If you read Newsweek magazine you know that there is a column in every issue titled "My Turn." In February of 2005 I submitted a column. I never heard back from them and figure that it's safe for me to put it on my web page. If Newsweek contacts me and wants to publish it themselves they may ask me to remove it from my page. In that unilikely event I'll include a link to it.
“Do you think God will look on my life and smile?” This is a tough question even in the best of circumstances, but I was once asked by someone on the last day of his life.
I am a hospice chaplain and I visit patients who are dying. They see their faith not as a political agenda but as the way to make sense of the world. Through their experiences I have blessed with countless experiences, deeper understandings, and a renewed sense of my own beliefs.
Mary was a patient who had always been a strong Christian. As she approached the end of her life she began to read the New Testament Book of Revealations in a new light. She became convinced that given her strong faith and good life that God would bring the Rapture soon; she did not want to experience death and she knew if she could hang on until the Rapture she would be taken to Heaven and not have to die.
One of my colleagues, a Catholic, was holding the hand of a Buddhist patient as his last few breaths became more and more labored. He had spoken often of his belief in reincarnation, that this life was the latest (but not the last) chapter in a long book. As she stroked his hand she whispered in his ear: “Don’t be afraid. You’ve done this before; you know how to do this. It’s going to be OK.”
Faith is the operating system that we use to navigate through life. It tells us who we are, where we belong, and what is expected of us. It is for many a deeply private place. That privacy often shatters when we realize that we are coming to the end of our lives. Suddenly faith becomes public, though no less intimate, and people like me start asking questions. A diagnosis of terminal illness gives me permission to ask questions that are not normally asked: “Do you believe in a Supreme Being? What is that Being like? What do you think will happen to you after you die?” It also gives the person (now the patient) permission to talk about their faith in a new and personal way. What I find in these conversations is a world that stretches me and invites me to see faith as much larger than individual beliefs and teachings.
Issues like faith based initiatives or litmus tests no longer matter. My patients hold to their beliefs not out of fear or ambition, but as a result of lived experience; a conviction that that their lives matter and they are a part of something, though unseen, much larger. They do not care who will be the next Supreme Court Chief Justice or whether the Defense of Marriage Act will survive court scrutiny. They need to know that their life matters and that they had a positive role in the writing of the history of humanity.
How will we face these days? We hospice people think about that a great deal. If faith has become politically charged in our life, will we fear we’ve backed the wrong horse? Will we recall with fear and panic our worst moment, our gravest sins? Will we be so sick that anywhere is better than here? Or will we see hope—not born of evidence—and journey our last days with joy? Will our view of humanity expand or contract? To use a Scriptural reference will we declare all things loosed, or all things bound?
My fear with the practice of faith today is that by politicization it we have cheapened it. We have reduced this internal operating system into political platforms where politicians try to outdo each other in the depth of their faith. It shouldn’t be like this. Faith gives us the opportunity to look at the world not just through our eyes, but also through God’s. It invites us to see our lives as a thread in an immense tapestry, to touch the eternal and know eternity has changed because of our touch. At its best faith continually renews us in our best selves. It challenges us to give voice to the better angels of our nature to help create the world that wish to see.
It also challenges us to look beyond our own individual beliefs. The patients whose memories live best in me are often those whose beliefs are different. Jack believed in reincarnation; he believed that God would not create an infinite universe and populate only this one small planet and he believed we stay here longer than just one lifetime. He told me that he thinks he will be reincarnated somewhere else, perhaps a different galaxy. And while I do not share those beliefs, I asked him to promise to look for me if he is right.
At a time where have learned to expect less and less from our political leaders, the hijacking of faith as yet another photo op has cheapened an area of our lives that deserves our awe and wonder. We should have more respect for our faith lives. My patients continue to be my best teachers and I am grateful to them for the lessons I learn.