When I lived in Chico, CA it wasn’t unusual to hear about public meetings presided by Elder Councils of various indigenous tribes, particularly at the University where I taught. Growing up in the Midwest, I’d been familiar only with various committees comprised of Christian religious elders or political hierarchies. Meeting local and global elders associated with varied cultures was an entirely different experience. There were no displays of ego or one-upmanship. I emerged from these meetings relaxed and hopeful. My jaw remained unclenched. I felt filled with possibility.
I especially appreciate the work of The Grandmothers Wisdom Project, which is an offshoot effort by elder women known as the International Council of Thirteen Indigenous Grandmothers. The sight of hundreds of college students leaning in respectfully to hear what they had to say was a sight to see. I wish all my elder friends could have been there.
One of them, Cheyenne grandmother and elder Dr. Henrietta Mann, was awarded a National Humanities Medal of Honor last March for her efforts to bring grandmothers into full play in society, sharing their wisdom and upholding the spirits of the weary. This is spiritual, not religious work by which individuals and communities benefit. I only wish they, too, set up tents at Farmer’s Markets everywhere.
Imagine if you can this group of elders, richly experienced and wise in their ways, willing to set aside biases, politics, religious mandates, personal aches and pains, etc., simply to offer presence and stories of resilience for the benefit of their communities. Strong enough to bear the pains of being human in a chaotic society, they’re able to witness the anguish of troubled others while remaining calm.
They do much more than advise or problem solve. They open pathways through unbiased, reflective, intuitive means. When they speak it’s relational and with a point. They do well what few do today – they ask questions of those who seek. Each elder is a kind of “inverse influencer” – with open hearts and tender intentions, they inspire communities to make peace with life and its traumas, and meet it head-on with weapons of the spirit.
I still study wisdom traditions, but I understand now that wisdom for life is transmitted without excess verbosity. You live it even as you work toward learning it. From that point, it speaks according to the strength of your intention to bring it forth every day. The living letters are us. Better understanding of indigenous cultures help us discover ourselves, and all we might become.
“We are not wise, we invite wisdom in,” said one of the grandmothers to a questioning student. Seekers find it on their own if they persist along a journey that lasts a lifetime. Wisdom resides within us, and pain is our teacher. Wise counsel upholds us.
I thought of all this recently as I worked to write a simple explanation of what a chaplain is. People tend to think the role is like that of Christian missionary, coming at you with bromides and hollow prayers on the worst day of your life. (Of course, many chaplains aren’t even Christian, but identify as something else, if they identify at all.)
The real encounter is in the presence that is a response to a cry. The chaplain’s work is to hear that cry beyond anything else happening in the surrounding chaos. At times of need what matters most is presence and kindness.
And so, I wrote:
Chaplains offer presence, compassion, and a listening ear.
And in a true grandmotherly fashion, I told a story.
The word "chaplain" comes from the French word meaning cloak. An old story is told of a soldier who, upon finding a stranger freezing on a lonely road, took his sword and cut his thick cloak into two in order to wrap the suffering stranger against the piercing cold.
Today's chaplains serve all people according to the individual needs of each. They offer compassionate presence in hospital and hospice settings, at sites of emergencies, in homes, or other places to assist those who are suffering or in crisis.
It’s that simple; a calling as old as humanity itself, no more and no less. I think any person of good intent could do it, assuming they aren’t afraid.