Category: Faith

A seven sermon day

Now, before that title worries you, I didn’t give seven sermons today. Instead, I heard seven sermons (one was a repeat so only six “new to me” sermons) today. With today being the first Sunday of my seminary year, that means that today was also my first Sunday at my field education site. It was great to be back serving the congregation I was at last year. People missed me and were excited to see me. I only talked to a couple of the people I really wanted to but it was great to be back, to be wanted, and to catch up with folks. And I remembered most of their names! After my time at my field ed site, I came home and tried not to fall asleep while studying greek vocabulary words. That was a struggle.

After my study time, I went back to my field site to witness an inter-faith service consisting of roughly ten congregations from a variety of faith traditions. The speaker was an iman from the Upper East Side. The place was packed and I believe there were more yarmulkes in the room than Lutherans. After the imans message (which was short and good), I left early and ran to another service at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church on Central Park West. In a beautiful building, I sat with an audience that was 65% clergy. We listened to bishops, presidents, and former bishops, talking about the founding of Lutheran Disaster Response New York. ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson spoke as well as former bishop Stephen Bouman and the current Atlantic-Synod President of the LCMS. There was singing, contemporary interpretations of psalms, gospels readings, and four sermons. By the end of it, I was in lala land – I think I was sermoned out.

During those sermons, I found myself drifting. Rather than reflecting back on the events of 9/11 (and where I was), I found myself returning to a visit I had over CPE. I was comforting the family and friends of a man who was dying. The man had become a father figure to a large number of children who lost fathers in the WTC collapse. One of their mothers was in the room and, after some time, I heard the story of how many times they had exhumed and re-interred her husband’s body. Very few remains existed at first but more was found after the first burial. It happened so often that the graveyard director said that if there were any more reports of remains, they should just cremate them and keep them because they’re not going to open that coffin again. After telling me that story, the woman then – half-jokingly – asked me what happens with her husband once the bodily resurrection comes? Does he come back whole? Is he just walking around in pieces? There was a bit of black humor there but I could sense she was hoping for a slight answer and the opportunity to expand on what fears and concerns she had. Luckily I was interrupted by the dying man and I never had to answer her question. I didn’t have an answer for me. It was a question I never really thought about nor cared to ask. It’s possible that too many zombie movies have interfered with my ability to process that kind of resurrection.

Yet, as I sat in the pews tonight, I kept going back to that story. In a sense, it is one of my more recent overt interactions with the events of 9/11. I haven’t been down to the World Trade Center site in awhile. When I saw the structure while in the Village yesterday, I didn’t believe that it was as tall as it is (82 stories so far!). I don’t really think about 9/11 very much anymore. The outcomes of that event – the security shakedown in the US, in subways, the wars and deaths of thousands of people – all have, in away, become background noise to me. I was still in college when 9/11 happened. I’ve lived in a post-9/11 world ever since I moved to New York. 9/11 has always hovered in the air and, in away, is part of the fabric of the New York culture and story. The event happened and has woven itself into the culture of New York. New York has lived on because that is what it does with all new stories – it grows, evolves, changes, and absorbs all that happens to it and in it. In a sense, living in New York is living with 9/11 everyday. Even though I wasn’t in NYC at the time, it’s still in the very air that I breathe. Like the urine smells in the subway station, it’s just part of the New York I know and love.

In all honesty, it felt a tad lonely sitting in the pews during the service tonight and during the reception. I realized, while sitting there, that all the people in the room could imagine a different time because they had lived that different time. Most had suffered personal losses in the attacks. Many had served as chaplains to the first responders in the days following the towers’ collapse. Most of the pastors in that room still counseled people who are still trying to heal from the losses of that day. I felt like I was in the wrong generation for the service tonight (though it didn’t help that the LCMS required the service to be so stripped down and weird that it never felt like a solemn service to me). The people there knew a NYC without 9/11 and I don’t. I’m not sure if the speakers up there understood that (though I think my field education pastor does). But I’m at least glad that the food spread was pretty nice. We can at least join together while munching on spring rolls.

