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What I Wish I Had Known before I Started Chaplaincy Training - Keith Wakefield

The following talk was given by Keith Wakefield at The Sati Center in Redwood City, CA on November 17, 2025. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

What I Wish I Had Known before I Started Chaplaincy Training

Vanessa: Good morning, everybody. Nice to see you all here. This is our monthly Buddhist Chaplaincy Speaker Series event here at the Sati Center. This month we have Chaplain Keith Wakefield joining us.

I love the title of Keith's presentation, "What I Wish I Had Known Before I Started Chaplaincy Training," which is wonderful in the context of the book that Keith just wrote: Stay With Me, I Want to Be Alone: A Chaplain's Search for Meaning. This is basically a memoir of Keith's experiences as a chaplain. I highly recommend reading it if any of you are interested in going into chaplaincy work, or if you're just interested in what a chaplain does in general. There is so much in this book that is just about the day-to-day of what it's like to be working in a hospital and the kinds of scenes and challenges that come up.

Keith is currently the manager for CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) programs at UCLA. He is a certified educator with the ACPE¹ and completed his educator training at the University of Colorado in Aurora. Keith has a Bachelor of Arts in Theology from Southern Adventist University and his Master of Divinity from the Seventh-day Adventist Theological Seminary at Andrews University. In 2023, Keith earned his post-graduate certificate in Research Methods in Health Practice from the University of Bath. Prior to coming to UCLA, he was a CPE educator at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore and at Stanford Health Care in Palo Alto, which is where we met.

Keith has chaplaincy experience in lots of different areas, including intensive care, surgical trauma, cardiology, psychiatry, oncology, and other general medicine units. Keith is an ordained elder in the Seventh-day Adventist Church, and he has taught classes on chaplaincy and spirituality in health at Loma Linda University and Andrews University. In his spare time, when Keith is not making movies—which some of you might know him from, as we screened a movie he co-made, A Certain Kind of Light—and when he is not writing his memoirs or teaching chaplaincy, Keith can be found passed out at home or running around after his young son.

Keith, it's lovely to have you back. Please take it away.

Guns N' Roses and the Chaplain's Path

Keith Wakefield: Thank you so much, Vanessa. It is great to be back.

I've learned that it really doesn't matter what the signage is or what the title of the hospital is; patients are patients. When you get to the bedside, people are people. It is lovely to come alongside people in any capacity when they are hurting.

What did I wish that I had known when I got into this? Quite a few things, actually.

I am a chaplain probably because of Guns N' Roses. When I look back on the formative experiences that I had, it was maybe supposed to be more spiritual components or deeper resources—drawing from a wealth of the sages, gurus, pastors, and wise people of old. For me, when I really reflected, that was Axl Rose and his lyrics. It formed me, but I never thought that it belonged in this kind of work. That is rock and roll. Guns N' Roses was allegedly the most dangerous band in the world at the time. How would that fit within the capacity of spirituality and spiritual care?

I remember vividly sitting in a room as a part of the training process to become a certified educator. I don't remember what it was that I was defending, but I knew that what I was defending wasn't actually reality. I had come to understand it and to live in a way where I was pursuing something that I knew wasn't there—sort of like a love that you really desire to have, but you know will never be, yet you still continue to pursue it. It was living in the past and not wanting to step out from that. My educator at the time suggested that I stop following the illusion and step into reality.

The first thought that came to my mind was a Guns N' Roses lyric: "I've worked too hard for my illusions just to throw them all away."

I thought, "This doesn't belong here in this space," but I decided to just say it. I watched the committee sit back and say, "That's really deep."

I said, "That's Guns N' Roses."

They said, "Well, that's really deep and that seems really applicable to you. Why don't you bring more of that?"

That was the invitation I needed to say that we are all formed by these various things in our childhood experiences and as we grow up. Things impact us, influence us, form us, and give us a worldview. I kept running away from the reality that Guns N' Roses lyrics were what was really informing my philosophy and view of life.

There is a song called "Breakdown" that really came to the fore:

If someone really cared, they would take the time to spare a moment to try and understand another one's despair. Remember in this game we call life, no one said it's fair.

This, to me, is the essence of chaplaincy. Can we take the time to spare, to come alongside, and show people that we actually care?

