I did a psychological/career assessment earlier this year. After just a couple of days, I gained new insight about myself that I've continued to mull over since that time. For instance, I learned why Chaplaincy seems like such a vocational fit beyond "it just feels right." It's flexible and I get to develop relationships with people, etc. Some ideas, like this one, became clear almost immediately. Other results of the test have become more understandable only over time and continued life experience. Here's my most recent, yet difficult to admit, epiphany.
Part of the results of the personality-type portion of the test explained that I have a difficult time in situations where I don't feel like I can present myself as together/organized/on top of things. I brushed this off at the time, but have come to see it's revealing truths in various situations. To the outside world, whichever "world" it is, I want to look like I'm funny, energetic, organized, and pulled together. This has been true at my job, my church, and in my family. It's only with Dan and very close friends that I let myself fall apart. Or at least be less than the "perfect side" of myself I try to present to the world. This is even worse when I not only have to admit vulnerability, but be cared for and helped.
This came to a head yesterday when I was at work experiencing difficulty breathing. It had been going on for days (Yes, days. I'm terrible about admitting when something is wrong). One of my nurses remarked about how I had been sighing all day. I ended up telling her that I wasn't sighing, but rather trying to take really deep breaths and seemed unable to. She came over and was soon followed by three others from work. With their encouragement (read: *insistence*), I called a doctor, and was seen that afternoon, had things checked, and nothing distressing or worrisome was discovered. (More about that at another time as I may need to go back to find out more).
However, the moments where I was vulnerable and the center of attention at work made me feel supremely uncomfortable. And exposed. And frustrated. Here I was, in a place where I try to exemplify the qualities of organization, creativity, compassion, knowledge in my field, teamwork, etc, and I was in a moment where none of that was the focus and I felt frantic. I know this sounds extreme, and looking back I see that it was. But there is more at work here.
In my CPE Residency, it was brought to my attention that I am particularly terrible at giving myself grace or offering myself forgiveness. I encourage others to focus on self-care, to take time out, to get checked when things are wrong, and to let others help. But boy are those very things that I am terrible at doing. I think it comes down to a deep feeling that people only love and care about my "together" self. As I said, I have a wonderful husband and loving friends who I have let inside the façade of togetherness. Just this year, I have shared a more open, well-rounded, honest part of myself with my mom and the results have been beautiful. But it's not easy and changing (where healthy) won't happen overnight.
I wonder whether allowing myself grace and acceptance for the times when I'm overwhelmed, burnt out, tired and disorganized will help me stave off reaching the point of collapse. Where I want to shut out the world and recuperate until I can smile, laugh, and gather myself into the person I feel proudest to share.
I've had some really incredible examples of people who have brought less than their best self into situations where they've still been valuable contributors. And their best selves always arrive again in time. I don't love them any less when they share another side of themselves. In fact, it feels like a relief.
If someone else in my office had been having a difficult time breathing, you can bet I would have been by their side encouraging support and care where I could. A friend of mine who is also a Chaplain told me once that she has a prayer she says before she makes visits: "Let me bring 100% of what I have to this situation." Not 100% of all that I could be ever, but 100% of what I have to offer at that moment in time. It's much more realistic and freeing.
Hopefully this new and deeper understanding of myself will aide me in becoming more forgiving of myself and offering myself grace to accept my very human well-roundedness.
But I do have some peeves. Oh yes. I do. I've noticed that with several people, when I have had a moment of breakdown and let myself be cared for, then I feel a shift in our relationship. Literally, four people come to mind, who seem to treat me as though I'm forever broken afterward. They tread warily around me and talk to me in the soothing tones one might adopt when trying to keep an animal calm. Instead of asking, "Hey! How're you doing?" the next time we meet (regardless of how many days/weeks later it is) they tilt their heads to the side and ask gently with a furrowed brow, "You okay...?" voice hitching uncertainly at the end. Sometimes I get really irritated and just want to say, "You mean because three weeks ago I was upset about something? Yes, I'm okay now! I haven't been wallowing over the same thing since we last talked!"