Seminary Round 2

And so, with today being the day after Labor Day, I have begun my second year of seminary. The bell, it tolls for me.

I don’t recall if I ever wrote that I am no longer attending the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. I transfered to the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church (or General for short). There are a few reasons why I transfered and I’ll admit that the fact that it had a longer name than LTSP was one of its draws. But, in all seriousness, I was sick of the commute to Philly and I didn’t want to do it for another two years. My church, my cat, my dog, and (most importantly) my wife were in New York and I wanted to be there too. So to General I shall go.

Last week, I spent my time at orientation. I sat through the usual junk (financial aid, introductions, registrar, yadda yadda). It was less painful than LTSP’s orientation and I enjoyed that it actually seemed like the administration cared about each individual there. That doesn’t mean to say that they’re perfect or that I won’t come to dislike the administration apparatus tomorrow but I like what I saw and felt. And I love the fact that one of our orientation classes consisted of getting familiar with how worship was done at General. That didn’t happen at LTSP.

So I’ve been spending my time getting use to the lingo at General. It’s nice that most of the M.Div students have a title that goes with them (Lutherans don’t) and I’m finding it nice that the school tries to be Lutheran friendly. My advisor is a new professor who is rostered with the ELCA and I keep seeing references in some class syllabi to the ELW. But there are only three full time Lutherans on campus at the moment (which is two more than last year) so it isn’t hard to feel a tad lonely being there.

I’m also considered a commuter student since I’m not living on campus. That means that I don’t have to pay some fees but it also means that, since I’m not on the meal plan, that I’m not allowed to eat lunch in the Refectory with everyone else. And with worship being at 8 in the morning, that’s a pretty good reason why I won’t be at worship either. I find both of these things a tad annoying but, hey, LTSP and General keep their campus-mates much closer to the chest than commuter students and I knew that going in. The President at General kept telling us to be at the refectory and go to chapel to help “be in community” but they sure don’t make it that easy for commuter students who need their beauty sleep.

All in all, I’m finding General to be a nice place. I’m one of the younger folks in the group and I seem to be part of the married majority. The campus has a day care center and babies are all over the place. And if I had a dime for every dog I see on the one block campus, I’d be able to pay off my seminary loans. Babies, dogs, and spouses/partners: you can’t throw a hymnal without hitting all of them.

As much as I’m enjoying the place, I’m also not liking it at the same time. I find the course offerings at General to be a tad unexciting and I have a feeling that I will not be challenged like I was last year. None of the courses really excite me at all. I’m taking New Testament, Greek, and Introduction to Music, Preaching, and two practical pastoral care courses. I have no particular passion towards any of these courses (though, don’t get me wrong, the New Testament is awesome but I’m just not too thrilled with what little of the syllabus for that course I saw). When I realized what my course options were, I know that my first reaction was to feel deflated and I’ve basically been at that point for the entire week. I’m taking courses I need to fill graduation requirements but nothing that really excites me. And the one class I had today didn’t help things since we sat there and watched a movie for 75% of the class period. I could do that at home people.

I have a concern that my seminary year is gonna be very blah. I’m gonna need to not let that interfere with my field education work though. I’m getting a lot more responsibility and I’m excited about that. A great field education experience will more than make up for a blah academic year (I hope).

Hurricane A Go Go

For the last week or so, I was on vacation. I’ll be sharing pictures of my trip soon but I just wanted to write a quick comment about what’s coming up: Hurricane Irene. It seems I missed an earthquake (darn!) but I made it back in time for a hurricane. Hurray!

I actually am not terribly scared of hurricanes. Growing up in landlocked areas, hurricanes were never on my radar. Now, spending my adult life in New York City has made me more concerned with nor’easterns rather than hurricanes. But it seems like there’s a chance that the eye of the storm might head right over my apartment (though the tracking keeps changing – yesterday, it was heading west, now it’s heading east). At Chez Stynxno, we’re working on doing some minor preparations for the hurricane by visiting the grocery store, buying a flashlight, and making sure to get all our necessary internet time in before the storm hits. I don’t think the animals are really aware of what’s happening but I think they’ll be glad to be home when it hits. We’re making a big pot of chili and we’re opening up our home to any of our friends who are in the evacuation zone if the calls goes out to move out. Being in the heights means we’re on the high ground in Manhattan.

