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Journal of Early Christian Studies, Volume 20, Number 3, Fall 2012,

pp. 439-455 (Article)

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DOI: 10.1353/earl.2012.0022

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Everett Ferguson’s
Baptism in the Early Church:
A Liturgical Appraisal

FRANK C. SENN

This essay analyzes Everett Ferguson’s massive study of Baptism in the Early
Church using questions from the catechetical tradition: what is baptism? what
are its benefits? how can water do such great things? what is the significance
of such a bathing? why does the church baptize infants? These questions get at
the phenomenological, theological, ritual, liturgical, and pastoral issues in bap-
tism. I consider baptism to be an extended ritual process of initiation rather
than as a discrete ritual act. I question Ferguson’s view about submersion
in ancient baptismal practice and offer a wider view of the ancient church’s
practice of infant baptism.

Everett Ferguson’s magnum opus1 is a singular achievement: a one-author

encyclopedia of just about everything that can be known about baptism in
the first five centuries of Christian history, although his research extends
both before and after that time period. He reaches back to the washing
rites in Greco-Roman paganism and to Jewish purification practices before
Christianity as well as to Jewish proselyte baptism and Greco-Roman social
bathing practices contemporary with early Christianity, all of which may
have exerted some influence on early Christian practice. His chronicle
extends to the cusp of the early Middle Ages to conclude with the Byzan-
tine Codex Barberini Greek manuscript 336 (790) and the Gelasian Sac-
ramentary in Rome and Gaul (mid-eighth century). Both documents fit
antiquity because they reflect earlier practice. In between he leaves no stone

1. Everett Ferguson, Baptism in the Early Church: History, Theology, and Liturgy
in the First Five Centuries (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans, 2009). Page
citations to Ferguson will appear in the body of the essay.

Journal of Early Christian Studies 20:3, 439–455 © 2012 The Johns Hopkins University Press
440    JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES

unturned in exegeting New Testament texts and passages in early Christian

literature. He marches chronologically through the five centuries with a
section of the book devoted to each century. He further sub-divides each
century into literary genres, authors, and geographic areas. Not content
to deal only with the literary references to baptism, Part Seven examines
the evidence of baptisteries wherever they may be found in both eastern
and western parts of the Roman Empire. Finally, in the concluding eight
pages he summarizes his views with regard to issues that had received
special attention throughout the book: the origin of baptism, the doctrine
of baptism, the liturgies of baptism, the origin and development of infant
baptism, and the modes of baptism. The concluding ninety-two pages of
indices should make it possible for the researcher to find anything in this
book, which deals with just about everything concerning baptism in the
first five centuries.
It is difficult to get a handle on a work of this scope for review purposes.
Perhaps an author who has devoted as much time and effort to producing
such a monumental work as Everett Ferguson has done should be immune
from criticism just out of gratitude for the resource he has provided. But
having accomplished this feat, Professor Ferguson would surely be inter-
ested in what difference it makes to other scholars and even (especially!)
to those who administer holy baptism in the churches.
My own contribution to this discussion is to assess how this book,
which will surely be a standard work on the subject for years to come,
addresses issues related to liturgical practice and pastoral teaching. I am
not a patristics scholar; I am a liturgist and pastor (and my research is not
limited to early Christianity). It is from these areas of expertise, and with
these perspectives, that I offer a liturgical critique of Ferguson’s book. A
liturgist, thinking about actual practice, might have a somewhat different
perspective on some texts than a historian.
Since I come at this task from a particular Christian tradition, as does
Ferguson himself, I have organized my review around the questions con-
cerning holy baptism in Martin Luther’s Small Catechism and Large Cat-
echism. My purpose is not to bring the sixteenth century reformer into
conversation with the ancient church fathers. But the questions in his Cat-
echisms are as good as any to put to the vast data Ferguson presents, and
they are questions rooted in the catechetical tradition that has accompa-
nied baptism. What is baptism? What are its benefits? How can water do
such great things? What is the significance of such a bathing? In addition
to these I raise the question Luther also addresses in the Large Catechism,
although not in the Small Catechism: why does the church baptize infants?
 Senn / A Liturgical Appraisal   441

This latter issue is one in which Ferguson is particularly interested and for
which he has made a helpful historical suggestion.

WHAT IS BAPTISM?