Another peeve. Please, helpers in future situations, notice when it's all just too much. Yesterday, I was sitting at my desk at work and four or five people were inside my cube (teeny thing that it is) all telling me what I needed to do at that moment. Please remember that the issue was not being able to breathe deeply. Do YOU think the added anxiety and pressure from everyone was helping? If you answered "No!" then you get a cookie. But you have to get it yourself. But I do give you permission. Go ahead. I'll wait.......
We good? Good. Moving on.
Another bit of venting before I round out this blog! One of my co-workers was even listening in when I was on the phone with the doctor and later my mom when I was calling her to get a ride to the appointment. Just give me a second to be on the phone without interrupting, trying to get my attention and telling me something. It was all just too much at that moment in time. Or maybe anytime. But it was a lot. There's a phrase in Chaplaincy I've probably written about before. It's called "non-anxious presence." My co-workers were definitely not practicing that yesterday.
However, they were demonstrating care, love, concern, sweetness, compassion and others offers of help. And I will continue to feel deeply grateful to work with such amazing women. These are the women I care for hospice patients with. I was a recipient of their love and can explain firsthand how much their care meant...when I calmed down and let myself finally feel it.
Life's a process. And onward it goes... :)
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The Cultural Location of Chaplaincy
My first experience of ever embracing the role of "Chaplain" was in Santa Monica, CA, where I was required/encouraged to introduce myself as one of the "Interfaith Chaplains" offered by the hospital. This was during my pre-UU days and it was interesting to be designated as interfaith even though I had only ever identified as Christian before. But something about that description resonated with me. Although, looking back I realize with blatant awareness that I was woefully ignorant of caring for others outside of Christianity. In that job, I learned how it can be a spiritual experience to learn Radiohead songs to sing with the Music Therapist on the Pediatrics floor with the kids. And that being present can be deeply healing. I recall that when my internship was ending, I was really mourning the loss of being a Chaplain.
Then after I graduated, I became a Hospice Chaplain for the first time in Ventura, CA. Some random things I miss about Ventura County are all the Spanish names for cities and street signs. There's very little trilling of R's in the South. Here, my Chaplaincy took on a new shape as most of my patients were Roman Catholic Latinos. I learned to retrieve resources from the local Catholic churches and to humbly offer them to patients and their families. At this job, I learned the value of cultural curiosity and sensitivity. When I made a genuinely caring effort, I was met halfway and then I could join the people I was caring for as we continued the journey together. I also gained a significant amount of confidence as a Chaplain. Not in a boasting, "Look at me, I'm THE Chaplain." But more in a, "I really value what I'm doing, I know I can be calm in the midst of chaos" kind of way. It was interesting though, because overall, many of my patients still weren't actively religious.
And then I moved to the Bible Belt. Whew. It has been an adjustment. To explain a little, I'd like to reference a conversation that I had with a fellow seminarian and Chaplain. She was doing her Chaplain Residency in New York. Most of the people she visited were not Christian, but a part of another faith or no particular faith group. She was hoping to hone her skills as a Christian Chaplain, but was finding this difficult because she didn't get a lot of practice in her cultural location. I, on the other hand, felt like I was a fish out of water in the opposite way. I would have loved to hone my skills at addressing the needs of people who are not Christians, but I'm a Unitarian Universalist in the Bible Belt, mostly caring for people who are conservative or fundamentalist Christians. And yet, I feel like my skill set is adjusting to this particular cultural location, to help me care for the people whose spirituality has been entrusted to me.
However, I did have a brief moment of panic (can it really be called panic if it's brief?) where I worried that my skills were becoming so fine-tuned for the people I care for now, that I would be deficient if Dan and I decided to move (which is not being considered, just an fyi). After presenting this fear to Dan, he calmly chimed in that he thought I had always adjusted my Chaplaincy to where we lived, and that he was fully confident that I could do it again.
