Dispatches From A God-Less Nation: Finding God In A State-Of-The-Art Hospital

The bad news: My daughter needed emergency surgery — immediately!

The worse news: God was missing from the hospital chapel, where I went to pray for her recovery and her soul. Yes. In my greatest time of need, the modern-day version of a chapel was a vacant room!

To be fair, there was a polite attempt to accommodate the faithful with a traditional trapping. There was a colorful— almost pretty — stained glass window with a modern pattern, which, if you squinted, resembled a flock of birds colliding with each other. But, sadly, nothing about the glass edifice spoke of God, faith or of the wonderment associated with being in relationship to the Lord. There were some "like-new" chairs and a piece of furniture that resembled an altar. But it was naked. And the rest of the room was completely void of any sign of God's presence. There was no cross. There were no statues. There were no religious symbols. And there was not even a candle, “flameless” or otherwise!

Incidentally, I did see The Torah but not The Bible; not even the kind you find in the top drawer of a nightstand in a cheap motel room. I imagine someone had donated it, someone like me who understands how vital the word of God is, especially in a building that houses the ill and dying.

I sat alone in their proffered chapel and wondered why on earth would anyone come to this faux chapel, which seemed more like a storage room than a space the Lord might inhabit?  And why would the hospital boast of offering me a spiritual sojourn here, while my loved one was possibly closer to heaven then she'd ever get, without actually dying?

In the elevator, on my way back to my daughter's room, a pleasant hospital volunteer recognized my distress. The woman kindly informed me of the amenities found on campus at The Goldstone Caregiver Center: A place that boasts support to those who are caring for a family member or friend. “The Center,” she assured me, "has a kitchenette, computer workstations with internet, and even an electric massage chair!" Unfortunately, my distressed look morphed into one of confusion and disappointment. I recognized my face reflected in her face as she tried to make things better for me but failed. She tried to smile. “All will be well.” I attempted to appear grateful as my inner voice screamed, Are you kidding me! I lowered my gaze and returned to my daughter's empty room thinking I would find more comfort sitting on the john (lid down) in her hospital room. And NO... I didn’t want a friggin massage!

As we know: “Where two or more are gathered in His name, He is of course with us.” And yes, He is everywhere...including Forest, mountain top, subway ... the tiny hospital bathroom of an in-patient. But surely it is far better to provide solace and comfort  to the weary and worried in a chapel where God is waiting for the faithful rather than a convenience center where only superficial needs are addressed.