Post-Pandemic Pastoral Care
FROM THE RECTOR
I can tell that things are getting better because I have spent more time visiting people in the hospital lately. Fewer people from our parish have been there to see, but I have been able to get into the facility in ways that a few months ago I could not. For most of the pandemic, clergy visits were limited to end-of-life prayers, when one of us could go only once. Then, after vaccinations had become available, we were allowed to visit but only if requested by the patient and only during a one-hour window in the evening. Now, we are allowed in at anytime, but an important pre-pandemic tool has been eliminated—the denominational census.
Honestly, when I moved to Fayetteville, I was surprised that our hospital still provided pastoral visitors with a denominational census—a breakdown of all the people in the hospital by religious affiliation. When HIPAA, an important healthcare privacy law, was passed, hospitals could no longer tell people who was in their facility. You had to ask for a patient by name, and, unless you could recall the legal name of the person you wanted to visit, they would not give you a room number. The same is true for clergy except that, until the pandemic, patients who had voluntarily reported their religious affiliation would have their names shown on a list that was shared with whatever pastoral visitor came from that affiliation and asked for it.
In other words, until the pandemic, whenever we went to the hospital, we asked for a list of all the Episcopalians in the facility and were able to visit everyone on it. Our clergy made visits every day of the week, and, as long as you were on the list, you got a visit. During those visits, I met several former parishioners who had long ago left St. Paul’s and joined another church but had not updated their religious affiliation with the hospital. I saw people who still thought of themselves as parishioners but had not been to church in years. I renewed pastoral connections with people and families that had fallen away. I prayed with Episcopalians from places like Harrison and Bella Vista, who were not affiliated with St. Paul’s but who were delighted to receive prayers from an Episcopal priest.
Some of those visits were incredibly timely. I happened into the rooms of people who were facing critical decisions and were grateful for prayer. I came across families who were gathered at their loved one’s bedside as that person took her last breath. I spent time with people who lived alone and felt alone and were grateful for a few moments of companionship. Over the years, Suzanne has collected far more stories like that than I have. And, almost always, none of those people called the church and asked for a visit. They did not have to. Every day, as if because of some pastoral telepathic skill imparted in seminary, a member of the clergy just showed up to check on them.
These days, we only go to the hospital when we know that someone in the parish is there. Without a denominational census, we depend on you to call the church and tell us that you or someone you love is in the hospital. We are not able to wander the halls, knocking on every door and asking each patient whether they are an Episcopalian. I hope that the denominational census will come back. We continue to encourage the chaplaincy department to find a way to share it with us, but so far they have not. Regardless, I hope you will always take time to call the church and let us know how we can care for you.
During the pandemic, we have learned that the familiar patterns of staying connected sometimes fail us. A church as big as ours does not allow for one overarching web of pastoral connectivity. With 1500 households in our parish, there are too many people at St. Paul’s for the clergy to stay in touch with everyone. Instead, we care for each other within much smaller, overlapping, interconnected webs of pastoral care. When we see each other on Sunday mornings and in other gatherings throughout the week, we are able to share the needs we have discovered within our own smaller groups with the clergy and other people in the parish to make sure that everyone feels loved and cared for. When we are not able to see each other and spend time together, those pastoral touches disappear—not for lack of concern or effort but because the way we stay connected has broken down.
In a much smaller church, it feels like the clergy always know what is going on because there are fewer layers and links between each of us and everyone else in the parish. In a church like ours, unless you call us, clergy only know what you need when those needs have sifted down through several layers of relationship. When it came to hospital visits, however, the denominational census effectively helped our church function as if it were a tiny congregation—small enough for clergy to know everyone’s business. Without it, we depend on each other to bring those concerns to the community so that the community can respond. It may feel strange to call the church and ask for a visit, but I urge you to do so. There is nothing we would rather do than come and pray with you, but, unless you call us, we may not know that those prayers are needed.
Yours Faithfully,
Evan