As I reflect on my journey in chaplaincy, I have noticed that much of my understanding of foundational skills, specifically, cultural competency, is shaped by my bicultural experience as an immigrant to the United States, my marriage and my academic studies. I am a preacher's kid who grew up in the United Church of Christ both in the Philippines (UCCP) and, after immigrating at the age of 17, the UCC in the United States. As an immigrant, I am a cultural hybrid who is able to speak three languages fluently. I am in an interracial and intercultural marriage after marrying an American Episcopalian priest who grew up in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) tradition. Hence, I can easily swim back and forth between low church culture and high church culture. While continuing to be rooted in Christianity, I am fortunate to have studied and explored different global faith traditions, first, as a Religious Studies major in my undergraduate studies, and second, in graduate school. All these experiences of crossing boundaries of culture, religious and theological frameworks have shaped my understanding of the significance of cultural competency in my work as a chaplain.

Chaplaincy is a very fascinating work in the realm of spirituality and religion in that while a chaplain might have their own spiritual (or religious) belief that shape their understanding of their life and the world, a chaplain's encounter with someone in emotional-spiritual struggle is person-centered. This means that while the spiritual caregiver needs to be fully aware of the spiritual-religious and cultural lenses that have shaped them and that they carry into the conversation, the chaplain's main job is to empathize as best they can with the spiritual-emotional world of the person in crisis. Subsequently, this means that the chaplain needs to have some level of cultural competency in providing spiritual care by entering into the spiritual-religious framework of the patient, and supporting them in drawing out resources from the patient's own spiritual well. In other words, the chaplain's role is to be open and curious companion-guide in helping the patient articulate their spirituality whatever that may be so the struggling person can find their bearings in a time of emotional-spiritual vulnerability and disorientation. 

In my work as a hospital chaplain, two metaphors - that are shaped by my experience and social context ​- help me frame the skill of cultural competency: food & the chameleon.

THE APPRECIATOR OF DIVERSE CUISINES
If spirituality is a source of nourishment like food, then the diverse spiritual and religious practices and beliefs are the cuisines. However, chaplains do not dictate or enforce what people should consume. We are not proselytizers of cuisines (i.e., religions). We are there mainly to be present and understand what cuisine(s) people use to nourish themselves to thrive, or what flavor(s) they prefer. When the person has allergies, and the food (or cuisine) is making them ill or not helping them thrive, then I bring this up to their attention.
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While it is certainly impossible to learn all cultural cuisines (i.e., religions, spiritualities and theologies), chaplains who have more exposure to the diverse flavors of spiritualities and religions are the ones who are more able to  meet the spiritual needs of a population in a religiously pluralistic context. When a chaplain understands the spiritual lingo of a person in emotional pain, it is much easier to connect by using “spiritual” or “religio-theological” empathy. The general contrasting flavors that I, as a chaplain, pay attention to in the spiritual-religious menu in North American context include, but are not limited to, the categories below (NOTE: These categories are not strict binaries; rather I see them as a spectrum, and would go so far as to say that some spiritualities and religions may not fit these categories at all - there are aspects of spirituality/religion that are too complicated to categorize in a box):

Contrasting flavors (a few categories):​​
          1) High Church vs. Low Church
          2) Eastern Spirituality vs. Western Spirituality 
          3) Theist vs. Non-Theist/Atheist/Agnostic (Article #1, #2 )
          4) Religious vs. Spiritual But Not Religious (Article #1, #2)
          5) Christianity: High Christology (Christ as divine) vs. Low Christology (Christ as human)
          6) Mono Spiritual/Religious vs. Poly Spiritual/Religious​

The journey through grief is often disorienting, a swirling vortex of sadness that can be overwhelming. In the first year following the loss of my dad and brother, the pain was acute. Like many in the early stages of grief, I couldn't fathom a life of thriving without them.