This is the phenomenological question. The Greek word for “baptism”

simply means a bath. Ferguson provides a complete lexicon of words
with the root bapt- in classical and koine Greek and discusses baths and
bathing customs in Greco-Roman society. It is important to note that
social bathing involved a ritual pattern that included divesting, anoint-
ing, sometimes exercising, moving from one pool to another (from hot to
warm to cold), more anointing, receiving a massage, and being reclothed
in clean garments. Rituals of Christian baptism follow a similar pattern.
Since people don’t check their cultural practices and assumptions at the
church door, the practices of public bathing may have had a more pro-
found impact on Christian baptism than washing rites from the mystery
cults or Jewish proselyte baptism. Indeed, these other rites could have also
been influenced by Greco-Roman bathing practices.
Ferguson also makes innumerable references to water in the ancient
sources, especially the amount of water used and the size of the fonts which
were filled with water. Modern sacramental theology has appealed to the
natural symbolism of water as an agent of birth, cleansing, and destruction
as the basis for developing the theological meanings of baptism. Liturgists
and architects, especially those working on Roman Catholic church build-
ings, have displayed an interest in constructing baptismal pools based on
ancient models.
While modeled on Jesus’ own baptism by John the Baptist, Christian
baptism as a sacramental act was performed on the basis of a direct com-
mission from Jesus (Matt 28.16–18). It is not sufficient to base a sacramen-
tal theology on a single institution text. But neither can institution texts
be ignored, especially one as critically controverted as Matt 28.18 because
of its Trinitarian formula. Ferguson reviews the critical assessment of the
Trinitarian formula in Matthew 28 and comes down in defense of it. The
same formula, he points out, is used in Didache 7.1. Either the Didachist
copied Matthew or a common source lies behind both Matthew and the
Didache (pp. 132–38).
Sacramental theology’s focus on the baptismal formula (and indeed
on the whole question of what makes for a “valid” administration of
the sacrament) may obscure the fact that the water bath and the formula
used with it are part of a whole process that makes baptism a major event
442    JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES

in the life of the church, requiring much of its time and pastoral energy.
Liturgical theology has focused on the larger ritual pattern of Christian
initiation rather than just on the water bath as a discrete moment. This
also provides a different way of looking at Matt 28.16–20. A whole ritual
pattern can be seen in the Great Commission as that ritual pattern evolved
in the history of the church. That is, the elements of the ritual process that
later developed in the church are already embryonically present in Mat-
thew’s text: evangelization—go to the nations; catechesis—teaching; water
bath—baptizing (and even indirectly the welcome to the meal). While the
meal is not specifically mentioned, Jesus’ word of promise, “I am with you
always,” not only echo the prophecy about Immanuel (“God with us”)
in the infancy narrative (Matt 1.23) and Jesus’ promise that “wherever
two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of
them” (Matt 18.20), but also the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, “This
is my body” (Matt 26.26). We should also note that the “teaching” in the
Great Commission points back to the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew
5–7), which includes Jesus’ interpretation of the commandments. Moral
teaching became standard catechetical fare in the preparation of candidates
for holy baptism in the history of the church, beginning with the “Two
Ways” in Didache 1–6, which cites copiously from Matthew.
Liturgists have been interested in the full rite of Christian initiation
within which the water bath is a pivotal moment. Everett Ferguson has
not ignored the fully developed ritual of Christian initiation as it is laid
out in the church orders and explicated in the catecheses of the fathers.
But neither is this a central concept in his work. Perhaps no one excited
more interest in the recovery of the ancient rites of Christian initiation and
the adult catechumenate that flourished between the third and sixth cen-
turies than the late Aidan Kavanagh, O.S.B.2 I did not find a reference to
Kavanagh in Ferguson’s work. In fact, Ferguson says very little about the
overall “shape of baptism.” In his conclusions he does provide a summary
list of the elements in the fully developed baptismal liturgy, and he also
notes some of the divergences in practice (pp. 855–56). Along the way he
reports what church fathers like Tertullian, Cyril of Jerusalem, Theodore of
Mopsuestia, John Chrysostom, and church orders like the so-called Apos-
tolic Tradition have to say about the “ceremonies” of baptism. But just
as he stopped at various points along the way to review what the sources
say (or fail to say) about infant baptism, so it might have been helpful to
give an overview of how the rites of Christian initiation were developing
in different times and places.

2. Aidan Kavanagh, The Shape of Baptism (New York: Pueblo, 1972).

 Senn / A Liturgical Appraisal   443

Paul Bradshaw has made us wary of looking for direct evolutionary

lines of liturgical development because practices varied from place to
place.3 But there were some common features of this development, such as
inquiry, catechesis, election, handing over the symbols, exorcism, anoint-
ing, blessing the water, the water bath, laying on of hands, and welcome
to the Lord’s table. Baptism is a liturgical act before it is a doctrine, and
an overview of the liturgical development would be just as important as
an overview of doctrinal development.
Like contemporary liturgical scholars, Ferguson had to back off what
he might have claimed for the so-called Apostolic Tradition attributed to
Hippolytus of Rome. The critical edition of this church order by Paul F.
Bradshaw, Maxwell E. Johnson, and L. Edward Phillipps4 questions Hip-
polytus’s authorship and the Roman provenance of what was once regarded
as an Egyptian church order. Of course, most liturgists realized that the
Apostolic Tradition did not represent the actual practice of the Roman
church. If Hippolytus was its author (which is no longer assumed), it was
the work of a conservative who thought that the Roman church had got-
ten off the tracks and was proposing what it should be doing. The lack of
a Greek text for a Greek-speaking church also challenged the possibility
of Apostolic Tradition being an actual liturgy. In any event, the church
orders are “living documents” (as most liturgical books are) that were cop-
ied, translated, and changed in the process of being used over time and in
different places. The critical edition of the Apostolic Tradition lays out in
parallel columns the texts of seven church orders that exist in six different
languages, which clearly demonstrates what “living document” means.
Ferguson still wants to argue that some of the material in Apostolic Tra-
dition might be as early as the third century and that “wide acceptance of
the work suggests an influential center such as Rome” (p. 328). Certainly
some of the “ceremonies” in the Apostolic Tradition compare with those
described by Tertullian, which would put them in the early third century.
But Rome was seldom a generator of liturgical rites in the first five centu-
ries; it was usually on the receiving end of liturgical rites that came from
elsewhere, e.g., Alexandria.
Work on Christian initiation in various church centers of antiquity
continues apace. A significant new contribution is Juliette Day’s work on

