I'll preface this by saying that it's a boiling hot summer day in NYC and I've a free day, but feel rather congested so I decided to stay home and write and watch a few movies later. I hope this makes some sense and either is of interest of helps those seeking CPE experiences. :-)
At the core of my personal theology resides two themes: that of our time being short upon this Earth and that of all humanity belonging to God and being comprised of a colorful collage of brokenness within it. I believe that our souls, our essences of spirit, are forms of sentient energy, separate, yet inextricably bound to our bodies….these bodies…these growing and learning, yet breakable and decaying bodies. We were created in the image of God, we are broken by our journey, and we will be healed in and by Christ’s breaking and rising. There is a temporal limit to our bodies and no one knows whether our souls existed before or will last afterwards. I choose to believe they live onward. I also believe that we are all children of God of equal standing in life and death. We are all born and we all die. There is no distinction and no division within Christ. Romans 3:22-25, “For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith.”
At the core of my personal theology resides two themes: that of our time being short upon this Earth and that of all humanity belonging to God and being comprised of a colorful collage of brokenness within it. I believe that our souls, our essences of spirit, are forms of sentient energy, separate, yet inextricably bound to our bodies….these bodies…these growing and learning, yet breakable and decaying bodies. We were created in the image of God, we are broken by our journey, and we will be healed in and by Christ’s breaking and rising. There is a temporal limit to our bodies and no one knows whether our souls existed before or will last afterwards. I choose to believe they live onward. I also believe that we are all children of God of equal standing in life and death. We are all born and we all die. There is no distinction and no division within Christ. Romans 3:22-25, “For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith.”
One aspect of what this means to me is that I am as broken as my fellow man. As a postulant, praying and studying to one day (God willing) become a priest, I am called to use my brokenness to minister to those paralyzed by the fear this brokenness may create. This summer unit of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE), has placed me in an extremely socio-economically and demographically diverse environment. I chose it. It was as close as I could get to doing my CPE in another country. I crave diversity of people and culture.
There are no seminary bubbles here.
There are no remote and lush mountain hideaways here.
Here, one is faced with everything and everyone and can embrace the truths of the raw and beautiful or of the hidden and ugly…basically all aspects of humanity. It continues to be very refreshing for my soul and I feel at home in the middle of it all. It is not easy though. I was placed in a stroke/neurological unit after my mother had a stroke. It has hit home HARD that our family has these tendencies toward strokes and dementia. There have been times I’ve relived my father’s death through witnessing someone else’s love done gasping for that last breath. I have seen dysfunctional family dynamics and it has been like a mirror to my own family. These were not events that I buried, not at all, but rather, events that, like grief, tend to resurface.
Theologically, I saw God at this hospital….in patients, pastoral care team, staff, doctors, and more. I have been in hospitals many times, but this time being in a leadership capacity, I was able to step into others’ grieving process and witness transformation in progress. I did not see the end results of many of these processes, but having a glimpse into them was valuable. Chaplains are in a unique role of representing God and/or the Divine. Sometimes all we can do is to let a person know that the divine is still divine in the midst of their story. The sacred nature of this is the visceral reality of our own mortality. Again, we are all born and we all die. Where do we stand before God? How shall we live out our lives? The key for me is made of favorite quotes from Jonathan Swift and Henri Amiel.
May you live all the days of your life.
~ Jonathan Swift (1667-1745)
My friends, Life is short, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us, so be quick to love and make haste to be kind. And may the blessing of the One who made us, and the One who loves us, and the One who travels with us, be with you and those you love this day and always. AMEN.
~ Adapted from Henri-Frédéric Amiel (1821–1881)
Below is one of my spiritual reflections after an evening shift at NYUL.
As soon as I walked out of the hospital, I could feel it and so I chose to walk slowly, savoring every moment. My whole 0.7 mile walk to the subway station this evening was a mystical and transcendent thin place. It's chilly, misting droplets filling the air, and the twilight fading into the night. The softness of the air. The hum of a streetlight. The hint of the idea of an Autumn out of place. The sounds of children playing. The smells of dinners. The oddity of civic fireflies that flickered over green garbage cans and brownstones. A multitude of languages, cars whooshing by, bells on shop doors dinging the way in or the way out, music of all sorts coming from a distance down every street, the smell of fresh laundry, and an occasional breeze in the trees. I'm so grateful to have moments like this! Moments of satisfying joy, a twinge of sadness, a breath of excitement - Moments that fill me with inexplicable longing, yet fill me with this transitory life itself. I walked from the past, through the present, and touched the future tonight.
Thanks be to God.
There are no seminary bubbles here.
There are no remote and lush mountain hideaways here.
Here, one is faced with everything and everyone and can embrace the truths of the raw and beautiful or of the hidden and ugly…basically all aspects of humanity. It continues to be very refreshing for my soul and I feel at home in the middle of it all. It is not easy though. I was placed in a stroke/neurological unit after my mother had a stroke. It has hit home HARD that our family has these tendencies toward strokes and dementia. There have been times I’ve relived my father’s death through witnessing someone else’s love done gasping for that last breath. I have seen dysfunctional family dynamics and it has been like a mirror to my own family. These were not events that I buried, not at all, but rather, events that, like grief, tend to resurface.
