Our phones are flooded with alerts and we are compelled to view them all because we feel “FOMO”—the fear of missing out, says Kirk A. Bingaman, Ph.D., an associate professor at the Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education. Our ability to give someone our full, undivided attention has therefore declined, he said. But he’s found a solution in a common religious practice—something he calls “contemplative spiritual practices.”

“In religious settings, [it’s] what we’ve always done to bring us closer to God, make us more spiritual,” Bingaman said. “In a digital world, we need to also be doing it to preserve the human attentional capacity.”

The practice is one of the major themes in Bingaman’s new book, “Pastoral and Spiritual Care in a Digital Age: The Future Is Now” (2018). In 143 pages, he details the threats and opportunities that advanced technology—including smartphones and social media—brings, and how the digital age has influenced how we define personhood.

The Power of Prayer and Meditation in the Digital Age

All readers—religious and atheist alike—can learn lessons from his book, especially the parts where Bingaman describes how people can preserve and increase their attentional stability in our hectic digital world, he said.

One way to hone our ability to focus is to regularly conduct contemplative spiritual practices, such as centering prayer—a method of meditation where one focuses on a sacred word or a mantra, like the Bible phrase “Do not be anxious,” and silently prays. Ideally, he added, one should pray this way for 20 minutes a day to achieve the desired effect.

Those who are not religious can turn to mindfulness meditation, he said. Instead of focusing on a religious word or phrase, one should focus on the rhythm of their breathing.

Plenty of people can use these practices in their professions, said Bingaman, including pastoral and spiritual care providers, counselors, clergy, chaplains, educators, and clinical care practitioners working with anxious clients.

As he talks about in the book, studies have shown that these mindfulness-based therapy exercises can change the brain for the better. If you practice them regularly, he explained, they have the power to shape the brain’s neural pathways and help stabilize one’s attention. And in the age of technology and digital distractions, he said, these contemplative-meditational practices are becoming comparably important to religious belief and doctrine.  

Technology of the 21st Century

Bingaman’s book doesn’t focus only on the negative aspects of the digital age; he also gives credit to the ways that technology has made our lives easier.

Many of our daily errands are easily completed, thanks to advanced systems like self-checkout stands at the supermarket, cashless toll lanes at tunnels and bridges, and ATMs at the bank, Bingaman said. He added that medical technology, like cochlear hearing implants, can also have life-changing effects. He mentioned that thanks to those little chips, his father, who suffered from a loss of hearing, could once again hear the songbirds that he loved when he was young.

Bingaman also recalled a meeting with his financial adviser, who, thanks to a computer algorithms program, completed a complex procedure in a matter of minutes.

“My advisor’s brilliant, but he said, ‘I can’t even begin to compare to just the speed,’” Bingaman said, snapping his fingers, “‘and [the program]did it more precisely than I could’ve done it. I would’ve spent hours on it.’”

In his book, Bingaman explores this new hybrid humanity—a mix between natural biology and technology—and the theological implications for religious faith communities.

“What constitutes human personhood in an age of increasing technological enhancement?” he asked. “If we’re more and more technologically enhanced, how will we be a reflection of the divine image in the future?”

But at the rate that machine intelligence is advancing, Bingaman stressed, the most important question isn’t about meditation or even machinery: It’s about who we are and who we want to become.

“How do we hold onto our humanity?” he said. “How do we preserve the most precious qualities of human experience, while we have this window of time and opportunity?”

Those priests—all 66 of them—were murdered by communists in Bosnia and Herzegovina during World War II, said Željko Barbarić, O.F.M., GRE ’19, a young Catholic priest from the Franciscan community. “Anyone who was wearing a habit at the time—a Franciscan robe—he was killed or persecuted,” Father Barbarić said. “Communism was against religion, in any sense. Communism itself was a religion.” It happened in the 1940s, long before Father Barbarić was born. But he hasn’t forgotten the massacre of his Franciscan forefathers. It’s part of the reason why he’s currently studying pastoral counseling and spiritual care in Fordham’s Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education.

“I didn’t realize how connected mental health and my vocation are until I came here,” he said.

Father Barbarić was born in Bosnia and Herzegovina, a country bordered by Croatia, Serbia, and Montenegro and home to a multiethnic population. In the early ’90s, war broke out among the ethnic groups fighting for sovereignty. Father Barbarić calls it the War for Independence; America knows it as the Bosnian War. Given the wars that have ravaged Eastern Europe and the Balkans, he said, mental health services are vital back home.

Fifteen miles away from his house in Bosnia and Herzegovina was a war zone. He remembers uniformed men bearing weapons; the sound of sirens and shootings; the death of a cousin, who fought in the war. Every so often, he heard the explosions of bombs from his basement bedroom.

At age 14, Father Barbarić left home and joined a minor seminary. At first glance, it seems surprising. He was not raised in a household where prayers and talk of God abounded. Growing up, Father Barbarić had mulled over a few métiers, including serving in the police force and fighting among the soldiers. Yet he found his calling in God.

“It was just something that you know,” he said.

