Baptism and the Little Bastard

The parson was leaving the hospital after a joyful visit. He’d been sitting in the rocker talking to the newborn baby’s mother when the nurse came in. She told the mother she needed to come across the hallway for a quick test. The mom was having some serious medical problems that were concurrent with the birth of the baby, problems whose treatment could not begin until the child was birthed.

“You can bring the baby with you,” said the nurse.



“No, that’s okay. The parson can take care of him. We won’t be long; will we?”



It was agreed she would not be gone long. And so the mother had held out the six pounds and eight ounce, twenty inches long, bundle of new life. The parson with the ease of a practiced grandfather reached forward cuddled the baby into his arms and set back into the chair and started his rocking. The door was not closed before the melody began:

Hush a by my baby,

slumber time is coming soon.

Rest your head upon my breast,

while your parson sings a tune

The newborn’s eyes stared at the blur which was the parson and kicked his legs within the binding of the blanket.



The procedure did not take long indeed. Before the parson had completed the fifteenth verse the nurse and mother were back. The parson offered the mother her baby but she said no. “He looks pretty content to me.”



The parson and the mother visited while the child gurgled. They talked of her impending surgery, of her unmarried status; of her hopes for the future of this child and an upcoming baptism.

The parson being attuned to the signals of a baby realized, when the squirming and fussing began, the child was hungry. He gave him back to his mother, bid her good bye, shared a prayer with her for the baby and the baby’s mother and left.



Outside, walking to his car, the parson was greeted by an older member of a neighboring church. “Hello, parson, what you doing here this early in the morning?”



The parson returned the man’s greeting. He told him whom he’d been visiting. The man’s forehead wrinkled. “That’s Alex Peters’ young girl.”

“Yes, Iris Peters,” said the parson. “You know her?”



“Know her? Well, I don’t know her, but I tell you one thing everybody knows about her.”



“Do you always point out other folks’ shortcomings?” the parson asked.

“Obviously someone needs to point them out.”



“Excuse me,” said the parson, “I’ve got to go.”



As walked away, words were hurled at his back. “You’re probably going to baptize that bastard baby.”



“I am,” said the parson. “And I’m going to baptize the little bastard’s mother too.”

“I thought baptism was for Christians.”



“It is,” said the parson. “It is.”

Comments

[doodlebugmom]

Some people forget that God calls us to be witnesses, not judges.

[SingingOwl]

OMG!

[An Observer]

AMEN!

[Anonymous Visitor]

Wow - that's terrible. I had some people in my previous appointment who felt just like that though, and probably some in my current appointment too. Missing the point of baptism altogether!
-Beth Quick

[PastorPaul51]

Yea, and I bet this person would not have been happy about the baby we christened this past Sunday either...since he has two Mom!