Friday 30 July 2010

Faith, Hope and love: being in the moment with people who have dementia

I was recently listening to a lecture on biblical interpretation given by Professor John Goldingay, a professor of Old Testament at Fuller Seminary in the US.

At the beginning of the lecture he gave an invitation to his students to join him and his wife for a meal the following week.  His wife, who has now sadly passed away, had multiple sclerosis which was at an advanced stage at the time of the lecture.  He informed the students that his wife probably wouldn’t remember them or be able to communicate, but he urged them nonetheless to speak with her.  He said “she probably won’t remember you afterwards but in that moment she will appreciate you.” 
Hearing that was an epiphany.  Suddenly I realised that I had forgotten something very important: the significance of the present moment.  My lapse of memory echoes the general forgetfulness of society.  We have forgotten what it means to value time.

One of the interesting things to note about capitalist societies is the way in which time has become a commodity. We ‘buy time’ ‘sell time’ ‘waste time’ etc.  We live with time as if it is constantly about to run out!  Time is often a deep source of frustration and angst.  Rather than being friends of time, very often time becomes our enemy!  But Goldingay’s advice to simply be in the moment with his wife reminds us that time is meaningful and valuable.  There is deep value in being with someone in the present moment, even if their recognition of your encounter is fleeting, it is not without meaning.

Within the context of severe dementia recognising the meaningfulness of time and the importance of the present moment is a gift that we easily overlook.  The place where we meet the other person is in the sacred, often fleeting moment of connection between the person with dementia and those who desire to relate to her.
The touch of a hand; the brief locking of eyes, points towards the importance of being there in that moment.  There may be nothing more, but that moment is healing.

Of course, to encounter a person with severe dementia in the immediacy of the present moment requires faith, hope and love.  Faith that the person before us is more than many might assume them to be.  Hope that in the Spirit, your presence can be meaningful; and love that is prepared to give the person before you the benefit of the doubt, even when all of the normal communicational cues point towards emptiness.
Faith inspires hope that enables love.

Faith hope and love as they are recognised and worked out within the sacrament of the present moment means that our encounters are not dictated by the strictures of failing neurology.
Human beings are much more than their memories and anyway, who knows what is going on behind that which appears to be obvious?  Don’t people deserve the benefit of the doubt?

Rev Professor John Swinton,
Professor in Practical Theology and Pastoral Care, University of Aberdeen