The first thing people see and hear upon entering St. David's Episcopal Church in Ashburn is the water. It is churning and gurgling in an immersion baptistery smack-dab in the middle of the center aisle.
"The baptistery . . . is at the center of our life," said the Rev. Stephen McWhorter, St. David's rector.
Nearly every rite in this parish of nearly 1,000 congregants takes place around this one-of-a-kind baptistery, a particularly unusual feature for an Episcopal church.
Although most infant baptisms at St. David's take place at the adjacent font, almost all baptisms of teenagers and adults have been conducted by immersion since the church's main building opened in 1999. The baptistery is also used for funerals, in which the casket is laid across four wooden beams resting inches above the water to represent the full circle from baptism to death and the promise of resurrection. Brides walk around the baptistery on their way down the aisle, as do worshipers taking Communion, reminding all of the centrality of their baptismal vows to the Christian life, McWhorter said.
As part of the worldwide Anglican Communion, the Episcopal Church usually baptizes by infusion -- the pouring of water -- rather than by immersion. But as McWhorter is quick to point out, the Book of Common Prayer, the church's official liturgical book, says the priest "immerses, or pours water upon, the candidate," making either option valid. Immersion is how Jesus was baptized, he noted.
During his 38 years as a priest, McWhorter, who plans to retire at the end of this year, increasingly sought opportunities to immerse -- in the ocean or a pool or at a Baptist church with a baptistery.
"There is psychological and spiritual depth to going into the water and being buried with Christ to share in his resurrection," McWhorter said. He said that watching the rite in a large baptistery can also be inspirational to the congregation. "It didn't make sense to have a large church with a baptistery the size of a birdbath," he said.
McWhorter speculated that the Episcopal Church has moved away from the ancient ritual of immersion because "it's not tidy." During a baptism, McWhorter, dressed in a white robe and tennis shoes, gets almost as wet as the baptized as he wades down the seven steps into the four-foot-deep baptistery.
The candidates for baptism wear white gowns. One at a time, they enter the baptistery, brimming with more than 1,000 gallons of chlorinated holy water. They cross their arms over their chests, and McWhorter places one hand on their folded arms and another behind their heads.
"I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit," McWhorter says as he guides each person into the water, keeping the candidate submersed for a moment before bringing him or her back up.
When the priest and the newly baptized emerge from the baptistery, they are dripping wet. Ushers mop the floor while participants quickly change into dry clothes.
Karan Powell, a founding member of St. David's, said it was important to her that her son Erik, now a 12-year-old seventh-grader, be baptized by immersion.
