Scripture: Mark 9: 30-32
They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, "The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again." But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.
Reflection Questions:
Have you ever felt betrayed by another person? Have you ever betrayed another? When you are let down by others, how do you respond? Where might you turn in the midst of broken relationships and deep personal insults? From where might reconciliation come for you?
Five-minute Story:
Between my service as a chaplain student in University Hospital, Newark and later on as an Intern in Utica, New York, I had multiple opportunities to visit people in clinical and nursing home settings. Much of this work was ‘cold calling.' Before my visit, I did not know the person, their story, or their family. What is more, they did not know me or even what church I represented.
It was certainly true when I was visiting in Newark. Some of the people I encountered there weren’t even Christian. Until they began to speak, I didn’t know if we could communicate. Speaking only English, my inability to communicate in other languages presented a problem from time to time. I would find out that not only language but that my visage would create a barrier.
It was in the afternoon that I entered the darkened room. A single table lamp provided the only light. I knocked on the doorsill, but nobody answered. It was not an uncommon occurrence. Many people had a hard time hearing. Whenever someone didn't hear the knocking, I would gingerly enter the room and try to make eye contact. I did this with a great deal of humility and care, aware that this space was the home of its occupant. For me, my Mother’s lessons of respect are always in play.
She sat wrapped up in an old handmade afghan in a corner and appeared to be staring off into space or maybe time. I caught her attention, careful not to startle her. She looked at me, without expression at first. It was time for my twenty-second introduction; “Good afternoon, I’m Walt Lichtenberger, and I’m one of the student chaplains….”
All of a sudden, her eyes widened. She looked with horror at my face. “Nine, nine!” She spoke with fear in some Eastern European tongue. From her passive state, she was animated and agitated quickly. It was clear that I was causing her distress. I made some attempt to apologize for my unknowable offense as I gently backed away. I could see that as I was leaving, she seemed to settle down. It was much like someone had chased away pesky pigeons in the park.
I reported the incident to the nurses’ station. What the nurse on duty told me both clarified what had happened and left me disturbed. The woman, suffering from dementia, came from Eastern Europe following World War II. During the war, she was a prisoner in a German concentration camp. When I entered her room, I triggered a flashback. Being in my mid-twenties with blonde/brown hair and blue eyes, I reminded her of a Nazi guard. I was the enemy, the bringer of atrocities.
My face. My gender. My age. My ethnic identity. In her experience and memory, these characteristics belonged to the enemy. It didn’t matter that I intended to bring the love of Jesus through listening conversation and prayer. Nothing mattered for I was seen and judged as the enemy.