PlainViews

Chaplain Rosalie M. Osian on being builders of bridges

The Person and the Faith

“Our mother is dying at home. You helped us with a relative of ours. Can you help us now?”

“Tell me about your mother,” I said. That was the beginning of the journey with this family.

Mom was dying at home and was under hospice care. She had a wonderfully compassionate family. Everyone, including the family pets, seemed to be involved in her care.

The family asked me to officiate at her funeral. They were of various faith affiliations – Christian, Buddhist, and Jewish. The patient had been most closely connected to the Lutheran Church. In later years, she felt close to God independent of a particular religion. I reminded the family that I was of the Jewish faith and could connect them with Christian clergy. The family declined and indicated that it would mean a lot to the family. I was humbled. In listening to their needs it was apparent that they were choosing the person first. They appeared confident that faith compatibility would work itself out.

Within, I was not so easily settled. I had served multi-faith families in hospital settings and was trained in interfaith ministry but I hadn’t officiated at a funeral outside of my own faith. The ‘busy-ness’ of religious and faith matchmaking wrestled within me. What would be in the best interests of the patient/family? What compromises would keep the service authentic to all of us? Would a Christian minister provide more comfort and consolation because he/she could pray a more familiar liturgy? Discernment of needs and my concerns continued.

Then, I remembered being taught that chaplains were builders of bridges. What also came to mind was a teaching of the sages:

‘Kol Ha-Olam Kulo Gesher Tzar Me’Od’, ‘The whole world is a narrow bridge; and the main point is not to fear.’ [1]

The human condition is experienced by all people. I realized that I was compelled to find the bridge.

Then, I recalled my teacher’s words about different religions: “Never instead, always in addition to.” [2]

The Divine dwells among us in all languages – in the breath – in the silences. The Divine is the bridge and has prepared me to serve. The question, however, remained within me: was I ready?

I visited the patient in her home. She was surrounded by her family, her pets, and all that her hands had touched most of her life. She was not responsive. Gentle words of introduction were spoken; affirmations of familial love, memory, forgiveness, hope in God’s embrace, and everlasting bonds. The family moved into a circle of prayer and held hands.

In the midst of my chanting Aaron’s Blessing, the patient opened her eyes and looked upon her family. In wakefulness, she stayed a while and brought them new, transcendent memories.

The patient died shortly after my visit. Together we prepared for the funeral. It reflected the multi-faith nature of the family.

I wasn’t sure whether to share the challenges of this pastoral event in multi-faith ministry. But, struggles make us better learners about people, faith, and humility in the face of newness. The intervention taught me to re-apply and re-examine pastoral acts, prayers and rituals for language and meaning. It helped me to find a comfortable spiritual space where I could serve AND be of service to them.

The whole world is indeed a narrow bridge; one that we are meant to travel. May we be blessed to make it a well-worn path.

Footnotes:

[1] Attributed to Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, in the volume entitled Lekutei Moharan, II/48. The literal phrase translates; ‘When a person has to cross a very narrow bridge, the principal thing is not to fear anything.’

[2] Rabbi Joseph Gelberman, New York, NY.