Showing posts with label article. Show all posts
Showing posts with label article. Show all posts

Monday, December 21, 2009

Vancouver Sun Article by Douglas Todd December 21, 2009

http://a123.g.akamai.net/f/123/12465/1d/www.vancouversun.com/health/Douglas+Todd+Fraser+Health+firing+spiritual+care+directors+step+backwards/2366332/douglastodd1108.jpg

The Fraser Health Authority's decision to terminate 12 spiritual care directors is a sign it is not operating at the highest levels of medical innovation.

To put it more bluntly, the sudden firing of the spiritual care coordinators is a strong indicator that the Fraser Health Authority's leadership is living in the Jurassic Age, when dinosaurs roamed.

Fraser Health's administrators appear painfully ignorant of contemporary scientific research into healing.

They don't seem to realize that, since 2001, more than 5,000 research studies have been published showing a strong correlation between patients' spirituality and their physical and mental well-being.

But Fraser Health does not appear to respect this university research into how spirituality and religion have been shown to, among other things, reduce patients' physical and mental disease rates and the time they spend in hospitals.

Instead, Fraser Health also has been slashing what it questionably calls other "non-core" services, including social workers/counsellors, addiction programs and psychiatry for troubled youths.

There is no doubt strong pressure on rising health care costs.

But those pressures have precious little to do with non-denominational spiritual care coordinators, who used to be known as chaplains.

The high price tag for medical care has mostly to do with the ever-rising expectations of the public and the escalating cost of technology -- equipment and diagnostic testing -- as well as drugs, not to mention the often high earnings of many physicians, medical specialists and administrators.

With Fraser Health running an annual budget of $2.48 billion, it appears short-sighted to chop 12 spiritual care directors trained in supporting people with all kinds of grave illnesses.

The $650,000 the spiritual caregivers collectively earn is less than 1/4,000th of the Fraser Health's $2.48 billion annual budget, which apparently has to be trimmed by $10 million due to provincial government shortfalls.

There has been an outcry about the November firings by an unusual coalition of religious and secular leaders, according to Christoph Reiners, pastor of Peace Lutheran Church in Abbotsford.

The loose coalition includes mainline Protestants, Catholics, evangelicals, Sikhs, Hindus, Muslims, New Democratic Party MLAs and regional mayors. But the coalition has been told by Fraser Health CEO Nigel Murray not to waste their breath.

Nevertheless, Murray and his advisers would do well to catch up on the extensive scientific research outlined in the seminal book, Spirituality in Patient Care, by Dr. Harold Koenig, a Duke University psychiatrist who has arguably done more than anyone to gather academic data on the positive benefits of integrating spirituality into clinical practice.

Spirituality in Patient Care, for instance, cites a major study in the New England Journal of Medicine showing that 90 per cent of medical patients report using religion and spirituality to cope with and make sense of physical illness. Forty per cent said it's the "most important" way they do so.

Additional studies, including at Duke Medical Center, have found that people who receive spiritual or religious support are less prone to disease, and spend fewer days in hospital on average than non-religious people with the same acute or chronic conditions.

Spirituality in Patient Care also points to dozens of studies showing North Americans who feel sustained by their religious convictions and communities are inclined to live longer and suffer less from depression, anxiety, suicidal tendencies and addictions.

Despite this overwhelming data linking a vibrant spirituality with good health, Koenig is realistic enough to recognize spiritual care coordinators are not a panacea for all that ails patients.

Not every patient wants spiritual support, for instance. Sometimes, as Koenig says, religion can get in the way of healing, including patients who take an unhealthy fatalistic view that their disease is "God's will" or "Allah's will" and there's nothing they should try to do about it.

To be fair, Fraser Health is not the only unimaginative medical organization in North America cutting chaplains and others, such as social workers and counsellors, who often provide spiritual and emotional back-up to patients.

These behind-the-times medical organizations are flagrantly disregarding the recommendations of major mainstream North American-wide professional bodies, including those devoted to hospital accreditation, nursing and medical education.

All these major medical bodies, reports Spirituality in Patient Care, have gone on record urging hospitals to improve spiritual care for patients, both through the use of chaplains and by heightening the spiritual literacy of physicians, nurses and social workers.

The recent research linking spirituality with good patient care points to a win-win situation.

At a relatively low cost, the majority of patients who ask for spiritual support could receive the help they need to heal.

As well, Canadian taxpayers could in the long-run save money through reduced incidence of disease and shorter hospital stays.

dtodd@vancouversun.com

Read Douglas Todd's blog at www.vancouversun.com/thesearch

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

One approach to rudeness....

I opened my copy of Psychology Today earlier this afternoon and got a kick out of this article. If I hadn't been on a crowded train heading home, I would have laughed out loud at some things, and said "way to go" at others.


Two-Minute Memoir: I See Rude People

One woman's battle to beat some manners into impolite society.
By Amy Alkon, published on November 01, 2009 - last reviewed on November 04, 2009

The fortysomething woman came within inches of crashing her Volvo station wagon into my car while simultaneously trying to park with one hand and yammer into the cell phone she was holding in the other. When I beeped to keep her from swerving into me, she vigorously and repeatedly flipped me the bird (I guess to punish me for existing, and directly behind her to boot). For her grand finale, she exited her car in workout gear, toting a yoga mat, and snarled back at me, "Just off to find a little inner peace, you redheaded bitch!"

Uh, have a nice day!

An aggressive lack of consideration for others is spreading across this country like a case of crabs through a sleepaway camp, and there isn't a lot standing in the way. Although people are quick to blame rampant rudeness on advances in technology, the unfortunate truth is, rudeness is the human condition. We modern humans are a bunch of grabby, self-involved jerks, the same as generations of humans before us. It's just that there are fewer constraints on our grabby, self-involved jerkhood than ever before. We're guided by quaint Stone Age brains, suited to manage social interactions within a small tribe—yet we're living in endlessly sprawling areas that would more accurately be called "stranger-hoods" than neighborhoods.
People understand how they're supposed to act because of social norms. But every time brutes engage in some form of social thuggery, they make it that much more acceptable for somebody else to do it. Others begin to imitate their behavior unthinkingly, or feel stupid or silly for feeling some compunction about following their lead.

For most of my life, I didn't pay much attention to rudeness. And then, one day, I just couldn't take it anymore. Overnight, I was like that "I see dead people" kid, except it was "I see rude people." They were everywhere: pushing, shoving, shouting into cell phones; leaving snotted-up Kleenex in the airplane seat pocket for the next passenger. Like Peter Parker, bitten by a radioactive spider and turned into Spiderman, I was transformed.
Intervention I: The Mobile Savage

A woman in the Hollywood Hills Starbucks decided to treat all the other customers there to a command performance of her impromptu spoken-word masterwork, "The Birthday Party Invitation." She made five very loud calls—each the same as the last—giving her name (Carol), detailed directions to a kid's birthday party at her house, plus the time, plus her home phone number. I left this message on her voice mail when I got home:

Carol, Carol, Carol...the microphone on a cell phone is actually quite sensitive. There's no need to yell. You look like a nice woman. You probably didn't realize that your repeated shouting into your cell phone drove a number of people out of the coffee bar today. Beyond that, you might consider that I'm just one of about 20 people who know that you live at "555 Ferngrove Street," and that you're having a bunch of six-year-olds over at 3 p.m. on Saturday. Now, I'm just a newspaper columnist, not a pedophile, but it's kind of an unnecessary security risk you're taking, huh? Bye!
Intervention II: It's Only Free for Telemarketers to Call You Because You Have Yet to Invoice Them

Even casual acquaintances know better than to dial my number on Monday or Tuesday, when I'm on deadline for my advice column, so the shrill ring of my phone late one Monday afternoon came as a surprise.

"Hello...? Hello...? HELLO?"

Was anybody even there? Not exactly. It took a couple of seconds for the recording to start: "Hello, this is Tim Snee, vice president of Smart & Final..."

Oh, is it? Great. Because if you're phoning me at home in the middle of my deadline, there's an appropriate next line to your call, and it goes something like "...and someone's died and left you a townhouse in the center of Paris."

But that wasn't Mr. Snee's message at all. Snee, I learned, was having some difficulty keeping shelves stocked at the warehouse store Smart & Final. He wanted to let his customers know they were working to solve the problem—lest anybody defect to Costco for their 100-packs of Charmin.

Yoohoo...Mr. Snee? You autodialed the wrong girl.