3. Paul F. Bradshaw, The Search for the Origins of Christian Worship: Sources
and Methods for the Study of Early Liturgy, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2002), 144–70.
4. Paul F. Bradshaw, Maxwell E. Johnson, and L. Edward Phillips, The Apostolic
Tradition: A Commentary (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2002).
444    JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES

the baptismal liturgy in fourth and fifth century Jerusalem and adjacent
regions.5 Day’s project is to situate the baptismal liturgy in Jerusalem in
the comparative liturgical context of what is known of other contemporary
rites, especially the Apostolic Constitutions in Syria and the Euchologion
of Sarapion of Thmuis in Egypt. In the process of doing this, she dates the
Mystagogical Catecheses, commonly attributed to Cyril of Jerusalem, in
the episcopate of his successor John. Ferguson notes Day’s work in foot-
notes. It probably appeared at about the time Ferguson was wrapping up
his own work, and perhaps for that reason he does not take up the chal-
lenge she issues concerning the reconstruction of the shape of baptism in
Jerusalem. Yet what was done in Jerusalem was important simply because
it was the main pilgrimage site of early Christianity. Impressionable pil-
grims like Egeria undoubtedly took ideas from Jerusalem to try to imple-
ment back home.

WHAT BENEFITS DOES BAPTISM GRANT?

This is the theological question. Let us begin with an important text. Mark
16.16 states, “The one who believes and is baptized will be saved; but the
one who does not believe will be condemned.” What is promised to those
who believe? Let me put that question into the context of this whole pas-
sage. This is part of Mark’s longer ending. Some think that it was tacked
onto the original gospel, which otherwise ends rather abruptly at the
empty tomb and the frightened women. But the longer ending contains a
Great Commission in which the disciples are sent to preach the gospel to
all creation, not just to the nations or peoples, as in Matthew. Ferguson
argues that whether the “long ending” of Mark is original or a later addi-
tion, it was already cited by Irenaeus and “is notable for its testimony to
the early Christian conviction of the importance of baptism as a condition
of salvation and its connection with (as an expression of) faith” (p. 141).
As Matthew’s Great Commission reflects the whole narrative of the
Matthean gospel, so Mark 16.16 reflects the cosmology in the Markan
gospel. There is a cosmological dimension to the mission of the church:
the demons must submit to the authority of Jesus. The battle against the
demonic is a major emphasis in Mark’s story of Jesus. Hence the com-
mission to proclaim the gospel to the whole creation. No part of creation
is to be left untouched by the gospel message, including the realm of evil.

5. Juliette Day, The Baptismal Liturgy of Jerusalem: Fourth and Fifth Century Evi-
dence from Palestine, Syria, and Egypt (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2007).
 Senn / A Liturgical Appraisal   445

The promise of Mark’s gospel is that signs will accompany the disciples
and their proclamation. The gospel is not simply something interior to the
believer but has concrete results in the world. The demonic, the realm of
evil, is pushed back. Believers will cast out demons in Jesus’ name, speak
in new tongues, pick up snakes in their hands, and heal the sick (Mark
16.17–18). Practices of exorcism were connected with baptism in the
church orders and discussed in the catecheses of the fathers.
The shape of Mark’s Great Commission also has a sacramental cen-
ter that is inextricably linked with an act of assent. Baptism and belief
go together. Belief is not sufficient without baptism, and baptism is not
sufficient without belief. “The one who believes and is baptized will be
saved.” Churches divide over whether the belief must precede baptism
or can follow it, which has an impact on whether or not infants are suit-
able candidates for baptism. In fact, baptism is always performed in the
context of a community of faith. Historically, it is the faith of the church
(expressed in creeds), not of individuals, that is confessed at baptism. But
I will take up this issue in a later section; here I would note that Fergu-
son does not shy away from views of the church fathers concerning the
necessity of baptism for salvation, such as the statement of Tertullian in
On Baptism 13.3 that “faith was put under obligation to the necessity of
baptism” (quoted on p. 339). In other words, faith alone is not sufficient
for salvation when unaccompanied by baptism.
Highlighting the words of the fathers concerning the necessity of bap-
tism for salvation is an important contribution of this book, since it will
undoubtedly be read by many who do not regard the rite of baptism as
necessary for salvation. The aversion to the efficacy of ritual among many
Protestants is a Reformation reaction to late medieval superstitious use of
blessed objects and the product of modern (i.e. Enlightenment) rational-
ism; it is not a sensibility that was shared by ancient peoples, including
ancient Christians. Romans especially (including those in North Africa)
attributed efficacy to ritual acts, even to the point of regarding the rites
as ineffective if they were not carried out exactly as prescribed. Roman
Christians were not immune from this cultural mindset.
Ferguson is at his best when summarizing the baptismal theology of
the fathers. Especially good is his explication of John Chrysostom’s teach-
ings, contained in the Baptismal Instructions, concerning the meanings
of baptism as death, burial, and resurrection (Rom 6.3–4), new creation
(2 Cor 5.17), regeneration (Titus 3.5), forgiveness of sins (1 Cor 6.9–11),
Holy Spirit, circumcision (Col 2.11), enlightenment (Heb 6.4–6, 10.32),
and clothing with Christ (Gal 3.27; Col 3.9–10). Not so prominent in
446    JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES

