 5/4/2005
Vol. 2, No. 7
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Professional
Practice |
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The
Rev.
Stephen
Harding
on
one
of
the
saddest
things
he
had
ever
heard
Articulating
Experiences
is
the
Key
to
Understanding
Them
Those
who
don't
feel
this
Love
pulling them like a river,
those who don't drink dawn
like a cup of springwater
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don't want to change,
let them sleep
This
Love
is
beyond
the
study
of
theology,
that old trickery and hypocrisy.
If you want to improve your mind that way,
sleep on
I've
given
up
on
my
brain.
I've torn the cloth to shreds
and thrown it away.
If
you're
not
completely
naked,
wrap your beautiful robe of words
around you,
and
sleep.
Rumi
[1]
***
Albert
held
my
hands.
Held
them
tight.
From
deep
within
their
sockets
his
eyes
held
mine,
and
in
a
voice
ravaged
by
his
disease
he
hoarsely
whispered, “You
feel
to
me
like
life.”
This
is
the
first
encounter
with
a
patient
that
I
remember,
now
thirteen
years
ago.
I
remember
not
knowing
what
to
say,
or
do.
I
also
remember
thinking
how
desperately
Albert,
at
the
end
of
his
life,
wanted
to
live,
and
that
I
somehow
symbolized
all
that
was
slipping
away
from
him
each
day.
***
I
went
once
to
see
a
woman
who
was
a
Hospice
patient.
She
lived
alone,
never
married,
no
children,
no
brothers
or
sisters
still
living –all
that
she
had
were
her
friends,
who
weren’t
there
when
I
came
by.
In
the
course
of
our
conversation
she
told
me, “I
am
sixty-seven
years
old.
I
am
alone
in
this
world,
and
I
know
that
I
am
dying.
All
I
want
is
for
someone
to
hold
my
hand,
and
to
tell
me
that
they
love
me.”
That was one of the saddest things that I had ever heard. I took her hand
and held it while she slept. I stayed with her until her friends came later
that evening. I couldn’t tell her that I loved her –it wouldn’t
have been true –but her awareness of being alone and having missed
part of life stayed with me for a long time....
***
These
stories
are
a
very
small
drop
in
the
depth
of
experiences
that
I
have
had
as
a
Chaplain.
These
stories
and
the
people
in
them
have
stayed
with
me
for
a
long
time.
As
I
begin
to
look
back
over
the
last
ten
years,
I
have
had
a
remarkable
number
and
range
of
experiences
that
involve
working
with
the
dying,
working
briefly
in
a
(large)
community
hospital,
working
with
pain
medicine
patients,
September
11,
and,
most
recently,
being
one
of
the
Chaplains
for
the
Fire
Department
in
New
York
City.
In
addition
to
all
of
my
professional
experiences,
my
personal
and
ecclesial
lives
have
been
full
as
well.
I
am
finding
that
there
have
been
so
many
profound
experiences
stacked
on
top
of
each
other
that
I
have
lost
touch
with
what
they
mean
to
me
and
what
they
might
mean
theologically.
It’s
time
for
me
to
reflect
and
think,
and
let
the
meaning
of
what
I’ve
been
living
permeate
me
more.
There’s
a
lot
of “this
is
my
job”to
how
I
approach
the
accumulation
of
these
experiences.
But
at
the
same
time...
Each
experience
has
meaning,
and
as
my
friend
Rabbi
Stephen
Roberts
and
others
have
said,
it
is
only
through
the
articulation
of
the
experience(s)
that
one
is
able
to
understand
what
happened.
This
article
is
an
attempt
to
bring
meaning
to
the
experiences
that
have
formed
me.
Bless
you
for
reading.
[1]
Ode
314,
in Like
This,
Coleman
Barks,
trans.,
Maypop,
Athens,
1990.
The
Reverend
Stephen
Harding,
S.T.M.,
BCC,
is
an
Episcopal
Priest
serving
as
the
Chaplain
for
the
Department
of
Pain
Medicine
and
Palliative
Care
at
Beth
Israel
Medical
Center
in
New
York
City,
a
HealthCare
Chaplaincy
partner.
Do
you
have
thoughts
about
professional
practice
you’d
like
to
share
with
your
colleagues?
Send
an
e-mail info@PlainViews.org.
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Advocacy |
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The Rev. Carl Aiken
on cousins –one relative's
view
Health
Care Chaplaincy in the U.S. and
Australia –The Same but
Different
Australians and Americans
share a significant number of values,
attitudes and beliefs. Our family
histories have taken us on different
paths as well as familiar ones.