A Recovering Fixer

First and foremost, I am a recovering fixer. I wanted to see a problem, see a situation, and say, "That's wrong, let's fix it. You're hurting here, let me try and take that away." The reality is we can't really fix anything physically that is going on with people, at least directly. But I found that there came to be this space that we occupy together—recognizing our powerlessness together—that doesn't fix the pain, but does make it more bearable.

I don't know if you have all experienced that, where what you are going through another can't fix or solve, but there is some catharsis, some minimizing of the impact of the pain by having others close to you. That is something I didn't really understand when I was coming into this.

My background is from Christianity. The Buddhist students that I have had have often named a "prayer envy"—a wish that they were Christian in the sense that they could use prayer when they didn't know what else to do in the room. We have this "out" of, "Well, let me just pray for them and then I can get out of the room because I don't know what else to do." That is sort of fixing the chaplain, not the patient.

Coming alongside people in the midst of this, and tolerating being that close to pain, was something I didn't fully grasp. I didn't know that it was going to stir the pain within me. When you come close to something and then something gets activated or triggered, their story and their pain touches your story and your pain. A lot of the work that we do in CPE is to better understand how it is impacting us and what we do with that. It can be a painful process, but ultimately a very healing process.

Learning the Language of Emotions

I realized that I have to think about what it is that I am feeling. I didn't know that so much of this work would be about recognizing and naming our emotions. I didn't have the language for it. I really had to think: What is this that I'm feeling? Is it mad? Is it sad? Am I afraid? What's the difference between anger and frustration?

When I grew up, my mom was the emotional center of our family. What my father, my sister, and I lacked, she made up for. We could recognize when she was mad or angry, but we never knew what caused it—usually it was me. But we didn't really see or understand what was driving that, what she might be feeling, and what I might be feeling.

I created a game out of this. I realized I don't have the language, so I need to learn the words. Marshall Rosenberg wrote a book called Nonviolent Communication², and there is a chapter where he frames feelings in terms of how we tend to feel when our needs are met and when our needs are not met. I thought that was a really helpful framework in the hospital.

I decided I need to know what "irked" looks like in another person. I need to know the difference between frustration and anger. So, I printed out this list of feeling words. Before I went into a visit, I thought, "However many feelings I can name with this patient, I'm going to tally up as points."

In doing that, I realized that while I was listening to people, I stopped listening for the content of what they were saying and I was listening more to the emotional impact that the content was having on them.

Maybe you have experienced this: when you share something and a person responds by getting a little detail wrong, it creates a distance. "Ah, you're not listening to me." But when I explored the feeling—"I can imagine that that was pretty frustrating"—people would sit back and say, "Well, no, it wasn't frustrating, but I was certainly disappointed." Then they would continue on. I would be corrected, but invited further into the story and further into the engagement.

That was a byproduct of me trying to understand emotions. I was playing my own game, but the result was that I began to come closer and be invited into people's stories. Everybody likes to feel heard. There is a difference between being heard emotionally and being heard for the content.

Close Proximity to Suffering Altered My Spirituality

Being close to suffering changed the way I viewed my beliefs, my structures, and my theology. I came to understand that a lot of my theology was my professor's view of beliefs that I had somewhat adopted. But there is something about being with people, particularly who are suffering, and seeing the human capacity to confront that.

I realized that we as humans are much stronger than I think most of us think we are. We can go through things and still, in some way, look back and say, "Maybe that was a blessing." It is easy to say, "If there is a higher being in the world, why is there suffering?" That sort of exploration kept me in the classroom and not at the bedside. Exploring that in an indirect, embodied way was spiritually altering.

I came to understand what I believe as God deeper from humanists, Buddhists, Muslims, and atheists—just seeing the power of human-to-human connection. We are all searching for something. To search for something together is a journey.

I think we are all "Buddhists" in a way, if we are really honest; we all have this exploration, this higher education, this search and longing. The more I learn about Buddhism, the more I think, "Yeah, that tracks for me."

Compassion Means Holding Firm Boundaries

Particularly in the hospital, the work never closes. There is always something to do, someone else to help. It is a great environment for burnout.

I fell into the trap when I was starting that not only did a patient need a chaplain, they needed me. I thought I was the only one who could really help them, so I would stay beyond my shift. My educator invited me to look at the fact that I was minimizing all of my colleagues—thinking that I could do better than them. To think that it is only me is pretty narcissistic and not collegial.

Søren Kierkegaard³ has a saying: "A no hides nothing, but a yes very quickly becomes deception."

