On the eve of the baby's birth, some thoughts on baptism

As the new baby's arrival approaches, Rosemary's and my thoughts are occupied with many, many important preparations. There's a house to clean, birthing supplies to gather, babysitters to engage, and, arguably more important than anything else, a baptism to arrange. Rosemary and I strongly believe that there is nothing more valuable that we can offer the children we bring into this world than baptism, by which they are claimed for Christ and granted the gift of eternal salvation. Of course, the cleansing with water together with those all-important words "I baptize you in the name..." is only the beginning, as there's everything that follows in terms of raising them to recognize and appreciate the gift they've received and to enable them to live according to what they've received by word and by example. Yet all that follows is predicated on bringing them to church to be baptized.

Cletus Anthony's baptism at the hands of Fr. Peter Bauknecht at Mater Dei Latin Mass Parish in Dallas two years ago. He is accompanied by his godparents James and Lisa, dear friends of ours who recently welcomed a child of their own.

We're deeply pleased, in that regard, that our pastor at St. Catherine of Siena in Wake Forest, Fr. Phil Tighe, has agreed to baptize the new baby according to the older ritual book a few Sundays from now. Both Clement and Cletus were baptized according to the older ritual during our years in Dallas, when we attended Mater Dei Latin Mass Parish, staffed by the Fraternity of St. Peter. During that time we became very attached to the deep symbolism of the older rite, which the FSSP uses exclusively, and there was never any doubt in our mind that we'd seek out the older form of baptism for future children as well. Since it will be Fr. Tighe's first baptism according to the older form, he has asked me to meet with him ahead of time and to guide him through it. His request has led me to study the rite in far more depth than I did when Clement and Cletus were baptized, when all I had to do was follow along with in the expert direction of the FSSP priests. This post, in turn, contains some of my reflections as I've gone through the rite.

First of all, a little background for the uninitiated. The Catholic Church revised many of its liturgical celebrations decades ago, most recognizably the Mass, which was simplified, and which also came to be celebrated almost exclusively in the vernacular instead of Latin. The revisions also encompassed baptism and the other sacramental rituals. The idea was to simplify these ancient celebrations, "mysteries," as the early Church Fathers called them, making them more accessible to people who might otherwise find them arcane and old fashioned. Often this meant jettisoning Latin, the Church's liturgical language for 1,800 years, making the celebration more intelligible, as well as simplifying the ritual actions performed by the minister. Laudable goals indeed, as mysteries are meaningless if people can't enter into them to some degree, but many people, myself included, feel that a great deal of the reverence, symbolism, and richness of the rituals--their essential mystery--was also lost in the process. 

Let me emphasize that this is not a screed against the new baptismal rite. I was recently to the baptism of a colleague's child, and I found it symbolic and moving. Cyprian, likewise, was baptized according to the new ritual book by a dear priest friend who also happened to have been the homilist at our wedding. The new rite retains a great deal of symbolism and, most importantly, results in a child claimed for Christ and welcomed into His Church. Cyprian is just as much baptized as are Clement and Cletus.

Here is Fr. (now Msgr.) Joe Hirsch in a catechetical moment six years ago at Cyprian's baptism at St. Peter's in Middle Ridge, Wisconsin,, together with me and Rosemary and with Cyprian's godparents, Rosemary's older sister Renee and my grandfather, who was my own confirmation sponsor and an important influence on my faith, especially during my teenage years.

That said, my experience of the older ritual has left me awed. If you're interested, you can view the ritual in its entirety here. To start with, it impressed me years ago when Clement was baptized that it was that his godparents, our friends Dwight and Emily, who held him throughout the entire ritual. In the new rite, the godparents simply stand by, witnessing the action. In the old ritual, on the other hand, the godparents not only hold the child, but make all the responses for him. 

Priest: "N. (name of the child), what do you ask of the Church of God?"

Godparents: "Faith."

Priest: "What does faith offer you?"

Godparents: "Eternal life."

Priest: "If, then, you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments: thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind, and thy neighbor as thyself." 