Europeans settled in each country
for significantly different reasons.
The American experience was largely
one of hope, promise and adventure
in a new land, a place where different
expressions of the Christian faith
could be practised without interference.
A sense of vision and being part
of a divine plan was paramount.[1]
In contrast, the Australian experience
was of a penal colony in a strange
and inhospitable land.[2] People
were deported from Britain for crimes
such as stealing a loaf of bread.
In terms of faith, the American
forebears proclaimed ‘a new
Zion.’The Australian experience
was of the first clergyman also being
the first judge. It was a vision
of liberty versus a history of harsh
punishment. These different births
led the American colony to a war
of independence and the Australian
colony to a battle of survival in
a harsh land.
The result is significant differences
in Australian and American culture.
A general consensus of these differences
would be:
The American Experience
Land of the Free
Religious
Clergy valued
Achievements celebrated
Status - based on achievements
Value/worth of persons based
on status
Cheer the ‘hero’
Importance of credentials
Largely Private Health System
Leaders honoured
Respect for authority important
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The Australian Experience
Land of the Convict
Secular
Suspicion of clergy
Achievements underplayed
Status – based on equality
of persons
Value/worth of persons based
on character
Cheer the ‘under-dog’
Importance of competence
Largely Public Health System
Cynical about leaders
Don’t respect authority
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My perception of America is of a
welcoming, hospitable and caring
people. I have been personally overwhelmed
by the willingness of chaplains to
share their time, resources and wisdom
with me. Chaplains in the U.S. are
at the forefront of advocating for
appropriate qualifications for chaplains
and a professional chaplaincy service.
This is in part due to economies
of scale that is possible in a country
the size of the U.S. as well as to
an ingrained value. Chaplains in
Australia usually come from a parish
background with skills and abilities
being the key criteria.
The Australian secular experience
means that chaplains’primary
focus is on pastoral care. Advocacy
for chaplaincy is best achieved by
outlining the values and benefits
of Holistic practice and the provision
of Spiritual and Pastoral Care. The
value of the chaplain to the patients
and staff is judged in terms of their
acceptability as a person –relationship
is a key issue. Working with and
supporting staff seems to be a larger
role for chaplains in Australia.
My observation in the U.S. is that
chaplaincy is more religious in presentation
and practice, with chaplains regularly
called to pray with patients. The
emphasis on spiritual assessments
is a practice of many chaplains that
is not as evident in Australia. A
key difference is that chaplaincy
in the U.S. is more organized and
structured than in Australia.
Another difference is the structure
of health care, with Australia having
a large public hospital system and
a universal medical safety net. This
is due to the belief in equality
and that all members of the community
should be cared for.
The similarities are in a commitment
to excellence and professional care,
the variations are in our cultural
norms that we often overlook. George
Bernard Shaw observed that “England
and America are divided by a common
language.”This is equally true
of the gap between Australians and
Americans. Our core values and goals
are very similar; the nuances of
our practice are where the difference
occurs.
I have been very fortunate to have
received the hospitality, wisdom
and insights from a large number
of U.S. Chaplains from health care
and the military both personally
and through the pastoral care email
community. I am indebted to their
generosity of spirit.
[1] Martin L. Cook, US Airforce
Academy in a lecture at the ADF Chaplain’s
College quoting from Conrad Cherry,
God’s New Israel, and Robert
Bellah, American Civil Religion
[2] Manning Clark, A History of
Australia, Vol 1.
Carl Aiken had a background in
ship building, housing construction
and diesel electric generation before
entering Theological College. He then
pastored a church for 25 years before
his appointment to the Women's and
Children's hospital in North Adelaide,
South Australia, just over 5 years
ago. His involvement in health and
welfare however spans the time spent
in the local parish having helped create
two community centres and a youth unemployment
project. Carl was also a volunteer
chaplain at the local private (not
for profit) hospital, and is a serving
Chaplain in the Australian Army Reserve.
In 1988, Carl had an exchange ministry
in Texas and in 2003 a Prince of Wales
Award enabled him to experience chaplaincy
in hospital and military settings in
the US. He also attended the APC Conference
in Toronto.
His passions are FJ Holden cars,
playing in his workshop and the
Port Adelaide Power Football Club!
Do you have
thoughts about advocacy you’d like
to share with your colleagues? Send
an e-mail to info@PlainViews.org.
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Education & Research |
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The Rev. Koshin Paley
Ellison on a tale of
a teacher and a student
Sexuality
and Pastoral Care?
Hollyhocks
in bloom.
A butterfly flaps to lift –
edge of the walkway.
I lean to help. Ants help, too –
eating its dying body.