So this post was a response to the actuality that I had indeed adapted by Chaplaincy style to the various cultural locations in which we've lived. It was a review and a relief. I'm also extremely grateful to have had the experience I did in the United Methodist Church growing up, because my church of origin gifted me with many skills I use often for my weekly visits. Visits which most often include: singing from my UM Hymnal with patients of various protestant backgrounds, reading from the Bible, reading from other literature and poetry, hearing and encouraging the telling of life stories, and praying (often in a way that reflects the conservative beliefs of the patient/family).
I still want to develop my ministerial identity for those who are UU or at least not a part of the mainstream religious identity here. For that, I look to my Worship Committee experience at my church and the various opportunities I'm given to pray in a non-conservative Christian way. The language is different and much more freeing. And yet, because the majority of my verbal prayers as a Chaplain do not feel reflective of UU, I feel out of practice every time I step up to the pulpit at my church. Being allowed and encouraged to use vocabulary like, "Spirit of love and of love, God of many names and many expressions..." and "in the name of all that is Holy, Amen"...they open possibilities. I feel like it could be worthwhile to write prayers and phrases down that are more true to who I am spiritually. A spiritual discipline perhaps?
Here are a few stirring phrases that I would like to use at my UU church in prayer:
God and Goddess, known to many in countless ways
Resonate within us a feeling of hope, connection, love and creativity
May we experience and recognize the blessings in our lives
May we ruminate in gratitude, deeply feeling all that which we have to be grateful for
For experiences that cause us distress, sadness, and mourning, may we be surrounded by the love of supportive souls...who nourish our pains with words of encouragement, loving hugs, and soulful presence.
When we are happy and want to celebrate, may we find people who help our joy double because they share it with us.
May we as a community of faith stand together throughout each others' life story
We have many histories gathered together, and yet we all ended up in this space, at this time...what a gift and a blessing in itself to be here. Now.
Let us all take a deep breath in while we ponder how fortunate we are to be in each others' presence.
In gratitude, in love, in mourning and in hope, we pray together in the name of all that is Holy and Sacred, Amen.
(Update since this was first posted: I prayed these words today at my UU Fellowship. I weaved them in with words that came in the moment and it was a beautifully spiritual experience.)
Then after I graduated, I became a Hospice Chaplain for the first time in Ventura, CA. Some random things I miss about Ventura County are all the Spanish names for cities and street signs. There's very little trilling of R's in the South. Here, my Chaplaincy took on a new shape as most of my patients were Roman Catholic Latinos. I learned to retrieve resources from the local Catholic churches and to humbly offer them to patients and their families. At this job, I learned the value of cultural curiosity and sensitivity. When I made a genuinely caring effort, I was met halfway and then I could join the people I was caring for as we continued the journey together. I also gained a significant amount of confidence as a Chaplain. Not in a boasting, "Look at me, I'm THE Chaplain." But more in a, "I really value what I'm doing, I know I can be calm in the midst of chaos" kind of way. It was interesting though, because overall, many of my patients still weren't actively religious.
And then I moved to the Bible Belt. Whew. It has been an adjustment. To explain a little, I'd like to reference a conversation that I had with a fellow seminarian and Chaplain. She was doing her Chaplain Residency in New York. Most of the people she visited were not Christian, but a part of another faith or no particular faith group. She was hoping to hone her skills as a Christian Chaplain, but was finding this difficult because she didn't get a lot of practice in her cultural location. I, on the other hand, felt like I was a fish out of water in the opposite way. I would have loved to hone my skills at addressing the needs of people who are not Christians, but I'm a Unitarian Universalist in the Bible Belt, mostly caring for people who are conservative or fundamentalist Christians. And yet, I feel like my skill set is adjusting to this particular cultural location, to help me care for the people whose spirituality has been entrusted to me.
