Bedside Bodhisattva
A Buddhist chaplain for all
faiths Pamela Gayle White
"Let’s have a prayer,” Faye said. I’d been
visiting Faye and her husband, Harry, since Harry’s heart
transplant a few weeks back. His recovery had been lengthier and
rockier than expected, but he was finally getting ready to go home.
Faye was Catholic; Harry had promised her that he’d convert if he
recovered. We joined hands and offered prayers of thanks to God the
Father, Christ his Son, and the Blessed Virgin Mary. We vowed to do
our best to benefit those less fortunate than ourselves. “You’re my
rock, Chaplain Pamela,” Faye said. “Your faith has carried us
through. I’ll miss you.”
As usual, I vacillated between gratitude
that I could be of any help at all to people facing such trials,
and the sense that I was pulling one over on good, unsuspecting
folk who assumed I was as Christian as they. Could I—a JewBu
chaplain-in-training unversed in Christianity—get away with praying
out loud to Judeo-Christian gods while envisioning soothing waves
of lovingkindness pouring forth from Avalokiteshvara? I didn’t know
any of the standard prayers by heart and was ever pulling
out my dog-eared prayer booklet. Was I an interfaith chaplain or a
Buddhist chaplain? Would I ever feel qualified to be a chaplain at
all? Three intense months of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) in
Philadelphia some summers ago left most questions
dangling.
An increasing number of Americans who
identify as Buddhist are becoming involved in chaplaincy, notably
(but not exclusively) in hospitals, hospices, and prisons. Many
inspiring spiritual leaders and practitioners have translated their
commitment to dharma into palliative and end-of-life care for
patients and their loved ones, or applied it to the experience of
incarceration. The mindfulness movement is also very present in
modern chaplaincy.
As it happens, dharma and chaplaincy are a
great fit. So what do chaplains do? We bear witness, we breathe in,
we breathe out, and sometimes we pray. We accompany patients,
families, hospital personnel. We bless police officers and
criminals. We teach prisoners to meditate. We conduct christenings
and funerals and weddings. Above all, we listen. Incredible, isn’t
it, that one might actually make a living doing this?
Typically, however, the geist and language
of chaplaincy are patently theistic, even when there’s an effort to
be inclusive. Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary
defines a chaplain as “a priest or other Christian religious leader
who performs religious services for a military roup (such as the
army) or for a prison, hospital, etc.” Ciao-ciao rabbis, imams,
roshis, and the rest of us.
My first interview in Philly was conducted
by three white Christian clergymen. Earnest, kind, and intrigued by
my candidacy, they said, “We haven’t had many Buddhist applicants,
and we’re not too clear on Buddhist doctrine.” “Well,” I began,
“there are probably as many forms of Buddhist doctrine as there are
of Christian doctrine . . .” “And in all of them there’s no God?”
“You could probably say that the different forms of Buddhism agree
that there’s no omnipotent creator God. But there’s not nothing,
either.”
Pause.
They looked at me quizzically before the
youngest finally voiced the question. “Then who,” he asked, arms
wide, embracing the world, “created all this?” “Ignorance,” I let
slip. Seeing their faces, I laughed and adjusted my answer: “That
is, our minds create all this through habits and tendencies. But
that’s another story.”
Later, when one of our chaplaincy externs,
a white-haired gentleman named Isaiah who had once been a Catholic
priest, told me he was a Buddhist too, I happily imagined I’d found
a kindred spirit. But when I also heard him tell Jews that Judaism
grabbed him, Muslims that he was interested in Islam, and
Pentecostals that he was born-again, it nettled. Isaiah was gentle,
erudite, and uncommonly protean. In the same way that identical
twins throw me off because it can be difficult to tell them apart
or identify them, I couldn’t place him. If you’re a Buddhist,
you’re a Buddhist, right?
It’s no secret that identification is
designed to pigeonhole rather than to foster an open mind; I like
to think that definitions and beliefs are secondary to experience.
But on the floors, I belatedly began paying closer attention to
just how deeply embedded my own belief system is. Why do I
automatically circle clockwise, notice the number 108, hold my
rosary in my left hand? Why do I sing for rebirth in the Pure
Realm, scoff at the notion that mind is a by-product of matter,
avoid touching the lower parts of a dying person’s body, and
presume that there is continuity beyond physical death?
During my last overnight on-call in
Philadelphia, there were three requests for a Buddhist chaplain.
Two Buddhists, Laotian and Western, were dying; a Korean woman had
just learned that her cancer had returned. During debriefing the
following morning, the august head of the chaplaincy department
said that in all his years at the hospital, calls for Buddhist
chaplains had been few and far between; it was providential indeed
that a Buddhist was attending during this atypical
night.
Having recently begun a yearlong chaplain
residency, I’m giving myself space to unravel the identity
question. These days, I tend to think that Isaiah got it right. As
bodhisattvas in training, what if we simply tried to follow
Shantideva’s lead?
May I be a guard for those who are
protectorless,
A guide for those who journey on the road.
For those who wish to go across the water,
May I be a boat, a raft, a bridge.
(The Way of the Bodhisattva 3.18)
A chaplain might add:
May I be a Jew for those who keep the
covenant,
A Christian for those who follow in His footsteps,
A Muslim for those who love and heed the Prophet,
A Hindu, a shaman, a Buddhist, a Jain.
May I be scripture for those inspired by
words:
A koan, a rhapsody, a proverb, a psalm.
For those who question, an unbiased ear;
For those who believe, a holder of the faith.
Amen.
Pamela Gayle White
is a dharma teacher and translator in the Bodhi Path
network and a Tricycle contributing editor. She is a
chaplain resident at the University of Virginia Medical Center, “on
sabbatical” from her regular activities.