of that baptismal life is blessing the casket with living water. It is hard to see living water in a sprinkler that an acolyte retrieves from the sacristy closet. The water for blessing the casket should come from the same place in which we baptize—even in Lent. Especially in Lent.

7. Bad practice leads to more bad practice

That’s what I experienced in my church visit during Advent. Because some parishes have been emptying the font during the lenten season, one community, at lease, decided that more is better. Let’s have a dry font for both Lent and Advent. Next we may have empty fonts on rogation days or First Fridays. So let’s just stop the shenanigans now, before things get worse.

Remember: “Friends don’t let friends drain fonts.”

• Water in the font during Lent

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Yesterday, as I celebrated Eucharist with the members of my religious community as well as friends and neighbors who regularly join us, I noticed a beautiful new family of five in the assembly. They were, I learned later, relatives of one of our sisters. The two “big sisters” were about five and eight years old and the little boy looked to be about two-and-a-half years old. All were very well behaved-well, until the little one began to get restless and tried entertaining his sisters. He was quieted with a big red apple that his Mom had tucked into her purse.

As the liturgy progressed and we entered into the Eucharist Prayer, I noticed that the parents and young girls were very focused on the movement of the liturgy. It became clear to me that this is a very devoted and faithful Catholic family, thoroughly engaged in the work of the people! It was inspiring. The little one, however, decided at the very moment of the institution narrative, that he would share his apple. “Take and eat,” said the presider, as the boy offered a bite of the apple to his mother. “Take and drink,” he continued, and Dad was offered a bite. “Do this in memory of me,” accompanied the child’s offerings to his sisters.

Unfolding before me was what seemed to be an orchestrated drama that had been designed to express the full meaning of Eucharist! Word, sacramental action, and apostolic witness were all taking place simultaneously in the midst of the community! For a brief time I was an apprentice to the little child who was leading me into the four pillars of the catechumenate articulated in paragraph 75 of the RCIA. It was a great way to begin Advent having heard the gospel’s admonition to “watch!” I watched this touching reminder of how being a eucharistic person goes far beyond the church doors and even the liturgy itself to the daily thanksgivings, self-givings and communions that take place when we reach out to nourish each other.

Happy Advent. Watch. There may be a child in your midst ready to lead you!

Benedict XVI released his new letter, “Saved by Hope,” a couple of days ago to coincide with Advent, the church’s great season of hope. In John Allen’s summary of the letter, he makes the point that a major concern of this pope is reasserting Catholic identity in a world dominated by earthly values. The theme of Benedict’s first letter was love. This latest one, focused on hope, continues to outline what Pope Benedict would have us—and the catechumens—understand as the core of the Catholic life.

If you don’t have time to read the entire letter today, at least read paragraph 3. The pope asks what does hope consist of, and how does hope save us? He answers his own question:

The essence of the answer is given in the phrase from the Letter to the Ephesians quoted above: the Ephesians, before their encounter with Christ, were without hope because they were “without God in the world”. To come to know God—the true God—means to receive hope.

The pope then makes what I think is a critical point, a point that is somewhat the theme of his papacy:

We who have always lived with the Christian concept of God, and have grown accustomed to it, have almost ceased to notice that we possess the hope that ensues from a real encounter with this God.

I find this is less true with those of us who work in initiation ministry. Our faith—our hope—is continually renewed when we see those who have been without hope for so long begin to “walk in the light of the Lord” (first reading, First Sunday of Advent, A). Nevertheless, many of us and many of our fellow parishioners can seem to the catechumens to be much like the rest of the world, tending to despair. Or at least not letting our joy spill over into the day-to-day affairs of our lives. Pope Benedict would ask each of us: do the catechumens and those in the world who are not walking in the light see the bright light of hope in us? Are we a beacon that draws the world to Christ our Hope?

In the rest of that brief paragraph, Benedict goes on to describe the journey of faith of Josephine Bakhita, canonized by Pope John Paul II. She would not have been called a catechumen since the rite had not yet been restored in her lifetime. (She was born in 1869.) Yet, her journey, as described in the pope’s letter, is certainly the story of an inquirer who found the first glimmer of faith, who claimed that faith, and who went on to share that faith with others who were without hope.

[B]esides her work in the sacristy and in the porter’s lodge at the convent, she made several journeys round Italy in order to promote the missions: the liberation that she had received through her encounter with the God of Jesus Christ, she felt she had to extend, it had to be handed on to others, to the greatest possible number of people. The hope born in her which had “redeemed” her she could not keep to herself; this hope had to reach many, to reach everybody.

This Advent will be an opportune time to teach the catechumens one of the central tenants of Catholic identity—we are a people of hope. Stay close to the Sunday readings and the opening prayers for the Sundays of Advent. Ask the catechumens to connect their personal stories with the Scripture stories. And tell them the hope-filled story of Josephine Bakhita.

For more on Catholic identity, see:

• Prayers every catechumen should know
• The Four Essential Doctrines the Liturgy Teaches

Spe Salvi