Now, I know most people just sigh and hang up when they get a call like Snee's—which is why we all get calls like Snee's. My time and energy are valuable, and he'd just helped himself to both. I drafted a letter spelling out my disgust for Snee's business practices and invoicing him for $63.20, and I e-mailed it to him:

Tim,

How dare you call me at home with a recorded message? I am on the Do Not Call list, and I value my privacy. You woke me up in the middle of my nap during my deadline. Consider this an invoice for disturbing me: $63.20, which is my hourly rate for writing, since I'll probably lose at least an hour thanks to your interruption. I'll now try to go back to sleep so I can get my writing done.

I'm considering reporting you to the California Attorney General. Have a bad day.

—Amy Alkon

A few days later, I got this e-mail from Randall Oliver, Smart & Final's "director of corporate communications":

Ms. Alkon:

I am very sorry that we disturbed you close to your writing deadline. Our message was meant to provide a helpful update to our customers, not to irritate them. Nearly all of the responses we have received have been very positive.

Really? Did other customers call you up and say, "I'm so lonely, nothing makes my day like getting a recorded message smack in the middle of my afternoon nap!"?

And finally, Oliver wrote:

We value you as a customer and hope to continue to do business with you. We'd be happy to send you a check for $63.20 as requested or alternatively would be even happier to provide you a $100 Smart Card for use at Smart & Final. Please let me know which option you would prefer.

I took the $100.

As wacky as my pranks may sound to some, behind every one is the message that it isn't crazy to expect people to have manners and consideration; it's crazy when we're seen as crazy for expecting it. If we're increasingly finding ourselves residents of Meanland, it's only because we aren't doing anything to change that. We get the society we create; or rather, the society we let happen to us. I'm hoping my book, I See Rude People, will galvanize at least a few people into performing their own interventions on the rude. But if we all just make an effort to treat strangers like they matter, maybe they'll be inspired to treat us like we matter, and maybe, just maybe, life won't feel quite so much like one long wrestling smackdown.

Excerpted from I See Rude People: One Woman's Battle to Beat Some Manners into Impolite Society by Amy Alkon (Nov. 27, 2009, McGraw-Hill)

Saturday, September 05, 2009

Part 2 of article

This is the second part of an article from the Vancouver Sun, talking about the 'war' between spirituality and religion. The author purports that spirituality is a personal thing while religion relates to the corporate nature of spiritual practice.

While it is difficult to find a balance between the personal and the corporate, Todd puts forth that a "good" religion is one that allows for growth and movements within the personal/corporate sphere. Humanity is constantly changing and growing and hence religion as one main structure of the human expression of Self needs to be able to change and grow with people. I wonder at the persons who do identify themselves as "not religious, but spiritual". Often when this statement is made to me, it is a defense mechanism usually meaning "don't shove your beliefs and judgments on me. That is the last thing that I need." I have always thought that those persons who have an aversion to "organized religion" are reacted to either a bad experience, misconceptions, or both. Often people attend worship services, but aren't educated about the practices that follow. It is not like someone says " we will now sing this song, or pray this prayer for reason 'X', " but rather, after someone has attended for a while, it is understood," this is just how we do this". However, along with the need for structure, it should not be so rigid that it staganates growth of the worshipper, but it should also not be so flexible that there is an "anything goes" thinking. This is the difficulty of defining worship and spiritual practices -- they do change as our understanding changes. But one must consider "what am I doing this for? or who? " and "does this practice help me to grow and challenge my understanding of the world?" If the answer is "I don't know" to the first questions, and "no" to the second... then maybe we need to think about why something isn't working for us or others and to discuss this with someone we trust.


SECOND OF TWO PARTS

Which is better: Religion or spirituality? Many people, especially on the West Coast of North America, now firmly believe that it's much better to be "spiritual" rather than "religious."

Before offering my answer to the question, however, it's crucial to explain the common definitions going round today of "religion" and "spirituality," plus a few of the widespread complaints against both.

Some of the many, many people today who stress "I'm spiritual, but not religious" feel strongly about defining religion as an absolutistic and dogmatic belief system locked up in an institution.

Their condemnation has some validity, even though they're not correct in portraying ALL religion as doctrinaire.

There can be no doubt that institutional religion frequently regresses to blind obedience and self-righteousness.

That's the assertion, for instance, of Vancouver's world-famous spiritual writer, Eckhart Tolle, author of The Power of Now. The people who champion "spirituality" generally use the term to refer to the private and free development of a person's private inner life.

Tolle, for instance, is typical of many in the way he describes spirituality as personal "transformation" to an "awakened" state, detached from one's ego and even from "belief" itself .

The main charges against Tolle's popular form of self-spirituality are that it can become privatistic, leading to self-absorption, narcissism, naivety, anti-intellectualism and an anything-goes moral relativism. Critics say those who follow private spirituality are often unwilling to engage wider society and, in failing to do so, support the social status quo.

Just as there is something to the prevailing attack on "religion," there is also some truth to this critique of "spirituality."

But the mutual bombardments do not at all comprise the whole story of "spirituality" and "religion."

There are more comprehensive ways of looking at both, which will expand the debate far beyond a simplistic argument that one is good and the other is bad.

There are many valid definitions of "spirituality," a term that has only become hot in the past decade.

But I think one of the best and broadest definitions of "spirituality" is that it is "the ways humans have sought to find meaning in the world." However, I have to immediately add that I join the renowned American sociologist of religion, Robert Bellah, in suggesting that religion, at its deepest level, is about the same process -- forming human meaning.

In today's religion-wary culture, many won't like this overlapping definition of "spirituality" and "religion." But if you accept it, you would have to conclude that, at least in their ideal form, both can be beneficial.

There is another link between the two terms. Even though "spirituality" is now used to refer exclusively to a human's inner life, many private spiritualities, if they prove persuasive to enough people, eventually develop into more structured communal worldviews.

That is what happened with the experiences and teachings of Moses, Buddha, Socrates, Jesus, Mohammed and Baha'u'llah.

It's also what is happening with some best-selling contemporary spiritual teachers, as their thinking becomes more formalized through study groups and inter-connected communities.

In other words, it appears that the thing Western society is really debating these days is the difference in value between private spirituality and community-based spirituality, which is also sometimes known as institutional religion.

Contrary to what many people like to believe, I am not convinced personal spirituality and communal religion are mutually exclusive. They are complementary.

And both need to be approached in a self-critical way.

Any institutional religion that is habitually dogmatic and that fails to nurture a sense of personal spirituality, of personal choice and transformation, is empty.

And any personal spirituality that remains merely private, that doesn't make an effort to directly connect with others, with the real world, with community life, is trivial.

So where does that leave us with the question: Which is better: Spirituality or religion?

The short answer is they are both important.

However, I will go out on an unpopular limb for the longer answer.

I would suggest that institutional religion - when it is truly self-correcting, non-authoritarian and encouraging of authenticity (which it often, admittedly, is not) -- is more complete than private spirituality.

Let me briefly make my case for the value of religion in institutional form:

• Institutional religion, at its best, can be open, evolving and self- reforming -- even while attempting to define and remain true to core values, beliefs and practices.

• A religious institution can incorporate a multitude of personal spiritual practices, including the self-spirituality and nature spirituality that are popular today.

• Religious institutions, ideally, create a sense of community, which often contribute to the well-being of individuals.

• Religious institutions can offer checks and balances on private belief and practice. They can help isolated individuals avoid going off on unhealthy, wrong-headed or dangerous spiritual tangents.

• As a community, a religion can accomplish things that isolated individuals cannot. Institutions can plan and strategize, creating force fields for positive transition, both within individuals and in the wider society.

Ultimately, I like the way that Washington state scholar Patricia O'Connell Killen talks about the value of religions, which she also calls "wisdom traditions."

Unlike private spiritualities, community-based religions can, at their optimum, help people realize they're not the centre of the universe, Killen says. They can also, through their collected knowledge, historical perspective and shared values, be invaluable in helping people face life's inevitable suffering. In doing so, they can renew personal and public hope.

In the end, I don't believe we need to buy into the current nasty war between (personal) spirituality and (community-based) religion.

After all, that creates a false either/or choice.

What we can do instead is foster more interaction between spirituality and religion, since they are simply different aspects of the same thing: Humans' eternal search for meaning.

Friday, July 31, 2009

Chaplaincy article

Paging God: Religion in the Halls of Medicine’

Chaplains play important roles in hospitals

Harvard News Office

What happens when a Buddhist monk visiting the United States is hospitalized, terminally ill with liver cancer? Does religion interfere with his medical care? What about his Buddhist brethren, unable to join him bedside? Who will provide the appropriate services and ceremonies? Well, says Wendy Cadge, that’s where hospital chaplains come in.