Ferguson’s exposition of the baptismal theology of the fathers is their use

of typology: baptism as a type of creation, salvation in the flood, crossing
the Red Sea, crossing the Jordan, and the cleansing of Naaman the Syrian
that are prominent in sermons and prayers and the readings of the paschal
vigil (Armenian Lectionary) that connect baptism with salvation history.6
In fact, there is no entry for “typology” in the subject index.

HOW CAN WATER DO SUCH GREAT THINGS?

This is the ritual question. In sacramental theology baptism without the

Word is just plain water. As Louis Bouyer pointed out, rite and word go
together.7 The power of the water of baptism lies with God’s Word of
command and promise, the same Word that brought life into being in the
beginning, the same Word that destroyed all but Noah and his family and
the animals that were in the ark, the same Word that saved the Israelites
at the Red Sea but destroyed their Egyptian slave masters, the same Word
that parted the Jordan River so the Israelites could take possession of the
promised land, the same Word that cleansed Naaman of his leprosy.
The instance in which the Word of God comes to the water in the litur-
gical rite is the blessing of the water. This is the counterpart of the prayer
of thanksgiving over the bread and wine in the Eucharist, which by the
fourth century came to include the institution narrative. So, too, the
texts of prayers of blessing of the font are replete with references to the
typology of baptism in salvation history, the sanctification of the waters
of the Jordan by virtue of the baptism of Jesus, and they often contain
references to the command of Jesus to baptize, with appeal to the saving
benefits of this sacrament. Ferguson comments on some of these prayers,
such as those of Sarapion of Thmuis and the Apostolic Constitution. He
itemizes the prayers in the Barberini Euchologion and cites a portion of
its great prayer of blessing the font. But he does not provide any detailed
itemization of the Gelasian Sacramentary prayers. He simply notes that
the prayers in this sacramentary confirm earlier features in the history of
practice at Rome (p. 768).
Actually the Gelasian Sacramentary is probably a hybrid Roman-­
Gallican document, since it survives in a manuscript copied near Paris
(Codex Reginensis 316), and may more likely represent sixth-century prac-

6. See Jean Daniélou, S.J., The Bible and the Liturgy (Notre Dame, IN: University
of Notre Dame Press, 1956), 70–113.
7. Louis Bouyer, Rite and Man: Natural Sacredness and Christian Liturgy, trans. M.
Joseph Costelloe, S.J. (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1963), 53–62.
 Senn / A Liturgical Appraisal   447

