We knew the holy water fonts would probably be empty. Still, as we walked into our church for Sunday Mass, I was struck by the starkness.The fonts weren’t just empty. The little bowls were completely gone. I hovered by the church entrance, feeling the emptiness, missing this simple sacramental.
Dipping your fingers into holy water on your way into Mass seems like a small gesture until you can’t do it. There was no water there. I could bless myself with a waterless cross, but I missed that tangible encounter.
As we genuflected and slid into our pew, I realized I felt so…dry. I never knew how much the coolness of the holy water was part of the beginning of Mass for me. That holy water is a first blessing, a simple welcome, a small reminder of why we’re there. It anoints and refreshes and awakens us to what we are about to experience.
I do love holy water, and I should have anticipated the sadness that would come with the empty fonts—even though they are empty for good reason, and I absolutely understand we don’t want to spread germs.
But I can understand and still be sad.
My mind traveled back to Ash Wednesday when we were walking into church. My son blessed himself with the holy water, and an usher stopped him.
“Do you know why we do that?” he asked. “What does the water remind us of?”
Our fourth grader hesitated, and I wondered whether he would come up with an answer that would have stumped many adults.
Then he said, “Our baptism,” and I felt so proud.
Weeks ago, on the feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, one of my favorite homilists encouraged us to pause every day as we first encounter water—whether drinking or brushing our teeth or washing—and think of our baptism. I haven’t been doing that.
But now that the fonts are bare, and the holy water is gone, I find myself realizing how much I have taken it for granted. The Mass is extraordinary, and I left feeling nourished for what is sure to be a full and challenging week.
Still, as we walked out the church doors, traveling out into the world to be Christ’s light for others, I yearned again for that final blessing, that splash of grace, the simplest of reminders that we belong to Jesus and He belongs to us.
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