Rabbi Sandra Katz on Sabbath rounds that have become very meaningful

Charting, Chapter Two

I did not set out to write this article. This article found me and dogged me until I let it out. In my previous article on documentation (PlainViews Vol. 1, No. 14), I wrote a sentence that did not fit with the flow of the rest of the paragraph. It stuck with me after I deleted it. “I am ever watchful that I remain aware: volume of calls may be in inverse proportion to their effectiveness.”

How can I tell if I have done a good job today? In a healthcare system obsessed with measuring, can I measure something that shows my effectiveness – or a need to improve? Can I maintain equilibrium between the numbers that my administrator would understand and the kind of soul-contact that drew me to this form of service?

Look, I know that running into every room in my facility and saying, “Hi, God bless you,” to each person is hardly good practice. Yet I have seen how powerful it is that my community is aware that I know every name. Our more secular people learn quickly that I will respect their boundaries, and our religious/spiritual ones love to have someone with whom they can share this part of themselves.

I also know that no healthcare administrator is going to pay someone, regardless of how spiritual, to gaze at her navel. I’d better get out there and do something.

How do I know when I am just doing something – running, sometimes from myself? How can I gauge when I am really doing something meaningful? And isn’t it amazing how, when we seek to replicate a spiritual high, it eludes us, leaving us with the feathers but not the bird? [1]

A few months after I started this job, I wondered if I knew the names of all residents in the facility. So I began Shabbat rounds. I greeted every person by name, wishing each one the culturally appropriate expression for Saturday. On its surface, this was an exercise in volume that almost parodies my values. And yet, my Shabbat rounds have become very meaningful.

Greeting every person every week means that I have something recent to document even on the most cognitively-impaired residents. [2] It serves to let me know who may benefit from a longer talk after rounds. It reminds residents that someone cares for them. It makes me visible in the facility. Over time, this may give some residents reason to trust me and turn to me. It enables me to do something productive on the Sabbath when it would be unseemly to write. And I look forward to giving and receiving love that flows from God through our community.

Yes, this practice is ambitious. Some weeks I don’t know how I have the physical strength to do it. Yet it provides a capstone to the week, a way to differentiate the Sabbath and holy days. It renews me. Most weeks it fills me with hope and joy.

[1] Thanks to Bonnie Raitt for this image
[2] See my previous PlainViews  article, Vol. 1, No. 14 (Education and Research)

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