New directions in hospital chaplaincy: Chaplains – the Church’s embedded apologists?

Abstract

Research and anecdotal evidence suggest that the relationship between healthcare chaplains and the Church is characterized by a deep sense of alienation in one direction and profound mistrust in the other. This is due, in part, to a lack of understanding about the work of chaplains. Recognizing a need for chaplains to explain their work, this article begins by describing research that investigated the support chaplains provided to bereaved parents. Contra to their poor expectations, I recount how, alongside the provision of liturgy and ritual, parents valued the chaplain’s pastoral presence. This is followed by an exploration of how, for some parents, such support could be the trigger for growing religious faith or spiritual awareness. Resonances are then drawn between the nature of support provided and descriptions of apologetics. The article concludes by arguing for greater dialogue between chaplains and the wider Church, suggesting a fruitful metaphor may be to view chaplains as embedded apologists.

Keywords

apologetics Church evangelism healthcare chaplaincy mission

Over recent years healthcare chaplaincy¹ has made national news in relation to attacks from the National Secular Society² and cuts in funding.³ On each occasion senior Church of England clergy have defended the role. For example, following the latest headlines the lead bishop on healthcare wrote that ‘Hospital chaplains are essential to the NHS.’⁴ Unfortunately, despite such moments of public support, there remains a deep sense of alienation between many chaplains and the wider Church. At a one-to-one level chaplains describe others asking, ‘When are you going to come back and be a proper minister?’⁵ Such sentiments are echoed at an institutional level, with research showing that only 6 per cent of chaplains felt that the Church understood their role.⁶ More damningly, Swift suggests that the Church of England has had a deliberate policy of intentional remoteness concerning chaplains.⁷ With the current emphasis on mission and outreach, whether deliberate or not, this marginalization seems incredible. Chaplains are, as Ballard states, ‘embedded’ in the world outside the Church.⁸ Accordingly, they give the Church ‘an opportunity to engage with the unchurched or dechurched majority whom it would otherwise find hard to reach’.⁹

Of course, chaplains bear some responsibility for this remoteness: a degree of freedom from oversight does have its attractions. Moreover, there is little written about the theology or praxis of chaplaincy. There is a need for chaplains to articulate their work and, in return, for the wider Church to engage with and listen to them. Accordingly, this article seeks to share something of the work of chaplains with bereaved parents. Drawing on my doctoral research, I begin by reporting the ways in which parents valued chaplaincy support before discussing how such support could be the trigger for greater religious faith or spiritual awareness. Following that, I draw parallels between the nature of support provided and descriptions of apologetics. In the light of this, I close by making the suggestion that it may be helpful for the wider Church to think of chaplains as embedded apologists.

Listening to bereaved parents

Between June 2010 and July 2011 I interviewed sixteen parents about their experience of chaplaincy support following the loss of their baby. Ethical approval for the study was given by Leeds Central NHS Research Ethics Committee. In what follows, parents’ names are given as pseudonyms.

When asked about their expectations, it was noticeable that all but one parent had no idea what type of support a chaplain might provide. Representative comments were that parents ‘didn’t really know what to expect’ (Adam), or that they ‘didn’t really know what whoever came would actually say’ (Sarah). Problematically, when presumptions were explored, it was typical that, like Alistair, they ‘didn’t really have high expectations’ of the chaplain. Such findings replicate those of Kelly, whose participants expected chaplains to be ‘inappropriately formal, detached and paternalistic’.¹⁰ As an indictment of the perception in which the Church is held in all three descriptors can be seen in my interviews. For Lewis this took the form of expecting the chaplain to be overly formal in appearance: ‘I expected kind of a robed gown something like that … walking through the door.’ Alistair’s concern was that detachment would lead to a lack of pastoral sensitivity: ‘prior to that happened to me I would have thought the chaplain would come and preach to me and I’d be like [sigh] I don’t … need this’. A patronizing attitude of knowing what was best was expected by several parents. Claire, for example, was grateful that the chaplain ‘took on board what we wanted, they didn’t … steam roller this is what you needed, this is what you want, which is what … you might expect’.

Troublingly, some parents expected a judgemental approach. Sarah related how:

I was possibly a little bit concerned that somebody might come and … maybe use something from the Bible that might suggest that it was like, you know, something that we may have …

With some gentle prompting, she confirmed that her concern was that a chaplain would insinuate that the loss of their baby was entirely her and her partner’s fault; presumably because they did not attend church or were not married. Given such a negative expectation, it is of little surprise that, before the offer of chaplaincy support was made, Sarah felt that a chaplain would want nothing to do with her:

I just assumed that really, because I hadn’t been christened, that I couldn’t really christen my children or I couldn’t really have anything an’ a chaplain probably wouldn’t want to have any, that sounds awful, wouldn’t want to have … any role in … our family set up.

Given that my research was qualitative not quantitative, it might be argued that small numbers mean the results are not representative. Comments made in my interviews, however, show remarkable parallels with the results of a large quantitative survey designed by Linda Woodhead and carried out by YouGov for the Westminster Faith Debates.¹¹ In particular, it is worth noting high levels of ignorance of or indifference to the Church of England and the view, especially from younger people, that the Church is discriminatory.

