in hospital ministry as a deacon?”
As he asked me this question, I smiled, because all in all, I loved being in hospital ministry. “Well, when I was in formation to be a deacon, I was required to take two semesters of CPE training. CPE is an abbreviation for ‘Clinical Pastoral Education.’ Think of it as training focused on caring for patients. Caring in a pastoral sense, by showing concern for the patients, listening to them and generally comforting and encouraging them as appropriate. As a part of that class, I had to set up a schedule with a local hospital to visit patients. So, rather than just sit in a classroom and talk about techniques for pastorally caring for patients, we (my brother diaconate candidates and I) all had to conduct actual visits to apply those caring techniques with actual patients. When we met as a group, we discussed our experiences under the guidance of a mentor from the training program. In this way, we all learned how best to deal with the various situations that arose from a multitude of patient visits. One by one, we would detail our visit starting with when we first walked into a room, our greeting, our conversation, our overall observations, right down to what we said and what the patient said. These interactions were called ‘verbatims.’”
I could see that Rick was interested. “Could you give me an example of some of the things you had to include on a verbatim?”
I decided it would be best to just print one of my verbatims and hand it to Rick. “Keep in mind they vary as much as the patients varied, but I am sure you will get the gist of a given visit. Just keep in mind that, in the beginning, I was learning—we all were—so the early verbatims echoed our lack of experience.”
Rick looked over the verbatim as I pointed out some of the key parts, such as why the patient was in the hospital, my first impression when I walked into the room, and then a complete interchange between me and the patient. After the interchange, we were required to provide our assessment of the visit, including psychological, sociological, theological, and ethical concerns. Finally, we reported on how that particular visit impacted and challenged us.
Rick was impressed as he looked over the five-page verbatim on a patient I named Anne who had been in the hospital three days because of her high blood pressure. He looked up at me, “This is pretty involved!”
I smiled, “Yes, but keep in mind, it was part of our training. Once I was ordained and took on hospital ministry, there were no more verbatims. But I must say, in class, when we reviewed them, they prompted a lot of discussion from our supervisors as well as from the other deacon candidates. And, as we all progressed, our verbatims evolved and we became better with respect to visiting patients.”
“Yes, I can see that you would have to actually do this. It’s definitely not something you learn from a book. I am sure you had some interesting sights in those rooms.”
“Sights, sounds, and smells…but it was all a part of pastoral care. I actually enjoyed it and miss it. But, I will tell you, this was difficult for me at first—going into a patient’s room. I was just wearing a shirt and tie. The reaction of the patients would vary—‘Oh no, another doctor,’ or ‘What do you want?’ or ‘Who are you?’ and a lot more. During my forty years’ experience as an engineer, I was very used to solving problems—problems that could be quantified, discussed, implemented, and tested. Dealing with patients on the other hand, with the goal of encouraging them through a myriad of personal and social dilemmas they have experienced, was, well, quite different. But as the year progressed, I actually became good at this. I had two mentors—Sister Arlene, who was my supervisor at St. Mary’s Medical Center where we attended the classes, and Father Wilson, who was the chaplain at the local hospital I was assigned to. Both had tremendous hospital experience. In addition to being a chaplain, Father Wilson was assigned to the parish of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the parish I would be assigned to after ordination. I was fortunate because both my mentors were very spiritual people. Father Wilson actually worked with Mother Theresa in India. I remember talks he had with me early on about hospital ministry. We would often sit in the solarium at the hospital. He told me that our ministry is just as important to a patient as the doctors and nurses treating them—maybe more. He took hospital ministry to another level through his spiritual insight and I was so fortunate to learn from him. As I started to gain more experience in the field with the guidance of Father Wilson and the supervision of Sister Arlene, a wonderful thing happened.”
Rick looked up at me, “What was that?”
“Well, I was always intrigued by Holy Scripture and various Christian writings, but my experience of pastoral visits at the hospital brought the written material to life for me. For the first time, I felt as if I was truly following Christ—not merely by reading scripture and praying, but by actively serving him. For example, the story Jesus told in the Gospel of St. Mathew:
‘For I was hungry and you gave me food,
I was thirsty and you gave me drink,
A stranger and you welcomed me,
Naked and you clothed me,
Ill and you cared for me,
In prison and you visited me.
Then the righteous will answer him and say, Lord, when did we see you
hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?
And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’
“I felt I was living this Gospel by caring for patients in the hospital. Not only that, but I found the hospital ministry intensified all my diaconate formation and made me feel that I was finally walking on the right path. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the work I did in engineering, but I always knew that I was called for more—something that could draw me closer to Christ. I felt closest to Christ when I was comforting patients—listening to them, encouraging them, and just being there for them. I understood that they needed physical healing and that the doctors and nurses were there to facilitate that, but, through my mentor, Father Wilson, I also understood that I was needed to help them heal spiritually. I always knew that the spirit and the body were connected. This was my call—this is why I chose to pursue hospital ministry. This was my ‘Kenosis!’”
Rick looked up from his notepad, “Your what?”
I smiled, expecting his question, “Early on in my formation, there was a discussion on the concept of kenosis. Kenosis is a Greek word for emptiness, used mainly in a Christian theological context. The gist of it is that we have to empty ourselves in order to be filled with the Holy Spirit. The Engineer Tom or Magician Tom could not offer much help to a man handcuffed to a hospital bed who was being treated for complications stemming from a heroin addiction, which grew from a pain-pill addiction. But by leaving my ego at the door and filling myself with the Holy Spirit, I just may be able to touch him in some way. That is kenosis. St. Paul’s Letter to the Philippians talks about how Jesus emptied himself:
‘Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
something to be grasped.
Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming
