Maybe it’s just the rain…
Maybe it’s just the rain
Clouds pregnant, various shades of black
With crows dropping from the sky
The visceral ache of discovery
Stripping away veneers of smiles, nods, and winks
Who am I really?
A series of commercials, of longing to belong?
Is the mob me or am I the mob?
Nobody knows or cares
I long for me whatever that is
Whoever that could be
The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow
Unvanquished by trite on TV
Does this me exist wherever it is
Or whatever it could be
Or am I nothing, a sight unseen
With only the fuel from a distancing culture
Forging the ghost that I am
Sartre’s paradox may not be one at all
Angst over being or nothingness
For the struggle is not the journey
Of finding me
But in understanding that being is nothingness
Ember
in the vastness
of your Holiness
lies an ember
of passion burning
anticipating ignition
without direction
the passion burns
confronting a pond
a mirror of reflection
of inner self
of outer expectation
what direction
does the ember travel?
is the ember immobile?
struggling against itself
flaring up in one direction
extinguishing in another
lighting up one path
cloaking another
the ember moves
but where?
to what it thinks
is hot
or what it thinks
is cold
or does it fizzle out
in doubt
pray God…
show me the vapors
of where
I don’t need to be
with the intensity
of your light
that I can place mine
the ember
my Mentor, my Guide
The travels and travails of Dreamseeker
had led him to a vast and immense forest
thick with undergrowth
trees blocking out the sun
Dreamseeker stood at the edge of this forest
fear gripping his stomach
palms sweaty, breath shortening, gasping
mouth drying and bowels clenching
The forest beckoned
its blackness beguiling
intriguing Dreamseeker
seducing him with her mysteries
He gazed left at the shrinking sky
craving a sign in the growing darkness
Dreamseeker found no clue
no thought to guide him
Dreamseeker then gazed right and saw her
he immediately felt her wisdom
her aura betrayed her trust
beckoning him into the trees
Dreamseeker had found his mentor, his guide
for Carlos, his don Juan
revealing his journey, overcoming his pen
for Paul his Ananias
restoring his sight, healing his persecution
Dreamseeker exhausted himself
his trek with his mentor, his guide circuitous
his continuous struggle to separate
the trees from the forest
Together, they fought through the brush
stumbling into a sudden clearing
Dreamseeker suddenly blinded by walls of fire
its thick smoke sifting through the trees
Dreamseeker cried out to his mentor, his guide
what did it mean?
the fire so hot
so burning through him
unable to see the one he had left behind
A child quivering with fear, ashen
abandoned, but by whom?
sought Dreamseeker with pleading eyes
and outstretched arms
What do I do my mentor, my guide?
how do I comfort this child?
does he become me or should he be me?
Dreamseeker asked, searching her eyes
But his mentor, his guide stretched out her arms
embracing Dreamseeker for the last time
targeting her gaze beyond the horizon
to future paths, to untold destinations
Our time has come for us to depart, to pursue separate ways
for my time with you is done
I give you strength to follow your paths, to find your dreams
as I will continue to follow and find mine
And Dreamseeker saw his beloved mentor, his treasured guide
fade into the mists of the undergrowth
while soaring into the light hovering above
he vowed to separate the forest from the trees
hoping, praying, that someday to again cross her path
his mentor, his guide
again…
A Theology of Pastoral Care: The Quadrinity
I am working through the process of extending the conceptualization of the “Trinity.” For me, the view of God as “three-in-one” is problematic. From a counseling perspective, the “triangle” is a metaphor for maladaptive behavior characteristic – indicating transactional imbalance – of a dysfunctional system. Theologically, this metaphor arguably limits a view of the divine by separating God from creation by overemphasizing God’s transcendence at the expense of God’s imminence. This is due to “high Christology” that strongly promotes the idea of Jesus Christ as God using the metaphor of “logos” or “Word of God” as symbolic of Jesus Christ by apologists (John 1:1-4). This belief culminates in a view of a transcendent and judgmental God who “wills” calamity, ranging from sickness to motor vehicle collisions; as such, patients – when confronted with theodicy – often express the existential question of “why me?”
A more Jungian perspective, emphasizing opposites in “tension” to each other, may provide a more viable approach; the tension results from the balancing of transcendence – associated with “endlessness” – with immanence – associated with embodiment. A “Quadrinity” comprising two pairs of opposites is proposed: God (endlessness) operates in tension with Jesus (embodiment); whereas God equivocates to the Mysterium Tremendum, in Christ, all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form (Colossians 2:9). Likewise, the Holy Spirit (endlessness) operates in tension with creation (embodiment). The metaphor used biblically to explain the Holy Spirit is the wind; “when the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting” (Acts 2:1-2). Attempting to chase, grasp, or control the wind is a biblical metaphor used to connote futility and is considered a meaningless activity (see Ecclesiastes). Ruah – the Hebrew word for breath or spirit – creates the embodiment tension; God breathes life into humanity (Gen 2:7) as well as enabling the followers of Jesus to spread the kingdom of God (Acts 2:3-4). The Holy Spirit’s impact on the apostles and their followers was significant, allowing them to share all their possessions with those in need (Acts 2:42-47). As such, creation is revelation; the presence of the divine within nature is essential to the perception of “reality” to Jewish mystics (e.g., Kabbalah) as well as some process theologians (e.g., John Cobb). This theology is panentheistic; the divine is found within creation, yet the magnificence of the divine is greater than the creation itself.