That the godparents make these responses on behalf of the child struck me, I think, because their task is a sort of spiritual parenthood. When Rosemary and I discuss possible godparents for our children, we think of people who've inspired us in our own walk of faith and who will be able to do the same for our children. We think of people that we trust to pray regularly for their godchildren and who will intentionally foster a special bond with them in regard to the faith. So it makes sense that the godparents, who take special spiritual charge of the child in a similar manner to the  parents concerning themselves with the child's physical well-being and education, hold the child as he is baptized and answer the questions posed to him on his behalf.

Here Emily, Clement's godmother, holds him as Father Phil Wolfe marks him with the sign of the cross at the entrance of the church.

Notably, these early questions in the older ritual occur outside the church. The idea is that the child is not yet a member of the Church community. Rather, he petitions for entrance through the answers of his godparents at the entrance of the church. After the initial questions, the priest breathes on the child, asking that Satan depart from him. He makes the sign of the cross three times and imposes his hands. Recalling Christ's admonition that we are to be the salt of the earth, he places a tiny bit of salt in the baby's mouth, praying:

Priest: "N., receive the salt, which is a symbol of wisdom. May it bring you God's favor for life everlasting."

 After another exorcism, another sign of the cross, and another imposition of hands, the baby is finally admitted to the church proper. I vividly recall this entrance from Clement's and Cletus' baptisms. Fr. Wolfe and Fr. Bauknecht, respectively, laid their purple stoles upon the child and led him, carried by his godparents, into the church and to the baptismal font while reciting the Apostle's Creed and the Our Father, the two most important prayers of our Catholic faith. For both baptisms we had quite a crowd of friends and onlookers (especially since the baptisms occurred right after the regularly scheduled Sunday Masses), and everybody followed behind, reciting these prayers together with the godparents.

In my perusal of the rite, I was struck by the number of times Satin is referenced, both before and even after the entrance into the church. This is a major difference between the old rite and the new, where there is only one exorcism immediately before the baptism itself. In the old rite, on the other hand, the priest has already urged Satan to depart twice, and he has also exorcised the salt (a "creature of God") prior to placing it in the child's mouth, There is also the solemn exorcism, which is retained in the new rite. While Satan might be an awkward topic to us moderns, C.S. Lewis famously said that Satan's most devious, most effective ploy is making us forget that he exists, or even disbelieve in his existence.

Here we are entering into the church proper at Cletus' baptism.

There is absolutely no forgetting that the Church firmly believes in Satan's reality, and in his role in leading us astray, in the older ritual of baptism. I like that. I was disturbed, in fact, by how in the Liguori Publications video our parish required us to watch described baptism without a single reference to Satan. Especially since we've been praying Compline together as a family during Advent and Christmas, I always have the words of St. Peter, from Tuesday nights, on my mind:

"Be calm but vigilant, because your enemy the devil is prowling round like a roaring lion, looking for someone to eat. Stand up to him, strong in faith." (1 Peter 5:8-9)

 Baptism is not merely a "welcoming ritual" and a marker of entrance into the Church community, the two elements the video dwelt upon the most. It's a freeing from the snares of Satan, who has claim over us as a result of the original sin we inherit from our first parents. Baptism is a welcoming into the life of Christ, who redeemed us by His sacrifice on the cross and gives us the grace to persevere in our journey to eternal life through the sacraments, beginning with baptism. From the solemn exorcism:

Priest: "I exorcise you, every unclean spirit, in the name of God, the Father almighty, nd in the name of His Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Judge, and in the strength of the Holy Ghost,that you may depart from this creature of God, N., whom our Lord has called to His holy temple in order that he may become a temple of the living God and that the Holy Ghost may dwell in him. Through the same Christ our Lord, Who will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire."

Of course, this is followed by the renunciation of Satan, where the godparents again speak on behalf of the child:

Priest: "N., do you renounce Satan?"

Godparents: "I do renounce him."

Priest: "And all his works?"

Godparents: "I do renounce them."

Priest: "And all his pomps?"

Godparents: "I do renounce them."

Like in the newer ritual, the child is then anointed with the oil of catechumens, the profession of faith is made, and the baptism occurs in the

"name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."

or in Latin,

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, and Spiritus Sancti."

