As a hospital chaplain I think a lot about prayer. Really, my professional work sometimes requires a much more robust prayer life than I am prone to have on my own time at home. When I first became a chaplain I worried about praying a prayer for someone whose desires seemed impossible to fulfill. What would it say to them about God if even the chaplain’s prayer returned void? I said this to my supervisor who said, “What does it say to them that even the chaplain is unwilling to stand in faith and pray with them?”
So now I pray whatever prayers people ask me to pray. Perhaps their request would take a parting-the-red-sea miracle and the doctor in the room makes side eyes at me as I pray for complete healing. I pray it anyway. My role in that space is to hold the emotional space so that such prayers could be boldly said. I’m not in the business of answering them, but I am in the business of praying them.
A few times I’ve seen what most would consider modern day miracles. But most times the prayers for healing seem to float out of the room. To where, I’m not sure. As Chaplain Janette I say them with a full heart, but I have to be honest and say my own beliefs about prayer have wavered in the years I’ve been in this work.
One of the reasons I’m now Episcopalian is because I needed the patterns of prayer that the universal church shares to hold me on the days I don’t know what I’m holding onto. On the days when I can’t string any sensible words together to form a prayer, I can use the prayers written by saints through time and space to bring my petitions to God. Does God hear them? Does God answer them? If God answers my prayer for something good to happen, does that mean inversely God chooses for bad things to happen by not answering someone else’s prayer? I struggle with the idea of believing in a God like that, so on some days I must confess I try not to think about it too much.
Instead I try to focus on God’s presence as I sense it around me. Perhaps that is the best thing I can ask for. God with us. As I keep vigil for others in the middle of the night, I pray God keeps vigil for me.
I think a lot about the poem I Happened to be Standing by Mary Oliver. She wonders about prayer, saying
“I don’t know where prayers go,
or what they do.
Do cats pray, while they sleep
half-asleep in the sun?
Does the opossum pray as it
crosses the street?”
I’ve tried my hand at rewriting the poem to capture some of my own wonderings.
I don't know where prayers go, or what they do. Do children pray while they play, fully present to their imagination? Do mothers pray as they tie yet another shoe? The sycamore? With its constantly falling branches and sloughing bark? I know I can walk through my day, at home, at work, or the school pick up line, with my mind full of ideas to pursue and those left behind. What does it even mean to be present anymore? Are prayers answered? or does God simply hear them, like a therapist in her chair? The sycamore's leaves continue to fall, and its branches litter my yard. it is deciduous, after all. While I was thinking this I happened to be sitting in the hospital room of a child, next to his mother as we cried together. Then the monitor was turned off so we didn't hear its beeping as the child's breathing stopped. I wouldn't persuade you from whatever you believe or whatever you don't. That's your business. But I wondered, if this mother's prayers go unanswered, is God's presence here enough? So I let my tears fall, the only prayer I could muster.
What about you? Where do you think prayers go? How do you think God receives them, or do you believe they’re received at all? Do we pray for ourselves, or for God, or for something else? In whom or what have you witnessed a posture of prayer? These wonderings are ever present in my mind; I’d love to hear your own.
Peace to you,
Janette
Janet, you are indeed Beloved. Your heart opens a window into the heart of God for the rest of us. I am most grateful for the Spirit’s tether that has connected me with you and Jonathan, and now, your beautiful children. I cannot begin to express how proud I am of you and your faithful witness that is full of the fierce energy of God’s love. Janet, your compassion ‘IS’ the compassion of God. Keep praying as such; the union of your compassion with God’s will make us whole. Thanks for showing us the Way. Steve McCormick