Since the storm is hitting on a Sunday, one thing that I’ve thought about is church services. There was some debate at my home congregation about whether to cancel services or not. The decision was to keep the services as scheduled. There are rumors that the MTA will shut down service (or the subway will be flooded) so there’s very little chance that I’ll be making it to church come Sunday but I’ve been thinking about the idea of having church with the knowledge that a storm is barreling down on you. Thanks to satellites, we have days of warning that a storm will hit. As much as I think it’s valuable to break bread with the Lord during the middle of a storm, I also wonder if it makes any sense to have services in the middle of a hurricane. If it is dangerous for the assembly to gather due to natural conditions (and the disruption will only be one day), should the assembly gather? I don’t think I have a theological answer for that at the moment (though I’ll probably come up with one) but I just hope that everyone in NYC takes this storm seriously and if it looks bad, stay inside. The church is an old building undergoing repair – there’s no need to dodge flying tree branches and trash to make it into a leaky building. Stay safe!

Update: My new seminary was scheduled to begin orientation this Sunday but just announced that Sunday programs have been canceled. They’re in an evacuation zone so that’s probably part of the reason. Let’s hope that the subway and the close aren’t too flooded come Monday morning.

CPE IS DONE. A FORK HAS BEEN STUCK.

Today was my graduation day at CPE. I AM FINISHED. My first unit of CPE is now OVER. Woohoo!

I began today like most days – hanging out in the PICU. I wanted to say goodbye to the few patients who seemed to live in the PICu with me. Most were alone as their parents were at work and I did what I usually do – I chatted with them, made some faces, and then said a short prayer. My goodbyes with some of the staff occurred during the week so this was just a few hours for patients. The sun was shinning bright, the medical rounds were already over, and there was a calmness through the whole place that gave me permission to walk around (and jokingly absolve a nurse by telling him to say half-a-dozen Hail Marys). But one thing I wanted to do was say goodbye to that child I met last Thursday.

I looked up her charts and saw that she was going to be discharged this morning. I entered her room and saw her mom and a friend talking to the little baby. The last time I saw the little one, she was waiting to be extubated. Today, she was resting comfortably. She was breathing easily, grabbing at hands like babies will do, and a pink blanket held her tight. She looked like every baby should. I chatted with the mom and she was less nervous than last week. She couldn’t wait to go home. She said thanks again for my being there on Thursday and for all I did for them. The visit was short but sweet and, with that, I found it to be a fitting ending to my first unit of CPE.

With that done, all the summer interns gathered in the chapel for our graduation ceremony. The staff of the department and the residents came to support us. We said words, we sung songs, we received our certificates, and then we finished with hugs and goodbyes. The certificates looked grand (except for the minor typo where they said we had completed Unit II rather than Unit I) and we then went, with our supervisor, out to lunch. It was bittersweet. We chatted and had a good time but I don’t think it has really sunk in that I won’t have to get up tomorrow and go to the hospital; that I won’t see my new friends tomorrow either. We really were a good and joyous group. I’m really gonna miss seeing some of them as often as I have. I’m gonna miss going onto the floors, writing verbatims, and all that. I’m honestly thinking I might do another unit of CPE before I graduate. I never would believe that before I started but I guess that’s how it works. I found out I’m actually good at this. Who would have thought.

CPE Self-Care Day

On Wednesday, my colleagues and I had a “self care” day. Sure, we only have a week left in the program but, hey, we needed the day. We went and grabbed a drink (it was noon somewhere in the world), ate some Indian food, and then went and saw Crazy, Stupid Love. It was a great day and I took a couple of pictures. Enjoy!


