Pelican Feed

I find myself in the position of many faithful Christians. My adult children have concluded that organized religion and belief in the Triune God as “The One” is not for them. I thought that I had dealt with this issue and concluded that my children are good people, with good values. They possess virtues that I find desirable and helpful to the world around us. They treat others with respect, and most importantly they are raising children with respect. But there is a piece of me that cannot let go of my dreams for them and me.
I noticed over the Lenten season that my heart grew heavy with my desire to have my children and their children celebrate the Sacrifice of Jesus the Christ and the Joy of the Resurrection. I miss them in Mass; I miss their light with me in Church and I miss them in my community. As we began to plan our family Easter celebration, the ache washed over me to have them join us in our celebration of faith. After discovering my difficulty in understanding that Easter was just another Sunday for them, they rallied and came up with a reasonable compromise for our family time together. While I appreciate their respect, and love them for altering the plans, my heart still hurt.
You see I truly believe that God is good and that God is real. I truly believe Jesus of Nazareth‘s sacrifice revealed God’s love in an unprecedented way. I believe in the resurrection and the eternal life to come. I truly believe that I am called to live my life improving the world for Christ. I do not believe that all people who do not profess belief in Christ will be damned. I believe that God loves all his creation with an unconditional love. In the Gospel of John, “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice, and there will be one flock, one shepherd” (10:16). It is not for me to see the place of my children; I am called to see the light of Christ in them as a creation of God. How God will bring us all together is not for me to know.
So why do I struggle so if I truly believe that my children are able to live out their lives with their own convictions. I struggle because I miss the joy of knowing them through the lens of faith. I struggle because I believe that they miss out on the joy, the fun, and community of Christ. I struggle because I am their mother; I have woven a blanket to protect them. But the truth is that I cannot protect my children with my faith choices. God never intended for me to circumvent their freedom of choice. The freedom to choose our own path is one of the greatest gifts that God gives to all humans. It is not my place to choose for them.
I once had a conversation with a community member after a daily Mass. The conversation revolved around her daughter’s wedding. Her daughter had decided to be married outside of the Church. She was struggling to decide if attending her daughter’s wedding was sinful. I told her that my daughter got married outside of the Church that we had not only attended, but that my husband, her father, had walked her down the aisle and we paid for the wedding. She was aghast that we could commit such a sin. I did not see this as a sin; I saw this as offering my love to my child. You see I too had once walked away and Christ never stopped loving me. I am sad that my children do not know the love of Christ each day and with each breath, but I understand that their path in life is their path. My place in their path is to be steadfast in my love of them and my love of Christ. In retrospect, I found this loving response to be true in my life with my parents and their unconditional acceptance. They offered me love and acceptance as I found my way.
My spiritual director once said the threads that we weave into our children are always present, including faith. Bruce Springsteen stated on Story Tellers that if you are raised Catholic there are pieces that cannot be cut out of you; they will always be there (VH-1 Story Tellers, 2005). I believe that as well, and I see it in my children. I see light and positive decisions. Whenever I feel sad by what we do not share, I try to take a step backward, to be respectful of who my children are and give them space. I am also giving myself space to adjust to my call to be steadfast in my faith. I believe God is love and that love begets more love. God is pleased when we love, when we treat each other with respect. He would not have given us the parable of the Good Samaritan if we were not supposed to love as the Samaritan did. I am unsure that the sadness will ever disappear, but I am sure that loving is the light that guides me to my path in life.

Scripture for Thought:
Luke 10:25-37

The Greatest Commandment.
25There was a scholar of the law who stood up to test him and said, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life? 26Jesus said to him, “What is written in the law? How do you read it?” 27 He said in reply, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” 28He replied to him, “You have answered correctly; do this and you will live.”
The Parable of the Good Samaritan.
29 But because he wished to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 30Jesus replied, “A man fell victim to robbers as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. They stripped and beat him and went off leaving him half-dead. 31A priest happened to be going down that road, but when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. 32Likewise a Levite came to the place, and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. 33But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with compassion at the sight. 34He approached the victim, poured oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him up on his own animal, took him to an inn and cared for him. 35The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper with the instruction, ‘Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back.’ 36Which of these three, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?” 37He answered, “The one who treated him with mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

Muscle Memory and Empathy

The other night my husband and I were sitting in our bedroom looking out the window star gazing. Our discussion revolved around empathy. We were discussing the development  of our empathetic responses to one another. We were tussling with the question of why some persons have seemingly more empathy than others. My conclusion without research was that empathy is much like a muscle. Muscles have memory; this concept of memory is a procedural development connecting the cognitive ability to improve through practice of a particular activity using certain muscles (Lifehacker n.d.). These muscles strive to make the most efficient use of motion in order to help proficiency and perfection of the intended activity. The brain, as I understand, will naturally make the most efficient pathways to process, use, and improve as one practices a particular activity. I propose that empathy, or the act of empathizing happens regardless of practice, but that one acquires proficiency in empathy through the practice of empathizing.