However, I did have a brief moment of panic (can it really be called panic if it's brief?) where I worried that my skills were becoming so fine-tuned for the people I care for now, that I would be deficient if Dan and I decided to move (which is not being considered, just an fyi). After presenting this fear to Dan, he calmly chimed in that he thought I had always adjusted my Chaplaincy to where we lived, and that he was fully confident that I could do it again.
So this post was a response to the actuality that I had indeed adapted by Chaplaincy style to the various cultural locations in which we've lived. It was a review and a relief. I'm also extremely grateful to have had the experience I did in the United Methodist Church growing up, because my church of origin gifted me with many skills I use often for my weekly visits. Visits which most often include: singing from my UM Hymnal with patients of various protestant backgrounds, reading from the Bible, reading from other literature and poetry, hearing and encouraging the telling of life stories, and praying (often in a way that reflects the conservative beliefs of the patient/family).
I still want to develop my ministerial identity for those who are UU or at least not a part of the mainstream religious identity here. For that, I look to my Worship Committee experience at my church and the various opportunities I'm given to pray in a non-conservative Christian way. The language is different and much more freeing. And yet, because the majority of my verbal prayers as a Chaplain do not feel reflective of UU, I feel out of practice every time I step up to the pulpit at my church. Being allowed and encouraged to use vocabulary like, "Spirit of love and of love, God of many names and many expressions..." and "in the name of all that is Holy, Amen"...they open possibilities. I feel like it could be worthwhile to write prayers and phrases down that are more true to who I am spiritually. A spiritual discipline perhaps?
Here are a few stirring phrases that I would like to use at my UU church in prayer:
God and Goddess, known to many in countless ways
Resonate within us a feeling of hope, connection, love and creativity
May we experience and recognize the blessings in our lives
May we ruminate in gratitude, deeply feeling all that which we have to be grateful for
For experiences that cause us distress, sadness, and mourning, may we be surrounded by the love of supportive souls...who nourish our pains with words of encouragement, loving hugs, and soulful presence.
When we are happy and want to celebrate, may we find people who help our joy double because they share it with us.
May we as a community of faith stand together throughout each others' life story
We have many histories gathered together, and yet we all ended up in this space, at this time...what a gift and a blessing in itself to be here. Now.
Let us all take a deep breath in while we ponder how fortunate we are to be in each others' presence.
In gratitude, in love, in mourning and in hope, we pray together in the name of all that is Holy and Sacred, Amen.
(Update since this was first posted: I prayed these words today at my UU Fellowship. I weaved them in with words that came in the moment and it was a beautifully spiritual experience.)
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Processing a Loss
In the wee hours of the morning on Thursday, the world experienced a loss. Kim Sibbach, a 26-year-old who has been battling breast cancer for the last three years, died. Kim and I grew up in the same town. We danced at the same studio. Our moms worked together for decades. They're best friends. Kim and I were not close, but I knew her. And even peripherally, this loss has tremendously been in my head and on my heart. I have an array of feelings: devastation, anger, sadness, concern, sympathy, heartache, worry...
I hate that we live in a world where people like Kim get cancer. That she won't be able to grow old and become a journalist like she dreamed. Or fall in love, or decide whether she wants to become a mom...I hate that some of her grandparents outlived her. I hate that her mom only has one child now, even though Stacy is fabulous. I hate that Kim was only a year younger than me, and her death seems to be making my mom think a lot of "What if it had been you..." thoughts.
Even though she was so young, Kim left an amazing legacy. To process her fight against cancer, she kept this blog: http://myleftone.blogspot.com/2008/08/diagnosis.html . In it, she expressed herself in quirky, intelligent, thoughtful, emotional ways. Her visitation and funeral were packed. She left behind a family that loved her, friends who adored her, a job where she will be missed, and countless memories from everyone whose paths crossed with hers.
Some things about Kim: She was grumpy in the mornings. She wasn't touchy feely. She liked hippos. She was an amazing writer. She loved her job and co-workers at PTs Grille in Wilmington. She was a Pirate at ECU. She lived. She loved. She made a difference in this world by being here and being herself.