 The white linen cloth, a symbol of the purity of the soul cleansed from original sin, and the lighted candle, a symbol of the child's new faith, to be kept alight all through his life, are part of the rituals new and old.

Cletus' godfather, James, holds the candle signifying the grace of Cletus' baptism to be kept burning throughout his Christian life.

In conclusion, I'm excited that Fr. Tighe has agreed to perform the new baby's baptism according to the older ritual. I understand that the '60s were heady times, but I've been at a loss for years now as to why so much symbolism would be deemed irrelevant in the revisions of these rituals. To be sure, I'm grateful that the older forms are still permissible and that they are gaining traction among many young Catholics. It seems to me that what the older ritual emphasizes is precisely what we've need of today in our modern, secular culture.

From the Churching of Women, immediately after Clement's baptism.

Nigerian Dwarf Goat Kids for sale

Kleinshire currently has available four Nigerian Dwarf Goat kids, including one doeling and three bucklings (kidded 1/17 through 1/18). These kids come from excellent milking lines and from the lineages of well established local goat farms. Two bucklings and the doeling are blue-eyed. Our herd tested free of CAE and Johne's Disease in Fall 2014. We raise our goats naturally and with herbal dewormer. The bucklings were just disbudded and the doeling will be soon unless a buyer requests otherwise and puts down a deposit. The prices are as follows:

2-week old bottle babies:
Bucklings - AGS registrable, intact -- $150; no papers, intact -- $100
Doeling - AGS registrable -- $200; no papers -- $150

Weaned at two months (1/2 price deposit required):
Bucklings - AGS registrable, intact -- $250; no papers, intact -- $150; AGS registrable wether -- $150; no papers, wether -- $100
Doeling - AGS registrable --$300; no papers -- $200

Here is the ad as it appears on Craigslist, together with some recent pictures.

UPDATE (1/24): Since the doeling and one of the bucklings have been reserved, we've composed a new Craigslist ad, which can be accessed here.

Just kidding (no, really!)

They say that when it rains, it pours. That's certainly been the case here these past few weeks, as the barnyard has turned into a soupy, muddy mess. But it's true metaphorically, too. We're kidding here at Kleinshire. Really, we are. And I don't mean that metaphorically.

I call your attention to "Oreo, the ladies' man," posted to the blog approximately 145 days ago when we purchased our very first herd sire from Starlight Farms, hosted at the time by Nigerian Meadows (whose owner has been a great goat mentor to Rosemary). The timing is significant because the gestational period for goats is approximately 145-150 days. It seems that Oreo had gotten right down to business.

The excitement began Saturday morning when Caroline, our herd matriarch, proudly displayed a pair of brand, spanking-new baby goats to me when I went to do chores. No kidding, Caroline had kidded all by herself during the night, apparently without any problems.

Here is Caroline, our her matriarch, with her two new kids on Saturday morning.

Being quite pregnant herself, Rosemary had been worrying about the goats all night, especially since both Caroline and Tam had been showing some of the signs of impending labor. I tend to like sleeping in on Saturday mornings, though, and Rosemary had been pestering me for a good half hour to get outside and do the chores. In any case, I raced back in (sauntered, Rosemary insists), and asked her with a smirk if she wanted to go check out the barn. She must have thought I was kidding, but really, the kidding was all Caroline's. So, Rosemary raced out to the barn (and yes, I'll agree that she really did race in a way that might make my racing, by comparison, seem more of a saunter).

One of the first things to do, of course, is determine what genders the kids are. We're definitely hoping for doelings as we attempt to increase our own milk production. Bucklings, on the other hand, will mostly be sold off as whethers or possibly, if they're high quality, as herd sires. All the goats are registrable, of course. Caroline, in any case, had one of each, a little black-and-brown doeling and a much bigger black-and-white buckling. Both have blue eyes, a desirable trait according to many owners of Nigerian dwarves.

"It's a girl!" Rosemary proclaims.

Caroline's kids figured out how to nurse without any problem, and have been growing and becoming spunkier throughout the weekend.

Here is Caroline's little buckling happily nursing away.

Brother and sister, looking cute.