tice. But it is unfortunate that Ferguson does not give it a more extensive
analysis. A review of the Gelasian prayers, along with its corrolary Ordo
Romanus XI (the sacramentary provides the prayers for the liturgy, the
Ordo provides the order and the ceremonial rubrics—both are needed for
liturgical performance), would have been a fitting conclusion to Ferguson’s
study of the baptismal documents of the first five centuries. The prayers of
the sacramentary and the rubrics of the Ordo indicate the practice of the
scrutinies on the third, fourth, and fifth Sundays in Lent, the blessing and
giving of salt, the exorcism over the elect, the exposition of the gospels
and the introduction of the creed and the Lord’s Prayer to the elect, the
blessing of the oil on Maundy Thursday, the final exorcism on the morn-
ing of Holy Saturday, the readings and their accompanying prayers in the
Easter Vigil (which are all leading up to baptism), and then the blessing
of the font, the profession of faith in God the Father Almighty, in Jesus
Christ his only Son our Lord, and in the Holy Spirit, the triple dipping in
the water, the chrismation by the presbyter, the prayer for the sevenfold
Spirit and laying on of hands by the bishop, the episcopal anointing, and
presumably first communion at the Easter Mass. Here is the full sweep
of the rites of Christian initiation at the end of the period of antiquity.
The Gelasian prayer of blessing of the font had a lasting legacy in medi-
eval agendas, from which it served as the basis for Luther’s “flood prayer”
that was also translated by Archbishop Thomas Cranmer and included in
the “Order for Baptism” in the Book of Common Prayer. The flood is a
major type in the Gelasian prayer (along with a citation of Ps 46.5). The
prayer also has an epiclesis of the Holy Spirit on the water and a citation
of the institution text of Matt 28.19.
In addition to the power of the Word, baptism is a work of the Holy
Spirit. A pivotal text relating the Spirit to baptism, apart from John 3.5,
is Titus 3.5–8. Ferguson disagrees with those who see in the Titus text a
spiritual baptism that does not include water. But he agrees that the text
is a strong endorsement of the role of the Holy Spirit in baptism. The
regeneration or new birth of baptism is a gift of new life given by the Holy
Spirit poured out upon the candidate with the water.
Baptismal liturgies, however, have accounted for the role of the Holy
Spirit in the anointings, specific prayers for the gift of the Holy Spirit,
and the laying on of hands that formed an important part of the ancient
baptismal liturgies. Ferguson comments on these prayers and ritual acts
as they come up in the documents. He notes the divergence between Syria
and the West in terms of whether the anointing is done before (Syria) or
after (the West) the water bath. He hints at the separation of this ritual
448    JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES

cluster, including post-baptismal anointing, prayer for the sevenfold grace

of the Holy Spirit, and laying on of hands by the bishop, from the liturgy
of holy baptism in the West to form a separate rite of confirmation. He
notes that the letter of Pope Innocent I (402–417) to Bishop Decentius
of Gubbio “is important for distinguishing the postbaptismal rites that
became confirmation from baptism” (p. 760), but he does not comment
further. In a work not cited by Ferguson,8 Aidan Kavanagh analyzes the
evidence in many of the same documents Ferguson has studied (including
the letter of Pope Innocent). Kavanagh proposed a theory that confirma-
tion developed from the liturgical rite of dismissals (missa), such as the
dismissal of the catechumens. Kavanagh’s heavy reliance on the Apos-
tolic Tradition as a source of later Roman liturgy does not invalidate his
theory. Ferguson cannot be faulted for declining to take up the history of
confirmation. But in the fifth century, the developing rite of confirmation
was still seen as part of the initiation cluster. It is simply the delay of the
post-baptismal ceremonies performed by the bishop until such time as the
baptized could be brought to the bishop. This also attests to the increasing
dislocation of baptism from the Easter Vigil, at which the bishop would
be present. The time of baptism was also a part of the entire process of
Christian initiation, as I discuss in the next section.

WHAT IS THE SIGNIFICANCE OF

SUCH A BAPTISM WITH WATER?

This is the liturgical question. It was natural that Christian baptism, asso-
ciated by Paul in Rom 6.3–4 with Christ’s death and resurrection, would
come to be celebrated at Easter once an annual paschal celebration was
established. The connection of baptism with the paschal mystery was espe-
cially emphasized in the Roman church. The eastern practice of celebrat-
ing baptism on the feast of the Epiphany, with reference to the baptism of
Christ, was not accepted in Rome, as is made clear in the letter of Pope Leo
I to the bishops of Sicily (see pp. 762–66). (Pentecost was a back-up day
for solemn public baptism in Rome—the last day of the octave of octaves.)
Another liturgical implication of the Pauline teaching was the mode
of baptism. It resembled a ritual drowning, a putting to death of the old
sinful person in the waters of the font. Ferguson has done a great service
by giving so much attention to ancient baptismal fonts, expanding on the

8. Aidan Kavanagh, O.S.B., Confirmation: Origins and Reform (New York:

Pueblo, 1988).
 Senn / A Liturgical Appraisal   449

work of the late S. Anita Stauffer in general9 and drawing on the research
of Ioannis Volanakis on Greek fonts in particular.10 The literary sources
comment on the symbolism of the fonts as the tomb of death and resur-
rection and the womb of new birth. The hexagonal and octagonal shapes
of baptisteries may also refer to Christ’s death on the sixth day and resur-
rection on the eighth day (the eschatological day of the Lord). The three
steps into the font were also given symbolic interpretations.
Ferguson makes much of the literary and archaeological evidence that
points to immersion rather than pouring as the mode of baptism. I am
unsure whether or not these modes are mutually exclusive, as long as we
understand that candidates went down into the fonts and were standing in
water. It is not so certain whether immersion implies submersion. Ferguson
argues that the preponderance of practice was that the candidate stood
hip deep in water and the minister put his or her (deaconesses for women)
hand on the candidate’s head and dipped him or her into the water. He
notes that the depths of fonts varied (western fonts being generally shal-
lower than eastern ones), and pouring and sprinkling were not unknown
in exceptional circumstances. However, he argues that it would be possible
for candidates to bend over and the minister’s hand on the head indicates
that the candidate was pushed below the water. If the cultural backdrop
of Christian baptismal practice is Mediterranean bathing practice, I think
actual submersion is unlikely. In the bath houses, the bathers sat in the
pools and slaves poured water over their heads. The minister’s hand on
the head of the candidate is a gesture of blessing, perhaps even of manu-
mission of sins. In Roman society, the laying on of hands was the gesture
used by the master to indicate the granting of freedom to the slave, who
then entered the service of the patron as a client.11 In the waters of baptism,
we are freed from slavery to sin in order to serve Christ. There could have
been multiple laying on of hands just as there were multiple anointings.
A third liturgical implication of the Pauline teaching is the develop-
ment of post-baptismal penance. What is put to death for Paul is our old
sinful nature that is captive to sin. Sin is a power that rules over us. It is
the power of pride, unbelief, and self-centeredness that takes us captive,