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Our fearless leader

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Well, that was scary.

I’d like to talk about babies for a minute.

During my round in the PICU, I tend to avoid crying babies. I’m not sure why but I do. If a baby is crying, I assume that the parents are with them and that it really isn’t a good time to stop by and say hello. Crying babies also tend to not respond to my funny faces, my “oohs ho ho ho,” my attempts at “where’s the baby” and all the other things I do to try and provide spiritual support to those who are ten months and younger. It’s a skill I’ve been developing and I have a good time with it. But crying babies, well, they’re crying. And usually they have good reasons to be crying. A baby in the hospital with ivs, tubes, and other such things – you’d cry too I bet. I know I’m not suppose to avoid them but I do.

But, for some reason today, I didn’t.

The social worker in the PICU referred me to a family who were Catholic and were open for a visit. They were busy yesterday so I planned to stop by this morning. I walked around and could hear their baby crying. I avoided it at first, saw a couple of other patients, but then decided to buck up and see the kid. I said hi to the nurse, suited up (the child was under isolation), and walked on over. The kid was squirming and crying. The kid had just had surgery the afternoon before and, from the chart at least, everyone said the kid was doing great. The docs had seen her fifteen minutes prior and were already trying to get her moved out of the PICU. The parents were so happy, they even felt comfortable enough to go home for a few hours. Things were looking up for this kid.

So I started my routine. I talked to the kid, made faces, told it I understood, and tried to get her to calm down. But it wasn’t working. I thought that maybe I was scaring her and I made the motions to walk away but that didn’t seem to be it. And the more she cried, the more I went into the typical “baby-crying-I-don’t-know-what-to-do-because-I-am-a-man” routine. But then she made a face I thought I recognized. She’s just struggling to poop, I told myself. The baby seemed to be calming down. But something was off. I asked the baby, “Are you alright? What are you doing? What’s wrong?” And then the crying stopped. So did the squirming. The alarms started going off and her heart rate dropped like a rock. I turned quickly to see that the nurse had stepped out. I looked back, and the baby was doing one final squirm and I saw it’s face starting to turn blue. I went “oh shit!” and ran from the room. I ran into the next room, told the nurses that something was wrong – that “there’s a baby that doesn’t look right.” My face said more than my words and two nurses quickly followed me into the room and got to work. The baby, in the words over the intercom, “coded” or “destated”. She stopped breathing. The nurses started to give her air and do chest compressions. More nurses came. Then doctors showed up. Soon, the entire staff was in the room working as a well oiled machine. They were doing their darnest with the kid. The communication was fluid. The movements precise. They knew what they were doing. But there was a panic in the air. The air was filled with suspense. And as they worked, I pulled back. I walked backwards until I ran into the far wall and the entire time, I did the only thing I could do – I prayed. I prayed hard. Over and over again, like a broken record, I prayed “Dear God, not her. Not her. Not her. Not again. You better save her God. You better fucking save her.”

It wasn’t long before the baby started to cry again. I saw her arms flail. She didn’t really like the air mask on her but she required it. She was back. She was breathing. And her heart rate returned to normal. She cried some more while the doctors kept working on her. The social worker came and chatted with me. So did the PCD. They told me she would be okay. And then, once the situation stabilized, the nurses started saying to me “Thank God you were here” and “This was divine intervention” and “You saved her life.” I took off my isolation gear, said if they needed me anymore, and when they said no, I stepped out. I needed to get out of there. I was freaked.

I went back to the office and called my wife. I talked to a couple of my colleagues and I told them what happened. I tried to calm down and get back to work. Several folks in the PICU reached out to me and asked if I was okay. My colleagues did a great job supporting me. My supervisor told me that I now have the best CPE story to share when I go back to school in the fall. But what was running through my mind was when I was going back to the floor, what was I going to see, what was I going to say, and “did I wait to long to get the nurses?” In the meantime, I attended a funeral, ate lunch, and had a class on group dynamics. It was near the end of the day before I finally had a chance to head back to the PICU. I checked the charts and read what happened. I gathered my things and went back up to the unit. I met the nurse of the room and we chatted. She was still traumatized by the event and so was I but I provided some pastoral counseling to her even though I was suffering from the same event she was. I don’t think I said all the right things to her but I think she was just happy to see me come back to the floor and to talk with her and say that it’s okay. I met the mom and she had been told what happened. She seemed rather calm and was grateful that I had been there. And I left feeling pretty good – still in shock but doing better.