For me, learning "no" is a strong boundary. "No, I can't be there. No, I can't come in and see you after the shift. I can't pass out my phone number. I can't follow you onto the street." It draws a healthy and firm boundary so that I can continue to do this work the next day and not be on a fast track to burnout.

Compassion includes the boundary of saying, "I'm not in a good space right now to make this visit." It takes a lot of self-awareness. Fortunately, as chaplains, we have the ability to not rush into the room. No one ever died because the chaplain was late. We can reflect and see: Can I go in and take what it is that they are going to try and dump into me? And then how do I release that to go to the next one?

Dave (Audience): This reminds me of Chenxing Han's memoir, One Long Listening⁴. She writes about her budding burnout and the difficulty of asking for help, despite encouragement from her teacher.

Keith: Yes, reaching out and saying "I need help" is crucial. For me, it was saying "I don't know."

The Value of Silence

Often, staying quiet is exactly what the person needs. I have developed more comfort with quiet, although that is not to say that I am comfortable all the time. Sometimes saying something comes out of my own anxiety—I don't know what to say, so I say something. Actually, saying "I don't know what to say" is exactly what to say, and then just being present in the midst of that.

There is a shared silence. I have never met somebody that is really looking for me to answer the question, "Why is God allowing this?" If somebody is asking me that, they are thinking about it already and have some formulated idea. Acknowledging the question and being with people while they explore it is maybe exactly what they are looking for—somebody to bounce the questions off of. In the process, they make meaning out of what they are experiencing.

"Stay With Me, I Want to Be Alone"

The title of my book, Stay With Me, I Want to Be Alone, summarizes chaplaincy in its barest form. We are constantly assessing: Do you want me to stay, or do you want to be alone?

We will get a request to visit, and the patient doesn't know why they asked me to come, and I don't know why. It is sort of this idea of, "I'd like you to stay, but I don't really know how to utilize you. I don't want to be alone, but I really don't want to talk."

Can you stay with me so that I can be alone? Can you stay with me so I'm not alone? This dance of chaplaincy is figuring out what it is that they are wanting. If they don't know what they are needing, how can I help explore that?

I Need a Chaplain Too

I didn't realize that I need a chaplain too. The pandemic really made that clear.

We are not good chaplains to each other. We put our heads down, get through CPE, and think we will find our own faith community to support us. But during the pandemic, we became the "iPad bearers." Families were not allowed inside, so we became the conduit. It took a toll on me and my colleagues.

I found myself burning out. I started opening up my house (we had a courtyard area) and invited all my colleagues over on Friday nights. No agenda, just to support each other. Being intentional with each other and checking in is what helped us get through it.

There is something valuable about colleagues who understand the work. You don't have to explain all the ins and outs; they just "get it." It is incredibly important to have trusted others you can enlist around you.

I also broadened this to say: You need to find something that helps you thrive and process. For me, that is creativity. Rollo May⁵ wrote a book called The Courage to Create. He said that to create something is a way to channel anxiety. Creating the "feelings game" or making the film A Certain Kind of Light became creative outlets where I could process the trauma and pain I was in close proximity to.

Q&A: Facing Mortality

Susan: I am coming at this from a nursing background. I am noticing that when people are dying quickly, they have often expressed that they are very ready to go. With others, who are taking 15 or 16 hours, I wonder if they are struggling. Do you think it is useful to explore with people their belief systems regarding what happens when we die?

Keith: Yes, I do. I think it is very helpful. Irvin Yalom wrote Existential Psychotherapy⁶ where he explores the four ultimate concerns, and one of those is death. It looms over all of us.

For the person in hospice, if they are not willing to consider it, there is some avoidance or delusion. Part of our role can be to invite exploration. I have seen 90-year-olds who completely lost it when their spouse died, and it seemed they had never confronted that reality.

We have a role to invite, or at least assess: Is this person confronting their own mortality? And if not, can I invite them to do so? It can be very gentle. "I can't help but wonder if you've considered if this might be the end?" or "Do you have any beliefs around what happens after we die?"

Keanu Reeves gave one of the best answers to the question of what happens when you die. He said, "I think the people who loved them are really sad." That seems the most accurate for me.

Conclusion

Vanessa: Keith, thank you so much. I particularly appreciate you bringing the wisdom of Axl Rose and Keanu Reeves into the room. We are at the end of our time for the main session. Thank you for joining and for continuing to support the Buddhist Chaplaincy Speaker Series.