European Healthcare Chaplains: Our common purpose

It has been my privilege to represent the National Association of Healthcare Chaplains at the 12th Consultation of the European Network of Healthcare Chaplains meeting at Mennorode Conference Centre in the beautiful National Park De Hoge Veluwe, about an hour from Amsterdam. The theme of the consultation (which meets every two years) is 'Working together -The challenge for chaplaincy in an interdisciplinary era'

53 of us have gathered from 23 countries and regions from across the ecumenical spectrum to share, receive, pray, learn and reflect together. The diversity of tradition, practice and outlook is very rich, yet at they same time there is a very powerful sense of the common practice of spiritual care-giving that unites us all. We have been challenged to reflect on how we minister and work in the context of the wider healthcare discipline working with fellow professionals and colleagues to offer the very best holistic or 'total' patient care and experience.

We have been exploring how we best place ourselves in what for many of us is two different worlds - the world of a Faith Community and the world of the Healthcare Institution. We have explored how we contribute to and work with and within the whole team of carers in a healthcare setting to contribute to the well-being of the person we care for -after all they are at the heart of all our work and care.  Dr Ewan Kelly in his presentation challenged us to engage at both the systemic and the operational level to influence and shape patient and healthcare.


We visited some healthcare institutions in Amsterdam to see how chaplains work in integrated team settings. I visited the Academisch Medisch Centrum and was very impressed with the 'Silent room' that was a space for all faiths in the middle of a very busy hospital and to see in particular the role of the chaplain in the paediatric and neonatal area.

At this stage in the consultation, what strikes me most is the deep level of care and professional expertise that is evident in so many places. The sharing of our stories and insights reveals a common sense of purpose and professional 'connectedness' across so many cultures, traditions and health systems. It is a reminder that as 'spiritual care-givers' -the term most used in the Netherlands- we have something distinctive to offer to the healthcare community and not just amongst patients. We are called to nurture the soul of the health system and to humanise it when there is a strong emphasis towards 'technologising' it. In the words of Professor Ruard Ganzevoort our care is in the 'relational not technical'.

We care for people and not illnesses. In the words of our Network Co-ordinator Dr Anne Vandenhoek  we need as healthcare chaplains and spiritual care-givers to be able to speak many languages -of faith, of spirituality, of healthcare, of economics, of management, of humanity and so forth.


Our hosts, and in particular Gabrielle Gies,  Joost Verhoef, Simon Evers and Robert Koorneef have been wonderful examples of hospitality and grace.

As I sit outside the beautiful eco-chapel at Mennorode, in the middle of a national wildlife park, there is a water feature that is visible from the inside through the glass front. From inside we can see the water rising from within a tree trunk but outside we hear it bubbling in the midst of birdsong. It is a constant reminder of the never-ending source of all life and care that we as chaplains seek to identify with those we care for.
This is a privileged ministry, vocation and profession within healthcare.
It is our joy -with others- to nurture, cherish and celebrate the gift that is humanity and along the way discovering meaning, value and purpose as we embrace our human story with the story of the sacred.

Advent Calendar

My 2011 Advent Calendar comes from the Ecumenical Advocacy Alliance marking World Aids Day

Advent in a time of Aids

Maundy Thursday: Intimate beyond measure?

I was reflecting this Maundy Thursday about how we as a church have lost a sense of intimacy in our worship. We seem to feel uncomfortable about being intimate as a community when it comes to worship.

The liturgy of the evening of Maundy Thursday when we recall the institution of the Lord's Supper, or if you prefer, the Eucharist, the Mass, Holy Communion is the one service in the year where intimacy is key.

 At this service -which takes its name from the new commandment of Jesus Mandatum novum do vobis 'a new commandment I give to you that you love one another as I have loved you...' (John 13:34)- we gather in a quiet and reflective way as the people of God to capture again something of the intimacy and tension of that Last Supper when Jesus in the midst of the political tension and rumblings around him sat down to share a life-changing meal with his disciples. It was Passover time. 

