So much has happened in the last year that I almost find it difficult to think of myself as the same person that set out for Nashotah last August. I've been privileged to study with incredibly knowledgeable theologians, been lifted in the air by thousand-pound cast iron bells, traveled to Kurdistan and back (which shall be my next blog post), and sat with families in the face of death and suffering the likes of which I've never known.
This past summer I was able to participate in a long-standing, traditional aspect of seminary formation known as Clinical Pastoral Education (or CPE). For those who don't know, CPE is a program in which seminarians attach themselves to an institution (usually a hospital or prison) and act as a chaplain for a time under the supervision of a staff chaplain.
For my own CPE I was accepted into the program offered by Genesis Health System in the Quad Cities (spanning Illinois and Iowa). The 11-week program consisted (weekly) of one and a half days of "Group Session" and three and a half days doing clinicals in the hospital to which I was assigned. There was also a weekly "on call" assignment in which one of us students would take over accountability for all four Genesis hospital campuses. When "on call" we only had to be at the hospital when needed; but when the nurses needed me at 3 am, they really needed me (as they would only call me in for a trauma, heart attack, stroke, or a death). During the day things were a bit easier in the hospital; I would make rounds, visit with patients, and try to be a compassionate and pastoral presence. Then we would process our encounters as a group (with my four fellow CPE students) in our group sessions.
Whilst in the Quad Cities I was blessed to stay with my Great Aunt Sheri and Great Uncle Bob, who live at a crossroads in the middle of a cornfield somewhere East of Port Byron-Illinois. Because of the location of their property (and my own difficulties with my cell provider) I neither had regular internet access nor even data for most of the summer unless I was in the hospital. I'd like to say I was able to turn this into some magical monastic experience, doing chaplain work during the day and going home to a secluded farm on the crossroads where I was able to shut out the wider world. In reality - I was a bored, tech-starved Millennial for much of the start of summer.
Yet in my disconnection from the digital world, I found myself relying more on my ability to make real connections with my local friends and family. With my lack of a viable cell signal/data access, I found myself tuning into something deeper and tapping into something greater.
Though my days would be busy, and stressful, and heart-breaking, I could always count on that Holy Silence waiting for me on "God's Little Acres" at the crossroads as the wind rolled out over the corn and bean fields.
I could also count on playing 30-questions with my Great Aunt the moment I walked in the door.
"So how was it? I know you can't tell me anything but... what happened today? can you tell me?"
Everyday, without fail, she would grill me about the day's experiences. I could never really give names or details, but she would always have me debrief her if something particularly interesting (or heartbreaking) happened that day.
My Uncle Bob was far less interested in the program (except when he found out that I was paying for it rather than being paid for my work, that just didn't register with this nearly 80 year-old retired plumber). He and I would simply sit out on the porch and shoot the breeze until the cows came home (literally, they have cows). If we ran out of things to say the conversation would become the occasional "yeeepppp...." and that was all that was needed.
CPE, meanwhile, was forcing me to plumb the depths of my soul and emotional reserves. In the group session we dove into our deepest personal traumas and life-experiences to uncover how these things influence our ministries; but it was during on-call shifts that I was able to actually put these ideas into practice. We can talk all we want about "pastoral presence" and "being there" for people in times of pain and death in the hospital; but no one can teach you how to "be" with the family of a seven year old who is dying of a brain hemorrhage - you just have to do it.
As I neared the beginning of this program this past spring, my parish priest, Fr. Ralph, kept emphasizing that CPE is an excellent thing to "have done." Now, being on the other side, I can't agree more. There were times over the summer when I hated everything about the program (and certainly didn't want to "share" in group time), but every experience, every patient, every death taught me something about ministry as well as my self. And for that I thank God.
CPE became, for me, a kind of crossroads. I place where I crossed paths with people of various backgrounds, creeds, and dispositions. It also became the place where I crossed paths with the resurrected Christ in the silence between heartbeats. I found that there was never a situation in which I felt truly alone or completely out of place, even in times of trauma and death. When things were chaotic, when outlooks were bleak and all seemed hopeless, I found myself experiencing a Presence in those brief moments of "sheer silence," as if some "still small voice" were reaching out to us and saying "I'm still here, I'm with you. You are not alone." As a chaplain it was my job to embody the truth of that still, small voice; and while doing so was rarely "easy," I learned much about God's love for us and the need for each of us to manifest that love in this world.
To say the least, my summer was enlightening. I was put in situations that were completely out of my depth and faced things in myself that have been covered up for a long, long time. Indeed I can already tell how the summer has affected my approach to ministry and my ability "to pastor." That being said, I'm glad to get back to normal seminary life (as if there is such a thing) and that CPE is something I "have done."
(The picture is of my makeshift, personal shrine at Aunt Sheri and Uncle Bob's)