 All this might have been excitement enough for a day, but it seems that hormones don't dissipate quite that easily when pregnant females congregate. Within hours, Tam, one of the other two pregnant does, started looking confused. First, she began trying to care for Caroline's babies, much to Caroline's consternation. Then the little kids took a liking to Tam's milk, which didn't make their mother feel any friendlier toward the interloper. Butting ensued, and the angry females began to have it out. Though we separated Tam, all the excitement probably helped to set off Tam's labor, and, no kidding (okay, maybe literally kidding) we soon had three more little baby goats.

Here's the first of Tam's babies, a doeling, being born. We posted a video of one of the other births to Facebook.

Tam gave us two doelings and one buckling. One of the doelings is on the smaller side, while the other two are larger. The larger doeling is a little stand-offish like her mother. We'll have to work on that.

Tam with her three kids.

Surely that would be enough excitement. I'm not kidding when I say I was just about through. But Edel, our last pregnant female, decided to have the last say in the matter. Now, we didn't really expect her to kid at the same time as the other two. In fact, we had assumed that she hadn't taken right away, and we had been putting her in the buck pen with Oreo as recently as last month to ensure that she would get pregnant. Lately, however, she had bagged up, and on Saturday evening, after Tam had kidded, she started to have a discharge as well as some contractions.

We were a little worried about Edel because her last kidding, right before we had purchased her, was very difficult. We separated her from the others, made her as comfortable as we could, and checked on her regularly. She may be the smallest of the females, but she's also the loudest. In any case, sure enough, Rosemary's check at 3 a.m. found Edel accompanied by a single large, spunky buckling who was already cleaned up and happily nursing away.

Edel with her single buckling.

A closer shot of Edel's buckling. He looks like he'll be a handsome buck someday. Good bloodlines and blue eyes!

All in all, it was an eventful weekend at Kleinshire. Our herd of six goats is now twelve. Those of you who are interested in purchasing or who know of someone who might be interested, please stay tuned.

Here's a shot of Tam's triplets cozily tucked in the corner of their stall this evening.

Caroline's kids are becoming very playful.

Cletus gets the final word, a word he's beginning to learn well as he awaits his own younger sibling: "BABY!"

Pregnant

I wish I could say I am a loving caring mother when pregnant. That is just sadly not true. I want to blame it on my hormones, or whatever else is a viable option. I become a raging lioness (I think my hair may even resemble a mane). I can be sweet, but it does not take much to trigger my crankiness. What makes it seem even more hard is that Cletus whether it is because he senses the new baby is coming soon or what, has become a quick monster. Cletus can be sweet. But if I for some reason ignore him, he immediately retaliates by getting into and destroying something he very well knows is off limits. Cyprian and Clement can be good boys. Though they too have taken to using my distracted state to their creative and sometimes destructive tendencies. I pray that God helps me and them. For I have failed so many times that if I was a crier I would be in tears most of the time. Instead I am a mother who continually has to forgive myself and work on lovingly teaching our children what is really important. Not all the annoying things that happen around us. That we are a family. We love each other, and want the best for each other. This in turn will make us focus more on our true cause as a holy family. Don's sweat the small stuff, and face it most of it is small stuff that we blow up to be huge problems.

Finding the balance of loving but not being a push over is my struggle.

Thank goodness the sun is shining today and I can get all the kids outside to play and work!

36 or 38 weeks pregnant

When does Christmas end, anyway?

It's always been something of a mystery to me exactly when Christmas comes to an end. I've witnessed sad, denuded trees discarded on the curb the afternoon of Christmas-day. And it's no surprise, as many people are probably sick of Christmas by the end of December since stores start playing the Christmas songs even in the lead-up to Thanksgiving. On top of that, if one puts up the tree in early December, there likely aren't many needles clinging to the branches by the time Christmas-day finally arrives.

Since we didn't put up our tree until the octave before Christmas, even now it has some life to it. I remember a few years when I was growing up when we left our tree up past Valentine's Day. I don't think we'll make it quite that long--but how long, exactly, should it stay up? When, precisely, does Christmas-time transition into something else?

Our tree is still up!

