Three Learnings....

This is the “report” of a recent faith-based health worker gathering—not the typical blog! I was compelled by what I witnessed over the last two days to write down three key observations and learnings.

 

The gathering brought together doctors, nurses, administrators, allied health professionals, data managers, priests, sisters, and laypeople, all engaged in listening to one another. While the structure of the system had its usual strong hierarchy, much like any healthcare system, what stood out to me was the absence of an "us vs. them" mentality. They were all there to learn from each other—nurses working alone in remote and challenging areas, administrators struggling with the sustainability of large institutions, and doctors stretched to their limits. It was a community of learning and growth!

 

When will I learn to live without an "us vs. them" mentality? In my mind, I often divide people into 'us' and 'them'—categories that seem justified by my own reasoning. I believe that 'we' deserve special recognition because of what we’ve "given up" or sacrificed or what I expect to receive in respect, honour, or special treatment. But over these two days, I realized that to truly abandon "us vs. them," I must let the "I" die. Because deep down, it’s the "I" that sees itself as better than "them."

 

But there is a better way—one that Martin Buber speaks of. The I-It vs. I-Thou relationship.

 

The I-It encounter is when we relate to others as objects outside ourselves. 'They' are 'It,' created to serve us! In contrast, the I-Thou encounter is where we relate to each other as authentic beings without judgment, qualification, or objectification. I meet you as you are, and you meet me as I am. In the I-Thou relationship, the key lies in how I am with you in my own heart and mind.

 

The second observation was about looking out for the least among us and their stories. Multiple discussions took place: discussions on the financial sustainability of institutions, concerns about each other's mental health, and many other important topics. But amidst these conversations were some deeply moving stories. For example, there were stories of a single nurse working alone in a challenging context—intentionally highlighting the so-called "smallest story" in the family. During a discussion about large institutions, someone reminded everyone, "How relevant are these institutions' stories to the smallest in our midst?"

 

Do I look out for the "least" in the group, their needs, and their stories? Or am I too caught up in my own story or the big, visible stories that seem more glamorous and feel more worthy of attention? Jesus modelled looking out for the least among us—their rights, not mine—yet, from my perspective, I often gravitate toward the visible and significant.

 

The third reflection came from some one-on-one conversations. With smiles on their faces, some people shared stories of major challenges, opposition, and even assault, yet they continued to live a life of love, loving the unlovable (my interpretation, as they didn’t highlight this themselves) amidst life's struggles. This wasn’t stoicism or fatalism, but rather a clear understanding of the costs involved—and an inner resolve to accept those costs with joy and clarity, knowing that their strength comes from their Master. It was a joyful acceptance of the costs involved.

 

I wondered when I would reach that point. I complain and get confused when the cost seems more than I think is fair. I question the injustice of it all.

 

Three learnings:  

 

·      No "us vs. them," but a learning and growing community.  

·      Looking out for the least in our midst.  

·      Joyful acceptance of the costs involved.

 

A long way to go…especially in joyful acceptance!