Chaplains are just one of the ways in which hospitals and religion cross-pollinate — but, says sociologist Cadge, a current fellow at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, this cross-pollination can sometimes be a tricky business.

“Does religion and spirituality influence your health?” asked Cadge. “I don’t think this is an unimportant question. … Social institutions — temples, churches, mosques — … are often involved in the answer to this question in ways that are rarely studied or talked about.”

Cadge visited the ailing monk in a Catholic hospital in Pennsylvania. “He was going to die — not in a temple … but in this local hospital,” she recollected. “I wondered if he was awake how he would feel about being treated in a Catholic hospital. I wondered if the hospital had a priest or a chaplain, if that person might come by.”

Cadge explained that at most hospitals, the question of religion is a blank box on admissions paperwork. When she asked a hospital clerk why the information was relevant, he responded, “I don’t know. I guess it’s in case you die.”

The lasting image of the dying monk in his hospital bed in Pennsylvania left Cadge with an arsenal of questions. How do religion and spirituality interact with medicine?

Through research at major, non-religious-affiliated hospitals across the country, Cadge explored this question by shadowing hospital chaplains, analyzing the roles they play and how they affect the religious and spiritual goings-on inside hospitals.

In a talk inside the Radcliffe Gymnasium, titled “Paging God: Religion in the Halls of Medicine,” Cadge said most people think of chaplains as the people wandering the halls of hospitals, making bedside calls. But Cadge explained that chaplains have many perspectives on the work they perform and define their responsibilities in a multitude of ways. Chaplains are involved in almost all aspects of hospital life, said Cadge. In their most basic definition, these chaplains visit with ill patients; but their role in hospitals is, in fact, complex and much-debated.

The treatment of the sick and dying in hospitals raises profound religious and spiritual issues. In their not-quite-formal, not-quite-defined roles, chaplains address these questions. They are intermediaries for patients and families; guides who help navigate through emotional and complicated end-of-life issues. Yet, in an article for the Web site Religion Dispatches (www.religiondispatches.org), Cadge says that chaplains “have little voice when it comes to public conversations about religion and medicine in this country.”

A reason for this, Cadge surmised, is that there are relatively few chaplains in the United States — roughly 10,000. And, in general, chaplains lack medical training, and, as Cadge points out in the article, “Many of the country’s leading voices around religion, spirituality, health, and medicine are physicians.”

Even as atheism continues to rise in the United States, Gallup polls consistently show 95 percent of Americans still believe in a higher power; 70-85 percent of Americans pray for their own health and their family’s; and 72 percent believe God can cure people outside of medical science. What’s more, 60 percent of Americans and 20 percent of medical professionals think a person in a persistent vegetative state can be saved by a miracle.

So, it’s not surprising, perhaps, that in Cadge’s hospital research, which took her to intensive care and neonatal units, she found that it was common among non-chaplain staff to privately pray for their patients, regardless of their patients’ religious beliefs or whether or not they had solicited religious help.

Differences in religious viewpoints is an important issue for Cadge, who wanted to know how chaplains adapt to patients with different religions, and how patients with various religions and beliefs perceive chaplains.

Most of the chaplains Cadge observed would serve patients regardless of their denomination, and if patients or families requested a religious-specific prayer or ritual, the chaplain would oblige. Other times, chaplains simply sat in with patients, a person to talk to. Cadge recalled chaplains who collected prayers from families. Most were written on Post-It notes left tacked to makeshift memorials created by families to honor their loved ones who had died in the hospital. The chaplains put them in shoeboxes; and when the shoeboxes overflowed, the chaplains didn’t toss them out, the prayers were ceremoniously burned.

Cadge documented designated spaces in hospitals reserved for prayer; these chapels range from traditional church-looking rooms to rooms meant to be all-encompassing, or “interfaith,” outfitted with alcoves with specific religious symbols and texts.

The scope of a chaplain’s work varies with patients, but a chaplain’s responsibilities are deep and vast. “The one thing I found which most chaplains do … is working around death, often managing death for hospitals,” said Cadge, who noted that in some hospitals she visited, chaplains were paged for every trauma coming into the emergency room, and some were responsible for coordinating plans with the morgue and serving as a liaison for families.

“Part of a chaplain’s task is to help people find something to be hopeful about,” said Cadge, quoting a chaplain identified only as Karen. Karen also told Cadge, “People come literally from all over the world. We chaplains are the ones who make these people not be strangers. … We invite them into the community so that this becomes a safe haven in some regard.”

John, another chaplain Cadge encountered, had a different view. He believes a chaplain is “just someone who walks in, takes [patients] as they are, listens to their stories. … The most we can offer them is just a listening ear and a caring heart.”

A lot of a chaplain’s work is about healing, explained Cadge, quoting Karen. “A lot of work we chaplains do is about reconciliation, to help people to feel whole, to bring them back to what has been to what is, to what can be, either in this life or the next.”

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Article for thought...


This week, I found an "old" copy of the MacLean's magazine, from May 4th. The Cover article got my attention. In this diverse culture and multifaith/multicultural Canada, you would think that the statistics would be more favored. I think that a lot of people would be influenced by experience, (good or bad) and or by media image. We believe what we have been told/taught, and it is easy to characterize someone as "them" vs. humanizing the others. Often dialogue does not happen, or it is one sided, and hence there can be a view of intolerance. I am posting the article in full as sometimes the links will disappear over time.


What Canadians think of Sikhs, Jews, Christians, Muslims . . .

Apr 28, 2009 by John Geddes

Canadians like to think of their country as a model for the world of how all sorts of people can get along together. But when it comes to the major faiths other than Christianity, a new poll conducted for Maclean’s finds that many Canadians harbour deeply troubling biases. Multiculturalism? Although by now it might seem an ingrained national creed, fewer than one in three Canadians can find it in their hearts to view Islam or Sikhism in a favourable light. Diversity? Canadians may embrace it in theory, but only a minority say they would find it acceptable if one of their kids came home engaged to a Muslim, Hindu or Sikh. Understanding? There’s not enough to prevent media images of war and terrorism from convincing almost half of Canadians that mainstream Islam encourages violence.

The poll, by Angus Reid Strategies, surveyed 1,002 randomly selected Canadians on religion at a moment when issues of identity are a hot topic in Ottawa. Immigration Minister Jason Kenney has led a push by the Conservative government to revamp citizenship law, emphasizing the need for real bonds to Canada, and Kenney is looking for ways to encourage immigrants to integrate faster and more fully into Canadian society. But as federal policy strives to encourage newcomers to put down roots and fit in, the poll highlights an equal need for the Canadian majority to take a hard look at its distorted preconceptions about religious minorities. “It astonishes and saddens me as a Canadian,” said Angus Reid chief research officer Andrew Grenville, who has been probing Canadians’ views on religion for 16 years. “I don’t think the findings reflect well on Canada at all.”

Those findings leave little doubt that Canadians with a Christian background travel through life benefiting from a broad tendency of their fellow citizens to view their religion more favourably than any other. Across Canada, 72 per cent said they have a “generally favourable opinion” of Christianity. At the other end of the spectrum, Islam scored the lowest favourability rating, just 28 per cent. Sikhism didn’t fare much better at 30 per cent, and Hinduism was rated favourably by 41 per cent. Both Buddhism, at 57 per cent, and Judaism, 53 per cent, were rated favourably by more than half the population—but even Jews and Buddhists might reasonably ask if that’s a glass-half-full or glass-half-empty result.

Bernie Farber, chief executive officer of the Canadian Jewish Congress, said he was shocked that so many Canadians responding to a poll were willing to be so open about their negative feelings toward minority religions. “It tells me,” Farber said, “that our journey from intolerance to tolerance, to where we can actually celebrate each other’s cultures, is elusive.”

From the perspective of Sikhs and, especially, Muslims, that’s putting it mildly. When asked if they thought “the mainstream beliefs” of the major religions “encourage violence or are mostly peaceful,” only 10 per cent said they thought Christianity teaches violence. But fully 45 per cent said they believe Islam does, and a sizable 26 per cent saw Sikhism as encouraging violence. By comparison, just 13 per cent perceived violence in Hindu teachings and 14 per cent in Jewish religion. A tiny four per cent said they think of Buddhism as encouraging violence.

Ihsaan Gardee, executive director of the Council on Islamic-American Relations Canada, said “reductive reasoning” in media coverage of armed conflict in largely Islamic countries is a big part of the problem. Violence in countries with Muslim populations is portrayed as rooted in their religions in what Gardee calls a “clash of civilizations” world view. “They’re not looking at the social and economic context in which these things are happening,” Gardee said. “It can’t be reduced to Islam, per se.”

