Chapter Two - A Baptism
ONE DAY Don Camillo, perched high on a ladder, was busily polishing St. Joseph's halo. Unexpectedly a man and two women, one of whom was Peppone's wife, came into the church. Don Camillo turned around to ask what they wanted.
"There is something here to be baptized," replied the man, and one of the women held up a bundle containing a baby.
"Whose is it?" inquired Don Camillo, coming down from his ladder.
"Mine," replied Peppone's wife.
"And your husband's?" persisted Don Camillo.
"Well, naturally! Who else would be the father? You, maybe?" retorted Peppone's wife indignantly.
"No need to be offended," observed Don Camillo on his way to the sacristy. "I've been told often enough that your party approves of free love."
As he passed before the high altar Don Camillo knelt down and gave a discreet wink in the direction of Christ "Did you hear that one?" he murmured with a happy grin. "One in the eye for the Godless ones!"
"Don't talk rubbish, Don Camillo," replied Christ irritably. "If they had no God why should they come here to get their child baptized? If Peppone's wife had boxed your ears it would have served you right."
"If Peppone's wife had boxed my ears I should have taken the three of them by the scruff of their necks and . . ."
"And what?" Christ asked severely.
"Oh, nothing; just a figure of speech," Don Camillo hastened to assure Him, rising to his feet.
"Don Camillo, watch your step," Christ said sternly.
Duly vested, Don Camillo approached the baptismal font. "What do you wish to name this child?" he asked Peppone's wife.
"Lenin, Libero, Antonio," she replied.
"Then go and get him baptized in Russia," said Don Camillo calmly, replacing the cover on the font.
The priest's hands were as big as shovels and the three left the church without protest. But as Don Camillo tried to slip into the sacristy he was stopped by the voice of Christ. "Don Camillo, you have done a very wicked thing. Go at once and bring those people back and baptize their child."
"But, Lord," protested Don Camillo, "You really must bear in mind that baptism is a very sacred matter. Baptism is . . ."
"Don Camillo," Christ interrupted him, "are you trying to teach me the nature of baptism? Didn't I invent it? I tell you that you have been guilty of gross presumption, because if that child were to die at this moment it would be your fault if it failed to attain Paradise!"
"Lord, let us not be melodramatic! Why in the name of Heaven should it die? It's as pink and white as a rose!"
"That doesn't mean a thing!" Christ pointed out. "What if a tile should fall on its head or it suddenly had convulsions? It was your duty to baptize it."
Don Camillo raised his hands in protest. "But, Lord, think it over. If it were certain that the child would go to Hell, then we might stretch a point. But since he might easily manage to slip into Heaven, in spite of his father, how can You ask me to risk anyone getting in there with a name like Lenin? I'm thinking of the reputation of Heaven."
"The reputation of Heaven is my business," shouted Christ angrily. "What matters to me is that a man should be a decent fellow, and I care less than nothing whether his name be Lenin or Button. At the very most, you should have pointed out to those people that saddling children with fantastic names may be a nuisance to them when they grow up."
"Very well," replied Don Camillo. "I am always wrong. I'll see what I can do."
Just then someone came into the church. It was Peppone, alone, with the baby in his arms. He closed the church door behind him and bolted it. "I'm not leaving this church," he said, "until my son has been baptized with the name that I have chosen."
"Look at that," whispered Don Camillo, smiling as he turned to Christ. "Now do You see what these people are? One is filled with the holiest intentions, and this is how they treat you."
"Put yourself in his place," Christ replied. "One may not approve of his attitude but one can understand it."
Don Camillo shook his head.
"I have already said that I do not leave this place unless you baptize my son!" repeated Peppone. After laying the bundle containing the baby upon a bench he took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and came toward the priest threateningly.
"Lord," implored Don Camillo. "I ask You! If You think one of Your priests should give way to the threats of a layman, then I must obey. But if I do and tomorrow they bring me a calf and compel me to baptize it, You must not complain. You know very well how dangerous it is to create precedents."
"All right, but in this case you must try to make him understand ..."
"And if he hits me?"
"Then you must accept it. You must endure and suffer as I did."
Don Camillo turned to his visitor. "Very well, Peppone," he said. "The baby will leave the church baptized, but not with that accursed name."
"Don Camillo," stuttered Peppone, "don't forget that my stomach has never recovered from that bullet I stopped in the mountains. If you hit low I go after you with a bench."
"Don't worry, Peppone; I can deal with you entirely in the upper stories," Don Camillo assured him, landing a quick one above his ear.
They were both burly men and their blows whistled through the air.
After twenty minutes of speechless and furious combat, Don Camillo distinctly heard a voice behind him.
"Now, Don Camillo! A left to the jaw!" It came from Christ above the altar. Don Camillo struck hard and Peppone crashed to the ground.
He remained there for about ten minutes; then he sat up, got to his feet, rubbed his jaw, shook himself, put on his jacket and re-knotted his red handkerchief. Then he picked up the baby. Fully vested, Don Camillo was waiting, steady as a rock, beside the font. Peppone approached him slowly.
"What are we going to name him?" asked Don Camillo.
"Camillo, Libero, Antonio," muttered Peppone.
Don Camillo shook his head. "No; we will name him Libero, Camillo, Lenin," he said. "After all, the Camillo will cancel out Lenin any day."
"Amen," muttered Peppone, still massaging his jaw.
When all was done and Don Camillo passed before the altar, Christ smiled and remarked: "Don Camillo, I have to admit that in politics you are my master."
"And in boxing," replied Don Camillo with perfect gravity, carelessly fingering a large lump on his forehead.
Go on to chapter three, On the Trail on the meaning of life website.
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