How can I practice being
in the moment? How can
I express my full sexuality
while encountering all
creations with respect
and dignity? Exploring
my relationship between
sexuality and pastoral
care requires that I
tell you a story. As
part of my Zen training
I went to a Zen temple
that was in the country
hills outside of a Japanese
city.
For the five weeks,
my daily life was pretty
much the same. I awoke
at four, sat zazen (meditation)
with the temple’s
Abbot, with whom I lived.
The two of us would have
a service in the Buddha
Hall and then he would
make breakfast for us.
During breakfast he would
put a huge dictionary
on the table, and we
would have ”conversation.”It
was more about exchanging
a few words. After breakfast,
we went for silent morning
walks along the river –watching
hawks and the day arrive
at eight in the morning.
We returned to the temple
and he would do his temple
running. I would take
walks, write in my journal,
wander about and, with
the late afternoon call
of the cicadas, returned
to the temple.
The Roshi (‘old
teacher’in Japanese)
and I bonded in our silence
and developed a nice
rhythm. One morning,
during ”conversation,”he
asked if I was married.
Two years before my partner
and I had a ceremony
with a hundred family
members and friends,
and so I said, “Yes.”
“Children?”he
asked.
“Yes,”I
said thinking of my step-daughter
who was living with us.
“Wife?”he
asked.
“No,”I said.
Then I pointed to the
word 'husband' in the
dictionary.
This brought a strange
look on his face.
“No,”he
said emphatically. I
nodded, and found the
word for gay, which in
Japanese is ho-mo,
and I pointed to it.
His face fell. He closed
the book and briskly
left the kitchen.
As I walked a little
scared into the Buddha
Hall to sit, I thought, “Now
what? I am in the middle
of Japan, and I don’t
speak Japanese. I’m
going to be here for
another few weeks pretty
much alone with this
guy, and maybe he’s
homophobic.”
The following few days
we sat together, chanted
together, and then instead
of river walks and Japanese
breakfasts –nothing.
He no longer looked and
me. What had once seemed
idyllic now felt disturbing
at best.
For seventy years –
people said nothing will grow
in this place.
I lay awake with the rain.
Tonight, the drops shine the leaves.
The priest had a son
who lived down the road.
I invited him for dinner
and explained the situation
over soybeans, sake,
and other little dishes
of food.
He said, “Impossible.
It must be a misunderstanding.
My father is a fine Zen
teacher with a deep understanding
of the BuddhaDharma (the
teachings). This being
so, he couldn’t
hold prejudice against
you or anyone.”
I realized at that moment
the difference between
religion and culture.
While ancient Japanese
culture celebrated male-to-male
love, the modern culture
discriminates against
gays and lesbians. The
son drove me back to
the temple. Across the
courtyard, I saw the
son knocking and sliding
his father’s door
open.
The next morning, we
sat together, held service,
and without missing a
beat, Roshi said, “Breakfast.”During
breakfast we had conversation,
and then we went for
our morning river walk.
At the end of my five
weeks there, he gave
me his hat that he had
worn everyday, and told
me to come back home
to the temple soon. We
embraced and both of
us cried.
What does this have
to do with pastoral care
and sexuality? For me,
it is about being fully
who I am moment by moment
and allowing others to
be who they are. It is
also about the beauty
of staying present and
not backing away from
difficulty. It is About Using the muck and worst
parts of your life to
grow the most exquisite
lotus flower –which
only grows in the muddiest
of waters. This story
was about entering relationship
and how relationships
can be reentered in new
ways. It also taught
me how good it feels
to practice in a tradition
that doesn’t leave
anyone out. Buddhism
celebrates the awakening
of gay, straight, black,
white…any and
all beings throughout
space and time.
Eihei Dogen, the revitalizer
of the Soto tradition
in Japan wrote: “By
the continuous practice
of all Buddhas and ancestors,
your practice is actualized
and your great road opens
up. By your continuous
practice, the continuous
practice of all Buddhas
is actualized and the
great road of all Buddhas
opens up. Your continuous
practice creates the
circle of the Way.”
Each moment can open
or close a world for
ourselves and others.
Koshin Paley Ellison
is on the Clinical Staff
at the Psychotherapy & Spirituality
Institute where he sees
individuals, families and
groups. Koshin works as
a Chaplain at Cabrini Medical
Center & Hospice. He
began Zen practice in 1988
and continues to be a student
and novice Zen Buddhist
priest under Roshi Enkyo
O’Hara at the Village
Zendo in New York City
His web site is: www.dharmateam.com.
