Two Cultures
Living where I do, the world comes here. Thus people from all over the world die under the auspices of our hospice service. When we walk into their homes, it is as if we've walked into another world, but all we've done in cross over into another culture already in our own. Still, there are contrasts and preferences and impacts upon behavior that are culturally driven.
The other day began and ended for me with reminders about how culture plays its role in our lives. More often, the influence of culture is subtle, even hidden. But occasionally it becomes so explicit as to be completely evident.
My morning began with a death of an American-born man, whose wife was born in the Ukraine. His preference was to die at home, in familiar space. Hers was for him to die anywhere but at home! For in her culture, this was an extremely grave obstacle to overcome.
She had had previous experience that this was so: her mother had died at home-- and had haunted her for years after, coming to her in the night, disturbing her sleep, waking her by physically shaking her and wanting to speak with her. Her Ukranian Orthodox priest had said it was because her mother had died at home! (True, there was nothing in the Orthodox religion to suggest this, but religion reinforced culture on this belief.)
She was terrified that this would happen again. We worked with her, being as reassuring as we could that given the opportunity we would indeed move the patient, and at the same time, reminding her of her husband's wishes, and of our own limitations of response. What if we weren't given adequate time to respond? What would she do in the worst case scenario, and he died at home? Sometimes hospice is more about the living than the dying.
Well, of course her worst fears were realized. Her husband died at home-- but it was one of the most peaceful deaths one could imagine. He slipped away in the night when no one was looking.
Still, mo(u)rning had come for her. How would she deal with this coming to pass of that which she most feared? In the best way, as it turns out. Within hours of her husband's death, she had called the local Ukranian Orthodox Church, and arranged with a priest to come that afternoon to purify and bless the house. He had already left a pint of holy water with her, in case she needed it. He had come and blessed the house earlier. This re-blessing, it was hoped, would purge her husband's spirit and allay her fears.
We from the Hospice Team praised her for doing the thing that was right for her husband and having the courage to overcome her fears. And truly, her care of him was marvelous. But I especially liked how she took care of her own spiritual needs! I hoped she slept well that night...
At the end of my day I went to a Japanese American family where the patriarch was dying. His wife had died some years before, as had most of his siblings. So he is among the last of his generation, and he is comfortable placing himself in the hands of his two daughters.
The daughters on the other hand are having their own feelings about having this responsibility. Please don't get me wrong. There is no resistence nor resentment, only the honor and duty of the moment. But what there is more, is the recognition of how their culture has defined their roles.
Like many if not most Japanese Americans, a balance has been struck that enables them to be of two cultures at once. For instance, the father, our patient, was born here, went to Japan for his education (ages 4-19), then returned, only to be interned during WWII. (I think we Americans get nervous when we cannot determine just how "American" even our own citizens are. I mean, he was born here. So culture has played an important role in our own behavior, even today. Ask any "Arab American." [I put that in quotes because being Arabian is a bit like being Asian from the perspective of culture. There are many Arabian cultures and many Asian cultures.] Anyway, I digress...) The family's identifications with Japanese culture were passed down to the daughters. As American as they are, their concepts about themselves and how they are to behave toward each other as family, are Japanese.
In Japanese culture, the oldest daughter has a certain duty, to sacrifice for and care for her parents. She is the tai jo (I think that's how it is spelled). The role of the tai jo is clear and the duties well-defined. In our patient's family, the older daughter is wrestling with this lineage: being her father's tai jo as her mother was for her family, and her mother before that, and her mother before that.
The awareness of the generations is more than just cultural conditioning, of course. Edwin Friedman talked about this as "family emotional process," and indeed family systems theory helps us understand the conflicts and confluences of emotions that take place on down the generations. But what culture does is give a name to these emotions, and an identity. In terms of culture, it isn't just how we feel, it is about living out who we are or who we were meant to be. This is the weight of what our patient's older daughter is feeling: the emotions that go along with realizing she is living out her cultural destiny.
Sometimes, in this age of psychology and secularism, cultural influences can seem quaint or even anachronistic. But I am continually impressed that they are no less real to those who are experiencing them! And when we are in the presence of death and the transitory, we can learn that culture can be transcendent of time, and even space. (You can take the Ukranian out of the Ukraine and the Japanese out of Japan, but you can't take their cultures from them!)
