Mentally Ill Finding
More than Just Prayer in Church
Clergy study to help serve those who have suffered in silence
(February 23, 2007) -- When Pat Doyle was growing up with a mother who
suffered from
bipolar disorder, she remembers how she longed to share her pain with
someone at her parish.
"I had this deep prayer life and yet I couldn't talk to anyone at church
about what was going on at home," said the Carol Stream woman, who was
raised Roman Catholic. "Sometimes, I couldn't help but wonder if God had
forgotten about us."
In times of trouble, people often have turned to their faith for guidance
and comfort. But those with
mental illness and
their families often felt excluded. At best, spiritual leaders lacked the
tools to deal with the disease. At worst, clergy saw the condition as a sign
of sin or moral failing, admonishing those who suffer to just "pray harder."
However, many denominations are now recognizing the key role that
religion can play in recovery and are reaching out to the mentally ill in
unprecedented ways, experts say.
The National Council of Churches USA has produced a documentary called
"Shadow Voices: Finding Hope in Mental Illness," which has aired on ABC-TV
stations nationwide. The Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism spoke out
against insurance discrimination during the High Holidays, and Pope Benedict
XVI used World Day of the Sick to focus on the disease.
That message "was the catalyst for renewed Catholic outreach," said
Connie Rakitan, chair of the Chicago Archdiocesan Commission on Mental
Illness.
Pathways to Promise, a national interfaith organization that promotes
understanding for the mentally ill, is using a $90,000 grant from the
American Psychiatric Foundation to launch an anti-stigma campaign aimed at
some 26,000 U.S. churches and synagogues. The goal of the new campaign is to
chip away at misperceptions by providing support and resources.
"We're just emerging from a time when people feared this disease because
they didn't understand it," said Rev. Bob Dell of Sandwich in DeKalb County.
Dell, who has a 49-year-old son with
schizoaffective disorder, has channeled his energy into Pathways to
Promise after retiring from parish ministry with United Church of Christ.
"But every time a Mike Wallace comes out about his
depression,
the door opens just a little wider--and that goes for religious communities
as well," Dell said.
Another sign of collaboration: The National Alliance on Mental Illness,
or NAMI, last year took over the FaithNet Web site, an online network that
addresses spiritual matters during difficult times, increasing subscribers
sevenfold.
"It's a very nice fit in the NAMI family," said spokesman Bob Carolla.
"For people who are searching and struggling, it's one point of access to
start down the path to recovery."
Doyle wishes she had this kind of help in the late 1960s when her
mother's unpredictable mood swings began.
"Why couldn't I have seen a support group or been able to put her on a
prayer list?" asked Doyle, who now attends a Missouri Synod Lutheran church.
"I needed some cue that someone else understood what I was going through.
What I wanted was help from the church instead of silence."
Now, though, there is more understanding--in the pews as well as in the
pulpit--that mental illness is a disease of the brain, not the soul.
Said Rakitan: "In our parents' generation, there was so much
misunderstanding. But now we have a more accurate grasp on the illness and
what causes it. And people who struggle are just more visible, which is also
forcing the issue."
Psychiatrist Carl Bell, president of the Chicago Community Mental Health
Council, told the story of a woman who had been managing quite well on
medication but threw herself down a flight of stairs after her pastor urged
her to stop taking
antidepressants.
"The good reverend had been talking with God, who said she had been
cursed due to her sin," Bell said. "Of course, this fit exactly with her
depressive symptoms."
Though challenges persist, Bell said he is encouraged by the shift to a
more open-minded climate.
Bell, who is African-American, traces the change in black churches to the
surgeon general's first report on mental illness in 1999 ("It helped that it
came from a black guy," Dr. David Satcher) and says it is continuing with a
recent paper by the National Alliance on Mental Illness specifically
addressing the challenges facing African-American congregations.
For spiritual leaders to better meet the mental health needs of their
flock, Bell said, it will take "enlightened ministers and congregations who
say `Cut it out' in terms of demonizing mental illness."
In times of trouble, people often have turned to their faith for guidance
and comfort. But those with mental illness and their families often felt
excluded. At best, spiritual leaders lacked the tools to deal with the
disease. At worst, clergy saw the condition as a sign of sin or moral
failing, admonishing those who suffer to just "pray harder."
