My summer “job” has been something called CPE. CPE is Clinical Pastoral Education. Perhaps I should have mentioned this at the beginning of the summer, thus preventing a ton of questions and odd looks from people who have no clue. For many of us who are seeking a career in ministry, CPE is a requirement. This requirement is often done for one unit of credit although if one wants to go on and do chaplaincy as a career then one has to do upwards of 4 units of credit.
There are 4 hospitals that support this program. Common knowledge seems to say that these hospitals (Baptist, St. Thomas, Vanderbilt, and McKendree Village) fight like cats and dogs. Apparently they seem to see the need for pastoral care in “clinical” settings. Clinical meaning hospital or nursing home/assisted living settings.
There are 7 of us who participate in this summer program. We meet every Monday and Wednesday from 8-12 and the rest of the time we are working in our clinical settings. 5 of us are from Vanderbilt Divinity School and 2 fellas (and they are fellas) are from New Orleans attending a Catholic Seminary there. We get along pretty well and it has been good to see each other in “work” situations and not just in class. We struggle with our theology and how to best discuss how suffering affects the people we see every day. We struggle with our own “stuff”. I seem to be continuing to fight with my mother this summer. She has been dead now for 6 years. I love her but I am tired of her. : ) My classmates have been incredible. Some of us knew each other before. Now we know each other a lot. And we are safe with each other. There is a sense of having been through the fire. We have watched folks die before us. We have held people in their grief and we have laughed (really hard) at our incredible ability to step back and analyze what in the world we are doing.
I don’t want to go back to school. I have found what I want to do. But in usual catch 22 fashion, I have to go to school to do this. So I will. But I am not sure I will see things the same way now. I already hear scripture read (the Good Samaritan for instance) differently. The beatitudes have faces now. Mercy seems to have a name. I have enough fodder for a few sermons or more. And I have 4 more weeks to squeeze the life out of a program that I hope to be able to do more of…..although it will certainly be in a different setting.
We talked about the meaning of “shibboleth” in the office on Friday. Where else can I do that?! Or have a nurse cuss at you because you ASK them to do so.
Maybe one of these days.
There are 4 hospitals that support this program. Common knowledge seems to say that these hospitals (Baptist, St. Thomas, Vanderbilt, and McKendree Village) fight like cats and dogs. Apparently they seem to see the need for pastoral care in “clinical” settings. Clinical meaning hospital or nursing home/assisted living settings.
There are 7 of us who participate in this summer program. We meet every Monday and Wednesday from 8-12 and the rest of the time we are working in our clinical settings. 5 of us are from Vanderbilt Divinity School and 2 fellas (and they are fellas) are from New Orleans attending a Catholic Seminary there. We get along pretty well and it has been good to see each other in “work” situations and not just in class. We struggle with our theology and how to best discuss how suffering affects the people we see every day. We struggle with our own “stuff”. I seem to be continuing to fight with my mother this summer. She has been dead now for 6 years. I love her but I am tired of her. : ) My classmates have been incredible. Some of us knew each other before. Now we know each other a lot. And we are safe with each other. There is a sense of having been through the fire. We have watched folks die before us. We have held people in their grief and we have laughed (really hard) at our incredible ability to step back and analyze what in the world we are doing.
I don’t want to go back to school. I have found what I want to do. But in usual catch 22 fashion, I have to go to school to do this. So I will. But I am not sure I will see things the same way now. I already hear scripture read (the Good Samaritan for instance) differently. The beatitudes have faces now. Mercy seems to have a name. I have enough fodder for a few sermons or more. And I have 4 more weeks to squeeze the life out of a program that I hope to be able to do more of…..although it will certainly be in a different setting.
We talked about the meaning of “shibboleth” in the office on Friday. Where else can I do that?! Or have a nurse cuss at you because you ASK them to do so.
Maybe one of these days.
