Tuesday, January 30, 2007 at 1:01am
Extending God's love, beyond color
Column: All Paths
Over the past two years it has been my pleasure to serve as an on-call chaplain at a major trauma hospital in Washington, D.C. This has been some of the most rewarding work of my new ministry. I consider chaplaincy as front-line, down-in-the-trenches work for God. It's about helping people when they are at their most vulnerable. I have found every minute of my experience as an intern chaplain and on-call chaplain enriching and self-enlightening.
When you train as a chaplain, you are taught to meet patients where they are. This means that you factor race, gender, education and religious tradition into any interaction. They call this building rapport. Also, when you visit a patient and file a subsequent report, you are supposed to note their age, race and gender. You are also required to do this in the case studies you present for evaluations by peers and supervisors.
This manner of reporting has always troubled me. It troubles me because I think that it fosters a thought process that results in a form of racial/spiritual profiling for chaplains, which forces them to base their interactions with patients on social factors and not what is really important to them at that time. Shouldn't it be enough that a child of God is sick, lying in bed and in need of comfort? Isn't that the first thing that chaplains should be taught to see and be concerned about? After all, the patient isn't applying for a job.
The categorizing and classification of human beings based on race and other factors have caused so much pain and conflict in this world. In America we are still dealing with the scars of slavery and segregation. As an African-American male, I am constantly reminded of who and what I am in this society. My color is the first thing that most Euro-Americans see. And it is usually how I am judged in terms of ability and morality.
Should these judgments and forms of profiling spill over into what I consider the sacred space of a hospital room, where a chaplain (person of God) brings words of healing and comfort to a sick or dying person? I think not, and based on my experiences as a chaplain, most folks in that state will welcome words of comfort and healing from whoever is willing to provide them. If you don't believe this, recall the vivid images of people from all backgrounds hugging, crying and consoling each other on the streets of New York after the bombing of the World Trade Center. Race and class did not seem to be important then.
There have been occasions as a chaplain, when I was wrong in assuming that white patients and their families from the mountains and rural areas of Maryland and Virginia would not want me to minister to them. I was intimidated by the very thought of going into their rooms. However, I am happy to report that I was wrong in every instance when I made those assumptions. Those were the interactions that I found to be some of the most rewarding, and usually ended in hugs and tears on all sides. You know, I left those interactions having received some words of comfort and healing as well. They helped me grow.
Comfort and healing are words that require some focus in this discussion. Chaplains and ministers are supposed to bring the message and presence of God to the world. We are supposed to be community builders — not dividers — and heal this sick and troubled planet. So, I ask, how are we doing with this mission? I realize that there will always be conflict in this world based on differences. If all race and class issues were resolved in some magic way today, other points of contention and strife would replace them. This is sad and seems to be human nature, unfortunately. But those who accept the charge of bringing light and peace to this world should do just that.
In the Bible it says that man was made in the image and likeness of God. So does it mean that God is black-white-brown-yellow-red-gay-male-female-handicapped, etc.? The point is, what makes us God-like is our inner light and not our outer hue. When we encounter another person and the first thing we see is their skin color, gender, size or sexual orientation, we are looking past the most fundamental thing that we all have in common, and that is our inner divine light called our soul.
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Rev. Jay Speights, who has an MA in public policy, is an interfaith minister and the main U.N. representative for The New Seminary in New York. You can learn more about his work at the United Nations at http://ngo.newseminary.org/. His email address is {email jayspeights@newseminary.org}jayspeights@newseminary.org{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Jay Speights
When you train as a chaplain, you are taught to meet patients where they are. This means that you factor race, gender, education and religious tradition into any interaction. They call this building rapport. Also, when you visit a patient and file a subsequent report, you are supposed to note their age, race and gender. You are also required to do this in the case studies you present for evaluations by peers and supervisors.
This manner of reporting has always troubled me. It troubles me because I think that it fosters a thought process that results in a form of racial/spiritual profiling for chaplains, which forces them to base their interactions with patients on social factors and not what is really important to them at that time. Shouldn't it be enough that a child of God is sick, lying in bed and in need of comfort? Isn't that the first thing that chaplains should be taught to see and be concerned about? After all, the patient isn't applying for a job.
The categorizing and classification of human beings based on race and other factors have caused so much pain and conflict in this world. In America we are still dealing with the scars of slavery and segregation. As an African-American male, I am constantly reminded of who and what I am in this society. My color is the first thing that most Euro-Americans see. And it is usually how I am judged in terms of ability and morality.
Should these judgments and forms of profiling spill over into what I consider the sacred space of a hospital room, where a chaplain (person of God) brings words of healing and comfort to a sick or dying person? I think not, and based on my experiences as a chaplain, most folks in that state will welcome words of comfort and healing from whoever is willing to provide them. If you don't believe this, recall the vivid images of people from all backgrounds hugging, crying and consoling each other on the streets of New York after the bombing of the World Trade Center. Race and class did not seem to be important then.
There have been occasions as a chaplain, when I was wrong in assuming that white patients and their families from the mountains and rural areas of Maryland and Virginia would not want me to minister to them. I was intimidated by the very thought of going into their rooms. However, I am happy to report that I was wrong in every instance when I made those assumptions. Those were the interactions that I found to be some of the most rewarding, and usually ended in hugs and tears on all sides. You know, I left those interactions having received some words of comfort and healing as well. They helped me grow.
Comfort and healing are words that require some focus in this discussion. Chaplains and ministers are supposed to bring the message and presence of God to the world. We are supposed to be community builders — not dividers — and heal this sick and troubled planet. So, I ask, how are we doing with this mission? I realize that there will always be conflict in this world based on differences. If all race and class issues were resolved in some magic way today, other points of contention and strife would replace them. This is sad and seems to be human nature, unfortunately. But those who accept the charge of bringing light and peace to this world should do just that.
In the Bible it says that man was made in the image and likeness of God. So does it mean that God is black-white-brown-yellow-red-gay-male-female-handicapped, etc.? The point is, what makes us God-like is our inner light and not our outer hue. When we encounter another person and the first thing we see is their skin color, gender, size or sexual orientation, we are looking past the most fundamental thing that we all have in common, and that is our inner divine light called our soul.
— — —
Rev. Jay Speights, who has an MA in public policy, is an interfaith minister and the main U.N. representative for The New Seminary in New York. You can learn more about his work at the United Nations at http://ngo.newseminary.org/. His email address is {email jayspeights@newseminary.org}jayspeights@newseminary.org{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Jay Speights