The other day began and ended for me with reminders about how culture plays its role in our lives. More often, the influence of culture is subtle, even hidden. But occasionally it becomes so explicit as to be completely evident.
My morning began with a death of an American-born man, whose wife was born in the Ukraine. His preference was to die at home, in familiar space. Hers was for him to die anywhere but at home! For in her culture, this was an extremely grave obstacle to overcome.
She had had previous experience that this was so: her mother had died at home-- and had haunted her for years after, coming to her in the night, disturbing her sleep, waking her by physically shaking her and wanting to speak with her. Her Ukranian Orthodox priest had said it was because her mother had died at home! (True, there was nothing in the Orthodox religion to suggest this, but religion reinforced culture on this belief.)
She was terrified that this would happen again. We worked with her, being as reassuring as we could that given the opportunity we would indeed move the patient, and at the same time, reminding her of her husband's wishes, and of our own limitations of response. What if we weren't given adequate time to respond? What would she do in the worst case scenario, and he died at home? Sometimes hospice is more about the living than the dying.
Well, of course her worst fears were realized. Her husband died at home-- but it was one of the most peaceful deaths one could imagine. He slipped away in the night when no one was looking.
Still, mo(u)rning had come for her. How would she deal with this coming to pass of that which she most feared? In the best way, as it turns out. Within hours of her husband's death, she had called the local Ukranian Orthodox Church, and arranged with a priest to come that afternoon to purify and bless the house. He had already left a pint of holy water with her, in case she needed it. He had come and blessed the house earlier. This re-blessing, it was hoped, would purge her husband's spirit and allay her fears.
We from the Hospice Team praised her for doing the thing that was right for her husband and having the courage to overcome her fears. And truly, her care of him was marvelous. But I especially liked how she took care of her own spiritual needs! I hoped she slept well that night...
At the end of my day I went to a Japanese American family where the patriarch was dying. His wife had died some years before, as had most of his siblings. So he is among the last of his generation, and he is comfortable placing himself in the hands of his two daughters.
The daughters on the other hand are having their own feelings about having this responsibility. Please don't get me wrong. There is no resistence nor resentment, only the honor and duty of the moment. But what there is more, is the recognition of how their culture has defined their roles.
Like many if not most Japanese Americans, a balance has been struck that enables them to be of two cultures at once. For instance, the father, our patient, was born here, went to Japan for his education (ages 4-19), then returned, only to be interned during WWII. (I think we Americans get nervous when we cannot determine just how "American" even our own citizens are. I mean, he was born here. So culture has played an important role in our own behavior, even today. Ask any "Arab American." [I put that in quotes because being Arabian is a bit like being Asian from the perspective of culture. There are many Arabian cultures and many Asian cultures.] Anyway, I digress...) The family's identifications with Japanese culture were passed down to the daughters. As American as they are, their concepts about themselves and how they are to behave toward each other as family, are Japanese.
In Japanese culture, the oldest daughter has a certain duty, to sacrifice for and care for her parents. She is the tai jo (I think that's how it is spelled). The role of the tai jo is clear and the duties well-defined. In our patient's family, the older daughter is wrestling with this lineage: being her father's tai jo as her mother was for her family, and her mother before that, and her mother before that.
The awareness of the generations is more than just cultural conditioning, of course. Edwin Friedman talked about this as "family emotional process," and indeed family systems theory helps us understand the conflicts and confluences of emotions that take place on down the generations. But what culture does is give a name to these emotions, and an identity. In terms of culture, it isn't just how we feel, it is about living out who we are or who we were meant to be. This is the weight of what our patient's older daughter is feeling: the emotions that go along with realizing she is living out her cultural destiny.
Sometimes, in this age of psychology and secularism, cultural influences can seem quaint or even anachronistic. But I am continually impressed that they are no less real to those who are experiencing them! And when we are in the presence of death and the transitory, we can learn that culture can be transcendent of time, and even space. (You can take the Ukranian out of the Ukraine and the Japanese out of Japan, but you can't take their cultures from them!)
posted by TRXTR | 11:15 AM
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