Kim's life and death have caused me to think about how I want to live my life. How I want to remain optimistic even in the midst of difficulty. How I want to become healthier and hopefully live a long life with the people I love. How I want to connect to others and develop relationships built on respect, kindness and hope because those connections can go a long way to making our world a more loving, peaceful place.
Her funeral service was so touching. But it still just felt...wrong. Wrong that there we were, at her funeral. But it was personal and full of love. I pray that her family and friends are surrounded by love and support and over time...feel peace.
Kim's Aunt Myra wrote this today:
"We often think one person can't make a difference. Kim, you showed us that we can, one person at a time, change the world around us. Anyone who took the time to look around at the over 400 people who showed up last night or at the overflow crowd at the church today would have seen your legacy - the love you created. I know you would want us to keep the love alive. Love one another, commit random acts of kindness, be true to who we are, a child of God here for one purpose - to make the world a better place. Any less would dishonor you and the God who created us. 'Til we meet again."
Here are a few other tributes from her family and friends:
I can hear her now..."This cloud there, that cloud here." "This color is not me." "Hey BIG GUY, here is the list of things I'm gonna need." "Is it me or are these wings itchy?" You wanted her, you got her! And you are lucky... -Joseph Pate
Dearest Kim, I will never forget you. When I think of you I can't help but laugh and cry at the same time, so many happy memories...sitting on the bus together riding to and from school every day until we finally got our cards. Seventh grade when you and Sandy Pham came over to my house and we made those cardboard people for Ms. Russell's class. And even though now everyone knows you as the biggest beach bum ever, I remember back in the day when you hated the beach so much and I couldn't ever convince you to come with me because you hated the sang getting in your shoes. Thanks for sharing your home and your bed with me all those times when we were younger and my parents were out of town...you are the best! Andeven though you have moved out of the body you borrowed for a few years, I know you're still here with all those you love and who so adore you! -Julia Bland Segovia
I regret every missed opportunity to tell you how much you meant to me...how your friendship enriched my life. I love you. Always have. Always will. -Megan Bennett Irby
Thinking about you today. You were one of the most beautiful and absolutely the most energetic person I ever met. I will never forget your smile, your hugs, or our crazy ghetto weekend in g-ville. -Shelly Fransisco
Hey! Thanks for being at the beach tonight! Thank you for letting me know you were there with that push of the wave. It was good to see your smile light up the sky. It's still so hard to think you aren't here anymore. But feeling you there helped. I love you Kim. -Stacy Sibbach
Below are a few pictures of Kim. Look through them. Say a pray for her family. Remember her legacy of love.
Cap and gown from East Carolina University. Go pirates!
Sassy glasses!
Awesomeness
On the beach, like she loved to be.
With her best friend
Family Photo: Stacy, Daryl, Vicki and Kim
Beauty
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
First World Problems
One of the events that takes up part of my life is a bi-monthly small group called a "Chalice Circle." At this group, we discuss various topics that are personal and increase in depth each week. Most of the time the group has discussed events from our pasts. However, at our most recent meeting we discussed "What is going on currently in your life? What's exciting you? What's worrying you? What are the most important things taking up your time and energy?"
I vastly appreciated the opportunity to discuss this topic. We shared, listened, and learned more about one another. Eventually, our topic evolved into discussions about transitions. Various members of the group are facing significant transitions. I specify "significant" because in an ethereal sense, life is in continuous transition. Some changes had to do with vocations and trying to seek the "what's next" with increased fervor and excitement. At one point in the discussion, a member of the group remarked, "These are very 'first world' problems." Meaning, that in our group and in our culture, we have the luxury to explore higher callings because our basic needs are most often taken care of. I'm potently aware that not everyone in this country and culture could say that they have their needs met, but it seems to be true within my small group. All the more reason that I feel like I need to snip out my complaining and embrace what I have. Realizing as much helped me gain a bit of perspective that even on my difficult days, I am still living a life that is remarkably fulfilling.