Do you have thoughts about education & research you’d like to share with
your colleagues? Send an e-mail to info@PlainViews.org.
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Spiritual
Development |
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Rosalie
M. Osian on raising others
up with you
Oyfn
Pripetchik (By
the Fireside) – A
Prayer of Transmission
The sacred
day of Shabbat was
over when I heard the
message on my answering
machine from one of my
colleagues. A Jewish
funeral home had called
to say that my services
had been requested by
the daughter of a patient.
No other details were
given except to call
the funeral home.
Two days earlier we
admitted a woman in her
nineties who was accompanied
by her daughter. The
patient was lethargic
and somewhat incoherent
during admission. The
next day, while I visited
with the patient, she
kept repeating the word ‘button.’After
some moments, I understood
she meant her call bell,
which I noticed was disconnected
from its power source.
I assured her that it
would be taken care of.
I asked her name, to
which she turned her
hand so that I could
read her bracelet. Through
body language we engaged
for a few more minutes.
Her responses were limited.
I then asked if she would
like to receive a blessing
to which she nodded to
say, “Yes.”I
began the Mi’sheberach
and when I completed
it I asked if she understood
what I was doing. She
shook her head again,
to affirm her comprehension.
Tears formed in her eyes
and we held hands for
some time. She closed
her eyes while we were
in this tender embrace.
I met her daughter in
the afternoon of the
same day and she told
me about her mother’s
life and their relationship.
The daughter received
from her mother a teaching
to live her life with
integrity. Her mother’s
motto was, “Raise
others up with you. Do
your best. Be your best.”Another
passion her mother gave
her was the love of music.
Her mother was a classically
trained violinist. This
gift was passed on to
the daughter as well.
She talked of her grief
and loss and began to
prepare herself for the
outcome of her mother
dying.
Just two days later,
on Shabbat,
the patient passed away.
Her daughter requested
that I officiate at the
funeral. She felt we
connected. I too sensed
that we were destined
to have more time together
in her mother’s
journey.
The funeral was planned
at the graveside and
the daughter wanted to
play two melodies on
the violin. I decided
that the melodies would
be played at the end
of the service and become
the last ‘utterances’that
would be heard at the
grave. The burial was
attended by a few surviving
relatives and close friends.
Pre-deceasing this woman,
and buried next to where
she would now be buried,
was her husband who died
of illness, and a son
who died in a car accident.
I looked into the daughter’s
eyes as I spoke of her
mother’s life which
was filled with much
loss, with compassion
for others and with a
desire to live life to
its fullest. Towards
the closing of the funeral,
I quoted Rabbi Abraham
Joshua Heschel who wrote, “There
are three ways to mourn.
The first is to cry.
The second is to grow
silent. The third is
to transform sorrow into
song.”[1]
“Today,”I
said, “This family
mourns in all these ways
and has selected as the
last utterances of the
day, two pieces of music.
The first is ‘Oyfn
Pripetchik’,
which speaks about a Rebbe who
sits by the fireside
and teaches young children
the Hebrew alphabet.
He instructs his charges
to clasp the letters
to their hearts because
it is Torah and says
that he will reward them
with a prize if they
learn well. The second
melody, ‘Yedid
Nefesh’has
origins in Jewish mysticism
and sings of the rejoicing
and love of creation.
The daughter took out
her violin and began
to play the soft, soulful
music of “Oyfn
Pripetchik.”I stared
at the field in front
of me, past the mound
of dirt, the leaning
shovels, and scanned
the horizon. I saw the
tombstones and the names
inscribed in Hebrew as
if to lend additional
truth to this song. As
the music played, I couldn’t
recall when I learned
this melody and the Yiddish
words to it. I knew that
my mother taught me and
I supposed that her mother
had taught her. Is it
possible that once one
learned this song about
teaching, one was obligated
to teach it to others?
In my pastoral care
of the elderly I have
been asked to sing ‘Oyfn
Pripetchik’ by
patients and families.
For some folks it is
as close on their lips
as the ‘Sh’ma
Yisroel.’Often,
it stimulates lively
discussions of early
memories. For folks who
cannot speak, it is a
pressing into the palm
of my hand accompanied
by a soft whisper, “Thank
you.”How can one
melody affirm faith,
be a life review, and
recall mourning and joy?
My patients tell me this
is so.
I was stirred to a powerful
feeling. A heightened
sensitivity and an awareness
that I shall not forgot.
I was deeply rooted in ‘Oyfn
Pripetchik,’to
its melody and teaching.
I too am an inheritor,
grateful for the Hebrew
letters that help me
form sacred prayers,
song and presence with
the Divine and with my
patients. And on this
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