New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
First column for March 2019


Column:

What is a Chaplain? Let's Set the Record Straight.

In the 18 years I've been writing this column, many readers have shared their impression of what a chaplain is. And more than a few have certainly told me what a chaplain is not.

A few readers are certain that a chaplain must be exclusively a man — not a woman, or any other gender identity.

Ten years ago, I was working with a woman named Susan Cosio when she took a phone call from a Baptist deacon looking for me.

When the man asked her if she was my secretary. Susan emphatically told him, "No, I'm a chaplain too."

"They have women chaplains now?" he asked.

Susan simultaneously gave me both the phone and a well-deserved stink eye, saying, "It's one of your Baptist guys."

Once I wrote about the tingling sensation I felt while getting a haircut from a beautiful Vietnamese barber. When I confessed the tingling to be lust, a reader left an indignant message on our hospital department voicemail.

Susan and ten other chaplains heard this woman exclaiming, "You should be ashamed of yourself. A chaplain isn't supposed to lust!"

And, yet, we do.

I also get angry on rare occasions and use words like "damn" or "hell." Some readers told me that a cursing chaplain shouldn't be trusted with a syndicated column.

But the hardest assumption to tackle is the notion that all chaplains are exclusively Christians.

No worries. I'm a Christian, so you can pick up the spoon you dropped in your cereal.

As often heard during my undergrad at Baylor University, "I'm Baptist, born-and-bred, and when I die, I'll be Baptist dead."

So, you ask, "If a chaplain needn't be a Christian, what defines a chaplain?"

A chaplain is one who often works in an institution caring for the spiritual needs of others. He or she elevates the spiritual concerns of the patient, inmate, student or soldier above his or her personal beliefs or needs.

That means if I come to your home in my capacity as a hospice chaplain, I'm going to assess what you need to celebrate your faith. If you need some eagle feathers or crystals, I'll find them. If you need to see a shaman, I'll find you one. If a Hindu wants to talk about the Bhagavad Gita, I'll listen without debate.

This impression causes some readers to accuse me of hiding my faith. Not true. As I show a patient respect, they often ask what I believe, and I share the God that Jesus came to reveal. I might even recount how, as an eight-year-old, I wandered down the center aisle of my church during a tradition known as the altar call, declaring that I wanted to be a Christian.

I'm sure that experience set me on the chaplain path, but I don't wear the hospice chaplain title today because I'm a Christian. Hospice didn't hire me solely on the fact that I've earned the prerequisite chaplain degrees or come from the right Baptist pedigree. Hospice hired me because they saw a pattern of setting aside my own personal faith assumptions and elevating the patients' needs above my own.

It's the same quality I see in Gerald Jones, Director of Chaplaincy at my local hospital in Roseville, Calif. Gerald is a Mormon.

If I were admitted to his hospital, Gerald knows that the Book of Mormon isn't my thing, so he would offer a caring prayer, an inspirational Bible-reading, but mostly a listening ear tuned to my spiritual traditions.

This is what kind of care you can expect from a good chaplain — to be on YOUR side. If all of this sounds like a job you'd like to do, I hope you'll learn more at http://www.professionalchaplains.org

Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd
Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715. Look for Norris' books at thechaplain.net or Amazon: "No Small Miracles," "Hero's Highway," and "Thriving Beyond Surviving."

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Column for 4th week of Feb 2019


Column:

For Safety Sake, Live your Life

I often make the claim that if I hadn't become a chaplain I'd have been a safety officer. That's because when I'm on any kind of volunteer work project, I'm the guy who steadies the ladder, makes certain the lunch produce is washed correctly and then checks the perimeter for bad guys.

The irony is that my interest in this subject comes from the tragedies I've witnessed in my chaplain career. In death's aftermath I've offered comfort to those whose loved ones were accidently struck, shot, suffocated, burned, poisoned, fallen, and electrocuted.

From those tragic encounters, I've developed a preoccupation with safety that my children say has cost them some freedoms. I've always made them wear hats in the sun, helmets on the bike trail and seatbelts in the car. For safety's sake, I've made them chew slowly, run quickly and sleep adequately.

They learned pretty well, but never did I realize just how much their training might come back to benefit me.