Liturgically speaking, Christmas-day extends far beyond the twenty-four hours from Christmas Midnight Mass through midnight of the next day. Traditionally, the chief feast-days of the calendar extend a full eight days--an octave. I love how the Liturgy of the Hours emphasizes this fact by repeating the same psalms and canticles, day after day, for Lauds and Vespers for the entire eight days. In our household, since I was on break, we made a commitment to attend Mass every day of the octave--no light commitment, since we're a half-hour from St. Catherine's. We weren't late every day--really! We also took to chanting Sunday Compline throughout the octave according to a psalm tone I learned in seminary. I love how the boys enthusiastically join in once they've heard it several nights in a row.

So, there was no dispute in the Klein household that it was Christmas-time as we extended Christmas-day through the end of the year. The Sunday in the octave was the Feast-day of the Holy Family, an entirely appropriate Christmas feast. The octave culminates in New Year's Day, a feast-day in the Church calendar, the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God.

After traveling across the fireplace mantel, the Magi adore our Lord in the manger.

To this point, we were clearly still in the Christmas season. Especially in the old calendar, where Jan. 1 is called the Feast of the Circumcision, we're dealing with Jesus' infancy. In the United States' version of the new calendar, this past Sunday was the Solemnity of the Epiphany, which, as I understand it, is in the Eastern Churches perhaps an even more solemn holy-day than Christmas itself. More traditionally, the Epiphany is Jan. 6; hence the "Twelve Days of Christmas." This year we lived all twelve days by attending the monthly Traditional Latin Mass at Sacred Heart Cathedral in Raleigh, since, in the old calendar, the traditional dates still apply. Last Sunday was the Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus for us, not the Epiphany, with the Gospel reading regarding the naming of Jesus, not the arrival of the Magi.

The one sad thing, however, was that this choice left us without a Mass to attend proper to the Epiphany, as the nearest Church with a Latin Mass yesterday was a significant drive away. We did our best to commemorate the Epiphany on our own, including marking the doorway with the year and the names of the Magi--Casper, Melchior, and Balthasar. Happily, we still have a healthy supply of blessed chalk from Mater Dei, our Latin Mass parish back in Dallas.

The traditional Epiphany marking above the doorways of a house.

Now, of course, it's the evening of Jan. 7, the day after the Epiphany. Even many people we know who make an effort to extend the Christmas season are beginning to take down their trees and other decorations at this point. Yet I'm reluctant to do so just yet, even if we're not going to make it to Valentine's Day. Liturgically, the new calendar places us in a series of days leading up to the Baptism of the Lord, which marks the beginning of Christ's public ministry as well as the opening of Ordinary Time. Thus, the new calendar gives us at least a few more days to savor Christmas.

The old calendar gives Christmas an even longer lease on life, perhaps another reason I'm so attached to it. The Feast of the Holy Family, while celebrated the Sunday after Christmas in the new calendar, is reserved for this coming Sunday in the old. The Baptism of the Lord is pushed back a few more days, being a weekday feast (most years) occurring on Jan. 13.

At a minimum, therefore, we'll be keeping the tree up for six more days. After all, there continue to be more needles on the tree than on the floor, if only because we vacuum semi-regularly. Perhaps if we stretch logic just a little, there's even justification to keep the tree up through the end of the month. In the old calendar, after the Baptism of the Lord there is no such season as "Ordinary Time"; rather, there are the "Sundays after Epiphany" through Septuagesima Sunday, the beginning of the two-week period leading up to Lent. I feel that the continued mention of Epiphany is enough of a reason to have a fast-dying pine tree in the house!

Alas, try as I might, I can't justify keeping the tree up through Feb. 14, St. Valentine's Day, though. Believe it or not, that's only four days prior to Ash Wednesday!

Borrowed from NewLiturgicalMovement.org, here is the proclamation of the dates leading up to Easter, traditionally sung in church on the Feast of the Epiphany.

Philosophy, really?

Several times I have started a post or thought about great things to post. It seems I get distracted and or just tired. Here is a shot at coming back to the blog. Part of the problem is my lack of good grammar in writing. Franz is the grammar nazi. He is always rooting out the boys' and my mistakes. It drives me nuts sometimes! For those of you who do not know, I am bit dyslexic. This especially is in regard to speech.

