Cancer's Spiritual Classroom

Cancer’s Spiritual Classroom
*For the Battle Creek Enquirer*
By: Rev. Emily Joye McGaughy


Many of us have heard the popular aphorism “there are no atheists in fox holes.” Driving this catchy phrase is the proposition that facing death will cause anyone to seek God.

It’s not true.

People deal with impending death in diverse ways. Some people do, in fact, become religious, finding comfort in the ability to call upon a benevolent higher power in times of uncertainty. Other people become adamantly opposed to the notion of God, finding their life circumstance unfair and inconsistent with what they have been taught about God’s goodness. Some people assume they’ll figure it out when they cross over and don’t spend much time dwelling on the God-question while they’re still alive on earth. This diversity of experience troubles the water of simplistic spirituality, making it difficult for popular aphorisms or sound-byte answers to be ethically offered unto those who are dying.

Faith can be an incredible sustaining force for those who are facing the finality of their bodies (which is all of us in different time frames!). But not all faiths are created equal. Contemporary research shows that if people think God is the source of their pain and that God intentionally wills their suffering, they are more likely to exhibit symptoms of depression and anxiety. During my clinical training as a hospital chaplain my supervisor always reminded me: “it’s not about religion or no religion, faith or doubt; it’s about how those things impact the person’s life.”

Seven months ago when I moved to Battle Creek to join the pastoral staff at First Congregational Church I met Sue. She was helping me move some furniture into my new place and mentioned that she’d lost her mom to breast cancer twenty years prior and just three years ago she’d gotten her own diagnosis of gall-bladder cancer (at the age of 50). She also informed me she’d be starting another round of chemo therapy soon. “I’m doing really well but I know there will come a time when the other shoe drops.” It was quiet for a long time. Before she left that evening I offered to meet with her regularly for spiritual care. She agreed and we’ve been getting together every other Wednesday for 7 months now to do crafts. Most of the time we sit in silence working on our individual pieces of art. Sometimes we talk about what’s going on at church and at home; other times we talk about politics and current events. You’d be surprised how often we talk about Lady GaGa!

Sue Nielson & Ejoye (July 21st 2010)

My favorite Wednesdays are the ones when Sue talks about what she’s learning in her walk with cancer, how this time in her life has deepened her spirituality. She recently shared a piece of writing with me that says “A lot of people ask me how I can be so strong. The absolute biggest part of it is my faith in God.” Contrary to popular quips, faith in God is not always a crutch. In Sue’s case, it is an incredible motivating force, a force that enables her to face the grueling regimens of chemo therapy with courage, a force that enables her to keep finding joy with her husband and friends, a force that keeps her seeking the most of what each day has to offer. I would do anything to relieve Sue’s suffering. I would. But as a pastor I would also do anything to help cancer-free people learn the lessons that Sue is teaching me every Wednesday. For instance the other day she came into my office and said “There’s something this disease does to you; it makes you live in the moment. You don’t know what your future is going to be so you take advantage of every moment you have.”

Fox holes do different things to different people. Perhaps our focus should be less on belief or religious identity in such times, and more on whether or not people are taking advantage of every precious moment they’ve got left. In fact, that’s something we could all give some more focus. Thanks, Sue.

Frost & Ryberg

Okay, so you know how that Frost poem talks about the road less traveled by making all the difference? With all due respect to one of the finest American poets of all time, I think that poem reflects the 'values' of rugged individualism at the heart of white-male escapist psuedo-spirituality. So I'd like to propose something Other (hee hee, pun). For me, colleagues make all the difference. And I have a new one. His name is Thomas Ryberg. This is his precious mug by the candle light next to yours truly. He makes music and makes sacred the materiality around him, no matter the form. He's been lighting up my life and the folks at Battle Creek this summer. I'm grateful. I'm hopeful for continued collaboration on these winding roads, those we choose and those we don't. May it be so.

Side Light

I have learned to wait

patiently

for the side light,

the one close to the ground,

the one you might miss if you

don't watch your step.

The side light,

not the beam thrust down-from-heaven

--i have yet to experience one of those--

no,

the unassuming gesture of illumination

that pierces on the slant

and originates unexpectedly

from a source that's been there all along,

a source you cannot see, but know, yes know

somehow.

The side light,

on an axis that neither shocks nor mistakes you,

but in a horizontal kind of way

makes a leveling miracle of proportion.

7 months in...my pastoral reflections

Greetings, my people.

I try hard not to make my blog about the stuff of ministry, because Lord knows I have to do enough religious/spiritual writing in my professional capacity. I've wanted to keep my blog a place for personal reflection, a place where it isn't necessary to connect all experiences "back" to the symbols and traditions and narratives and liturgical frames of Christianity. The line between personal and professional reflection isn't drawn hard and fast, but i do think the integrity of content and context is important for every writer to consider, particularly one who plays a public leadership role. I may not always appear to "honor" the line--in fact, I think it's often a prophetic act to blur that line--but you can be sure I'm always keeping an eye on it. Having said all that, I'd like to take this blogging moment as an opportunity to reflect on my 7 months in parish ministry thus far. A couple statements that feel a bit random but altogether true.

--it's all people and relationships. make and break.
--funerals manufacture a tenderness in me that I always find surprising.
--i take this work seriously, more seriously than anything else i've ever done.
--it breaks my heart way too often.
--it stuns me into reverent joy equally as often.
--the mainline church has absolutely no idea what it wants to be about these days, and quite frankly, that makes working inside of it quite frustrating.
--i've never been more convinced that the concept of "scripture" needs deconstruction. people are in psychological and spiritual prisons behind that concept and there's no one to blame more vehemently than spineless clergy who refuse to keep it real about systems of power.
--i love the sanctuary of my church. space and beauty matter, seriously.
--i love building my life around liturgy.
--i love working with Tom Ott.
--flowing from the prior affirmation: i cannot imagine being able to minister outside of a collaborative colleague relationship.
--music is more important than preaching.
--lots of people are terrified of the Holy Spirit, a fear that--in my humble opinion--has its root in body hatred, white supremacy and patriarchy.
--the edge between fakery and sincerity in worship is razor sharp, and the smell of the former makes me want to run from the room.
--my appreciation for self-reflective, flexible persons grows with each passing day, particularly when planning worship.
--gossip is ugly and those who are most corrupt in their personal lives seem to be the ones most prone to talk smack about others. there's a difference between evaluation and destruction; most folks seem to get the difference and I am most afraid of those few who do not.
--the pastor role is increasing my awareness of the value of patience.
--i wish the older generation of womyn in my congregation knew how to connect with me in ways other than commenting on my hair, shoes and outfits.
--paying attention and present moment awareness are the keys to the kingdom.
--sermon writing is like being a mad scientist and experimenting on yourself first.
--the pulpit is the most vulnerable place i've ever stood.
--sometimes i think the work of ministry is about the work of managing anxiety--my own and the anxiety belonging to those around me.
--the church'd be better off with more Jesus and less God, more incarnation, less abstraction. (that's nothing new for me, but this work has confirmed it...theologians you'll know what i mean by this)

Okay, that's enough for now. I'm sure more will come to me and i'll update. Peace!