9. S. Anita Stauffer, On Baptismal Fonts: Ancient and Modern, Alcuin Club 29–30
(Bramcote: Grove, 1994).
10. The work of Ioannis Volanakis, The Early Christian Baptisteries of Greece
­(Athens, 1976) is untranslated, but Ferguson follows it as his main authority (pp.
828–32).
11. See Alistair Stewart-Sykes, “Manumission and Baptism in Tertullian’s Africa: A
Search for the Origin of Confirmation,” Studia Liturgica 31 (2001): 129–49.
450    JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES

and from which we cannot free ourselves on our own. The reason for the
image of death and resurrection is that our old sinful nature needs to be
destroyed if a new, free self is to emerge. Some of the church fathers were
concerned about the baptism of young children precisely because they had
not yet faced the power of sin. If they were baptized at too young an age,
they might fall captive to sin later on. Of course, some of the baptized
who had faced the power of sin fell back into its power even after baptism.
The old Adam in us is supposed to be drowned in the waters of baptism,
but that old Adam is a mighty good swimmer and doesn’t give up easily.
The problem of sin after baptism concerned many of the church fathers.
This was especially a concern in the Messsalian Controversy. The Mes-
salians were advocates of a strict asceticism that allowed one to devote
one’s life to prayer in order to resist the devil. The opponents of the Mes-
salians held that demons are chased away by baptism and not by prayer.
Ferguson devotes the whole of his Chapter 47 to this controversy, involving
as it did such important figures as Pseudo-Macarius, Jerome, and Mark
the Monk. However, the way the main church dealt with post-baptismal
sin was through penance, what Jerome called “the second plank” of grace
extended to those who fell from baptismal grace. While it lies outside the
purview of Ferguson’s already expansive volume, the study of penance
also belongs to the study of baptism. The ancient church saw the devel-
opment of an order of penitents that paralleled the order of catechumens.
Tertullian already attests to such an ordo poenitentium in his treatise On
Penance at the turn of the third century. Augustine also encouraged a life
of penance as a way of living out baptism. In the ancient Roman church,
the reconciliation of the public penitents occurred on Maundy Thursday,
just as the baptism of the catechumens occurred at the Easter Vigil. The
life of baptism is a penitential life.

WHY DO WE BAPTIZE INFANTS?

This is the pastoral question. The question of baptizing young children was
raised in the early church beginning in the third century, but there is no
question that young children were baptized. The Scriptures do not specifi-
cally enjoin the baptism of infants, but neither is such baptism forbidden.
Rather, the church is commanded to baptize “all” peoples (Matt 28.19),
and there are examples in the Book of Acts of whole households being
baptized (e.g. Cornelius in Acts 10). But in treating this passage Ferguson
shows his hand on the issue. He argues that in the case of Cornelius’s house-
hold they “‘feared God’ (10.2), heard Peter’s message (10.33, 44; 11.14),
 Senn / A Liturgical Appraisal   451

believed (10.43; cf. 11.17), repented (11.18), received the Holy Spirit and
spoke in tongues 10.44, 46), and magnified God (10.46)—descriptions
hardly applicable to small children” (p. 178). One might also ask if these
things were applicable to every adult in Cornelius’s household. Elsewhere
it is granted that the Book of Acts presents an idealized picture of the early
church. Why not in this episode also?
The suggestion that the households in Acts might have included children
is, admittedly, an argument from silence. But Ferguson is still adamant
that there is no direct testimony to the practice of infant baptism in the
first two centuries. By the beginning of the third century there is the indi-
rect testimony of Tertullian. He was opposed to the practice, which means
that it was being done. In On Baptism 18 he cites Matt 19.14, “Forbid
them not to come to me.” “So let them come,” he writes, “when they are
growing up, when they are learning, when they are being taught what
they are coming to: let them be made Christians when they have become
competent to know Christ. Why should innocent infancy come with haste
to the remission of sins?”12 If the Apostolic Tradition cannot be located
as Roman practice in the early third century, we lose that source as a tes-
timony to the fact that children were being baptized at the beginning of
the third century, and even how it was done.
But Ferguson agrees that it was being done. Origen and Cyprian are
witnesses to it. But he suggests that it was a practice in search of a theory.
Without going so as far as Augustine later on in developing the doctrine of
original sin, Origen appealed to Old Testament examples of ritual defile-
ments in need of purification and extended baptismal forgiveness to ritual
impurity associated with childbirth. In his Homilies on Leviticus 8.3 he
states that “while the church’s baptism is given for the remission of sin, it
is the custom of the church that baptism be administered even to infants.
Certainly, if there is nothing in infants that required remission and called
for lenient treatment, the grace of baptism would seem unnecessary.”13
As Jean LaPorte points out, it is not the stain of original sin that Origen
is referring to here but the defilement of blood (this is a homily on Leviti-
cus!).14 Origen thus sees baptism as a ritual purification. As Ferguson