Thankfully, parents’ experiences of chaplaincy support were that chaplains, as Alistair put it, went ‘above an’ beyond’, so that their expectations were ‘completely surpassed’. Rather than aloof religiosity, Craig spoke about how the warmth and openness of the chaplain made them appear human so that they came across ‘just like a person’. Suggesting a worry that the chaplain would be cold and insensitive, several parents mentioned the idea of the chaplain trotting out stock responses. In contrast, Diane described how the chaplain ‘was definitely interested in us as people … They weren’t just going through the motions.’ Linked to that, parents valued the way in which chaplains respected their beliefs, met them ‘where they were’, and shaped liturgy and ritual around them. For example, Sarah, who described herself as having a spiritual understanding of life and not identifying with a specific religion, spoke about how the chaplain provided ‘religious support … but in a way that was suitable for us’. Similarly, Jenny commented that, ‘because it were so personal … and it was built around us as a family’ that ‘made it more special’.

Alongside liturgy and ritual, parents also valued the presence of the chaplain being with them. This took a number of different though related forms, with parents principally valuing the presence of the chaplain in listening. Parents spoke about how a chaplain ‘just sat there and listened’ (Julia) or how when a chaplain came into the room ‘they sat down an’ they listened’ (Diane). The depth of the attending by chaplains to the parents’ story helped them to feel that they mattered. Craig described how ‘I could tell by like the words they were saying at the funeral that they … had listened to us talking to them, they weren’t just reeling off some standard spiel’. Similarly, Claire described how the chaplain ‘could be supportive without even talking … that’s the sort of support they give you … some of … the silence was like, you know, effective’. There is a strong echo here of findings published by HealthTalkOnline who interviewed parents about terminating a pregnancy due to foetal abnormality.¹² The researchers report how ‘many women found that hospital chaplains were able to comfort them because they were used to “taking on other’s sadness” without trying to “fix everything”’.

Faith and transcendence

The death of their baby was clearly a devastating event for parents. Feelings of loss and emptiness are summed up in Craig’s statement, ‘when you’re losing a child … it’s like all these … broken dreams, it’s stuff you’re never going to have’. Yet, within the context of their pain and loss, parents found moments of peace and serenity. Olivia, for example, described how ‘we just had this quiet moment an’ they blessed him, an’ they gave him his name … it was just really quiet an’ peaceful’. Commenting on the significance of ritual to parents, Kelly argues that one important factor is that, religious or not, it provided ‘a touching point with transcendence’.¹³ Giving a sense of this, Wendy described how she looks back to the support provided by a chaplain:

that’s something I still cling to because that’s a part of my, part of their, memory, part of that little world that I only saw for a short time in theory, but it’s still there and it’s still important to me … it’s all sort of sacred and special.

For some parents there was the potential for this putting in touch with another dimension to become the beginning of a renewed journey of religious or spiritual belief. For Liz, this was expressed in terms of religious faith. In response to the question of whether chaplaincy support had helped in any way, she describes how ‘I did find faith, which is very strange ’cos most people seem to go the other way don’t they.’ In a similar vein, following his interview, Lewis described how the whole situation made him think and that his faith had developed and he now held onto his beliefs more strongly. Katy also spoke about how the experience had raised existential questions: ‘when it first happens you think how can God let this happen, but then you also want to think that your baby is being looked after’.

That a time of grief and suffering might result in a deepened faith is perhaps not as unexpected as might first seem. Recognizing that it is self-chosen, unlike the loss of a baby, in the Judaeo-Christian tradition acts of fasting and self-denial are traditionally seen as ways of developing one’s spiritual life. Something of this is encapsulated in Von Hügel’s statement that it is

not the smoother, easier times and circumstances in the lives of individuals and of peoples, but on the contrary, the harder and hardest trials of every conceivable kind … [that] have ever been the occasions of the deepest trust in and love of God.¹⁴

Such an understanding is echoed by Weil, who writes about the transformation needed to empty ourselves of our false divinity and awaken to what is real and eternal:

The beauty of the world is the mouth of a labyrinth. The unwary individual who on entering takes a few steps is soon unable to find the opening … But this affliction is as nothing compared with the danger threatening him. For if … he goes on walking, it is absolutely certain that he will finally arrive at the center of the labyrinth. And there God is waiting to eat him. Later he will go out again, but he will be changed, he will have become different.¹⁵

Weil is writing about how a sense of beauty creates this opening. Interestingly, though, McIntosh develops it, stating:

There are places and times in one’s life, Weil seems to be saying, when we are lured beyond our customary view of the world. We become entranced by a poet, or a child we know approaches death … in such moments a journey may begin from which we will never come back as we used to be.¹⁶

An embedded apologist?