As a child and youth, I had this incredible sense of hopefulness, optimism, and joy. I fully believed that I would fly off and change the world someday! As an adult, I've been jaded by greed, hatefulness and the like. And yet, I still believe I'll make a difference, even if on a smaller scale than I once imagined. It's helpful for me to remember my rosy glasses of youth though. To write about it, talk about it, and otherwise share it with others. Because, as with my previous faith group, that bubbly idealist still lives within me. And she wants to thrive and live and shine!
So I've gained perspective, increased my gratitude, and wanted to share with others the value of having "first world problems."
I vastly appreciated the opportunity to discuss this topic. We shared, listened, and learned more about one another. Eventually, our topic evolved into discussions about transitions. Various members of the group are facing significant transitions. I specify "significant" because in an ethereal sense, life is in continuous transition. Some changes had to do with vocations and trying to seek the "what's next" with increased fervor and excitement. At one point in the discussion, a member of the group remarked, "These are very 'first world' problems." Meaning, that in our group and in our culture, we have the luxury to explore higher callings because our basic needs are most often taken care of. I'm potently aware that not everyone in this country and culture could say that they have their needs met, but it seems to be true within my small group. All the more reason that I feel like I need to snip out my complaining and embrace what I have. Realizing as much helped me gain a bit of perspective that even on my difficult days, I am still living a life that is remarkably fulfilling.
As a child and youth, I had this incredible sense of hopefulness, optimism, and joy. I fully believed that I would fly off and change the world someday! As an adult, I've been jaded by greed, hatefulness and the like. And yet, I still believe I'll make a difference, even if on a smaller scale than I once imagined. It's helpful for me to remember my rosy glasses of youth though. To write about it, talk about it, and otherwise share it with others. Because, as with my previous faith group, that bubbly idealist still lives within me. And she wants to thrive and live and shine!
So I've gained perspective, increased my gratitude, and wanted to share with others the value of having "first world problems."
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Ponderings of a Sunday Morning
I'm a member of a UU congregation called the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Wilmington. I have had the privilege of being a part of two UU churches since becoming a part of this faith, and each one has brought so much to my life. I wanted to take a moment today and write a short entry reflecting upon this morning's worship experience.
I arrived prior to the service and was greeted with love and hugs. Next week, I'll be doing one of the two homilies in the services, and my fellow homily-speaker and I had a hilarious conversation assuring the other that "I'm not done either." Two eager children handed me my order of service, the little girl explaining with a smile that her bright yellow glitter necklace was actually sunshine. During the worship service I sat between one of my closest friends and two middle schoolers who I adore. I gave and received many hugs prior to the service.
I lit a candle of love and hope, prayed and meditated in community, and heard a sermon that made me thoughtful. But what I love the most about my congregation is the endearing manner in which they have settled into my heart. I feel loved. Many of the people in the church have already shown me that they will care for me in difficult times and double my joys by sharing them. I bring all of who I am into this church: doubting, seeking, loving, giggling, weeping, cherishing...it's all there. And it all has a place. I am so honored to be a part of this church and this faith. And today especially, on this beautiful Spring day, I feel hope and renewal. I also feel gratitude for all those who were Unitarians, Universalists, and Unitarian Universalists who came before me to pave the way of our faith and make it possible for me to be a part of this free religious community.
So onward I go, in gratitude, love, and hope. Amen. Blessed be.
I arrived prior to the service and was greeted with love and hugs. Next week, I'll be doing one of the two homilies in the services, and my fellow homily-speaker and I had a hilarious conversation assuring the other that "I'm not done either." Two eager children handed me my order of service, the little girl explaining with a smile that her bright yellow glitter necklace was actually sunshine. During the worship service I sat between one of my closest friends and two middle schoolers who I adore. I gave and received many hugs prior to the service.