12. De baptismo 18, in E. C. Whitaker, Documents of the Baptismal Liturgy, 2nd

ed. (London: SPCK, 1970), 8–9.
13. Cited by Johannes Quasten, Patrology (Westminster, MD: Newman Press,
1964), 2:83.
14. Jean LaPorte, “Models from Philo in Origen’s Teaching on Original Sin,” in
Living Water, Sealing Spirit: Readings on Christian Initiation, ed. Maxwell E. John-
son (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1995), 112–13.
452    JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES

comments, “Origen’s statements indicate that infant baptism preceded this

justification for the practice. As has often been true in Christian history,
the practice preceded its doctrinal defense” (p. 369).
The eastern fathers, who did not develop a doctrine of original sin, con-
tinued to appeal to Old Testament models such as circumcision (as we see
in the list of the meanings of baptism in the Baptismal Instructions of John
Chrysostom). Ferguson noted that Chrysostom defended the practice of
infant baptism “on other grounds” than the forgiveness of sins (p. 545),
but does not state what those grounds were. It would have been helpful
if he had cited this text from a sermon by Chrysostom to the neophytes:
You have seen how numerous are the gifts of baptism. Although many men
think that the only gift it confers is the remission of sins, we have counted
its honors to the number of ten. It is on this account that we baptize even
infants, although they are sinless, that they may be given the further gifts
of sanctification, justice, filial adoption, and inheritance, that they may
be brothers and members of Christ, and become dwelling places for the
Spirit.15

In the Christian East, a tradition arose in which the baptismal theol-

ogy for infants was adapted from the baptismal theology for adults, but
without infant baptism being understood as a remission of sins, which, in
the case of children, was considered unnecessary. But numerous benefits
of baptism were stressed for the infant, as with the adult, candidate, bap-
tism being interpreted in covenantal terms as a union with Christ and all
the graces that flow from him.
When we come to Augustine of Hippo, Ferguson is careful to note that
the great North African father did not defend infant baptism on the basis
of original sin but taught a doctrine of original sin on the basis of the fact
that children were baptized. This is a typical patristic appeal to the lex
orandi as the basis of the lex credendi. In the context of the Pelagian Con-
troversy, Augustine repeated his emphasis in the Donatist Controversy that
baptism is regeneration. But new life is possible only if sins are forgiven.
Since infants are baptized, forgiveness of sin must also apply to them.
Since infants are not capable of sinning, the sin forgiven must refer to the
original sin inherited from Adam and Eve. Later on it might have been
argued that infants should be baptized because they are born in original
sin, but that is not how Augustine argued.

15. Trans. Paul W. Harkins, St. John Chrysostom: Baptismal Instructions, ACW
31 (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1963), 56–65, cited in André Hamman, O.F.M.,
Baptism: Ancient Liturgies and Patristic Texts (New York: Alba House, 1967), 166.
 Senn / A Liturgical Appraisal   453

So we return to the question: why did the church baptize infants and
young children? Ferguson rejects Joachim Jeremias’s appeal to the example
of Jewish proselyte baptism, Kurt Aland’s proposal of changing percep-
tions of children and acceptance of the doctrine of original sin, Johannes
Leipoldt’s suggestion of the initiation of children in the mystery cults
(children were initiated, but not infants), Joseph R. Moore’s case for the
example of the old Punic practice of child sacrifice (since infant baptism
found its strongest support in North Africa), and David Wright’s theory of
the extension of children’s baptism to baby baptism. Instead, after examin-
ing inscriptions on tombstones (baptismal dates and death dates in close
proximity), Ferguson suggested that “when a child of Christian parents (or
of catechumens) became seriously ill, there was a natural human concern
about the welfare of the child’s soul and a desire to make every preparation
for the afterlife. Requests from parents or family members for the baptism
of a gravely sick child would have been hard to refuse” (pp. 378–79).
This theory of emergency baptism holds through the fifth century when
most candidates for holy baptism were adults, and some even delayed bap-
tism until they were on their deathbed (e.g., the emperor Constantine).
However, after the fifth century, the high infant mortality rate, which was
exacerbated by declining social conditions in the West, would prompt
parents to rush their children to the font as quickly as possible. At that
point in the West, the doctrine of original sin would provide a justification
for the growing normalcy of the practice of infant baptism. However, the
doctrine of original sin does not account for the growing normalcy of the
practice of infant baptism also in the East. We have seen that the eastern
church appealed to other “honors” conferred at baptism.
Nevertheless, except for solitary voices like Tertullian’s, the main church
in antiquity never found a reason not to baptize infants and young chil-
dren. Ferguson has made a strong argument that the practice originated
in emergency situations in which the child was likely to die. Augustine’s
mother Monica arranged for her son to be baptized when he was seriously
ill as a youth, but then cancelled the rite when Augustine recovered. Once
the practice of infant baptism became more common, church fathers like
Augustine could further develop views about the efficacy of the sacrament
even with regard to the faith of the infant. As he wrote to Bishop Boniface
in Numidia with regard to the pastoral issue of Christian parents desiring
to have their child baptized, “even if that faith that is found in the will of
believers does not make a little one a believer, the sacrament of the faith
itself, nonetheless, now does so. For, just as the response is given that the
little one believes [the response of the parent at the child’s baptism], he
454    JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES

is also in that sense called a believer, not because he assents to the reality
with his mind [the infant cannot assent] but because he receives the sac-
rament of that reality” (cited on p. 807).
This discussion of the relationship between baptism and the doctrine
of original sin emerged in the heat of the Pelagian Controversy. But I
would like to step back and look at baptism in the light of Augustine’s less
polemical writings, especially in his Confessions. Augustine was enrolled
as a catechumen on his eighth day. His mother Monica was a baptized
Christian; his father Patricius was a Christian catechumen. This was a
normal arrangement at the time. Women were more likely to receive the
water bath than men because they did not have public responsibilities that
might compromise gospel values. Having not received the water bath as
a youth, Augustine delayed his own baptism until the age of thirty when
he was under the influence of Ambrose of Milan. Yet, between his enroll-
ment as a catechumen and his baptism and first communion, Augustine
still regarded himself as a Christian. He had received the sign of the cross
at his enrollment, which he counted among the many sacramenta that were
included in Christian initiation. “As a catechumen, I was blessed regularly
from birth with the sign of the Cross and was seasoned with salt, for, O
Lord, my mother placed great hope in you.”16
This leads me to argue that baptism was regarded as a ritual process
that, in some instances, could last a lifetime. One could present oneself
as a candidate for election and complete the process at any point before
death (although extensive delay was discouraged). The whole ritual pro-
cess extended from enrollment through mystagogia. If “baptism” is under-
stood as including everything in this process, and not just the moment of
the water bath, and infants were enrolled as catechumens, then “infant
baptism” was being practiced far more regularly than has been assumed.
Everett Ferguson has made a significant contribution to our under-
standing of why infants were at first baptized in terms of his hypothesis
of emergency baptism. He fails to answer the question of why the church
allowed for the practice in the first place. All we can say is that, from the
beginning, the church did not regard lack of rational belief (or even in
the eastern view the lack of sin) as an impediment to receiving this sacra-
ment. This implies that there is something in the character of the sacrament
that makes it available also for uncomprehending and supposedly sinless
infants (and others). Any arguments that children lack reason or sin were

16. Augustine, Confessions 1.11 (trans. R. S. Pine-Coffin, Saint Augustine: Confes-

sions [New York: Penguin Books, 1961], 31).
 Senn / A Liturgical Appraisal   455

after the fact. The fact is that the early church was baptizing infants, even
though it was not the norm.
If I may be allowed to offer it here, this is my own pastoral defense
of the practice. Without denying the realism about human nature and
human society that the doctrine of original sin supports, I would argue
that baptism is fundamentally about the relationship of the believer to
Christ within the context of the community of faith in Christ, and there-
fore there is no reason to exclude infants from the full sacramental life of
the church, which includes (as in the eastern practice) also the communion
of infants and young children.
To end with the standard text that was historically used at the baptisms
of little children, Mark 10.13–16, Jesus said, “Let the little children come
to me, do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God
belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God
as a little child will never enter it.” Ferguson rightly notes that the text
in its context does not have to do with baptism. But in a sense Jesus was
putting children forward as a model of faith for adults. We do not deny
our children the blessing of baptism, or ourselves the comfort of knowing
that our sons and daughters are more his than ours.
Reviewing Everett Ferguson’s huge book has given me quite a workout
on baptism. As a liturgist and a pastor, I might have approached the task
differently, perhaps trying through summaries of each section to relate the
data to the liturgical context which, as I have argued here, is larger than
the momentary water bath. But just about everything said and done about
baptism in the documentary and archaeological records of the early church
is included in this book. Many will undoubtedly use this book for their
own scholarly or pastoral purposes, and they will owe Professor Ferguson
their appreciation for a work well done.

Frank C. Senn is Pastor of Immanuel Lutheran Church in

Evanston, IL and adjunct professor of the history of Christian
Worship at Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary