A Teaching Letter On Baptism In the Time of Coronavirus

Christianity is sacramental. It is neither exclusively focused on words, as if it were solely a message detached from the bodily, nor is it completely embodied and physical, not needing words or explanation.

In most Christian traditions influenced by Augustine, the sacraments have been defined most simply in this way: the promises of God connected to a physical sign. The number and type of sacraments have differed (marriage, ordination, anointing of the sick, and confirmation are Roman Catholic sacraments but not Lutheran sacraments, for example), while some are recognized in almost every tradition (especially baptism and communion).

Some traditions have even highlighted sacraments not mentioned in most. Moravians have love feasts and foot-washing.

In each case, there is some outward or visible sign (even confession has an outward sign, inasmuch as the words of the confessor speaking forgiveness fly from the lips of the priest to the ears of the one making confession) and it is tied to the promises of God, especially those made by or through Christ as recorded in Scripture.

In “ordinary” times, the theological discussion around the sacraments tends to consider their basic meaning. What do sacraments do? What are they for? How should we practice them? Who can lead them? When and where should they happen? Who is ready for them and when?

But in extra-ordinary times and situations, there typically arise additional questions. For example, early in the course of this most recent pandemic, Christians debated whether they should fast from communion until they could gather in church again with their pastor, or whether or not virtual forms of worship (or worship spread out individually in each home) “counted” as valid administration of the sacrament.

As the pandemic has worn on, even those who at first resisted approving virtual communion have come around, because emergencies themselves often change our understanding of the sacraments.

This is also true of baptism. An emergency question common among those preparing infants for baptism asks, “Is baptism necessary for salvation?” If it is, then if a child is at risk of dying during birth, then anyone present needs to hurry up and baptize them that they might be saved.

On the other hand, if baptism is beautiful but not necessary, one significant way God’s promises are communicated to God’s people, then baptism is not “necessary” but important, and it can wait for the proper time and place, especially given that baptism is a one-time sacrament, not a repeating sacrament.

I tend toward the second interpretation of the necessity of baptism. It is beautiful and important but not necessary. It is one way, a cherished and central way, but not the only way.

My favorite short biblical text on baptism is Paul’s mention in Romans chapter 6: “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.”

Baptism is the sacrament that signifies our dying with Christ that we might rise with him and walk in the new life of Christ. And it signifies this not in a shallow symbolic sense, but in a deep sacramental sense. Like, in baptism you really die, and in baptism Christ really lives in you.

So now, in the time of this pandemic, those of us who walk with people to the waters of baptism are having to ask all kinds of new questions (if we have energy to ask them). We’re wondering whether it is safe to baptize people. We wonder how long we should wait, if it isn’t safe right now. We wonder whether we should find ways to baptize right now precisely to communicate to the faithful and the world what baptism truly signifies.

This summer we hosted one baptismal service at church, and we modified the form of baptism significantly. Instead of the pastor physically baptizing, holding the children and pouring the water and making the signs, we had the pastor preside over the service at which family members performed these rites.

We did it outdoors, on the church grounds, safe and socially distanced and with masks.

And honestly, it was gorgeous. I’ve rarely participated in a baptismal service where the presence of God as Trinity was more clearly communicated.

As I have reflected on that baptismal liturgy, it has begun to occur to me that with the sacraments I have been concerning myself with the wrong things. Or at least, partially the wrong things. Let me try to explain.

I have been focused thus far on the sacraments as they are ecclesially construed. I’ve been worried what the church means by hosting them, officiating at them, encouraging them. What they mean doctrinally. And there isn’t anything wrong intrinsically reflecting on the sacraments in these ways, except if that’s the primary way the sacraments are construed, then the sacramentality of Christianity is artificially and tragically constricted.

I’m thinking here of e.e. cummings poem:

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

Cummings is probably our greatest sacramental poet. He used words to express the sacramentality of everything. In one short poem he expresses thanksgiving for creation itself, for promise (the ‘yes’), and even baptism (i who have died am alive again).

Cummings recognizes that the sacramental has to do with ears awaking and eyes opening, the ears to the promises of God expressed in so many ways, our eyes opened to the physical signs of such promises visible absolutely everywhere we look.

Yes, you can see God’s promises in your baptism. But you can also see them everywhere in water itself, when you wash your hands or take a drink or shower or swim or surf.

And this is not an either/or argument, as if the sacramentality of all of creation as the body of God takes something away from the sacramentality of the churchly sacraments. Quite the opposite. Because the church practices sacraments, and if they practice them rightly, they provide opportunity to point outward to the sacramentality of a world, a cosmos, that we are always so much at risk of de-sacralizing.

Baptism may be our best sacrament that helps us demythologize the word precisely so that we might re-sacralize everything.

What does this mean now, in the time of pandemic? And what does it mean in particular for our practice of the sacraments?

First of all, I think it encourages us to normalize the theology of the emergency situation. What do I mean by this? Well, the church has historically taught a nurse should only baptize an infant in the hospital in emergency situations. And the church has taught that a pastor should preside at communion, and others only in emergencies.

Similarly, these days the church still thinks (at least, our denominations still think) that communion can only be offered in virtual spaces as an emergency concession, and then they still doubt if it is valid and worry if anyone other than an ordained pastor presides. Honestly, the pandemic had a lot of ecclesial theologians up a creek without a paddle.

But I say let’s normalize the emergency. Communion meals should and can be profligate. Share the meal in your homes, and often.

Instead of asking whether nurses can baptize, let’s talk more about the sacramentality of amniotic fluid.

Instead of doubting whether the virtual is embodied, ask instead about the physicality of data packets. Consider all the space between us as holy ground that connects, not empty space that separates.

In our current ecological crisis, make a green new deal a planetary sacrament of the church.

And baptism right now? Well, I still want to invite all those in my congregation who have not been baptized to come to the waters. Not because they need it for salvation, or we need it for our records, but because it is a celebrated way we can in this moment cry out against this pandemic and say, “We may be drowned in baptism, but we are alive in Christ. Here’s some water. Here is faith. Here is life!”

Now wash your hands.