The concept of intercultural living can be defined as a way of life in which people from diverse cultures and backgrounds live together as a shared community. This is one of the key challenges societies are called to embrace today. The urgency of this task grows as our communities become more diverse and increasingly polarised by divisive narratives and agendas. As people of faith who have crossed geographical boundaries for the sake of the Gospel, we have witnessed the gift of diversity and difference on many occasions.
A few weeks ago, we had the pleasure of accompanying friends at the baptism of their baby. In our experience of Western Roman Catholic baptisms, these short ceremonies typically take place after or during Mass, with a limited number of family and friends in attendance, and the presider—usually between midmorning and early afternoon. Our surprise began when we were asked to be at the church at 7 a.m., followed by the delivery of a parcel containing beautifully decorated clothing for us to wear for the occasion!
We had grown to know and admire our friends’ strong sense of faith, which permeates every aspect of their lives—particularly their devotion to serving in the church and observing rigorous fasting throughout the year.
That Sunday, for nearly six hours, we sat in awe as a varied ceremony unfolded. It must be said that neither of us understands Geʽez (the liturgical language) nor Amharic (the preaching language), so our perception of the event may have been somewhat limited.
Nonetheless, from where we were seated—men and women in the same hall, but on opposite sides—each of us began to piece together what was taking place before us. Perhaps the most touching moment of the morning was the baptism of the baby boy, which occurred 40 days after his birth, as prescribed by tradition. After the incensing of the mother, godfather, and child, followed by the baby’s anointing and long prayers offered by deacons and priests, the naked baby was ceremoniously immersed in water three times, ‘in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.’
After the baptismal ceremony, we re-joined the main congregation, made up mainly of young families and hundreds of children and young people. At one point, the children and youth led the liturgy: they sang lively songs and recited communal prayers. Everyone inside the church wore traditional church dress and had removed their footwear before entering. The women had their heads covered with white scarves, while the men wore long white shawls draped over their upper bodies.
The preaching went on for over an hour. From the few isolated words we could recognise, it was clear that the preacher was interpreting the Scriptures. His body language revealed someone deeply engaged with the congregation—coming close, asking questions, and occasionally sharing a joke. The liturgy continued with a cheerful procession outside the church, and concluded with a final communion service back inside.
By the end of the liturgy, we were physically and mentally exhausted, having tried so hard to make sense of all we had seen and heard. Making sense of something so different from one’s own experience is a challenging endeavour. It demands intentionality, patience, and, ultimately, love for others. We had already made the decision to enter into the unknown by joining the family in wearing their traditional church dress.
Embracing difference requires letting go of what is “near and dear” in order to step into someone else’s world—not on your own terms, but on theirs. This experience not only challenged us to enter the unfamiliar, but also helped us respectfully appreciate what is different and discover the value and beauty within it.
To satisfy your curiosity and eagerness to learn, attentive listening and seeing are essential. Without such openness, misunderstandings easily arise. This baptism gave us new insight into intercultural living—into what it means to step into someone’s sacred space, from a position of powerlessness and difference.
Participating in this baptism afforded us the opportunity, not only to witness, but to truly experience a baptism that was very different from our own traditions—yet profoundly rich in faith.
The invitation is to choose to engage with what is unfamiliar and different. For it is here that we come to realise that difference is not something to be feared, but a gift to be embraced—a gift that enables the building of bridges of compassion, understanding, and mutual respect within our communities.
