Lucy has a meaningful experience at the Montecarlo Catholic church

We flew down the stairs to get our bikes ready to do what we usually do on Sunday in Montecarlo . . . go to the chiesa evangelica (protestant church) in the nearby city of Altopascio. We turned in our rental car last week, so now we’re dependent on our e-bikes. Even though we rode a long way to Pescia two days before with no problem, we discovered Paul’s front tire was flat—and then also the back one, too! Plus we discovered the electric battery had not charged, and he would only be at half power. Strange. I suggested that Paul take my bike and I would stay.

Awfully quiet upstairs alone. I heard the bells of the Catholic church of Sant'Andrea down the street ring a call to worship. I remembered that I usually go to some church no matter where I am, and then I realized I rarely have the opportunity to go to this church. So even though I don’t understand every custom and nuance, fellow Christians are all over the world, and we will spend eternity together. I decided to go.

I arrived to a packed house as I came in at the back. It’s a beautiful place, with brown and golden marble, matching walls, lit paintings, nicely arranged flowers and candles, wooden pews—it’s a calm place. A group of families with babies were coming down the center aisle from the vestry in the front towards the back. I took a seat in the front third row. Everyone quietly stood and looked back, and the priest came down and led them up to the altar area, dividing the group to rows of chairs on either side.

It was the Sunday of the Good Shepherd and a time set for baptisms. Most of the babies were dressed in white. Grandparents were included in the family groups.

Then began the worship songs followed by the priest reading a part and the congregation responding with their part conveniently written in a bulletin (which helps me, too). Then came the sermon about the good shepherd tending His sheep, which these children will become.

Happy churubs watching from on high

The baptism, I think he said, will take care of the problem of the children’s original sin state, through Christ’s sacrifice for them. The babies were prayed over and anointed twice with something from bottles, and then each was taken to a basin, surrounded by family, and the back of their heads were rinsed three times with water. A girl about 7 years old was also baptized. Towels were provided. Families beamed. The priest was gentle. After that, the girl and a baby who weren’t dressed in white were dressed by the priest with a white apron over the baby and a white frock over the girl. I read afterwards that “the white garment shows that the newly baptized have put on Christ and have risen with him. To be clothed in the baptismal white garment is to be clothed in Christ’s protective love.” The sign of the cross was made on all the foreheads with perfumed oil. Then the fathers came forward and all were given long candles which they lit from an Easter candle, signifying the light of Christ is in all their lives due to Easter and reminding them that they are to be lights for the world. The fathers (and seated grandfathers) beamed with lovely smiles.

More prayers about Mary and lots of saints, and the “peace” was passed among the congregates. Everyone was blessed by the priest and dismissed.

Tranquil church with baptismal font.

I saw long tables reserved in the restaurants, I’m sure for these families. Adding to the festive atmosphere, it was also the Spring Fair in Montecarlo that day, the thunderstorms of the day before forgotten. Vendors lined the street, and there were entertainers for both children and adults.

I hadn’t brought my phone to church, which is good—for I kept “seeing” scenes to be photographed during the service. But it was better to observe, getting the camera after and catching the beauty before everyone left.

I had taken communion with them, for I have been a Christian for 54 years and am in good standing with my God. Even before that I’d been baptized and confirmed in the Episcopal church, but then after I’d accepted as my grown self what Christ did and does through His Spirit, I was baptized again. That’s my journey, and perhaps in Heaven I’ll meet these babies baptized today and learn what their journeys with God had been. Then there will be more times to rejoice and be thankful. And maybe I will ask God how He made two tires go flat so I could go today.