Well, I married one — a lovely lass named Siobhain, whose great grandmother arrived at Ellis Island with little more than a handbag and a determined attitude.

And yesterday, for my first baptism, I baptized one — another determined little lass named Margaret Flanagan.

It was a wonderful moment for me (and, I hope, for the Flanagans). Margaret was the first of 10 babies I baptized yesterday afternoon. It all went smoothly (to my amazement) and quickly (to my astonishment). The whole thing only took about a half an hour, and I was helped immensely by my wife, who was “minister of the towel” and helped me keep the oils straight. On the advice of a classmate, who had been through this drill for the first time the previous day, I pruned my homily down to a succinct four minutes. The water had already been blessed, so that part of the rite was brief. And I elected to skip the Ephphetha, or prayer over ears and mouth, which is optional anyway.

I was unexpectedly moved by the emotion of it all — both humbled and overwhelmed at the sacrament’s significance and sense of joy. About midway through the baptisms I found myself blinking at splashes of water that had landed in my eye. Or it may have been my own tears. I’m not sure.

All in all, it was a moving and inspiring milestone in my young ministry.

In the words of the concluding prayer of the rite:

“May god the almighty Father, who filled the world with joy by giving us his only Son, bless these newly baptized chldren. May they grow to be more fully like Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Amen.

Image: “The Baptism of Our Lord” by John Nava, Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, Los Angeles