I lit a candle of love and hope, prayed and meditated in community, and heard a sermon that made me thoughtful. But what I love the most about my congregation is the endearing manner in which they have settled into my heart. I feel loved. Many of the people in the church have already shown me that they will care for me in difficult times and double my joys by sharing them. I bring all of who I am into this church: doubting, seeking, loving, giggling, weeping, cherishing...it's all there. And it all has a place. I am so honored to be a part of this church and this faith. And today especially, on this beautiful Spring day, I feel hope and renewal. I also feel gratitude for all those who were Unitarians, Universalists, and Unitarian Universalists who came before me to pave the way of our faith and make it possible for me to be a part of this free religious community.
So onward I go, in gratitude, love, and hope. Amen. Blessed be.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Pondering on Sin and a Focus for the New Year
In my current theological frame of mind, I have some varying thoughts about sin. They have changed drastically over the course of my theological evolution. I used to believe wholeheartedly and fearfully in the concept of original sin as posed by a literal reading of the Bible. Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, disobedience by eating the forbidden fruit...BAM...sin. And so on forever since.
But that no longer holds the potency for me it once did. In fact, here's my paragraph regarding sin from my most current Credo statement:
"I believe sin is what happens when we forget to care outside of ourselves and instead treat other people and life forms as lesser than us. I believe that all people are affected by their cultural locations. Where there is poverty, limited choices, hunger and other difficulties there can exist the possibility of repetitive cycles. I believe that it is in these cycles where sin can, and does, prominently exist. I believe the cycle of sin can be broken by the efforts of people and acts of loving kindness focused on equality and justice."
I was recently told that "relative thinking" ("you believe what you choose to believe, and I'll choose what I believe") is a powerful tool of Satan--but Almighty God is sovereign, omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent." Wow. I could not think and believe more differently. Because to me, relative thinking is an opportunity to think outside of oneself and truly hear and embrace another person's point of view. So, in order to make this next statement, I want to be clear that I am, indeed, fully embracing the notion of relative thinking.
Here's my pondering: Is it possible that sin is a relative term befitting the human potential to neglect the worth and dignity of others at any given point in history? Therefore, is sin something that changes throughout the course of history rather than being a set disposition predetermined long ago by people from a holy book that I don't believe is factually true? In such a possibility, I can imagine sin manifesting itself in many different ways in history...through genocide, rape, murder, forced acquiescence to a particular religion/political view, closed-mindedness, hate. This is what religion has the potential to, and in my view, the responsibility to stand up against.
But there are such varying ways to consider approaching this. One thing that keeps me putting one foot in front of another is the hope that every kindness, every moment of love, peace, compassion and understanding, will make a difference. Thich Nhat Hanh writes, "The energy of mindfulness is a real energy, and wherever energy is applied, there is change." I believe in this energy, and I'm exploring new modes of prayer from this. In this coming year, I want to intentionally practice focusing on the energies of love, peace, compassion and understanding. And I want to work in small and large ways to increase their prevalence in this hurting world.
One more thing. I don't refer to the Bible as a historically accurate text, but that does not mean that I don't find value in it. Many people might refer to me as a "buffet style" religious person. At one point in my life, this was one of the singular most negative things I could be. But now, I'm seeing it as an accurate portrayal of who I am. I accept the fact that it's not a bad thing at all. It's just who I am. I do pick and choose among many different religions to piece together a singular whole that is right for me. A Seminary colleague said to me today, "God is the source of our diversity and is certainly big enough to embrace and accept that diversity, to reach us in whatever way will work for us."
And I absolutely do believe that the God of my understanding is right there with me in my search.
But that no longer holds the potency for me it once did. In fact, here's my paragraph regarding sin from my most current Credo statement:
"I believe sin is what happens when we forget to care outside of ourselves and instead treat other people and life forms as lesser than us. I believe that all people are affected by their cultural locations. Where there is poverty, limited choices, hunger and other difficulties there can exist the possibility of repetitive cycles. I believe that it is in these cycles where sin can, and does, prominently exist. I believe the cycle of sin can be broken by the efforts of people and acts of loving kindness focused on equality and justice."