Clearly, Islam and Sikhism face the highest hurdles when it comes to persuading many Canadians they are not inherently violent faiths. The problem varies across regions. By far the highest percentage who viewed Islam as encouraging violence was found in Quebec, 57 per cent. Sikh doctrine is mostly likely to be viewed as violent in the province where about half of Canadian Sikhs live: 30 per cent of British Columbians said they think Sikhism encourages violence.

Palbinder Shergill, a Vancouver lawyer who has long represented the World Sikh Organization of Canada on legal matters, said she might have expected such negative opinions about Sikhism in the 1990s. Back then, the 1985 Air India bombing, the work of Sikh separatist terrorists, was still a fresh memory. “Air India has had a very lasting negative legacy for the Sikh community,” Shergill said. “The majority of imagery of Sikhs in the media typically associates the community with that sort of violence.”

Patient work trying to overcome the widespread view of Sikhs as dangerous seemed to be paying off, she said—until recently. Shergill said Sikhs have lately faced a “huge resurgence” of the sorts of challenges to their distinctive practices that they thought were put to rest 15 years or so ago. In Ontario, a Sikh man is fighting in court for the right to wear a turban, but not a helmet, when he rides his motorcycle. In Montreal last week, Judge Gilles Ouellet found a Sikh boy guilty of having threatened two other boys with a hair pin, used to keep his hair neat under his turban.

But Ouellet said the boy didn’t use his kirpan, the small symbolic dagger many Sikh men carry. The judge gave him an unconditional discharge, leaving him with a clean record, and said the case would never have reached his bench if the incident hadn’t had a religious dimension. “Too much importance has been given this case,” he said. “This matter should end here.”

Shergill suspects that many more Canadians read about the initial charge being laid than the remarks of the obviously frustrated judge. And the fact that this episode unfolded in Quebec is not incidental. The province appears to be an incubator of deep suspicions concerning minority faiths.

A mere 17 per cent of Quebecers said they have a favourable opinion of Islam, and just 15 per cent view Sikhism favourably. Only 36 per cent of Quebecers said they hold a favourable opinion of Judaism, far below the national average, and in sharp contrast to neighbouring Ontario, where 59 per cent expressed a favourable view of the Jewish religion. “It’s sadly not a shock,” Farber said.

Farber said his group, a 90-year-old advocacy organization for Canadian Jews, recently rebranded its Quebec wing as the Quebec Jewish Congress, a bid to highlight its roots in the province and reach out to francophone Quebecers. He said Quebec’s perennial anxieties about the survival of the French language play into attitudes toward minorities. “There are built-in fears there that have to be overcome,” he said. In fact, all religions were regarded less positively in Quebec than in Canada as a whole, including Christianity, which 67 per cent of Quebecers view favourably, five points below the Canadian average.

A heated debate over how far to go in “reasonable accommodation” of minorities gripped Quebec in 2007 and 2008. A commission headed by sociologist Gérard Bouchard and philosopher Charles Taylor toured the province holding often controversial hearings on the subject, ultimately concluding in a final report that Quebec needed to adapt, but that its cultural foundations were not at risk.

Angus Reid took that debate national, asking how far governments should go to accommodate minorities. A strong majority of 62 per cent agree with the statement, “Laws and norms should not be modified to accommodate minorities.” A minority, 29 per cent, agreed with the alternative statement, “On some occasions, it makes sense to modify specific laws and norms to accommodate minorities.” Another nine per cent weren’t sure. In Quebec, 74 per cent were against changing laws or norms, the highest negative response rate on the accommodation question in the country.

Recent campaign trail experience in Canada has taught politicians to be cautious about anything that smacks of a concession to religious minorities. John Tory, the former leader of Ontario’s Conservatives, was largely expected to win the province’s 2007 election, until he pledged to extend public funding to all religious schools. That promise proved deeply unpopular, even with his party’s base. The Angus Reid poll suggests that lesson can be broadly applied. It found 51 per cent oppose funding of Christian schools, and the level of opposition soars from 68 per cent to 75 per cent for all other religions. On even hotter-button religious issues, opposition is overwhelming. Only 23 per cent would allow veiled voting, and just three per cent Islamic sharia law—an even lower level of support than the eight per cent who would allow polygamy. There’s substantial sympathy for recognizing religious holidays, 45 per cent, but a solid majority still opposes the idea.

Leaders of religious groups contacted by Maclean’s commonly said their impression is that urban attitudes are more open, especially in Toronto and Vancouver—huge magnets for immigrants. Yet familiarity does not appear to be a reliable predictor of tolerance or acceptance. The Sikh community is prominent on the West Coast, but only 28 per cent of British Columbians surveyed reported a favourable impression of Sikhism. That was well below the figures in provinces where Sikhs are far less numerous, like neighbouring Alberta, where 47 per cent reported a favourable opinion of Sikhism, or Ontario, where Sikhism was rated favourably by 35 per cent.

Still, many advocates for Islamic and Sikh groups optimistically tout fostering personal contact—the sort of bonds that grow into friendships—as the key to creating acceptance of that religion. “The more that people have interactions with Muslims,” said Gardee from the Council on American-Islamic Relations Canada, “the more favourable an opinion they have of Muslims.”

To try to assess the extent and impact of friendships between Canadians of different faiths, Angus Reid asked, “Do you personally have any friends who are followers of any of these religions or not?” Not surprisingly, given that seven out of 10 Canadians identify themselves as Catholic or Protestant, the vast majority, 89 per cent, said they have Christian friends. Less predictably, given that only two per cent of the population follows Islam, fully 32 per cent of respondents claimed they have a Muslim friend. Only 16 per cent nationally reported having Sikh friends, but 36 per cent of British Columbians do. Across Canada, 45 per cent reported having Jewish friends, from a high of 61 per cent in Ontario to a low of 20 per cent in Quebec.

Digging into that data, Angus Reid checked to see if those who claimed to have friends of a particular religion tended to view that faith more positively. There is a correlation. Among those who said they don’t have any Muslim friends, a mere 18 per cent reported that their opinion of Islam is generally favourable. But among those who said they do have Muslim friends, 44 per cent had a favourable opinion of Islam.

For all other religions, well over half of the pool of people who have friends of a certain faith view that faith favourably: for example, 63 per cent of those with Sikh friends view Sikhism favourably, compared with just 23 per cent of those without Sikh friends. And 76 per cent of Canadians with Jewish friends are favourably disposed toward Judaism, while only 34 per cent of people with no Jewish friends have a favourable opinion of Judaism.

Beyond personal contact with adherents of different religions, there’s the question of whether Canadians really know much about what the various faiths profess. Asked about their level of knowledge, 86 per cent said they have a “good basic understanding” of Christianity, compared to just 32 per cent who make the same claim regarding Islam, 18 per cent for Hinduism, 12 per cent for Sikhism, 32 per cent for Buddhism and 40 per cent for Judaism. In fact, it’s a stretch to imagine that a third of Canadians really have a solid grounding in Islam. Or, to express that skepticism another way, is it likely that Canadians are much more likely to have a grasp of the basic tenets of Islam and Buddhism than of Sikhism and Hinduism?

More likely, the higher reported levels of “good basic understanding” actually represents superficial impressions gleaned from news reports, combined with images—both negative and positive—picked up from popular entertainment. Grenville pointed out that with common Old Testament roots, Christians, Muslims and Jews have a natural starting point for mutual understanding. As for Buddhism, he suggested the sixties cultural touchstones established good press. “Meditation, the Beatles, all these things that feel Buddhist, even if they’re not really Buddhist, feel friendly,” he said. “There haven’t been a lot of Buddhist wars.”

Muslims and Sikhs might well envy that vibe. But Buddhism is more than an odd case—it shows that even a fast-growing religion can avoid rubbing Canadians the wrong way. The Buddhist population increased 84 per cent between 1991 and the 2001 national census. Still, that left the total Buddhist population at only about 300,000, or around one per cent of the population—far too small for most Canadians to have anything beyond fleeting direct contact with the religion. Even so, Buddhism’s favourability rating of 57 per cent is four points higher than Judaism, a religion with much deeper roots in Canada. Buddhism was the only religion, including Christianity, for which more than half of people who said they don’t have a friend of that faith held a favourable opinion of it anyway.