Reaching out to grief counselors and support groups was essential. These guides normalized my experiences, validating the continual shock and disbelief that felt like waking up to a recurring nightmare. They affirmed my grief symptoms, and at the right times, gently encouraged me to broaden my perspective, to see the larger landscape of life's journey.

They reminded me that we are all sojourners on this earth; life has a beginning and an end. There are hellos and goodbyes. Wisdom stories and mythologies offer maps for those times when we're ready to see beyond our immediate pain.

The moment of glimpsing that wider landscape beyond the darkness of grief is truly a moment of grace. It is akin to the experience described in the hymn "Amazing Grace" — a transition from lost to found, from blindness to sight. Grief can feel like being lost in a dark valley, but with support and guidance, it's possible to find a path forward. The journey may be long and arduous, but moments of grace and glimpses of a wider perspective can sustain us along the way. These guides, or "sherpas," help us navigate the challenging terrain of grief, reminding us that even amidst the deepest sorrow, there is hope for healing and a future filled with meaning.

Compass & Maps
Spiritual crises can be profoundly disorienting, shaking the foundations of our beliefs and leaving us adrift in a sea of existential doubt and feeling alone. However, the wisdom embedded in these ancient tales reminds us that we are not alone in our questioning and that countless others have grappled with these same profound questions throughout history.

In the face of such turmoil, wisdom stories, parables, and mythology can serve as invaluable compasses and maps, guiding us through the storm of our personal odysseys. When the ground beneath us feels unsteady and the horizon uncertain, these narratives offer a lifeline, connecting us with a larger story, a meta-narrative that transcends our individual struggles. This wide lens or framework helps provide a view of the intricate landscapes of our lives, illuminating the highs and lows, the peaks and valleys, the challenges and the triumphs, the winding paths and unexpected detours that we encounter. By recognizing these universal patterns within the stories, we can connect our personal struggles to a larger narrative, gaining a higher perspective or a newfound vantage point allowing us to contextualize our experiences within a broader tapestry of meaning, and find the language to articulate our experiences, giving voice to the often ineffable emotions and anxieties that accompany a spiritual crisis. In other words, the language of these stories, imbued with archetypal symbolism, gives voice to our existential wrestling with profound questions of isolation, mortality, freedom, and purpose. This spiritual vocabulary do not make life's uncertainties and unpredictability disappear, but through this language it gives life's sojourner agency, thereby making the chaos less of a threat.

Awareness at a Higher Vantage Point
Instead of just staying in survival mode, merely running and auto-piloting, seemingly serving as a cog in the machine or feeling like we are the mercy of the disorienting twists and turns of life's terrain, wisdom stories give us the space to notice and become aware of the topography and geography of our life journey. Rich with archetypal themes and symbolic narratives, they can serve as guiding maps for our personal odysseys. They offer a bridge: by engaging with these stories we transcend mere reactivity to life's circumstances, choosing instead to cultivate a mindful curiosity towards the unfolding adventure that is our existence.

Rather than simply reacting to life's circumstances or being consumed by daily stresses, these stories provide a space for conscious observation. We avoid getting hooked into the immediate emotional reactions that might otherwise control us – the panic, the resentment, the fear. Instead, we become curious observers of our own thoughts and emotions, recognizing them as fleeting experiences rather than defining characteristics.

In this way, wisdom stories cultivate a sense of awareness. We become more than just our thoughts and emotions; we become the conscious observer of these experiences. This shift in perspective allows us to navigate life's journey with greater clarity, understanding, and resilience. We can face challenges with equanimity, appreciate joys with gratitude, and embrace the adventure of life's unfolding with an open heart and a curious mind.

As the Ancient One sagely notes in Dr. Strange, "We never lose our demons, but we can learn to live above them." This metaphor of elevation speaks to the transformative power of perspective. By gaining a wider view, we can transcend our immediate struggles and see them within a larger context. This doesn't mean that our problems disappear, but rather that we gain the ability to navigate them with greater clarity and resilience.

