What is in Kelvin's Head?

Pictures to think about #2

08/09/2014

There I was last week standing in the Basilica of San Vitale in Ravenna, staring up (as you do) at the stunning mosaics high up on the walls. The pictures are astonishing and I may get round to posting some of them online later.

My attention was distracted though by a small boy rushing backwards and forwards in front of the altar. Whilst everyone’s eyes were up towards the ceiling, he was staring intently down at the floor.

Backwards and forwards he went – to and fro. It took me a few moments to realise that there was a pattern to his movements. He alone in the place had realised that there was an old labyrinth laid into the floor right in front of the altar. He was following in the pathway right into the middle, at which point he ran off to find some other entertainment.

It is a fairly small labyrinth – about 12 feet wide and made more for small feet than my own feet. (Labyrinths – Young Church, hmmm…)

All the same, I started to walk it and soon found myself thinking about those whom I had brought with me on my travels in my mind. As a priest it is a kindness to your congregation to forget about most of them when you go away on holiday. Everyone needs time off and you can serve better when you get home if you have a rest for a while. All the same, some people linger in your mind and I found some of them with me as I travelled the circles in front of the altar. And those whom I think about from my own life too – the people I carry in my heart wherever I go, some of whom do the same for me and some of whom would be astonished to know they were being prayed for in a sixth century basilica in modern day Italy.

10 responses to “Guest Post: At Home Among the Dissenters – John McLuckie”

tom donald

03/10/2012

Are you really PAID by the NHS? Money that could pay for a nurse or a physiotherapist? You must be tremendously confident that your faith is meaningful if you are! I’m not sure if I envy that or not…

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1. Beth
  
  04/10/2012
  
  In most hospitals, there are hospital chapels and hospital chaplains. It isn’t a new or shocking thing. My experience has been that most of them do very good work, and are available for anyone from any religion who wishes to speak to them and don’t force themselves on the ones who prefer not to. The practice of medicine is about a lot more than just the physical, especially in a cancer hospital, and unless you want doctors to be the ones offering spiritual support (I don’t think I’d be that good at it, I don’t have enough hours in the day as it is, and, as my patients have to see me whether they subscribe to my religion or not, I think it can be inappropriate and intrusive), I’m quite happy for the NHS to pay someone who specialises in the area of spiritual support to fulfill that very real need.
  
  – Beth, who works for the NHS
  
  Reply
  1. Ruth
    
    04/10/2012
    
    Thank you Beth. I couldn’t have put it better.
    
    – Ruth, whose sister died in hospital not all that long ago
    
    Reply
2. Rosemary Hannah
  
  04/10/2012
  
  Agree with Beth, and …
  is this really a world where the big ideas about birth, death, love, hate, forgiveness, suffering should not be discussed? Where one can live and suffer and give birth and die without thinking about them? does not the very suggestion this should be so impoverish us every bit as much as as suffering and death can? And is certainty in any way necessary to enter such a discussion?
  
  Reply
  1. tom donald
    
    05/10/2012
    
    Interesting! My original question was about confidence… here’s one to test it a little more, today there’s a headline in the Guardian:
    ” NHS to axe cancer and heart experts. Charities and doctors warn that treatment of killer diseases will suffer as number of teams is cut”
    Yet according to the BBC the NHS is spending Â£40 million per annum on chaplains!
    Which means that chaplains must be VERY confident that this money is better spent on talk than treatment, or I’m sure they wouldn’t take it. Would they?
    By the way I was a nurse at Gartnavel Royal for many years. Never saw hide nor hair of the chaplain up there, although apparently, there was one!
    
    Reply
John MacBrayne

03/10/2012

What an excellent blog John has. Most interesting. Thanks for the link.

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Rosemary Hannah

05/10/2012

Um – as one with friends and family in the NHS I wonder how much of the money spent in the last weeks of a terminally-ill person’s life is well spent. Sometimes a great deal is spent on treatments which are hugely unpleasant and prolong life by weeks or months at best. I made a decision years ago that when (and given family history when is more likely than if) I find myself there I will ask very searching questions.

I won’t answer for John, but for myself… I am ‘tremendously confident’ that examining the questions around my faith is ‘meaningful’ and indeed essential. That is not at all the same thing as being sure my beliefs are right.

We have what is supposed to be a Health Service – something which promotes well-being. People are more complex than their conditions – and we all die one day. A great deal of money is spend on all kinds of things which make the lives of those in hospital better, because people cannot get through life-crises on medicine alone.

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tom donald

05/10/2012

I think that characterising cancer and heart disease treatment as terminal care is extremely depressing, and perhaps fifty years out of date. And the health service is there to promote well-being? I don’t think so, I think it’s to provide medical and para-medical care during illness..
Not that I don’t love chatting to a minister of religion, anytime. I do! But not on the NHS budget please! UNLESS…
Unless it’s been demonstrated in properly designed clinical trials that a visit from the chaplain is worth the cash. That’s the test for all the other expensive treatments we’re paying for!

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rosemary hannah

05/10/2012

I did not describe cancer and heart conditions as terminal. However I do expect to die one day.

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Ruth

07/10/2012

I’m not sure that the benefits to a patient from a visit from the chaplain could be usefully or accurately measured by ‘properly designed clinical trials’…. from a personal viewpoint I know that the last twelve weeks of my sister’s life (a young 62 year old with cancer and desperate to live) were made more bearable by the chaplain’s ability to help her cope with the sullen, spitefulness of too many of her nurses.

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