Even among those who profess a broad acceptance of other religions, the prospect of one of your children marrying someone from an unfamiliar background can be a test of tolerance. On this delicate question, though, the poll suggests a paradox. Although only 28 per cent said they have a generally favourable opinion of Islam, fully 39 per cent declared that they would find it acceptable for one of their children to marry a Muslim. The pattern follows for the other minority faiths: Canadians surveyed were more likely to say they would approve of one of their kids marrying a follower of a given religion than tended to view that religion favourably. So while only 30 per cent view Sikhs favourably, 39 per cent wouldn’t object to a child marrying one. Similarly, 41 per cent have a favourable opinion of Hinduism, but 46 per cent would find their child’s marriage to a Hindu acceptable.

That pattern might signal an intriguing instinct to respect personal choice in marriage over misguided generalizations about religions. Still, the numbers hardly suggest open-armed tolerance: with respect to all three of Islam, Hinduism and Sikhism, less than half of those surveyed said they would find it acceptable for one of their children to marry a follower of those religions. For the marriage question, the results again suggest the usual stratification: Christianity is by far most widely accepted, followed by Judaism and Buddhism, with Islam, Hinduism and Sikhism facing the most negative feelings. A resounding 83 per cent would accept a child marrying a Christian, 53 per cent a Buddhist, and 56 per cent a Jew.

Overall, the findings suggest minority religions aren’t getting a fair shake from the majority. But there remain legitimate questions, even misgivings, about the relationship between mainstream believers and fringe extremists. Outsiders, including journalists, sometimes have trouble gauging how many Sikhs support groups that have sometimes resorted to terrorism in their quest to carve a separate state out of India. Earlier this month, for instance, portraits of the assassins of former Indian prime minister Indira Gandhi were reportedly on display in Surrey, B.C., at celebrations of Vaisakhi, the birth of Sikhism, and the images even appeared on T-shirts. Palbinder Shergill responds to questions about this sort of issue by making the simple, but fundamental, point that not everything a particular Sikh espouses should reflect on Sikhism as a whole.

Muslim groups also face a minefield of image challenges, which often flow from international affairs rather than domestic life. Gardee admits, for example, his organization’s campaign urging the federal government to bring home Omar Kahdr might convey the wrong impressions to some Canadians. After all, Khadr, the Canadian being held by the U.S. at the Guantánamo Bay detention facility, is the son of Ahmed Said Khadr, who was an al-Qaeda financier before he was killed in a gun battle in Pakistan in 2003. Other members of the Khadr family have made outrageous public comments. “Yes, some of the things his family have said have been troubling and outright disturbing,” Gardee said. “But as a Canadian citizen he still has rights. He’s a Canadian citizen and he’s a Muslim. That puts him squarely within our mandate to deal with.”

The problem of how to project a moderate face of Islam to a wider Canadian public is a pressing challenge. Within disparate Muslim communities—and the religion is anything but monolithic—the nature of mosque leadership is a subject of sometimes fierce debate. In fact, that argument is currently raging at Ottawa’s largest mosque, just a few minutes drive west of Parliament Hill. An imam recruited last year from Egypt to preach at the mosque is regarded by some who pray there as not fluent enough in English and too out of touch with modern Canadian society for the job. Others say he needs more time to find his place.

Karim Karim, a communications professor at Carleton University in Ottawa, recently released a report based on extensive surveys and focus group sessions in Canada, the U.S. and Britain that found Muslims in all three countries yearn for imams who better understand the West. “There was a lot of admiration for leaders who were engaging in issues of youth, poverty, employment, women’s issues,” Karim told Maclean’s, “rather than just knowing the theology and being able to recite the Quran.”

Perhaps a new generation of Muslim leaders more attuned to Canadian sensibilities can help bridge the obvious gaps in understanding. Karim points to negative connotations that have built up around a handful of loaded terms. According to him, sharia is a “very malleable, very diverse” set of ethics and values about leading a Muslim life—not a rigid legal code. He describes a fatwa as an “informed opinion by a learned scholar”—not a death edict. And Karim says most Muslims think of jihad as “a daily struggle to be a good Muslim.” But he adds, “It would be disingenuous on my part to say that, no, the other side does not exist. It does exist—the taking up of arms for a cause of justice.”

His willingness to try to explain details, convey nuances, even underline contradictions—it all suggests that Karim craves dialogue on a level the Angus Reid poll suggests too few Canadians are ready for. Even Grenville, who has long experience tracking all sorts of opinions, finds the landscape of attitude toward unfamiliar faiths bleak. “This runs counter to all we espouse,” he said. “We need to face up to the reality of it.” No doubt leaders of the fast-growing, little-understood religious minorities need to consider the image they project. But the rest of Canadians might try a little soul-searching, too. For a country that often boasts of modern identity based on acceptance of diversity, this poll suggests that’s still a goal to strive toward rather than an achieved reality.

Angus Reid’s online poll was conducted from April 14 to April 15, 2009. The margin of error is +/- 3.1 per cent, 19 times out of 20. The results were statistically weighted for education, age, gender and region to ensure a sample representative of the adult population of Canada.

http://www2.macleans.ca/2009/04/28/what-canadians-think-of-sikhs-jews-christians-muslims/ printed on Jul 22, 2009

One comment posted on the MacLean's site is

Maclean’s John Geddes has provided a balanced and interesting delineation of the Angus Reid online poll. Islam, in particular, has been getting much negative attention since 911, much of it justified, if one look at the rabid, extremist Muslim factions. Sikhs also have been involved in extremist acts; the Air India affair being the worst example. Tamils, though practically “inventing” suicide attacks, have had less impact on Canadian society.

It is unfortunate that new Canadians bring their origin countries conflicts with them here, especially when it leads to violence in their adoptive country. It does seem that the current crop of immigrants, especially those with strong ethnic and religious connections, have more difficulty accepting and adjusting to the values of their host county, than did earlier arrivals. The extremist behaviour displayed by some groups, reflected in some youth and a few families such as the Khadr clan, is causing damage to the Muslim image everywhere, and one can fault, to a degree, the moderate Muslim community for not taking a more vocal and firm stance against the few recalcitrant extremists among them.

However, one need not be a historian to know that these problems have always been with us, in one form or another. For example, Irish Fenians caused much conflict and consternation both in Canada and the United States, including physical attacks and the assassination of a member of the Canadian parliament and former sympathiser, Thomas D’Arcy McGee, in 1868. The Irish have maintained a strong Irish cultural identity over the years, but no one would suggest today that they have failed to adapt to Canadian society.

It is unfortunate that extreme tribalism, both of the political/social and the religious mode, is allowed to prevail in our society, but it is difficult to separate the wheat from the chaff. The same churches, temples, synagogues and mosques that serve as a support system for new arrivals, can also act as an incubator for extremism. We must always be vigilant in ferreting out the lunatic fringes, but also be mindful that given time, the greater good for our society will persevere. It did in the past, and it will do so in the future. Our ship of state is built for stormy weather, and behind the clouds the sun is still shining.


Monday, March 09, 2009

PlainViews Article

This article is from Plainviews.org. A newsletter for chaplains out of the U.S.

Taming the Cell Phone — Benefits and Burdens in the Critical Care Setting

Rev. Peggy Muncie

They buzz, they beep, and they sing our favorite songs. They tell us who is calling and sometimes even why. We need them to stay in instant touch. We live in the age of the cell phone, BlackBerry, mp3 phone and who knows what will come next.

We are a long way from the wild dreams of my pre-teen years when I imagined the best thing in the world would be a phone in our car when I could then pass the time with friends as I was toted on errands and also to inform them of the teen gossip I had witnessed. Back then a car phone was luxury personified.

In 1990, I won a car phone! Granted it was about the size of a shoe box, but I was a proud mobile communicator. The phone enabled me to keep tabs on home and hospital; my family and my co-workers could reach me in times of need. I even indulged in chatting hands-free with my friends on long drives.

In the last twenty years mobile technology has exploded. There is a device in nearly every pocket, spanning the generations from grade school to gerontology.

Recently, I’ve witnessed the impact of cellular communication in the critical care hospital setting. I am troubled by what I see happening. Does it bring people together and help family and friends support each other in time of crisis? Or is it a diversion and distraction from being present to the feelings of the moment?

What has led me to write about this? On a Friday evening at 11:50 PM, a twenty-seven-year-old Hispanic male was brought by friends to the ER. He had been the victim of a street corner shooting in the neighborhood and was bleeding profusely. He was intubated, stabilized and prepared for surgery.

My pager rang at 12:04 AM. “A young male was shot. He is on the way to surgery. It doesn’t look good. The family is gathering, please come and offer support.” When I arrived at the hospital at 12:35 AM, a crowd of 25 people was present.