​Practices like Spirit Play (or Godly Play) harness the power of storytelling to facilitate this expanded perspective. By physically interacting with the story as it unfolds, participants are invited to observe its contours and landmarks, 

​but from a safer distance, a kind of a ​bird's-eye view. The gap between the observer and the narrative creates space for reflection, allowing individuals to identify with elements of the story while maintaining a healthy distance from their own thoughts, feelings, and reactions. In essence, they learn to distinguish between the self and the experience, recognizing that they are not merely their reactions but also the silent watcher who observes them.

​This observational stance echoes the strategic mindset of a chess player who surveys the board from a higher plane, anticipating moves and consequences. Similarly, it mirrors the respite of a long-distance runner who pauses on a hilltop to regain bearings, the panoramic view offering clarity amidst the disorienting maze of trails. ​

A Tool to Help Metabolize Painful Experiences
In visual art school, I learned the art philosophy of deconstruction, inspired by the French philosopher Jacques Derrida. Deconstruction involves the breaking down of established visual elements, such as lines, shapes, colors, and compositions, to create new and unexpected meanings. This process encourages viewers to question their assumptions and interpretations of established forms and meanings, opening up a space for multiple and even conflicting readings of the artwork. Something similar to this process happens in Spirit Play when participants reflect on their personal experiences of crisis through the multivalent lens of symbols and themes. When participants use metaphors from human mythology (per Joseph Campbell) as tools for reflection, it gives them the creative space to rearrange and reconstruct their experience, leading to new insights. 

Annette Gildemann, in Advancing Holistic Healing: An Integrated Spiritual Assessment, Intervention and Documentation Model for Healthcare Chaplains, (p. 25-29) highlights Narrative Theory as a process that allows individuals to move beyond a survival-oriented response to pain, towards a place where painful stories can be retold within a larger, more inclusive narrative. This process facilitates the metabolization of pain transforming it into something that can be utilized for one's learning, growth and healing. The process of widening one's perspective involves a shift toward a symbolic and metaphorical narrative that is grand in scope and encompasses a spiritual and/or religious perspective. Spiritual themes, symbols, metaphors and archetypes help "tame" the wildness (aka life's chaos and uncertainties) of our lived experience. 

Expanding on this notion of the narrative process, it's important to note that it also entails a creative deconstruction and reimagination, which gradually increases the complexity of one's cognitive structure in terms of both differentiation and integration (*See C. Daniel Batson, Patricia Shoenrade and W. Larry Ventis’ Religion and the Individual: A Social-Psychological Perspective, p.92). This increase in cognitive complexity mirrors the way in which we catalyze knowledge, as described by Michael Polanyi in Personal Knowledge: Towards a Post-Critical Philosophy (p. 195-196). It involves a deep dive into one's internal worldview and beliefs, followed by a sudden expansion into a broader, more complex, and heuristic perspective.

This process of neural restructuring can be likened to the creation of a new footpath or nature trail. Initially, the path may be faint and uncertain, but with repeated use, it becomes more established and well-defined. Similarly, as we repeatedly engage with new perspectives and insights, we strengthen the associated neural pathways, making them more readily accessible and integrated into our daily lives.

Through this intentional cultivation of new neural pathways, we can foster a greater sense of well-being, resilience, and purpose. We can make choices that are aligned with our deepest values and aspirations, leading to lives that are not merely surviving, but truly thriving and flourishing.

​When our personal narratives are disrupted by a spiritual crisis, these archetypal stories can provide a framework for deconstruction, reintegration and renewal. They offer a language for expressing our experiences, a community of shared struggles, and a path towards a more expansive and meaningful existence. In essence, these wisdom stories, parables, and myths serve as a lifeline in the turbulent waters of a spiritual crisis. They remind us that we are part of something larger than ourselves, that our struggles are not unique, and that there is wisdom to be gleaned from the collective experience of humanity. By engaging with these narratives and integrating their archetypal themes into our own stories, we can emerge from the crisis with a renewed sense of purpose, a deeper understanding of ourselves, and a more profound connection to the world around us.