In a hospital environment, the brokenness of the body comes with the aching of the soul, the purest joy at rehabilitative progress, the deep sadness of parting, the humor from tired, slap-happy minds, the pain of needles, the happy tears of new and health birth, the stench of bodies, the warmth of blankets, the noise…and the silence. My calling to be a priest in this world has called me to pray, discern, and reflect. I am recognizing both strengths and growing edges of mine. Some of my gifts are enthusiasm, listening, reflection, and energy. Some of my strengths have nothing to do with my gifts, but rather the progress I have made in some of my growing edges. Even the tiniest bit of self-awareness is something I consider as progress. The urge to fix, the uncertainty of pastoral identity, and the awareness of how my anxiety plays roles in various situations from the unknown, to the wanting-to-be-in-charge, to the yes/no questions preventing going deeper with patients – these have all been identified and are all being worked on. I am feeling more at home in my role as it is sculpted toward priesthood. I feel more comfortable with the constancy of human physical ailments, traumatic events, the dying process, and thinking and talking about death.
This feeling of home aligns with one of the themes we studied and read about in our CPE course books this summer, that of grief and the grieving process. [The books are: I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Wasn’t) by Brené Brown and All Our Losses, All Our Griefs by Mitchell and Anderson]. CPE has helped me to gain some tools to help me recognize when and how others are grieving. Grief does not simply take the form of physical death, but can also go along with change itself. I will grieve the loss of some of the ways I’ve done things and habits I’ve held. For example: in letting go of trying to fix things when I listen to suffering, I can become a vessel of God’s healing presence, allowing for an authenticity from the patient I’m with, an honesty and sincerity of feeling and emotion that they can express. I have re-learned in CPE that one of the most comforting things I can offer to someone is silence. Any words of comfort must be those that can let them open up their own experiences and find sacred space in which they can find their own path to God’s healing. Even if the person is not of any faith background, spiritual and sacred experiences can happen.
People need the holy. They need to know God cares for them, even in their grief and that God is there for them, even in their raw state of being. Having let down my fences through therapy in the past, I know how healing it can be to let go. Still, letting go, involves a type of grief over the loss of what you let go. What if you never had it to begin with? Can a person grieve over something they have never had? I propose that yes, we can in fact grieve the loss of something we have not actually had. It can be the loss of an imagined state, the loss of potential, or the loss of an opportunity for growth. During this summer of CPE and working with patients at the hospital, I have observed many people who have suddenly lost physical opportunities they did not consider until it became too late. They grieve in varying ways. CPE is teaching me to learn to sit with them in this grief instead of creating a false sort of bravery that keeps sorrow and death at a comfortable distance. By showing our vulnerability do we begin to reach the sacredness inside ourselves. By allowing others to do so without invasion, we allow them to experience release and healing. This allowance is a thin place in our emotional lives, enabling us to be truly connected with God and open to God’s interaction with all humanity. Once we are comfortable with our own vulnerability and our own sense of the holiness in ourselves, we can truly be home anywhere. By this, I mean that we may give ourselves, our souls, and our bodies to the God in everyone and every place we experience.
Some of the cultural and sociological observations I have include the following. I’ve seen no racial, age, or cultural issues arise, but I have seen gender issues while at NYUL. NYUL is a hospital open to all, but most of the patients are Catholic and many in this tradition prefer to have a male Catholic priest. Likewise, I have seen men in the Jewish faith or Muslim traditions prefer not to pastorally talk with a woman. It has been very interesting for me to see these dynamics. Because of my travels and personality, I can often provide pastoral support for these families even if they did not necessarily want to “see a chaplain”. Part of being a good leader is to know when to step back and when to follow and to do it willingly, both for the sake of respect and for learning. I was respected as an intern and included by response teams doctors, family, and others. I was invited to discussions, allowed to watch some therapy and some procedures, and grew comfortable and affirmed in my role.
Theologically, I saw God at this hospital….in patients, pastoral care team, staff, doctors, and more. I have been in hospitals many times, but this time being in a leadership capacity, I was able to step into others’ grieving process and witness transformation in progress. I did not see the end results of many of these processes, but having a glimpse into them was valuable. Chaplains are in a unique role of representing God and/or the Divine. Sometimes all we can do is to let a person know that the divine is still divine in the midst of their story. The sacred nature of this is the visceral reality of our own mortality. Again, we are all born and we all die. Where do we stand before God? How shall we live out our lives? The key for me is made of favorite quotes from Jonathan Swift and Henri Amiel.
May you live all the days of your life.
~ Jonathan Swift (1667-1745)
My friends, Life is short, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us, so be quick to love and make haste to be kind. And may the blessing of the One who made us, and the One who loves us, and the One who travels with us, be with you and those you love this day and always. AMEN.
~ Adapted from Henri-Frédéric Amiel (1821–1881)
Below is one of my spiritual reflections after an evening shift at NYUL.
As soon as I walked out of the hospital, I could feel it and so I chose to walk slowly, savoring every moment. My whole 0.7 mile walk to the subway station this evening was a mystical and transcendent thin place. It's chilly, misting droplets filling the air, and the twilight fading into the night. The softness of the air. The hum of a streetlight. The hint of the idea of an Autumn out of place. The sounds of children playing. The smells of dinners. The oddity of civic fireflies that flickered over green garbage cans and brownstones. A multitude of languages, cars whooshing by, bells on shop doors dinging the way in or the way out, music of all sorts coming from a distance down every street, the smell of fresh laundry, and an occasional breeze in the trees. I'm so grateful to have moments like this! Moments of satisfying joy, a twinge of sadness, a breath of excitement - Moments that fill me with inexplicable longing, yet fill me with this transitory life itself. I walked from the past, through the present, and touched the future tonight.
Thanks be to God.
 |
| Sometimes, we suit up for the protection of the patient or our protection. |
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