As society moves away from organised religion, some parents are seeking new, secular rituals to welcome their children into the world, writes Fionola Meredith

The sacrament of baptism may be the first step on the Christian path to salvation, but it's also a traditional opportunity to publicly welcome a child into the family. Everyone smiles at the chubby-cheeked infant, resplendent in a snowy gown, spluttering indignantly as she feels the drips of water on her forehead. Then it's back home for a party, where the assembled grandparents, godparents, aunts and uncles can coo to their hearts' content over the newest member of the clan.

In the past, non-religious parents had little other option than to bypass the baptism ceremony altogether. In doing so, they often risked falling foul of schools who refused to admit children who hadn't been baptised. But these days, as church attendance continues to fall, more and more families are keen to mark the arrival of a child in a secular way. They want to keep all the joy, the commitment and the solemnity of the traditional christening - but get rid of the Christian element. That's where naming ceremonies come in. From intimate gatherings at home, with only the child's immediate family present, to huge balloon-filled celebrations in a public venue, a baby-naming can be as simple or as lavish as parents wish. In fact, it's that imaginative individual element, removed from liturgical constraints, that appeals to many families.

Piers de Courcy, a teacher from Cork, chose a humanist ceremony for both his daughters, now aged two-and-a-half and 14 months. "Once we got over the shock of our first child being born, we decided we really wanted to mark the birth in some way. So we got in touch with the Humanist Association of Ireland: they provided us with a structure for the ceremony, then we cut and pasted it to suit ourselves, adding music and poetry. We kept it simple and personal. I was surprised by how moving it was. Even if you're non-religious, ceremony and ritual are still important." What did family and friends make of the unorthodox celebration? "Everyone enjoyed it and nobody got struck down - there were no thunderbolts," laughs Piers. "It was still known as 'the de Courcy christening'; it wasn't exactly pagan worship."

Brian Whiteside, ceremonies co-ordinator for the Humanist Association of Ireland, says, "Parents often get advice from us, then do the ceremony themselves. It's an opportunity to state, solemnly and publicly, their joint commitment to the welfare of the child and their determination to give that child a secure and loving home during the long years of growing up. The addition of poetry and music gives the whole thing more depth and feeling." Whiteside says that one poem often used in ceremonies is Rudyard Kipling's If. Another favourite reading is Kahlil Gibran's lyrical but hands-free meditation on child-rearing from The Prophet: "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you."

Of course, giving up on the rites of organised religion doesn't mean abandoning spirituality altogether. Plenty of parents want to retain a spiritual - or sometimes even a Christian - dimension in their children's naming ceremonies, without the full formality of a mainstream church service. It doesn't have to be an either/or situation, says Krysia Niezgoda, who works for the British-based organisation, Civil Ceremonies. "I was brought up a Catholic, and while I barely go to church now at all, I do believe in God. We aren't in competition with the churches: we don't have any guiding philosophy, we're totally neutral. While the humanists are anti-religion, and the churches are obviously pro-religion, we're in the middle."

Esther Haller-Clarke, a senior marketing officer from Belfast, had very clear ideas about exactly what she wanted when she held a naming ceremony for her girl, Olivia: "I saw it as a way of taking responsibility for the spiritual welfare of my child: I believe that it's important that children are brought up with a sense of spirituality." The celebrant at Olivia's ceremony was Esther's uncle, Paul Haller, who happens to be the Buddhist abbot of the San Francisco Zen Centre, and the non-denominational event took place in the Chapel of Unity at Methodist College Belfast, Esther's old school. It was a symbolically-rich affair - a long red ribbon was wound around the entire congregation, who sat in a circle with Esther and her daughter at its centre. Water was used in the ceremony too, but without the connotation of sin-cleansing it carries in Christian rites. "It was an official recognition and welcoming of Olivia into the world, and I found it very emotional," says Haller-Clarke. She's expecting her next baby at the moment, and plans for a similar celebration are already under way.

Dara Molloy, from Inis Mór, the largest of the Aran Islands, describes himself as a Celtic priest and monk, unaffiliated to any formal church or sect. Although he is happy to officiate at Christian baptisms, offering to welcome the child into "the Celtic Christian spiritual tradition", Molloy also offers parents the option of a God-free naming ceremony: a similar service which avoids Christian elements, and does not use water to "baptise" the child.

Molloy encourages parents to carry the child into the circle of friends and family at the event, before bringing her to each person present for a greeting. After expressions of commitment from parents and "soul friends" or anamchairde (the equivalent of god-parents), and blessings invoking the four elements - earth, fire, air and water, Molloy places oil on the child's crown with the words, "I baptise you in the name of the Father and the Mother, the Son and the Maiden, the Holy Spirit and the Wise Old Woman." According to Molloy, this baptismal formula "unites the Christian Trinity with the Celtic Triple Goddess".

IF THAT SOUNDS too much like spiritual overload, another popular option for parents seeking non-denominational services for their offspring is the Dublin Unitarian Church, on St Stephen's Green in Dublin. Unitarians believe in the oneness of God, rather than the Christian doctrine of the Trinity. Their laissez-faire emphasis on religious sympathy, rather than the declaration of a creed-bound faith, appeals to those weary of holy strictures.

Rev Bill Darlison explains, "We are welcoming you as a member of the human race, not inducting you as a little Unitarian. And the naming ceremony we offer is not a sacrament, as it is understood in the Roman Catholic church, or the Church of Ireland. Some parents want mention of God in the service, and some don't. We try to accommodate them, rather than make them fit into any agenda of ours."

Many non-religious parents are keen to include one or more sponsors for their child in the ceremony - trusted adults who undertake to watch over the child as he or she grows up. But what to call them? For some, the term "god-parents" isn't an option. While more militantly atheist families have been known to dub these friends "god-less parents", others go for "naming parents", or - more gooily - "fairy godmothers".

Then there's always the option of "soul-friends", used by Dara Molloy, and, on occasions, the Unitarian Church. As far as Bill Darlison is concerned, a god-parent has a quite specific role to play in a child's life. "They are not someone to step into the breach if a child's parents die in a plane crash. They are there to nurture the spiritual side of a child's life." This is represented in Unitarian ceremonies by the presentation of a flower to the god-parent: a symbol of flourishing life.

In an increasingly post-Christian society, baby-naming ceremonies offer parents a way to welcome their children to the world that retains some of the ritual and resonance of traditional baptism services, yet without the explicit commitment to "grow in faith of Christ crucified".

But spirituality, albeit in a more diffuse form, often continues to play a part in these ceremonies. As Dara Molloy observes, "Everybody has something that is important to them - but they don't always call it God."