But right before I met the nurse and the mom, I ran into the mother of a patient who’s child, who had been improving, had just taken a turn for the worse. She was frantic. She wasn’t ready to talk so I said I’d come back tomorrow. So when I walked back to the subway after work, and as I entered the stairs and into the artificially lit tunnels that led to the over-heated platforms, my heart sunk. Even though some good had happened today, it’s not over. In the next bed over, a family is heart broken and is suffering. Another child might die. As much as I am enjoying being a chaplain, I’m not really sure I could handle this every day. I joked at lunch that I have “won” CPE but I’m not so sure. I haven’t even properly processed what happened last Friday and then this happened. I’m not sure I could do this all the time (though I know this doesn’t happen all the time). This was a rather heavy baptism by fire.

CURSES!!! Silly Churchwide Assembly :(

Today was one of those days when three interesting things happened.

First off, I started the day arriving 5 minutes late to CPE. There is nothing new about this. I’ve noticed that the closer I get to the end of CPE, the slower the subways seem to run. Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself.

I arrived at my CPE site, gathered with the group, and started to go through the patient censuses (or censi?) and the medical charts. But then my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number but it was 212 so I decided to throw caution into the wind and pick it up. It was a call from the bishop’s office! At first, I thought they were going to tell me that there was something wrong with my paperwork or maybe they had found my blog (eep). Instead, they told me that there had been a drop from the MNYS’s voting delegation to the Churchwide Assembly in two weeks. As I was the next person in line based on the vote totals from 2 years ago, they wanted to know if I could go. My heart leaped. I was excited. I really wanted to go. And then they told me the dates of the assembly…and I can’t go. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo…….. /fade to black

Actually, I will be having a lovely time on vacation with my wife, my parents, my brother, and my sister-in-law during the churchwide assembly. I will have plenty of pictures to share once I get back and I’m going to have a wonderful time. But, man, it would have been nice to go to churchwide. I really do enjoy synod assemblies (and I’m starting to learn I might be the only one but, come on, they are awesome). Hopefully I’ll head to the next Synod assembly when the next churchwide delegates are elected and I’ll get myself thrown in the pool then.

My next adventure of the day, I met with a mother with a newborn in critical condition. We prayed, we chatted, and then she asked me to do her a favor. Part of our script for CPE asks that we, as chaplains, ask the patient/family member/etc if there is anything else they need done. Sometimes, I’ve been asked to get the patient ice. Once, I was asked to go get two packs of skittles from the vending machine. But today, I was given a candle and asked to light it for the mother and her child. I found that really touching even though I don’t know any nearby church that allows candles to be brought in and lit. Even the local catholic parishes have switched to the electric flickering candles before their statues of Saints. I made sure to stop by a catholic church (which is her family’s tradition) and light a candle for her and her newborn (in front of a statue of St Jude no less) but I’ve got a candle that I would like to light somewhere and to fulfill their wish. Hopefully I’ll figure that out tomorrow.

Finally, the last interesting tidbit of the day was a compliment I received from my supervisor. He asked me if I thought about doing anymore CPE. He mentioned maybe I should look into doing my internship as a resident in a CPE program. He said I’ve got a great way with the patients and that it’s a gift. I began the program scared to death of being a chaplain…and here I am, being told I’m good at it. Huh. I was thinking about it, during my third year at seminary but…hmm. I don’t know. I really have started enjoying meeting with the patients and talking to them, walking with them, and letting them be where they are at. And I think I’m good at it. So huh. Maybe they tell all their CPE students that :p But it’s at least something to think about.