Happy Meal Baptism

If a church can’t guilt a child into membership, if they can’t pull him in with fear or with approval of his sinning self or promises for life everafter, they’ll draw him in with doughnuts and gifts.

After the big baptism, I went to pick up my children from their dad’s house. It was my birthday and we were going to eat at Jinbeh, a Japanese restaurant my youngest son loves. He was very excited when I arrived, but not because we were going to see an elaborate show with fire and knives. He was excited because one of the members of his dad’s church had stopped by with a gift for T”"”"’s baptism.

What would be an appropriate gift for the baptism of a child who is one month shy of 9 years old? I would think a cross, a pocket bible or some other symbolic trinket. No, what T**** received was a large toy car. A metal, deep blue, snazzy replica of a Dodge Viper.

I thought of golden arches and snappy tunes: “ba da ba ba baa..I’m lovin’ it.” Wait. Wrong story. What does a Dodge Viper have to do with baptism into the holy world of Jesus Christ?

There was a clue in my older son’s behavior. He was excited, too. He demonstrated all the moving parts: the trunk opened to expose a spare, removable tire. He lifted the hood to reveal a shiny new engine. Then he stood up and smiled. “Maybe I’ll get baptized, too.”

Like happy meals toys, baptismal toys entice kids to eat a lot of crap.