Although impossible to operationally define “endlessness,” embodiment – the divine captured in organic form – provides a commonality of experiences useful in guiding pastoral care. Using Jesus’ journey toward transformation – a life anew – to assess patient spirituality, I propose a paradigm consisting of the three salient metaphors needed for transformation: suffering, death, and resurrection. Patient suffering frames the context for pastoral care; a health crisis creates disequilibrium in the lives of patients. No longer do familiar anecdotes, practices, and beliefs work as viable problem-solving strategies; as such, what was adaptive now becomes maladaptive. Patients must be “broken” – physiologically, psychologically, sociologically, or spiritually – to seek pastoral conversation and presence from chaplains. Creation evolves in a similar fashion; forms of creation – including humanity – change based on adaptation to contextual requirements. Suffering equivocates to needs not being met; to thrive, forms of creation must evolve by dynamically modifying to meet ever-changing contextual requirements. For chaplains, the suffering experiences of Jesus Christ – the prototypical embodiment – yields helpful metaphors denoting the varied expressions of patient suffering. Praying at the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus voices “sorrow” at his upcoming fate (Mark 14:34), conveys “fear”, begging God to “take this cup from me” (Mark 14:36), and expresses “impatience” at his disciples inability to be present with him while he prayed (Matthew 26:40-41). During his crucifixion, Jesus cries out his feelings of “abandonment” by God (Matthew 27:46). As such, Jesus’ verbal and nonverbal expressions of “sorrow,” “fear,” “impatience,” and “abandonment” typify common patient emotions associated with suffering. Suffering, then, provides a metaphorical entry or beginning point for transformation.
In the context of a humanity limited by death, Jesus’ crucifixion provides an entry point for examining restrictive and / or toxic roles held by patients in times of crisis and disequilibrium. Contributing to disequilibrium, medical crises often occur by “chance” and are not anticipated by patients. In an evolutionary sense, practices that “worked” during times of physical, mental, and spiritual health now fail to meet patients’ needs. Arguably, a humanity separated from God fails to thrive; as such, Jesus’ death becomes the starting point for resurrection, a removal of the limitation of death (Genesis 3:23-24) and the realization of a new humanity (Romans 5:12-21; 1 Corinthians 15:20 ff). In nature, species unable to adapt given new contextual demands give way to more adaptable species. For patients in crisis, the death of “small gods” and “false gods” is requisite for patients to transform spiritually given their crises. Spiritual adherence to small gods often manifests in dogmatism, perfectionism, and authoritarianism; these patients require that God “fit” as a variable in a predictable formulaic outcome. Given unanticipated medical crises, patients worshipping small gods experience emotions such as anger, anxiety, guilt, and extreme sorrow. During on-call, examples of patients worship of “false gods” is pervasive, especially those admitted to Trauma or ICU for injuries related to drunk driving (e.g., alcohol) and gunshot wounds (e.g., power, greed).
The resolution of disequilibrium – a “new” equilibrium – connotes a new creation, a life anew. Patients in crisis shed nonfunctional roles and beliefs or they cling to maladaptive ones, becoming “stuck” in crisis. Transformation can be conceptualized as a “new birth.” Mary Magdalene identifies the resurrected Christ, proclaiming to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord” (John 20:18) much as a midwife would, seeing a newborn for the first time. In transforming, patients in crisis shed nonfunctional roles, behavior, and beliefs becoming life anew. The patient using mathematics, for example, as a new spiritual pathway to pursue the meaning of his life – shedding his old role of “medical victim” – is one example of transformation. His adaptation to his medical circumstances begins the process of forging a “new life.” Other possible spiritual pathways indicating transformation include: music, art, photography, conversation, quilting, flying, journaling, etc. Conversely, the patient clinging to fantasies of death (e.g., God “pulling her up” to heaven and making a pact with her grandfather to “die at the same time”) finds herself “stuck” in crisis; her lack of healthy adaptation to her medical circumstances prohibits growth and potentially is destructive. Other maladaptive expressions include: denial, deflection, repression, disassociation, etc. As such, transformation connotes adaptability not desirability. Illustrating this point, Jesus encounters a wealthy young man anxious to attain eternal life, yet chose his wealth over following Jesus; he was unable to adapt his lifestyle to meet the demands of the kingdom of God (Mark 10:17-25; Matthew 19:16-30; Luke 18:18-30). Tellingly, Jesus spells out what this evolution entails. “I tell you the truth,” Jesus said to them, “no one who has left home or wife or brothers or parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God will fail to receive many times as much in this age and, in the age to come, eternal life” (Luke 18:29-30).
