Some time ago there was a young seminary student who was serving as a chaplain in a large regional hospital. While he was on call one night he was asked to come to the room of a couple whose child had been stillborn. As he stepped into the room the young mother was resting in a chair, gently rocking her lifeless daughter as her husband knelt beside them. “We want her baptized,” she said. “Her name is Nicole.”
Baptize a stillborn child? He didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, either theologically or pastorally. It had never come up in his seminary training. Not knowing what to do, he asked the young parents to give him a few minutes to prepare, and to then meet him in the hospital chapel.
When the couple stepped into the stillness of the chapel and up to the baptismal font, words simply failed him. Almost without realizing what he was doing, he took the baptismal cloth in his hand and he reached up and wiped the tears from the eyes of the grieving mother. He then did the same to the father, and without thinking he wiped the tears from his own eyes as well.
Then he took the cloth, now wet with their tears, and gently touched the child’s head and said, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. You are a child of God, sealed by the power of the Holy Spirit forever. Amen”
He said nothing else. He could find no other words that seemed appropriate. Their tears were more eloquent and more powerful than anything spoken.
Our prayers are often much like that tearstreaked baptismal cloth. They express the reality that we live in a world that is filled with inescapable pain, brokenness, suffering and death. And yet, in the same breath, our prayers express the wonder of a God who promises us that we will never be alone. The gospel narrative reminds us that we are invited to converse with God personally, knowing that our prayers are heard.
Jesus proclaims that our lives are intimately connected to our creator. The God whose hands scattered the stars across the heavens billions of years ago is the very same God who knits together the DNA that makes each one of us unique. God knows us as only a parent can know their own child. And yet, as Jesus teaches us to pray, he reminds us that the gift of prayer is more than simply a personal encounter with God. Prayer is also what connects us to one another as a living and breathing community of faith.
Praying together reminds us that we are called to live in faith toward God and in fervent love toward one another. It reminds us that we are connected to one another through the death and the resurrection of Jesus. It reminds us that not one of us is ever truly alone because we are surrounded by people of faith who care for us and who will join in our prayers when we are broken. When we pray together, we are no longer individuals. We are a people.
Prayer also connects us to those who do not know of the saving grace of Christ. We are called to pray for those who cannot today see God’s hands at work in their lives. We pray for people of all faiths, that their heartfelt prayers may bring them into relationship with God. We pray for healing, hope, joy and eternal life for all people.
Our prayers remind us that God’s kingdom is continually breaking into this world in unexpected ways. God is never far from us, and is closest to us when we find that we simply have nowhere else to turn.
Perhaps this is what that beautiful prayer of tears was all about as a grieving family gathered to baptize their stillborn daughter. In the midst of their sorrow, their tears were a beautiful reminder that God’s kingdom has broken into this world and that even death cannot steal it away. May our prayers rise as one, whatever our language, whatever our faith, and may we together be the kingdom of God, lifting up the poor, healing the broken and living together in love.
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This month’s s contributor is Tom Murray of the Lutsen and Zion Lutheran Churches.
Leave a Reply