In 2011, my wife and I flew to Denver to spend a few days with our daughter, Sara. We had no agenda. Just a little rest and relaxation.

Following our late-night arrival, we were ushered into our accommodations, a garage conversion with an open-flame furnace. Playing the fastidious safety inspector, I checked to make sure that Sara had vented the heater properly through a nearby window. She had. Then, I tested the smoke and CO2 detector. Everything worked properly.

Becky and I said our good-nights and settled in for a cozy winter sleep, snug under blankets, basking in a glowing heat.

About 2 a.m., we were jolted from bliss with a high-pitched alarm. I saw no smoke, so I focused my squinting eyes on the CO2 detector. Carbon monoxide levels were pushing high enough to send us singing in the celestial choir with Jesus himself.

We immediately turned off the heater, opened all the windows, and retreated to the living room, shutting the garage door behind us. After 20 minutes, levels returned to normal, and we re-retired to bed – sans heater but with a double scoop of blankets.

If you're anticipating my point here, you're probably looking for me to quote the Christian scripture that says "It is appointed unto a man once to die and after that the judgment."

Those familiar with this scripture know that it's often used following stories such as these to admonish people to go full throttle, seize the day and live every day as if it were their last.

There's likely some wisdom in that direction, but honestly, I don't want to live every day like it's my last.

There are days that I want to be regular. I need days that start with a decent breakfast, eight hours of a rewarding job and a drive home with takeout pizza to watch a mindless episode of Survivor with my wife.

Nothing wrong with that. We all need some routine days where we find a setting to hold those that we love, exhale gratitude for the life we are granted and refuel to meet the next day's challenge.

Perhaps today wasn't your best day. If today was only average, then I say,
be content that you had no close calls with death to throw you in an existential funk. You don't need to always be prompting yourself with the morbid thought that this day might be your last.

But more than anything, I say, "Stay safe. There will likely be a tomorrow."

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As you read this, your "safety officer" and his wife are flying into arguably the most dangerous city on the planet, San Pedro Sula, Honduras. We will spend five weeks helping the Chispa Project start childrens' libraries in elementary schools. Please pray for our safety and the safety of those readers coming with us. Read more in my upcoming columns or at https://www.chispaproject.org/thechaplain.

Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd
Suite 6643 Auburn CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Column for 15-17 Feb 2019


Column:

Do Ask and They'll Tell

"Would I have to understand all religions to become a chaplain?" asked a woman considering a career change. I shook my head, chuckling at this question I'm so often asked.

I'm always tempted to reply, "Honestly, do you have any earthly idea how many religions are on this planet? 'Cause all I know is there are far too many to learn."

But I didn't say that. "My policy is to just ask them," I said. "I call it, 'Do Ask. They'll tell.'"

My answer sent her head to tilt, like a dog trying to understand a high-pitched sound.

I kept talking, as I tend to do.

"When you meet a person from an unfamiliar religion, you should simply ask them what they believe or how they practice their religion. If you are willing to wait for the answers, the question will prompt most folks to tell you all you need to know."

I took her silence as an invitation to continue.

"But, I caution you to ask with respectful curiosity. You must express a sincerity that outweighs your determination to convert them to your way of thinking.

"If they sense that you are willing to honor their beliefs, they will be forthcoming. If you genuinely seek to be helpful, you will squash all temptations to debate their beliefs.

"This process involves initiating a two-way discourse my theology teacher called Listening Love. The strategy has served me well as a healthcare chaplain where I often ask a patient, 'How does your faith inform you about dying?'

"The answers sprouting from that question have offered me an impromptu course in world religions."

"For instance?" she asked, giving her head an opposite tilt.

I told her about a Hmong couple who asked me to help them retrieve a placenta after they lost their newborn. The grieving couple said they would bury the placenta under a tree so the baby's soul could journey back through the past and become reborn.

When I asked a Muslim father what we could do for his dying child in a combat hospital in Iraq, he asked me to place a Koran in bed with the child.

When I asked my question of two brothers at the bedside of their dying mother, they described a New Age belief quite foreign to me. Nonetheless, I listened for what they found comforting and together, we tied a crystal around their mother's wrist.

When I asked a Chinese man what his faith taught him about consoling his dying wife, he suggested we move the hospital bed in the healing direction of Feng Shui. He saw this movement as the best way to use energy forces to harmonize individuals with their surrounding environment.

I know, these practices seem a bit odd to our Western sense of mainstream religion. Believe me, these encounters pushed me far out of my Christian comfort zone too.

But when it came down to someone dying, I had to ask myself, "Do I want to know about their religion so I can target them for conversion or because I want to comfort them?"

"If you really want to become a chaplain," I told the woman, "then I suggest you adopt a strategy that opens the faith dialogue. Listen to those of other faiths. Only by showing respect will you be given the opportunity to demonstrate the love taught by your own faith."

The woman rubbed her chin, releasing some thoughtful tones, but I'm really not sure what her thoughts were. Next time I see her, maybe I'll employ my own advice and simply ask her. After all, "listening love" is probably a strategy for most all circumstances.

Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd
Suite 6643 Auburn CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Change in address


Column:

Please update the column mailing address for readers

10566 Combie Rd
Suite 6643
Auburn CA 95602

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Column for 3rd week of Feb 2019


Column:

Water Everywhere, but Not a Drop to Drink

Family lore from my wife's kinfolk recounts the first time Becky's father assumed solo caregiving responsibilities for the infant Becky.

Those who retell it, say that Becky's mother, Darla, left the house for a church event and gave her young husband, Wilbur, explicit instructions on how to care for their daughter.

Before driving away, Darla stocked the home with extra diapers, clean bottles, warm blankets, sterilized pacifiers, and Becky's favorite toys – all things imaginable for soothing a crying baby.

A few hours into the warm evening, their firstborn began to fuss. Wilbur offered Becky a warm bottle, but she wouldn't take it. He offered a soft blanket, spoonfuls of baby food, and a stuffed bear, but nothing seemed to pacify the tiny tot.

Soon, Becky's protest deteriorated into crying and then became incessant squalling. A fretful father paced the floor with daughter atop his shoulder, bouncing the bawling baby in hopes of releasing a bothersome burp.

Nothing. Infant Becky elevated her protest with additional wailing.

Left afoot, Wilbur did the only thing he could – he picked up the phone to call the doctor.

At that moment, Becky's mom burst through the door and swept Becky in her arms.

Wilbur hung up and explained how he'd tried everything to no avail.

"Well," asked Darla, "Did you give her some water?"

To hear Becky's mother tell it, Wilbur stared at his young wife as cluelessly as if Darla was speaking Farsi with an Oklahoma accent.

"You never mentioned that," he said.

The story has a parallel in Christian tradition when Jesus left his followers alone and returned to his father. He left instructions, but not a lot of detail.

This lack of detail prompts a lot of Christ-followers to be like my ill-informed father-in-law and say, well, Jesus never mentioned that.

These are the folks who'll claim ignorance, saying things like, "Jesus never said anything about how to treat the refugee."

"Jesus was completely mute about universal healthcare."

"He made no mention of tobacco or whether Baptists can drink beer."

"Jesus said little or nothing about common-sense sword or gun control."

And I suppose these are accurate observations. There's so much that is absent from Jesus' teachings.

However, much like my mother-in-law's, Jesus' teaching was fundamentally clear. For the uninformed, he offered additional clarity when asked to name the greatest commandment.

Jesus replied: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

But in case folks didn't understand his basic message, Jesus offered the Golden Rule, a standard in most world religions. The Message translation of the Bible, offers extra transparency of Mathew 7:12.

"Here is a simple, rule-of-thumb guide for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you, then grab the initiative and do it for them."

Whenever I'm feeling short of divine instruction, this one is my go-to rule. Just treat others the way I would want to be treated.

This means I ask myself tough questions as if the answers impacted me, like what would I want done if it was my daughter? How would I feel if my kids' school was shot up? Or what if my refugee family had been turned away? Or how will my disabled brother get the healthcare he needs in his declining years?

Simple. The answers are there when we want to hear them.

As soon as Becky's mom gave her some water, the protests ended. But in the future, if we ever leave a grandbaby with my father-in-law, I'll be sure and tell him, "Wilbur, if you are drinking water, give the baby water too."

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Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or PO Box 247 Elk Grove CA 95759 or voicemail (843) 608-9715

 

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