This particular Passover would be infused with meaning that would take a lifetime to unfold for the disciples. At this meal Jesus shocks the disciples when he kneels down to wash their feet. The lowliest of tasks. Jesus demonstrates a model of caring, loving, intimacy and service that would transform the values of the world. This meal would be the link of love, remembrance and presence for all who would choose to follow this particular Rabbi. And so when we gather on Maundy Thursday we travel back to this special evening. It is a service and ceremony that should make us tingle with awe. It is a service that should inspire in a way that leaves a mark of deep humility and sense of privilege on all who are called to ministry.

I miss being in a parish community in Holy Week more than any other week in the year. I am still nurtured and humbled by profound moments from the many Holy Week journeys in the parishes I have served in. Maundy Thursday was an evening when on many occasions the depths of communion, fellowship and ministerial care came together in a trinity of profound love. The poignancy of kneeling and washing the feet of those I had served, washing feet that had carried the burdens of their owners: feet that were rarely on view to the world. This was done in a quiet and intimate way at the person's seat rather than as a spectacle at the front of the church. That momentary glance and meeting of eyes as this short gesture came to an end held a sense of deep story when just for a moment each of us was acknowledging silently and fully the significance of what had just happened. In most cases those stories of ministry during the year were known only to us and God, and yet were part of who we were in the wider body and community of Christ.

Celebrating the eucharist on an altar in the midst of the people was another way we captured this intimacy and fellowship 'κοινωνία' . Bread and wine, simple elelemnts transformed with life-giving meaning, and so the description of this wonderful liturgy could go on and on...

How can we recapture a sense of intimacy in our worship? At a time when so many come to us seeking love and connection we fail to connect in a way that enables them to feel touched by the God who loves them utterly and unconditionally for who they are. 

I have been sharing in the Holy Week journey in a number of churches this Holy Week as a worshipper. Twice in the last week I was greeted at the door of a church with what I can only describe as a frosty reception: a sense of inconvenience.

On Maundy Thursday, perhaps more than any other day in the year God in Christ calls us to be intimate, to be warm to be loving. A new commandment I give to you that you love one another...

Dunblane: joy and innocence of childhood

I am in Dunblane, Scotland as part of a writing group to prepare materials for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, 2012. Dunblane is a quiet and intimate 'city' which was thrust into the headlines so violently on 13 March 1996 when a gunman entered a local primary school and opened fire on a class of children in the gymnasium killing 16 children aged 5-6 and their teacher. A small city was numbed by such a violent and cruel act. Poignantly Mothering Sunday was that weekend as it is this weekend as well.
When I arrived at Dunblane yesterday I visited the cathedral and there filing out through the door of the cathedral were a large group of young children who were attending a school service. With that distinctive hum of children's voices hovering over the sounds of the city the children walked along the path through §the graveyard flanked by rows of daffodils whose yellow trumpets of hope reached to the spring sun providing a guard of honour for ones so young and full of innocence and joy. There are no words to capture the sense of pain that must have been in the air 15 years ago.
Inside the cathedral a memorial stone to the children and their teacher stands as a powerful reminder of that day. On one side is inscribed

"If 

there is 

anything

 that will 

endure

 the eye of 

GOD 

because 

it is pure 

it is 

the spirit 

of 

a little 

child"

Although the world has moved on, in many ways the name of Dunblane will always be associated with the massacre of these little children and their teacher. 15 years later on a sunny March morning amidst daffodils and the sounds of childrens voices, the reality of that day still whispers in the gentle breeze.
May we recapture the sense of innocence and joy that children have in abundance. They are a precious gift not just to their parents and families but to us all. As Mothering Sunday approaches this weekend we think of the mothers of those children for whom the day will ever be etched deeply within their soul and with the joy and unconditional love of children we thank God for all who mother and care for us...

Labour has started

The time has nearly come. In a few minutes Christians in this part of the world will start their celebrations of the Birth of Christ. Yesterday I sat with expectant parents at my place of work in a Maternity Hospital. They were eagerly and nervously preparing for the arrival of their baby. There was a palpable sense of expectation and trepidation knowing that there would be both pain and joy to bring this new life to the outside world from the safety and security of the womb. Tonight Christians the world over join with Mary and Joseph as they eagerly and nervously await the birth of their baby. A baby about whom so much has been written and painted. Yet, I have yet to receive a Christmas card showing anything remotely like the large 'bellys' and the distinctive walk or even waddle (if that isn't too rude a description) I see every day amongst women about to give birth and pacing the corridor to pass the time. I have yet to receive a Christmas Card of the nativity showing an exhausted Mary and Joseph! I have yet to receive a Christmas card showing anything of the tenderness and intimacy that a couple can share at this life-changing time.