Some days I look at or read or hear of what other mothers are doing and think, gosh I am really lacking and slacking. Yup, most women feel that at some point they are not up to snuff. Okay, so I have been reading a lot of children's books and it shows in my talking, writing and sense of humor. That is part of my life as a mother.

I have and still sometimes struggle with feeling inadequate philosophically and educationally when it comes to in-depth subjects and topics. Franz is by far the the deep thinker. I am the action day to day figure.

People who happen to read my post, probably get annoyed when I write something about all I have gotten done. NOTICE: I do not post all the time and when I do post I am usually celebrating a day of good. NOTE: this obviously does not happen every day. I feel it is better to try and not post too much negativity, even if it makes people think that I am being such a brown noser. I do post what happens when you have three active imaginative boys running around. So, there are also statuses of what goes on around Kleinshire in a crazy chaotic day.

So to all you family, friends, and others. I am one in a crowd who has joys and sorrows. Please rejoice with me when it is joyful, because we have many trials that go on here too.

See, I just can't seem to write something that is catching. I am point blank blunt. I think I have great thoughts, but I guess they will just have to stay that way, my great thoughts:') Thankfully my husband loves me no matter how moody and wild I get. I really do have a temper. Those who have seen it know. Those who haven't beware....

New Year's Rovings and Ramblings

Since we had already gone to Mass for the Holy Day last night--it was actually an evening Latin Mass for the 31st's Feast of St. Sylvester, but it satisfied today's obligation nonetheless--today was a day for adventuring. We decided that it would be an excellent day to do something outside, active, and in nature, and elected to check out Medoc Mountain State Park, fifty minutes northeast of us.

Those who've traveled with me before won't be surprised to learn that we left without so much as a planned route. Finding the way is half the fun of traveling, in my opinion. Rosemary is a little skeptical of my philosophy, but she didn't know that I hadn't mapped anything out until we were on our way. In any case, we stopped at Sheetz in Louisburg and feasted on fifty-cent hot dogs before meandering the rest of the way along country lanes. I love how the boys consider that a treat.

Along the way, we encountered a New Year's parade in the little town of Centerville, where a formally dressed policeman motioned us off the road. Any other day it would have been annoying, but today it was as good as the Rose Bowl Parade as far as the boys were concerned. They happily collected candy, and even a pack of baseball cards.

The Centerville, N.C., New Year's parade. Almost as good as Pasadena!

Yes, that's a Confederate flag... and a deer's head mounted to the front.

Finally we made our way to Medoc Mountain, which we found to be a bit of a misnomer, as there isn't a mountain, or really any high elevation at all. Nonetheless, as it was a beautiful day for a hike, we found a trailhead and set out. I had the boys looking out for bobcats and carrying staffs to protect themselves, making it a true adventure. The most exciting fauna we encountered, however, were those pictured on the trail-signs.

Turkey!

Rosemary is definitely ready to have the baby!

True to form, Clement fabricated an adventure of his own, tripping over a root and leaving a bloody bruise alongside his left eye. He recovered in time to join in footraces and hide-and-go-seek when we finally found our way to civilization again.

Clement's bruise.

On the way to Medoc Mountain, we had seen a road-sign pointing down a side-road to a place called Bethlehem. That piqued everybody's interest, especially given that it's Christmastime, so on the way back toward Louisburg we turned down that road and traveled the few miles to Bethlehem.

The boys were concerned with finding an inn; they were even hoping that there might be a room for us to spend the night. Thence followed an interesting conversation about how this might not be the precise Bethlehem where Mary and Joseph had visited. Alas, this Bethlehem turned out to be a hamlet consisting of a few houses, a road-side store, and a tribal school. No inns in sight.

Bethlehem. Not the most exciting hamlet in the state. Oh well.

Then, since Cyprian declared that he hadn't gotten enough hiking in, we decided to visit the Louisburg College botanical garden along Hwy. 401 on the way home. We had meant to stop there many times but hadn't yet done so. It was well worth the visit, and we'll likely be back again to explore. We hiked through the woods to a small waterfall, where Cyprian nearly fell in, before hightailing it back to the car as the sun went down.

So, it was a full day for the Klein household. Happy New Year's Day to all of you from all of us!