“We little fishes are born in holy water and are safe only by permanently abiding in that water.” (Tertullian) My dear parishioners, Archbishop Fiorenza appointed me as Saint Philip’s third pastor effective July 01, 2005. That Friday was a blistering hot day. While offering my first vigil Mass the following afternoon, a persistent noise distracted me throughout the service. Ka-chuka ka-chuka ka-chuka. Weird but also familiar. After Mass finished, I investigated the source of the noise.

The sound came from a water pump to the right of the sanctuary, the kind used in swamp coolers when I was a boy. It was immersed in a large homemade plywood box 4 x 4 feet square, 18” tall, painted white, filled with water. And leaking. The pump’s electrical cord stretched out to a nearby wall plug. This box--or occasionally, a particle board stand topped by a steel bowl--was used for baptisms.

As preparations for St. Philip’s $1.7M 2009 renovation and repair were well underway, an interior question startled me. If not now, when? A few days later, certain of its meaning, I called our architect. I know the hour’s late and funds are scarce, but St. Philip must have a baptismal font, a noble and beautiful font. It’s the entrance to Christian life. This faith community will never be complete without one.

What kind of design? What kind of stone? asked the architect. Where is enough space to build one? I replied with a riddle. It’s simple. To go forward, we have to go backward. The architect was mystified. Silent. Here’s what we’re going to do, I went on. We’re going to carve out a big space next to the sacristy at the worship area entrance, take out walls and cabinets, move the doors and build a new ceiling. The font needs to be in line with the aisle, altar and tabernacle.

But you’ve said nothing about going backward, he protested, and just how is it going to fit? That’s the easy part, I said. Catholic Churches are closing in the northeast. I’m going to find a font, a beautiful marble pedestal font, released from one of these old retired Churches. That’s how we’ll do it. After some wrangling, the architect relented. Anything was better than a plywood box with a swamp cooler pump. Still, he still thought I was daft.

After almost a year of not finding a suitable font, I pretty much agreed about being daft. The problem wasn’t pedestal fonts actually, they were out there, but I couldn’t find the right size and design. Many of the traditional marble fonts were too large, overstyled or seriously damaged. Finally, the contractor snapped, I’m finishing the baptismal area. Where’s the font? Frustrated, I redoubled my efforts. God in heaven help me.

I prayed to the Holy Child Jesus. I prayed to Mary, his Blessed Mother. Please grant this great favor. Days later, on a hunch, I resumed my internet foraging. I discovered a broker handling salvage items from the Diocese of Scranton, PA’s closed Churches. On the broker’s website, I saw over a dozen retired baptismal fonts. Only one caught my eye, petite in size, modestly adorned, noble in beauty, and in good condition. It took two minutes to decide, Yes, this is the one! The day was July 01, 2009. Directing the font to be disassembled and shipped to Houston, I arranged for it to be restored to its original beauty at Natural Stone Inc. located in Houston’s East End off McCarty Street. Regretfully, the original finial was missing from the font’s dome. What can we do about this?

It just so happens, the marble contractor replied, I’ve got a small piece of yellow Carrara around here somewhere. It might just work. After a lengthy warehouse search, we found it. Let’s make a cross to top the font, I said. In November 2009, after 33 years of improvising, St. Philip received its Italian Carrara marble baptismal font, adorned with an angelic cherub face, accented by four yellow ornate columns and topped by a beautiful matching yellow cross. You know this font well. You pass by it every time you come to Mass. Many of our parish children have been baptized in its waters these past 12 years.

Do we know our exquisite font’s history? It was installed in 1879 at Saint Vincent de Paul Catholic (Continued from page 1) Church, 1201 Providence Road in Scranton, PA 18508. A parishioner who wished to honor her parents underwrote the entire cost. Sadly, St. Vincent de Paul was closed in the late 1990’s. It’s no exaggeration to say that our font, situated in its second Catholic faith community, has been in almost continual service for 142 years.

What things were happening in 1879? The first Woolworth store opened. Milk was sold in glass bottles for the first time. Doc Holliday avenged the shoot up of his New Mexico saloon. Thomas Edison invented the lightbulb. Will Rogers was born. And Catholics walked or drove carriages to their cherished candle-lit Churches. In 1879 the Scranton diocese was 11 years old and the first child was baptized in the font that now graces our beautiful St. Philip worship area.

I can’t help but feel a lingering sadness though for Scranton’s St. Vincent de Paul parish, today a rapidly fading memory. This somber reality fueled my keen desire to rescue St. Philip from the wreckage of the 2017 and 2019 floods and the ongoing pandemic repercussions. On this feast of Our Lord’s baptism, I pray our beloved St. Philip parish prospers in the years ahead and will be blessed with generations of “little fishes”, saintly Catholic children baptized in the waters of our exquisite font: “I will pour my Spirit upon your descendants, and my blessing on your offspring. They shall spring up like grass amid waters, like willows by flowing streams.” [Isa 44:3-4] Sincerely, in the hearts of Jesus and Mary. Your pastor, Reverend Richard Barker.