Seeking out the key family members I inquired, “How may I help?”

“Find out what is going on,” was their response.

As the family held vigil, the progress of surgery was monitored. The crowd grew. Five more people, then three more, then ten more arrived. As the anxious hours passed there was never a time in meeting with, listening to and praying alongside the growing family that there was NOT the buzz of a BlackBerry or jingle of a cell phone.

At 3:15 AM, the surgical resident arrived and asked me to escort the significant persons to the ICU waiting lounge, where the attending surgeon wanted to share the patient’s status. Even in the small square of the elevator the three key women were fielding cellular calls.

In the ICU lounge the surgical team painted a very critical and guarded picture. He was out of surgery. “The bleeding was nearly impossible to control. He required massive units of blood, as the bullet’s path injured a major artery. The next 12 hours are critical. In a few minutes he will be ready for you to see him,” said the surgeon. Prayer and hope-filled tension permeated the room; yet, so did the sound of the cell phone’s omnipresent ring spreading the anxious news.

Soon the family was escorted to be bedside. When we entered, the bleeding was again uncontrolled, blood pressure was dropping, and a code was called. The family spoke words of love and encouragement and prayed to the Almighty for life to be sustained. Still the noise of the cell phones were there among the commands of the code and the unique sounds of the ICU at 3:45 AM.

God and the patient heard the words of encouragement and love; yet, the random violence of the streets prevailed; life left this young man at 4:17 AM. A child of five was now fatherless.

The lead surgeon with compassion and sensitivity shared the message, “Your son and your husband has died. We were not able to save his life. We offered him everything we knew. We are extremely sorry. Please let us know if there is anything we can do.” Tears, shouts, sobs, the physical expressions of painful disbelief and grief overwhelmed this small room. So did the sound of the cell phone.

The family then poured into the room to spend time, to have their personal farewell, to come and see, to touch and feel, to know that in the last few hours a brother, a cousin, a godchild, a stepchild, a buddy, a childhood companion, a friend, had died. The family and friends came in twos and threes, in fives and sixes and as they came, they called and text messaged others. For two hours the mourners came to turn their disbelief into the reality of mourning. By 6:30 AM, there were probably about 100 persons bidding him goodbye.

How did the news travel so fast? What brought so many family, friends and neighbors to the hospital? What was this instrument of connection? What was it that persistently permeated the tears and wails of grief? What was it that drove family from the intensity of the moment to the sound of the familiar? The Cell. The BlackBerry. That was it. How do we tame this beast so it does not to draw those we care for from the intensity of the moment?

On planes, in movie theaters, in spas, in houses of worship, we silence our cellular devices. We stay present to the moment. In this practice of ministry the cell phone and the dilemma it presents is a phenomena that is encroaching on being pervasive.

This is a call I issue to my colleagues: Is it right to tame this technology at times such as these? Where lays the answer between the benefit and the burden of this means of instant communication in the critical care setting? How do we as caregivers help establish policy that keeps loved ones in the present and yet allows those who need to be informed and in touch to do so?
Rev. Peggy Muncie is an ordained Episcopal priest and has been a board certified chaplain since 1984. Her breadth of ministry includes campus, long-term care, aging, acute-care hospital, and outpatient chaplaincy. She is currently a staff chaplain at St. Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital Center in the New York City area, a HealthCare Chaplaincy partner.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Paraskevidekatriaphobia

paraskevidekatriaphobia Quite the word eh?
From a 2007 article in the Vancouver Sun,





No, it's not a fear of long words -- it means being afraid of Friday the 13th

Nicholas Read
Vancouver Sun
Friday, April 13, 2007

It's a word we in the media like to trot out today: paraskevidekatriaphobia [pronounced pair-uh-skee-vee-dek-uh-tree-uh-FOH-bee-uh] -- the excessive, and sometimes morbid fear of Friday the 13th.
We like it, first, because it's such an impressive-sounding word -- it takes some doing to make all those syllables trip elegantly off the tongue -- and second, because irrational though the fear of a calendar date might sound, it is a bona fide phobia nonetheless, just like ablutophobia, the fear of washing or bathing, lachanophobia, the fear of vegetables, and soceraphobia, the fear of one's parents-in-law.
However, because "irrational" is a word that implies judgment, it's not a word used by professionals who treat phobias. (Especially, they add, given that some phobias can make sense. Think, for example, how valuable a fear of snakes and scorpions was in hunter/gatherer times when one misplaced step could mean death.) What matters to them is whether the phobia, rational or not, impedes the sufferer's ability to live normally.
"If someone is afraid of snakes, and he lives in Ireland where there are no snakes, it's not very serious," says Dr. Mark Watling, a psychiatrist and author, with psychologist Martin Antony, of the book, Overcoming Medical Phobias: How to Conquer Fear of Blood, Needles, Doctors and Dentists. But if you're a diabetic with a debilitating fear of needles, you're in trouble. You're not alone.
Watling, who practises out of the Anxiety Treatment and Research Centre in Hamilton, estimates as many as 13 per cent of people have, to some extent, a fear of things medical.
Sometimes that fear will be so pronounced it will result in panic attacks, and for people with a serious medical condition, that, literally, could be a matter of life and death.
"Certainly there are people who are so afraid of needles that they will put off getting blood work that needs to be done," Watling said in an interview. "But it's when they reach a point like that in their lives that they come to our clinic."
Why such phobias develop is a matter of debate. Genetics is sometimes thought to be partly responsible -- think of those atavistic fears of snakes and spiders -- though it's not clear how much of a fear is inherited and how much is learned. More likely most phobias are born of accidentally associating something otherwise benign with something unpleasant.
Maybe, says Watling, a person's first immunization was terribly painful. Or maybe a person's parents are afraid of needles, so the fear will be exaggerated in the child. It's really hard to say, he adds. No one can draw a definitive conclusion.
Certainly Julianne Lee, a kindergarten teacher in south Surrey, has no explanation for her fear of rats and mice; she just knows she's terrified of them.
"It started when I was 12," she says. "I went blackberry picking in Steveston in Richmond and I stepped on a piece of wood and out came this rodent. I think it was a rat or a mouse. And as soon as I saw it, I remember not being able to breathe, and screaming and screaming like the world was closing in."
And she still feels that way to this day.
If one of her three children ever were to bring home a rat or mouse, she doesn't know what she'd do.
"If they ever touched a mouse or a rat, I think I would be hysterical," she says.
If she were invited to dinner at the home of someone who kept a mouse as a pet, she wouldn't go. She'd never stay in a youth hostel because in her mind they're breeding grounds for mice, and she won't ever set foot in Stanley Park's petting zoo. Never.
"I'd rather be in a room with 10 snakes than one mouse," is how she puts it.
Curiously, when Jerilyn Ross, now a clinical social worker in Washington, D.C. and the CEO of the Anxiety Disorders Association of America, developed her fear of heights, it was on one of the most magical nights of her life.
She was in her 20s, in Salzburg during the Mozart Festival, and she was dancing "with a Prince Charming" on a verandah overlooking the city, which that night was bathed in a kind of fairytale glow.
"I remember dancing and thinking 'what an extraordinary night'," she recalls 30 years later. "And then all of a sudden out of the blue I had this sensation that something would happen to me -- that I was going to be pulled over the edge or pushed over or something."
Perhaps, she now says with the cool clarity of someone who's studied phobias, it was the extreme emotional intensity of the experience -- the twinkling lights, the glorious music, the handsome partner -- that triggered what would become an affliction lasting years. She can't honestly say.
What she can say is that for almost four years, before she finally sought help for it, it affected every aspect of her life. It prevented her from seeking a better job -- she was afraid the interviews might take place in a skyscraper (a good bet since she lived in New York) -- and accepting all kinds of invitations for the same reason.
"My fear was that I was going to lose control -- to run to a window and do something crazy. Since then I've learned it was a misfiring of my body's fight-or-flight response."
What saved her -- indeed what saves most people affected by a phobia, regardless of its genesis -- is something called exposure therapy, a kind of psychological immunization that, like using allergens to treat allergies, uses the very thing the person is afraid of to help him or her get over it. In other words, to face one's fear head-on, but in a gradual, controlled and above all, safe environment.
For Ross, that meant going with her therapist to the sixth floor of a building one week, to the seventh the next, and to the eighth the week after that. Each time she would be afraid, she recalls, but each time -- with time -- she would learn to manage and control that fear and move on it from it.
It took months of practice, but she finally beat the phobia altogether. Recently, she and her husband bought a condo in Florida with floor-to-ceiling windows on the 16th floor.
What's important, says Steve Taylor, a psychologist practising out of the University of B.C.'s psychiatry department, is that the therapy be done slowly, methodically and preferably under the care of someone who really knows what he's doing.
"You can try it to do it on your own," he says, "but it's best to do it gradually. Too often people with phobias will try and push themselves too hard."
No matter the source of the phobia -- rats, cats, dinner conversation (deipnophobia), music (melophobia), or the colour purple (porphyrophobia) -- the idea is to expose the sufferer to it steadily and gradually to the point that eventually the phobia is all but wiped out or at least endurable.
For example, while he was still practising in Australia, Taylor once had a patient so afraid of spiders that simply seeing a picture of a dot with eight radiating strokes around it caused her panic. But at the end of a course of exposure therapy, she was a different woman -- "going out and catching them in a jar and then having them run across the floor in front of her," Taylor recalls.
For cases of certain kinds of social phobias -- that is, the fear of being in situations where one is under the scrutiny of others -- dating, job interviews and suchlike -- sometimes the same kinds of drugs used to treat depression will be used to treat the phobia, he says.
"Nobody knows for sure why they work," he adds, "but serotonin is thought to play a role in regulating emotions, and it's thought that somehow this neurotransmitter is de-regulated in people who develop a social phobia."
Sometimes, says Watling, something called "flooding" is tried as well. "This is exposing you to your worst-case scenario right off the bat," he explains.
In other words, this would involve, say, placing someone with a fear of cats in a crowded cat shelter. Needless to say, it's a drastic measure that is never prescribed lightly.
"It can be effective sometimes," Watling says, "but it's not effective if you scare the person out of ever having treatment again."
That's why for most people, he, Taylor and Ross concur, a gradual introduction to whatever it is that's prompting the fear is the best way.
In fact, for about 95 per cent of people who seek relief from their phobias, that kind of easy-as-you-go approach will do the trick."The exposures are designed to induce a manageable amount of anxiety -- nothing is supposed to be a surprise," Watling said.