The Quadrinity embraces evolutionary change; as such, this model dismisses any notion of God’s immutability. If the embodiments are in tension with endlessness – God and the Holy Spirit – then God as a four-in-one whole changes as the embodiments change. Jesus advocated radical changes necessary for humanity to realize the kingdom of God. Only species of plants and animals able to adapt to the ever-changing ecosystems in which they reside survive. Instead of immutability, the key aspect of this theology is “change” and its necessity to survive and thrive spiritually. Such adaptability, arguably, is accomplished through relationships. The Quadrinity implies an ever-changing relationship between God and creation, including humanity. Both act mutually in a reciprocal fashion to change each other. The constant changes occurring within the systems of creation forge different pathways or journeys to the divine not realized in ancient times. The evolution from agrarian economies to more service-oriented economies, for example, involves theological identifications of God as more wholly loving than omnipotent and more relational than judgmental.
A hospital setting nested in a multicultural world places ever-changing demands on a pastoral theology. A Quadrinity approach expands God; that is, the demands associated with pluralistic cultural contexts demands inclusiveness. When encountering religions differing from Christianity, the Quadrinity allows chaplains to employ the embodiment paradigm of suffering, death, and resurrection to guide their pastoral care. During an on-call shift, I encountered an Indian Islamic extended family suffering the death of the family patriarch. Although I was not allowed to participate in any of the post-death ceremonies, I worked with three men of the family through the logistics of finding a suitable funeral home that respected Islamic traditions. By staying with this family through the morning – from 1AM to 6AM – we progressed through the family’s suffering together, ultimately evolving toward a death to the distrust and animosity traditionally felt by Christians and Muslims toward each other. Providing a presence for the family, staying with them until they were ready to leave the hospital provided a transformative moment. Before entering his car, one of the men extended out his hand for me to shake and told me, “Thank you John. May God bless you.” Touched by this, I responded, “May God bless you, also.” The transformation began for both of us in relationship.
A number of strengths characterize the Quadrinity view of God. Chief among these strengths is the belief in a balanced deity, one that balances immanency with transcendency. The Mysterium Tremendum quality of God – God undefined, without parameters – is balanced by God’s imminence, God’s presence as embodied in Jesus Christ and in creation. Such a balanced approach to God avoids the classical theism problem of theodicy; that is, how does an all knowing, all powerful, and all loving God allow humanity to suffer medical misfortune? Embracing change through evolutionary adaptation focuses on God’s imminent presence given the dynamics of ever-changing environments while, at the same time, acknowledging the mysteries of God by admitting God’s transcendence, that God is unpredictable and undefinable. As such, “chance” contributes to the demands of ever-changing contexts, connoting moment-by-moment ever-changing environments. God suffers with patients through the embodiment exemplified by Jesus Christ’s suffering before and during his crucifixion.
Reflecting on the embodiments of God allows chaplains the ability to spiritually assess patients using the metaphors associated with Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection. These metaphors provide chaplains with useful emotional, behavioral, and psychological “markers” assisting them in their presence with and pastoral care for patients. Such metaphors also allow chaplains the flexibility to cross ethnic and religious lines more easily in their pastoral care.
The weakness of this theology of pastoral care is its overall lack of simplicity and predictability. Classical theism emphasizes the transcendency of God, a belief embedded in the faith of many patients. Suffering often is viewed by patients as a direct consequence of God, either in an overarching belief in “God’s will” or in “God as tester.” Attributing unpredictable and unfathomable medical problems to a transcendent and judging God is an expedient, and arguably a “Band-Aid” theology. Yet, the attribution of consequence to God is often spuriously reinforced by patients’ past histories: medical, behavioral, or both. A Quadrinity theology posits adaptation to ever-changing environments, noting that chance plays a major role. God suffering with patients runs counter to the current embedded spirituality (omnipotence) held by many if not most patients.
The apology
I’m just tired . . .
I thought
it was you
the endless conversations
the accusations
the judgments
the drama of all of it
I was wrong . . .
you make me sad not angry
wistful not furious
wondering
what if . . .
why?