However, many denominations are now recognizing the key role that
religion can play in recovery and are reaching out to the mentally ill in
unprecedented ways, experts say.
The National Council of Churches USA has produced a documentary called
"Shadow Voices: Finding Hope in Mental Illness," which has aired on ABC-TV
stations nationwide. The Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism spoke out
against insurance discrimination during the High Holidays, and Pope Benedict
XVI used World Day of the Sick to focus on the disease.
That message "was the catalyst for renewed Catholic outreach," said
Connie Rakitan, chair of the Chicago Archdiocesan Commission on Mental
Illness.
Pathways to Promise, a national interfaith organization that promotes
understanding for the mentally ill, is using a $90,000 grant from the
American Psychiatric Foundation to launch an anti-stigma campaign aimed at
some 26,000 U.S. churches and synagogues. The goal of the new campaign is to
chip away at misperceptions by providing support and resources.
"We're just emerging from a time when people feared this disease because
they didn't understand it," said Rev. Bob Dell of Sandwich in DeKalb County.
Dell, who has a 49-year-old son with schizoaffective disorder, has channeled
his energy into Pathways to Promise after retiring from parish ministry with
United Church of Christ.
"But every time a Mike Wallace comes out about his depression, the door
opens just a little wider--and that goes for religious communities as well,"
Dell said.
Another sign of collaboration: The National Alliance on Mental Illness,
or NAMI, last year took over the FaithNet Web site, an online network that
addresses spiritual matters during difficult times, increasing subscribers
sevenfold.
"It's a very nice fit in the NAMI family," said spokesman Bob Carolla.
"For people who are searching and struggling, it's one point of access to
start down the path to recovery."
Doyle wishes she had this kind of help in the late 1960s when her
mother's unpredictable mood swings began.
"Why couldn't I have seen a support group or been able to put her on a
prayer list?" asked Doyle, who now attends a Missouri Synod Lutheran church.
"I needed some cue that someone else understood what I was going through.
What I wanted was help from the church instead of silence."
Now, though, there is more understanding--in the pews as well as in the
pulpit--that mental illness is a disease of the brain, not the soul.
Said Rakitan: "In our parents' generation, there was so much
misunderstanding. But now we have a more accurate grasp on the illness and
what causes it. And people who struggle are just more visible, which is also
forcing the issue."
Psychiatrist Carl Bell, president of the Chicago Community Mental Health
Council, told the story of a woman who had been managing quite well on
medication but threw herself down a flight of stairs after her pastor urged
her to stop taking antidepressants.
"The good reverend had been talking with God, who said she had been
cursed due to her sin," Bell said. "Of course, this fit exactly with her
depressive symptoms."
Though challenges persist, Bell said he is encouraged by the shift to a
more open-minded climate.
Bell, who is African-American, traces the change in black churches to the
surgeon general's first report on mental illness in 1999 ("It helped that it
came from a black guy," Dr. David Satcher) and says it is continuing with a
recent paper by the National Alliance on Mental Illness specifically
addressing the challenges facing African-American congregations.
For spiritual leaders to better meet the mental health needs of their
flock, Bell said, it will take "enlightened ministers and congregations who
say `Cut it out' in terms of demonizing mental illness."
One ambitious local effort encompasses more than two dozen congregations,
including two mosques, in west Cook and DuPage Counties. Monthly workshops
are designed to help "raise the confidence level" of clergy dealing with
these disorders, said Jeanne Laird, community ministry coordinator at
Advocate Good Samaritan Hospital in Downers Grove, a partner in the program.
Carolla, for one, welcomes the dialogue--not just as the
National Alliance on Mental Illness spokesman, but also as a devout Catholic
with bipolar disorder.
"Could I have gotten better without medication? Absolutely not," Carolla
said. "But there's no question that, for those of us who live with mental
illness, at some point, you get around to talking about a spiritual
dimension. ... And when recovery finally does come, it can feel like a
rebirth and, frankly, like a resurrection."
By Bonnie Miller Rubin
Source: Chicago Tribune
Last updated: 02/07
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