As a hospital Chaplain my job required a highly developed since of empathy. Bracketing my own emotions and judgments allowed me to exercise and practice my ability to empathize regardless of my own state. I began a four-month externship[1] as a hospital chaplain, believing that I possessed the necessary virtues to be empathetic. While the statement is true, I do possess spiritual virtues of kindness, gentleness, courage, and fortitude. I did not possess the knowledge that the needs of others trigger empathy first. The process of practice in empathy generates my ability to offer compassionately any of the spiritual gifts given to me to another in need. Each time I walked into a hospital room, or hung out charting at a nurses station, I was practicing. I contend that this muscle in empathy experienced many changes, both growing and straining. There were moments when the muscle was to thick to bracket my own vision. I quickly learned that the practice thinned and elongated the muscle.  I begin the dissection of this method by first acknowledging that empathy is a thin-skinned muscle.

Empathy as a muscle initiates a tickling inside your brain, an experiential tickle alerting one to connect the present experience to a previous experience. The brainy academic character Sheldon Cooper of the television show “Big Bang Theory” offers a hyperbole as a present example of empathetic response and compassionate behavior upon recognizing the  discomforts or pain of others . Here is a pretend dialogue between Sheldon and his roommate Leonard.

Sheldon, “I will fix you a warm beverage”.

Leonard, “Why”?

Sheldon, “That is what one does when a friend is distressed”.

There are a distinct set of rules for Sheldon that apply to varied situations regardless of any subtle changes in each experience. Sheldon is addressing the need of his friends through a practiced ritual of compassion. Something in the prior conversation or actions with Leonard, tickled the empathy muscle causing Sheldon to begin a compassionate ritual of comfort. His comforting response, although stilted, promotes the care that helps others to work on their discomfort or pain. Each encounter that generates a tickle deepens one’s ability to recognize the need for empathy and stretches the muscle. As the muscle lengthens, the proficiency in pathways lead one to experience empathetic vision. The pathway for this muscle alters  vision causing the focus to center through the lens of someone in need.

A tickle is hard to ignore; recognition is the key to feeling and knowing when to respond with empathy. Empathy by definition and action may be taught, such as with Sheldon.  However, for most of us the internal response to an empathetic tickle leads to practice empathy stretching the muscle in practice and discovering that with practice empathy is waiting to lead compassion to action.

[1] Externship is similar to an internship. It is a short training in a particular field of study.

I speak confidently when I pray to God for guidance in my ministry. I am for almost all purposes a caregiver, seeking guidance from God, my CPE supervisor, CFP supervisor, and my extern team, as a care-seeker. I find this situation somehow very comforting. For most of my life, I have not recognized the importance of care giving and care seeking. The definition of importance has evolved for me; I have grown in recognizing important to mean working in relationship with others to address the spiritual and inter-relational reasons placing me in a position to visit, listen, and emphatically respond. I think it is important to recognize that I have a gift, a beautiful God given gift, which shines light from my relationship with God and God’s existence in me. If I truly believe that my relationship with God guided me to this ministry in Chaplaincy, then I must believe that God would not abandon me in this ministry. Knowledge that God is with me opens up the possibility of forming a reality that this ministry is joy fulfilling.

I have spent my time wisely these past four months reflecting about my formation as a Catholic, Christian, academic, and chaplain. I was confident from the beginning of my natural ability to establish rapport; however, I did know I might have some difficulty with assessing my own bias, and the wordless expressions in body language that telegraph these feelings. My complete attention and presence to a care seeker has been enhanced through my opportunity to reflect on my own theological process, biases, and the twirling wheel of emotions that accompany loss. This has revealed many stabilizing supports in the tools that I am gathering and developing in methods of communication. I have empathy that emerges through my natural existence and state. Compassion, I have learned, goes hand in hand with my ability to relate to others. Because of CPE, I have a vocabulary to put with ideas and interactions. My compassionate actions are a gift that I am learning to use quietly, with reverence for others, so that I may assess their feelings. A paradigm shift has occurred in my thinking and behavior.

Regardless of the paradigm shift, other truths must be at work in order for me to feel the connection with God through ministering in a medical setting. What I have come to know (epignosis) is that I am to be myself in this ministry. I am a faulted individual with a few idiosyncratic behaviors and thoughts. But, it is those very thoughts that allow me to be me. My uniqueness shapes the way in which I am able to respond. Each individual that I am to be present to and possibly minister to offers a challenge for me. My need is to overcome my fear, and trust that I fulfill my promise to the Holy Spirit of passing along the Lord’s compassion in gifts given. I choose to be a Chaplain that has the personal authority to listen, to reflect, and to respond with compassion. It is the compassionate choice to be with patients, family, and staff. The compassion, however, does not end with what I give, but it is truly in the receiving that my gift given in fullness to others and theirs to me is an offering in glory to God. The fullness of giving and receiving fills my need for joy in living out my mission in ministry. As academically lofty as that sounds, it is just the systematic way that I process relationship in theology. Practical theology tells me that this is a reality, that an imperfect minister is capable of bringing perfect love through emphatic and compassionate conversation. I like the reality of this theological process.