Sunday, June 01, 2008

God needs an image makeover... article

This is an interesting article I found in a newspaper.

The many names (and images) of god
Douglas Todd
Vancouver Sun

God needs an image makeover -- and there's no better place to start than with God's name.

Whenever someone mentions "God" in Canada, conversations crash to a halt. Everyone gets nervous. And it's not just from Canadian politeness.

It's because most people mistakenly think they know what the other is talking about when they say "God." Typically, they assume the "God" in question is a stern, patriarchal monarch in the sky.

Most Canadians, whether they consider themselves religious or not, seem stuck with the limited picture of God they had when they were early teenagers dropping out of church, synagogue, mosque or temple.

However, the concept of "God" is endlessly complex and nuanced and divinity deserves a more thoughtful name, or names.

"God" is an exaggerrated version of words such as "love," "truth," "spirituality" and "post-modern;" that is, "God" is a rich and contentious word, laden with multiple meanings.

We need to use fresher names for God. Just as people change their names to highlight different aspects of themselves -- such as when hard-driving "Priscilla" becomes more masculine "Kerry" or aboriginal "Jim George" becomes "Thundercloud" -- different names for "God" highlight different divine identities.

Through history there have been hundreds of names for "God."

Some half-decent contemporary names are "the divine," "spirit," "the holy," "the one," "the transcendent" and "the sacred" (all of which can be capitalized, depending on preference.)

The process of rebranding "God" brings to mind how Muslims long ago developed 99 "beautiful" names for "God" (or "Allah" (in Arabic) to capture the full glory and wonder of the transcendent.

I'd guess many Canadians stereotype Muslims as thinking about God mainly as a tough, vengeful dictator. But some of the 99 names for God include "The Compassionate," "The Pardoner," "The Majestic," "The Bountiful," "The Watchful," "The Wise," "The Giver of Life," "The Hidden," "The Unifier" and "The Light."

Jews have found a good way to deal with the unfortunate misunderstandings that can come from the name, "God:" Many choose simply not to use the word. Instead, they'll write "G-d."

This is a useful and humble approach, which reminds me of how U.S. geochemist Rustom Roy called for the complete eradication of the word God. He suggested integrating science and religion and replacing the word God with ****, which to him denotes the "cloud of essence."

At the same time, Jews also developed dozens of names for God in the Hebrew Bible (which Christians know as the Old Testament), including "Adonai," "Elohim," "El Shaddai" and, intriguingly, "I am what I am becoming."

In medieval times some Jews cleverly called God "The Seven," combining seven titles for the deity in one.

Although the Catholic and Protestant churches have for centuries tended to stress "Lord," "Almighty" and "Father" as names for God, Jesus and his followers adopted many others.

Influenced by Jewish and Greek tradition, their names for God included "Creator," "the Mountain," "Abba (daddy)," "the Word," "Logos," "Yahweh," "Sophia" and "the Light." Many Christians have recently been referring to God as "Redeemer" and "Sustainer."

As for Hindus, many name the supreme cosmic spirit as "Brahman." Others highlight personal manifestations of God in "Vishnu" or "Krishna."

Sikhs may speak of God as "Akal Purakh," meaning timeless primal being. In Chinese folk religion, God is often referred to as "Zhu" (Lord in Heaven) or "Shen" (spirit). Taoists talk about the ultimate as "the Tao" or "The Way."

Even Buddhists have something to say about divinity. Although most Theravadan Buddhists do not believe in a Creator, many Pure Land Buddhists give "Amithaba" eternal powers similar to those ascribed to God.

In the book, Philosophers Speak of God, edited by Charles Hartshorne and William Reese, philosophers reveal some of their many names for divinity -- including "elan vital (life force)," "the call forward," "divine intelligence," "the lure" and the "ordering principle."

All of which goes to show the name "God" is never to be taken for granted.

Next time someone drops the name into a conversation, pro or con, ask them which "God" they're talking about.

And don't let them off the hook by allowing them to argue "no one should try to define God because the transcendent is beyond full comprehension."

While it's true defining "God" will always be elusive and unprovable, it's a cop-out to not take a stab at it -- perhaps especially when someone is trying to reject belief in "God."

Asking people what they mean when they say "God" will put them on the spot and make them think, which is usually a good thing.

What's in a name? When it comes to "God," quite a lot.

To reach Douglas Todd, go to this blog at www.vancouversun.com/blogs

Saturday, May 31, 2008

Bad Death

From Plainviews a journal about pastoral care and practice within Canada.


Bad Death

I could have done without the juicy comments about your sex lives.
Please know that it has nothing to do with my role as chaplain.
On the other hand I liked seeing the greeting on your door:
“Religious people go away!” each time I arrived.

Looking at life through your grey-colored glasses
required all I had to give
And little of what I was trained to provide.
I was always on notice, on borrowed time, on Holy Ground.

You see I’m called to be with people I wouldn’t invite to dinner;
It’s my job to just show up for a conversation.
So we talked nothing of religion but lots culture:
New York, Cape Cod, Las Vegas, security detail and prize fights you worked,
anything but the estrangement you felt so deep in your bones.
You wanted it to end, and cleverly.

After my visits I smelled like a tavern.
It took a plentiful misting of Febreze
and a night hanging outside
to put my clothes right.
Residue of my time with you came out of pants and shirts
but not out of my mind and spirit.

You smoked like a machine, and smoked near one, too.
We both knew that it was reckless; O2 and white ash don’t mix.
Now your memory is part of me
Your burning house and then your legitimate cremation
Refining fires for my ministry of understanding.

Who would have thought final healing would cost so much?
Neither Saul nor Judas had it in them to choose ice or fire
But your goal may have been the same,
to end despair and sadness, the tragic cargo which can erode any
but the most stubborn embrace of gratitude, faith, hope.

I confess now that I wanted for you
a kind of reformation called “good” death
I may have let you down.
Sorry for getting religious.

Recently I had one of the toughest pastoral encounters of my ministry: the disturbing death of an at-home hospice patient. I’ve worked as a chaplain in many settings including an inner city ER, an industrial workplace and pediatric oncology. After this death, however, I found myself challenged by a series of feelings: distress, guilt, failure, and also longing.

I’d met with the hospice patient in his home for six months. “Mike” was outspoken in his distaste for religion and the people who speak of it. Nonetheless, he let me “in the door,” both literally and figuratively; our contact was weekly for the last six weeks before he died. He was an intriguing personality and younger than most hospice patients. More complex, too! Time with Mike was different than with many of the more routine patients on my census. He was a challenge to engage but over time we built trust. I looked forward to seeing him then and long to see him since his death. I wonder about Mike’s choices, his pain, and now, his peace. Whether his was an intentional or accidental death is very much a question in my mind. That is what prompts my feelings of distress, guilt, and failure. I think Mike’s was a “bad” death, but I am still processing this conclusion.

I want to know more about “bad” death. What is it exactly? Are there certain key components? Is there more than one kind of bad death (other than those ending in “cide”) and most importantly, what makes us think that our definition is accurate? Might the dying person (should he or she be able to tell us) have another view? The above poem was my attempt to get to the heart of my feelings on the matter. I am still unpacking the event and its poetic record. I want to balance my bias with some of the genuine affection and self-definition that were clearly part of our encounters.

I had an investment in promoting Mike’s “good” death. It wasn’t apparent just how much investment until after the fact. I hold out hope for and try to promote the best deaths that my patients and their circumstances allow. This is hardly unique; what’s more most of us have thought about what constitutes a “good” death. One of my colleagues speaks of a dying whereby a person leaves this world “at peace and in love.”[1] Hospice stresses the engagement of “the four things that matter most”[2] or a patient’s display of “final gifts”[3] as indicators of a better death. Recently I heard an artist who creates portraits of the dying refer to death as “the final healing.”[4] I like that. I hope I can muster such self-perception as I take my last breaths. But what constitutes a good death isn’t what interests me just now.

I’d be interested in hearing from my professional colleagues about their take on a so-called “bad”death. I’d like to put the following questions to PlainViews readers: If you have witnessed a “bad” death what did it look like and how did it leave you feeling? How clear are you in your distinctions of “bad” and “good” deaths? What are your projections and judgments, be they doctrinal, cultural or political? I look forward to your feedback as is convenient and HIPPA appropriate.

Footnotes:

[1] This phrase is courtesy of my friend and colleague, Tim Ledbetter, D. Min, BCC.

[2] Byock, Ira, The Four Things that Matter Most, proposes four areas of engagement between a patient and her/his loved ones that might ensure a good death: forgiveness (I forgive you, do you forgive me?), gratitude (thank you), affection (I love you) and farewell (good-bye)

[3] Callahan, Maggie and Kelley, Patricia, Final Gifts: Understanding the Special Awareness, Needs and Communications of the Dying, suggests that a host of psychological, physical and metaphysical traits are exhibited by terminally ill patients in the weeks and days preceding death. While neither “good” or “bad” in nature these traits together constitute a “near death awareness,” (NDA) and perhaps a more predictable, less frightening death. (see www.bookrags.com/studyguide-final-gifts/)


Rev. Kirk M. Ruehl, BCC, is a chaplain with Hospice at the Chaplaincy in Kennewick, WA, where he has served for five years. Prior to this he was a chaplain at Deaconess Medical Center in Spokane, WA; Seamen's Church Institute in Port Newark, NJ and Eger Health Care Center in Staten Island, NY. He has a wife and two boys, enjoys poetry and hiking around the Northwest with the Boy Scouts.

Friday, December 21, 2007

A house should be an expression of your soul, an extension of your personality

This article give an interesting idea.. that our home is to reflect our soul -- who we are -- is to be a place where we LIVE, versus show off.

Does your home reflect the way you live?

A house should be an expression of your soul, an extension of your personality

FRIDAY dec 21, 2007 -- Kelly Deck


I have a recurring dream: The world stops moving and everything freezes in time. Everyone but me disappears and, miraculously, I'm free to roam, home to home, revelling in the exploration of people and the spaces they create.

Now, ask yourself this: If I stole into your home, what would I learn about you? How would your home describe the way you live, the things you love? Is it a unique expression of you and your family? Dare I ask: Does it have soul?

Many homes do not. These days, the average interior is unfortunately (and unnecessarily) suburban -- that is, homogenous, bland and conservative.

So, at the risk of offending, let me describe to you what you probably think when you walk into one of these homes.

Hmmm, this is pretty good: glossy hardwood floors, warm neutral finishes and ivory crown mouldings. In the living room a beige sofa, chocolate leather chairs, a faux Persian rug, an ottoman, dark wood side tables, glass lamps and a silver fireplace mirror. Pale blue and green cushions.

"Hmm," you say to yourself. "Nice house."

Nice?

Nice is, at best, a middling virtue. But it's not wow! It's not ahhhhh or yummm, or anything else you'd say in a moment of ineffable appreciation. Nice is how you describe your best friend's plain boyfriend. Your home has more potential.

A house becomes a home when it's filled with authenticity, history and personality -- all of which are unique to you. Don't rush -- these qualities develop over time. The defining aspect of a home is that it's a work in progress. It's an entity that breathes and lives.

Remember also what a home is not: a showroom, a formula or a storehouse for items that signify status.

Let's start with the idea of authenticity. Ask yourself: How do I spend my time here? What hours of the day am I at home? What do I do in this time? What do I need to enjoy these tasks and experiences fully?

Me, I'm at home evenings and weekends. My days pulse with the lives and needs of clients and staff, and so, in my downtime, I require a quiet, restful retreat. I read, listen to music, and watch TV, so lots of comfortable seating is important. Most weekends, I have a friend or two over for dinner, and we never sit at a table.

For me, home means relaxation and ease. Nothing is precious: feet can rest anywhere, and no surface is inhospitable to a glass of wine. The informality of my home reflects one basic assumption: that my friends and our time together are more important than the items that occupy my space.

In contrast, I have many clients who love to formally entertain. These are people who have glamorous and sometimes extravagant tastes. They favour lacquered finishes, crystal chandeliers, and dramatic accessories. I revel in the play of designing for the privileged and their well-heeled needs, but their experience is distinct from my own.

Next, let's talk history. It's difficult for people to properly revere the historic in a country where few buildings are more than a hundred years old. I find our Western indifference to history disheartening. Culturally, we constantly pursue newness. Our homes are filled with the trendy, the poorly manufactured, and the designed-to-be-obsolete. As a result, our spaces often feel contrived and impersonal.

Don't get me wrong: We don't need to be neo-classicists. I love modern interiors. But people, places, and things have their own unique and intimate history, and a home should reflect that.

Incorporate family heirlooms or antiques into your furnishing plan. Paired with contemporary or mid-century modern furnishings, aged pieces can make a dynamic addition to the home. Consider painting or lacquering the pieces if their original finish lacks lustre.

The patina of weathered or distressed surfaces creates a reference to age and history, without the actual presence of them. Oxidized metal, chiselled stone, and earthenware ceramics are materials that bring sensuousness to any space.

Most importantly, look to your own history--to the objects you've saved, to the items you cherish and pack away. Is there a way to celebrate them in your home? Such items create a connection between you and your home. They're wonderful pieces upon which to build collections or create decorative vignettes.

This brings me to my final point: personality.

What is your favourite item of clothing? What colour do you like best? What is your favourite food, wine, or dessert? Where have you travelled? Why did you go? What is your most cherished memory? At what time of year do you feel most alive?

In creating a space that's an authentic expression of you, these are not arbitrary questions. They are your inspiration.

Here's what I mean: My favourite shirt is linen, my favourite colour white. My comfort food is Indian and I prefer to eat it at the beach. I like spicy, earthy wines, and I'll always take a mango over a fancy dessert. In addition to Canada, I've lived in England, New Zealand and Australia, and I've travelled in Europe, the United States, Mexico and Costa Rica. New York is my favourite city and summer is the season in which I feel most alive.

Could a beige sofa, chocolate leather chairs, and the rest of the standard kit ever be an expression of me?

And you?

So, here's my appeal: Forgo safety and predictability, unless, of course, those are the adjectives you'd use to describe yourself. Create a home infused with your personality and inspired by your needs. Do this by identifying what you love and then celebrating the colours, textures, and experiences that move you. By your labours, you'll impress yourself and all those you welcome into your home.

TIPS:

Assess your needs: Think how you need your home to function to support your lifestyle. Shape it accordingly.

Don't forget history: Incorporate furnishings, finishes and objects that have history and texture. They'll add visual tension, sensuousness and warmth to your contemporary home.

Celebrate you: Make a list of your favourite ideas, memories and experiences. Then collect a series of your favourite objects. Collectively, these ideas and objects make up a "pallet" that will inspire a unique look for your home.

Experiment: Don't be afraid to try different groupings and furniture configurations -- move furnishings from one room to the next, try colours and textures together that you're uncertain about. The only way to learn is by trying.

Don't aim for perfection: The imperfect, the weathered, the delightfully mismatched and the tarnished can all add character to any home.