I’m just tired . . .
of me
my anger that escapes
my control
like wisps of silent smoke
toxic and poisonous
to all around me
I was wrong . . .
to think
to expect
the perfect parent
judging you
what you cannot do
what I’ve never had to do
I’m just tired. . . .
of running
into constant reminders
of you
of me
of you and me
what we do to each other
I was wrong . . .
to avoid you
to run away
forever hiding
forever avoiding
my own beast
I’m just tired . . .
of pounding my head
against a moving wall
going nowhere
trying to go everywhere
while running in place
I was wrong . . .
to think
to analyze
to contemplate
to believe I know
who I am not
instead of who I am
I’m . . .
just . .
tired.
Empathy
I cannot possibly understand
where you come from
the anger you feel
the hurt you suppress
I cannot possibly understand
who you dealt with
and who dealt with you
either good or bad
I cannot possibly understand
why you lash out
pushing me away
as I laugh or dance
I cannot possibly understand
what your truth is
and how you lie about it
if I get too close
I cannot possibly understand
when you do accept me
in spite of my past
and our uncertain future
The monster from down under
I turned inside out
and what did I see?
an unwanted glimpse
at the monster from down under
I thought I had purged
That monster from down under
is gone I claimed
actually, that one never existed
when in actuality
it did . . .
and it stayed
So hideous a sight
it bared its teeth, snarling
the monster from down under
yanked from its lair
by a simple phraseology
For the monster from down under
is never far away
lurking in the crevices
pulling at its chain
waiting to be unleashed
to fight another day
It can’t be slayed
nor played
nor really even weighed
the monster from down under
appears…
a triangle fitting into a square peg one moment
smoke sliding under a door the next . . .
So what do I do
with my monster from down under?
perhaps tickle it . . .
perhaps engage it in conversation . . .
or
perhaps . . . even write a poem
but we can’t tell it goodbye
or ignore it you see
for the monster from down under
is a real part of me
God Self — A Lamentation
I pursue you with zeal
endless endurance
countless travails
infinite obstacles
I know you are there
but you hide
delighting in the cloak and dagger
rejoicing in my frustration
The trails I run down
are habitrails
a running without progress
…or is it?
You never let me know
I pursue you with zeal
but you never let me catch you
teasing me with your promise of imminence
torturing me with promises of loving kindness
but . . .
instead . . .
and however . . .
I end up where I started
Yet you are there
my past devoid of life
is now a rollercoaster of opportunity
of unexpected curves
departing from a banality of sameness
I feel you within me
an unexplained light
a warmth I cannot grasp but feel
You emerge mysteriously — without calling ahead for reservations
but you do emerge . . . mysteriously
We play a game of tag
that has no end in sight
but my pursuit of you, like grasping wind
makes me see you in glimpses
around the corner
Squirming against the wall
Another meeting, another time
heads swaying from side to side
looking downward . . .
looking at the clock on the box
not to open . . .
squirming against the wall
It reluctantly presented itself
an embodiment
glaring, scowling, growling
pissed at the eyes
staring . . .
Why do you see me?
. . . now? . . .
in this place?
at this time?
I resent being blamed
. . . despise . . .
being judged
what have you done
. . . lately? . . .
You are me and I you
no one else but me
you see darkness
I save you
Push me, shove me
toward the light
like some damn vampire
will only burn and hurt
both of us
For if the bridge comes down
what then?
Perfection? Bliss?
You might see me again
my twin unknown
Is my demise uncertain
yet unforeseen?
In this place
with air humming
squirming against the wall . . .
The prophecy is written
you will see
more walls to come
breaking down others
other paths crooked
a journey or two circuitous
broken to make complete
the vision . . .
squirming against the wall . . .
The Last Picture Show
A golden key, a plea, an unconscious
clue for freedom unnoticed
unfolds in unexpected mediums
a life in rapid decay and slowly dying
The Last Picture Show
They were both 43
Four decades ago
a bitter woman filled with hate
baring fangs with a venomous bite
a weak and desperate man seeking escape
caged and cornered with no way out
The boy lacked insight, he lacked the words
failing to understand at age 12
what his intuition already knew
the growing storm clouds overtaking
the faded vestiges of the man’s humanity
The Last Picture Show
The snake coiled and struck
again, and again, and again, and again
over the moments, minutes, hours, days, months, and years
lies, delusions, judgments, and gossip
toxins ever increasing, poisons ever worsening
the man’s soul wobbly weakening
The boy was Houdini, his gift a way out
magically creating a new life while deceiving the serpent
the gift eluded the man
unfathomable the mystery
his soul had begun to set
The Last Picture Show
A life retreated, an unconditional surrender
to bitterness, melancholy, and hate
oh, what could have been . . .
a man once compassionate, brimming with laughter,
possessor of a tender touch, expanded horizons. . .
shrank into a shell of himself
A last gasp, a clue left behind
for the boy Houdini who eluded the serpent
and found a way out
Now a man of wisdom. . .
Trusting his intuition . . .
Belying his intelligence . . .
to unlock the mystery of his father’s desperation
Four decades ago . . .
The Last Picture Show