I was recently told that "relative thinking" ("you believe what you choose to believe, and I'll choose what I believe") is a powerful tool of Satan--but Almighty God is sovereign, omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent." Wow. I could not think and believe more differently. Because to me, relative thinking is an opportunity to think outside of oneself and truly hear and embrace another person's point of view. So, in order to make this next statement, I want to be clear that I am, indeed, fully embracing the notion of relative thinking.
Here's my pondering: Is it possible that sin is a relative term befitting the human potential to neglect the worth and dignity of others at any given point in history? Therefore, is sin something that changes throughout the course of history rather than being a set disposition predetermined long ago by people from a holy book that I don't believe is factually true? In such a possibility, I can imagine sin manifesting itself in many different ways in history...through genocide, rape, murder, forced acquiescence to a particular religion/political view, closed-mindedness, hate. This is what religion has the potential to, and in my view, the responsibility to stand up against.
But there are such varying ways to consider approaching this. One thing that keeps me putting one foot in front of another is the hope that every kindness, every moment of love, peace, compassion and understanding, will make a difference. Thich Nhat Hanh writes, "The energy of mindfulness is a real energy, and wherever energy is applied, there is change." I believe in this energy, and I'm exploring new modes of prayer from this. In this coming year, I want to intentionally practice focusing on the energies of love, peace, compassion and understanding. And I want to work in small and large ways to increase their prevalence in this hurting world.
One more thing. I don't refer to the Bible as a historically accurate text, but that does not mean that I don't find value in it. Many people might refer to me as a "buffet style" religious person. At one point in my life, this was one of the singular most negative things I could be. But now, I'm seeing it as an accurate portrayal of who I am. I accept the fact that it's not a bad thing at all. It's just who I am. I do pick and choose among many different religions to piece together a singular whole that is right for me. A Seminary colleague said to me today, "God is the source of our diversity and is certainly big enough to embrace and accept that diversity, to reach us in whatever way will work for us."
And I absolutely do believe that the God of my understanding is right there with me in my search.
Monday, November 29, 2010
An Honor and a Privilege
Last week, the day before Thanksgiving, I started work early and didn't stop for lunch so that I could get off early and begin my Thanksgiving holiday early. Little did I know that the day would take a devastating and surprising turn. I was finishing up my charting in my car of the Harris Teeter parking lot waiting to get some last minute items for Thanksgiving, when I received a call.
The call was from the secretary from the church I grew up in. And although I am no longer a part of their church, denomination or even religion, I was called because there was a pastoral emergency and their church minister was out of town. A family that I have known for several years suffered a tragic loss. A child, not quite four months old, died suddenly. I went straight to the hospital and spent the next couple of hours with the family in the midst of raw, painful grief. As a Hospice Chaplain turned Hospital Chaplain turned Hospice Chaplain again, I've been around this type of situation before. But it was different being with people I had known for so long. More proof that my yearning to be a Parish Minister is the right choice for me.
Tomorrow, I'm assisting in the Funeral Service. I'm nervous, but honored. May the service begin a healing process for this family as they grieve for the unthinkable. Blessed be.
The call was from the secretary from the church I grew up in. And although I am no longer a part of their church, denomination or even religion, I was called because there was a pastoral emergency and their church minister was out of town. A family that I have known for several years suffered a tragic loss. A child, not quite four months old, died suddenly. I went straight to the hospital and spent the next couple of hours with the family in the midst of raw, painful grief. As a Hospice Chaplain turned Hospital Chaplain turned Hospice Chaplain again, I've been around this type of situation before. But it was different being with people I had known for so long. More proof that my yearning to be a Parish Minister is the right choice for me.
Tomorrow, I'm assisting in the Funeral Service. I'm nervous, but honored. May the service begin a healing process for this family as they grieve for the unthinkable. Blessed be.
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