We have sanitised the reality of the birth of the one who is the supreme incarnation of what it is to be human. To do this is to rob something from the incarnation of Jesus. To deny something of the sheer wonder that God would choose to come amongst us in the messiness, the pain, the nervousness, the danger of childbirth. While his conception was extraordinary his birth was as ordinary as any other. The Pain, the contractions, the screams, the labour, the birth, the blood, the squeezing Joseph's hand, the cord, that first cry. It is probably considered heresy to contemplate that Mary might have even used an expletive to get her out of this situation...!

So tonight, lets put aside the pasty, plaster and saccharine picture of Mary and Joseph as if they were hosting a tea party. Rather let us be real, and in doing so perhaps glimpse again something of the sheer breathtaking wonder of what it is that God has done. To honour Mary and Joseph for what they went through to bring God's plan to birth. Happy Christmas! Gloria in excelsis Deo...

The last day of Advent and pregnancy: nervousness, joy and sometimes searing pain

In this last week of Advent I find it a deeply moving time to be working in a Maternity Hospital. I can sense in a way I never really did in parish ministry a deeper connection wit the reality of what it must have been like for Mary and Joseph. I see them in the faces of excited parents as they come for antenatal clinic appointments, ultrasound scans, routine check-ups etc. There is a sense of nervousness and excitement as the impending birth draws near. Hands are clasped, kisses are exchanged, impromptu cuddles and affectionate gestures are openly displayed. There are knowing and penetrating glances between lovers. Mums and dada hold stretched bellys and feel reassuring kicks and movements. Walking through the antenatal ward we can eavesdrop on the little lives of those we have not yet met face to face but whose heartbeats echo via the monitors... A sound never forgotten by parents.

As well as meeting with couples preparing for the birth of their babies, I also met with couples whose pregnancy had ended or whose baby had died before birth. There are no words to describe the heart rending pain this brings. I think of them, all of them, each of them, this evening as I get my children's Christmas presents ready. I have a profound awareness of just how privileged I am to be able to do this.

I was deeply touched during one of the funeral services for a baby that I conducted in recent days by a particular piece of music which was chosen by the little baby's parents. It was Never Say Goodbye sung by Hayley Westenra and is adapted from "Pavane". These words capture something of this loss and the searing pain of saying hello and goodbye to a baby in one breath. So as you celebrate Christmas today think too of those who would give anything to have Santa in their home this night.

The words are: (Click here to play audio)

If I could take this moment forever

Turn the pages of my mind

To another place and time

We would never say goodbye

If I could find the words I

 would speak them

Then I wouldn't be tongue-tied

When I looked into your eyes

We would never say goodbye

If I could stop the moon ever rising

Day would not become the night

Wouldn't feel this cold inside

And we'd never say goodbye

I wish that our dreams were frozen

Then our hearts would not be broken

When we let each other go...

If I could steal this moment forever

Paint a picture-perfect smile

So our story stayed alive

We would never say goodbye 

Hayley Westenra

The womb of expectation and hope

We are in the final days of Advent. The rush is on to get the final jobs done, the presents bought and the fridge stocked for Christmas. Although there is an economic recession the tills seem to be ringing.
In these last few days what are we expecting from Christmas? What are we hoping for? What is nestled in our particular personal womb that is kicking and longing to come to birth?
What is stirring deep within which we might dare to bring to birth?
We all long for things in life and dream of how things might be different. Yet there is also the painful lesson that pregnancy can teach us; that is, that all new births occur following a journey of pain.
Before the cry of new life is heard there is more-often-than-not discomfort, nervousness, excitement, hard work and pain. A certain sort of 'blood, sweat and tears'.
For me as I approach these last days of Advent I am nesting within the womb of my soul the expectation of experiencing afresh the wonder of love. Experiencing afresh the wonder of the daily miracles that surround me in the people I love and who love me. There is an economic recession at the moment. However, there is no recession in the overflowing love which flows from God and is lavished on each of us and which we are invited to lavish on others. I can feel the kicks, the preparations are almost complete: Maranatha!