At the 2013 Durham Diocese Clergy Summer Conference Steve Bellamy gave a presentation entitled ‘The Challenge of Apologetics’. A number of ‘tweets’ of what he said resonated with my understanding of chaplaincy. Accordingly, I began to explore whether there was value in viewing chaplains as apologists. Writing about the difference between evangelism and apologetics, McGrath states:

Apologetics is about persuading people there is a door to another world – a door that they perhaps never realized existed. Evangelism is about helping people to open that door and enter into the new world that lies beyond.¹⁷

Chaplains are explicitly prohibited by their code of conduct from proselytizing.¹⁸ Yet, the quotes above from Wendy and Katy indicate how chaplains may act as a trigger to the possibility of another world. Given that within any chaplain–patient encounter many unspoken signals – dress, title, representative associations – will be at play, this is not that surprising. A different example of developing awareness of the transcendent is given by Jenny. She described how, ‘I was always frightened of death … that unknown that’s what frightens me.’ However, asked about how the naming and blessing had helped, she explained:

[W]hen the chaplain blessed her … I don’t know where it came from but I just felt … she’s alright she’s gone now … I don’t feel as frightened … I felt she was safe and that she’s being looked after … I do believe that I’m gonna be with her again, definitely.

A different, but related, understanding of apologetics is given by Guinness, who states:

Apologetics is pre-evangelism, which is communication that clarifies what is obscuring and obstructing the good news … it is the necessary foreword or preface wherever there is indifference or complacency or resistance or hostility. It is the intellectual, moral, spiritual bush-clearing operation that is the preparation for the gospel to come in.¹⁹

Although I would critique the narrow view of ‘gospel’ with a more holistic understanding of Missio Dei that sees all we do as participation ‘in the movement of God’s love toward people’,²⁰ there are obvious resonances here as well. As described, most parents had misunderstandings and misconceptions of chaplaincy. Although chaplains do not undertake apologetics in any classically understood way of defending or commending Christianity, as a result of their support it is clear that parents had had their opinions challenged or changed.

I mentioned earlier Swift’s contention of a deliberate marginalization of chaplaincy by the Church. Among a couple of related reasons, Swift suggests this is because ‘the liberal make-up of most chaplains is unattractive and appears remote from the desire to establish “orthodoxy”’.²¹ Certainly I have heard it said anecdotally that chaplaincy is a place for those who are theologically liberal and uninterested in mission or evangelism. The willingness of chaplains to meet parents ‘where they were’ and to shape liturgy and ritual around their beliefs may well be taken as further evidence of this by proponents of such a view. However, describing how to carry out apologetics, Bellamy argues that of critical importance is the manner in which we do it: ‘much better to win friends than arguments and to help people stay in the conversation for another day because they have felt that their views and opinions were genuinely taken seriously’.²²

Again, there are strong echoes here of the way parents described chaplains relating to them. Diane and Alistair spoke about how, although they viewed themselves as Christians, they did not have a connection with a church. Echoing concerns described earlier about chaplains being judgemental, they were grateful that the chaplain ‘didn’t judge us on our beliefs’. Noticeably, in contrast to their expectations, the sympathetic and selfless approach of the chaplain led them to comment that ‘if anything it actually makes you believe more’ (Diane) and ‘it makes you believe, it makes your faith stronger’ (Alistair).

The importance of ‘staying in the conversation’ is reinforced by Chester and Timmis.²³ They make the point that people are often much further away from making a faith commitment than the Church might wish or imagine. On a scale of one-to-ten, where ten is ready to make a faith commitment, they suggest that much church mission activity is aimed around point eight. The reality, however, is that 70 per cent of the population are at point one or two. Rather than attempting to sweep people to number ten in one go they stress that the evangelistic role is to move people one or two steps along the way.

When attempting to share the gospel at points one or two, Chester and Timmis encourage readers to look out for ‘four points of intersection’.²⁴ They suggest that everyone has a story that fits into a gospel framework. The four points, along with an example of how topics of conversation intersect with the gospel story, are as follows:

Creation My identity

Fall My Problem

Redemption My solution

Consummation My hope

The evangelist’s task is to identify these themes in a person’s narrative and begin to relate them to the gospel story. While a chaplain’s intention in providing pastoral care is not evangelistic, there is a strong resonance here with what I understand to be the role of the chaplain. As I have described elsewhere, ‘by attending to the stories of patients’ lives, chaplains help them seek meaning and hope, connect with what really matters in their life, and mark important moments and events’.²⁵ Particularly given earlier comments about unspoken symbols, it is not surprising that many of these conversations will involve helping patients explore, in some way, gospel themes.

Chester and Timmis state that the Church needs to find ways of engaging those at points one and two.²⁶ Given this, it seems inexplicable that ‘the experience and insights of chaplains as a group appear to be drawn on both superficially and fitfully’.²⁷ Consequently, I urge the wider Church to engage more seriously with chaplains with a willingness to listen and learn from their observations and understandings. As a step in building better links I hope that an understanding of the chaplain as an embedded apologist may provide a fruitful metaphor.

Footnotes

Notes

Author Biography

Mark Newitt is Chaplain, Sheffield Teaching Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust.