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HOSPITAL/HEALTH
CARE CHAPLAINCY
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Sermon by the Rt Revd Christopher Herbert, Lord Bishop of St Albans When Jesus came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:
I am not a composer but if I were, and if I had been asked to set the words of the second lesson to music, I imagine that I would have opened with a blast of trumpets, followed by something suitably extravert on the drums and the organ; in other words, I would have opened with a noisy, boisterous, over-the-top, no-room-to-hide, kind of music. It so happens that Edward Elgar was asked to set these words to music, and what he did was to open with a quiet, haunting melody - so quiet, so still and so beautiful that once you have heard it, you will never forget it. His setting is perfect; mine would have been absolutely horrible - and entirely inappropriate. Now this may seem to you an odd way to begin a sermon on a day such as this, when we have gathered together to pay tribute to the outstanding ministry of Noël Walter in this hospital, and to remember with gratitude and appreciation the work of hospital chaplains. So why have I begun by talking about music? For two reasons; firstly because when Noël and I were at St David's College, Lampeter (part of the University of Wales) about a hundred years ago, we sang in the same choir and have known each other ever since; and secondly, because I want to compare the ministry of hospital chaplains with music. Let me put it like this: the National Health Service is like an orchestra, but it's an orchestra that has a change in conductors every fourth bar, a change of composer after every fifth bar, a change of key every sixth. As if that weren't bad enough, every seventh bar the woodwind is required to abandon its instruments and be retrained to play cellos, whilst the cellists are told that they have to modernise and become 'fit for purpose', and so are issued with i-pods. Meanwhile, the media have found a tune that they think every orchestra should play immediately and a minister is appointed who is absolutely tone-deaf, in the interests of non-discrimination. By the time we get to the tenth bar, we've had two and a half changes of conductor, two composers and the orchestra has been told to abandon all music and take up a target-driven, future-facing, customer-focussed job as consultants in DIY, in order to 'empower' the audience to create music for themselves. I exaggerate, but not very much. Inside all this cacophony and change stands the chaplain, and the chaplain, whilst hearing and having to react to all the shifting around on the orchestra platform, has been quietly studying the original score and has continued to play a melody - let us say, on the oboe or a viola - which has about it the sound of eternity. I'm going to abandon the musical metaphor at this point, otherwise it will collapse in ruins. The point I make is a simple one. The purpose of chaplaincy is to quietly hang on to the truths of eternity and to be a visual, human reminder of those values which are at the very core of any work of healing. Those values are to do with the absolute worth of every human being, the necessity for faith in every single element of medicine, the centrality of love in all human relationships. Those values within Christian chaplaincy derive from our understanding of God, met in and through Jesus Christ. Let me spell them out. The absolute worth of every human being is under constant threat. In a society dedicated to utilitarianism, people are valued not for their intrinsic worth but for what they earn or for what they contribute to society. As a direct result, without ever being explicit about it, we have a health system which, in general, puts the frail elderly at the bottom of the heap - and next to them, those who are mentally sick. But if every human being was treated as having absolute worth, this would not happen. It does not necessarily require more resources but it does require significant changes of attitudes in society. The chaplain in the hospital is someone who, simply by his or her own vocation, witnesses to the absolute worth of everyone in the eyes of God. We are made, as the Judaeo-Christian heritage tells us, in the image of God I turn now to the necessity of faith in every single element of medicine, and I am not referring to a specifically religious concept; what I mean by faith is the belief, on which we stake our lives, that life has purpose and life has meaning. Put it another way: on our deathbeds, what are the things that will then matter to us more than we can say? It won't be stuff about targets or modernisation, and the word 'radical' will not be heard. It will be about, I suggest, those things which make life rich - like beauty and relationships and those we love. It is the chaplain's task to witness to those eternal truths which many of us are too busy to explore, but which we know in our heart of hearts are what life is all about. I mentioned the absolute worth of every human being, I mentioned the faith which should run through every element of medicine but I also mentioned the centrality of love. I suspect that most people who work in medicine are motivated by a desire to help others - and ultimately that derives from love. But it's not a concept we find easy to handle, partly because it's too profound and we are therefore properly reticent about it, and partly it's also because medicine has been dominated and driven by a new vocabulary where outputs, and outcomes, and targets, and delivery dates, and breaking even, are the common currency. I am not arguing for inefficiency, nor for an abuse of scarce resources - not at all - nor am I arguing in favour of sentimentality. I am arguing that any truly healthy health system has to acknowledge that it is the core value of love which should lie at the very centre of all we do. It is part of the chaplain's task to witness to, and to be a visual reminder of, love - a love which, from a Christian perspective, derives ultimately from God, who is love. Thus we have three values:
- three values which are at the centre of all good hospital chaplaincy. How these values are given expression in chaplaincy, naturally varies from person to person, from hospital to hospital. In Noël, we have seen at work someone who always puts people first, someone who witnesses to faith, someone who (and he will be embarrassed by me saying this) has tried to make the love of God in Christ his soul's centre. He has been, as you know, not only 'everywhere' (and you only have to walk through the hospital with him to see how he speaks to everyone and everyone speaks to him) but also has been deeply humble, seeing himself as part of the team of this great and lovely hospital, and, by his very presence, has brought strength and comfort to thousands. It has been a great, humble and self-sacrificial ministry of huge generosity and loving kindness. But Noël would not want me to end my address there; he would want, I am sure, to make certain that all of us face outwards and upwards towards God. At the very heart of Christian chaplaincy is God: the God who has come to us in Jesus Christ, a God who reveals Himself as going deeply down into our sufferings and our death with us, a God who then, by grace and mercy, takes us, renews us and re-creates us as the people He would have us be. It is, I am sure, true for all of us here, that we give thanks for Noël's remarkable ministry and we also pray that, as the future unfolds, no matter what changes may lie ahead, the simple music of God's love will be at the centre of this hospital, now and always. © Christopher William Herbert, 2006 |
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This page was created 19 December 2006 |