Humanity as Divinity

March 18, 2006, was my first day of work at the Broward Program of Vitas Hospice. I was hired as the new chaplain for Team 145, a group of 17 individuals — a doctor, a social worker, six nurses, seven CNAs, team secretary, and the team manager. I had not met anyone on the team except the manager. So, I was little nervous waiting outside the meeting room, and the first person to greet me was Susan. Seeing me standing there alone and vulnerable, she approached me and asked: “Are you the new guy, I mean chaplain, who is joining our team?” I said yes, and we shook hands.

There was this knowing smile on Susan’s face, and I said to myself: “This is a safe place.”

I have identified three kinds of smiles during the first meeting between individuals. The first is called “nervous smile,” an awkward, uncomfortable smile because you don’t know the person. The second is called “cautious smile,” because the person is a stranger. The third is called a “déjà vu smile” which says: “I know this person and I like him.” I had never met Susan before, but at that moment, I felt as if I had known her for a long time. Our continued interactions and friendship for the next two and a half years proved just that.

The following day, I was sent to an assisted living facility where Susan worked, to “shadow” her and get familiarized with the facility and the patients. While she was taking me around, one of the residents approached her and asked: “Who is this young man with you today?”

Susan put her arm around me and said: “Oh, this is Paul, my new husband.” I was delighted. I enjoyed the pure innocence of that moment. I loved the openness and freedom of this woman whom I had met just 24 hours earlier.

Susan had a transparent quality to her personality. She had an uncanny ability to instantly connect with people through her beautiful smile, humorous words, and ability to meet at the level of sheer humanity. She did not pretend or wear any facade.

A year after I began working with her, Susan was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It was a difficult journey for her, but she endured the anxiety of the diagnosis, the agony of the chemo treatments, and her days as a hospice patient with a sense of dignified calm, rarely seen in such situations.

My relationship with Susan was ironic because she disagreed with everything I believed regarding God and religion. She told me straight out that she was an atheist. She thought that religion was man-made, that God did not exist, or had He existed, He didn’t care. When I talked about religious topics during team meetings, Susan would roll her eyes. When the team manager told her that she said a prayer for her every morning, Susan said that was just “crap.”

Every time I hugged her, I would whisper in her ears, “God bless you and I love you.” And she would say: “I understand the I love you part, but God blessing me? That is baloney.” “If God is so great, why is He blessing me with this cancer?” she asked.

Susan and I had many discussions about God, religion, and prayer. What Susan rejected was belief in a “theistic” God, an old man with a white beard separated from humans; someone who hears some prayers and ignores others, who blesses the chosen and punishes the wicked. I don’t believe in such a God either. When I talked to her about God as the “Universe” and prayer as “energy” she seemed to be open.

Susan did not assent to a set of beliefs, recite any creeds, or attend any temple, but she manifested “godly” qualities in her behavior. She may not have believed in the Holy Spirit, but she demonstrated what Christians call the “Fruit of the Spirit” in her life — love, peace, joy, patience, kindness and goodness.

One day when I visited her in the hospice unit, there was another visitor in the room. This is how she introduced us to each other: “Paul, this is Tony who I drink with, and Tony, this is Paul who I pray with.” And then she rolled her eyes.

Two weeks before her death, she asked me for a favor: “Would you speak at my funeral?” It was an honor and a blessing bestowed upon me and I kept that promise.

For two and a half years, I sat next to Susan during team meetings. When certain things happened in the meeting, Susan would poke me on the side or roll her eyes and I knew exactly what she meant.

This Catholic priest from India who is obviously religious, and a Jewish woman from New York who was anti-religion, connected beyond religion, beyond nationality, beyond color, and beyond man- made labels. We connected at the level of our common humanity.

I believe that humanity, at its best, is divinity!

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Ponder and Practice

> Is it possible that the “Holy Book” can be an obstacle to what the “Book” demands, i.e., loving others?

> What is your initial feeling when you meet somebody for the first time? Is it caution, suspicion or affection? Explore the origins of those feelings.

> Say a prayer in the morning to look at every person you meet that day with affectionate eyes.