Priest vs. Psychologist

Over the next two decades, Father Barbarić has learned what it means to be a Franciscan priest. He’s lived in monasteries in Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, completed a five-year degree program in theology and philosophy in Croatia, became ordained as a priest, and served in two different parishes in Bosnia and Herzegovina. He’s dealt with delicate situations, like delivering a homily at the funeral of a young boy killed in a car accident. Strangers have laid bare the most intimate details of their life with Father Barbarić—their marital issues, their struggles with psychiatric disorders, their mishaps with neighbors. And as time passed, he came to a realization:

“Counseling is something that happens almost on a daily basis when you’re a priest,” Father Barbarić said. “A background in psychology can be very, very useful.”

In 2016, he moved to the U.S. and enrolled in the GRE’s pastoral counseling and spiritual care program. His coursework confirmed his suspicions that counseling training would be helpful in his role as a priest.

“People will come to us, explicitly asking for advice. ‘What am I supposed to do?’” he imitated. “And that’s a big temptation—to immediately tell people what to do, especially in a confessional setting.”

But his professors have taught him how to truly listen. Instead of instantly jumping in with an answer, Father Barbarić waits. And when a person struggles to finish his or her sentence, he is trying to let them find their own words. This skill—seemingly obvious, but difficult in practice—is especially important when speaking with people who struggle with their mental health.

“They can see things in a distorted way, and I have to really hear them to understand,” he said.

And he’s also learned that he doesn’t have to save everyone. Sometimes, sitting beside them and lending an empathetic ear is enough.

Father Barbarić is currently a priest at the Sts. Cyril and Methodius Croatian Parish, located in midtown Manhattan. Two months ago, Father Barbarić began an internship where he puts his mental health and spiritual care training into practice. On Mondays and Tuesdays, he counsels patients in a New Jersey psychiatric ward, including suicide survivors, victims of abuse and people with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.

“Everything you say in this room will stay in this room,” he tells them.

Back to the Balkans

Next spring, Father Barbarić will graduate with his master’s degree in pastoral counseling and spiritual care. He’s also leaving a legacy behind at Fordham.

“Željko has been instrumental in helping to set up the new partnership between GRE and the Catholic University of Croatia,” said Joanna Mercuri, a GRE graduate assistant.

This international agreement allows Fordham and Croatian students and faculty to conduct research and study abroad at both universities, starting this semester. Father Barbarić is the one who connected the president of the Catholic University of Croatia, his old mentor, with Faustino M. Cruz, S.M., GRE dean.

“Through global partnerships like this one,” said Dean Cruz, “GRE is enriched by the diversity of academic, civic, and spiritual perspectives that shape today’s communities of teaching and learning.”

Father Barbarić is unsure about his next steps after graduation. He might help establish a similar program for newly ordained priests or students in training in Bosnia and Herzegovina; he might help revitalize the Franciscan high school in his hometown. But someday, he said, he’ll bring his newfound mental health and spiritual care training back to the Balkans.

“I’m a priest. I’m a Franciscan. That’s already fulfilling,” Father Barbarić said. “But now I’m adding something to it.”

The University’s pastoral counseling program was one of 16 programs across the country that were officially recognized under the Masters in Counseling Accreditation Committee (MCAC) standards for integrating science-based training in their professional psychology and counseling curriculum.

“We’re excited to receive this accreditation,” said Mary Beth Werdel, Ph.D., associate professor of pastoral counseling and director of the program.

“It not only recognizes the work of our program and our faculty, but also helps us to serve our students better. This allows us to work towards our mission of providing training that prepares students to be of service to others and provides them with a multicultural understanding.”

Werdel said MPCAC’s commitment to promoting counseling programs that are culturally responsive and dedicated to social justice is line with what the school’s pastoral counseling program stands for.

“Our program is one of the only programs in the country that trains people to become competent and ethical mental health counselors who have the ability to examine the ways that spirituality and people’s experiences of spirituality can help them to flourish psychologically,” said Werdel.

To be a certified pastoral counselor, candidates in the 60-credit master’s program must be a licensed mental health counselor.

“There’s a growing body of evidence that suggests that spirituality and psychology are related in important ways, and our program recognizes that,” said Werdel.

In addition to courses in spirituality, pastoral ministry, theology and religious education, students receive traditional counseling training focused on clinical intervention, counseling theory, psychological assessment, and diagnosis, which provides them with a holistic approach to treating clients from different spiritual and cultural backgrounds.

“We’re training our students to be men and women in service of others through the practice of pastoral counseling,” said Werdel. “Part of what the MCAC accreditation does is help us to become the best possible counseling program we can be.”

Last year, Javontae Hawkins averaged 18 points and 5 rebounds per game. This year, he’s ready to revitalize Fordham basketball.

“We’re going to be good this year,” says Hawkins. “I can feel it. Make sure you get to a game because when you come, you’ll be seeing us win!”

Hawkins is the first student of the Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education who is also a competing student-athlete, having joined the Rams’ basketball team. After two years at Southern Florida University and two years at Eastern Kentucky University (he red-shirted his junior year at EKU), Hawkins decided to change the course of his graduate education.

His decision to come to Fordham was two-pronged; he desired both the athletic and the academic edge the University gave him. During his time at EKU, he grew fond of the his coaching staff. When the EKU staff members moved to Fordham, he came with them.

“It’s hard to find such a strong coaching relationship,” says Hawkins. “I wanted to keep it, but I also wanted to widen my academic prospects. I knew Fordham took academics seriously. I wanted to have Fordham on my resume.”

Hawkins is pursing a Master of Arts in Pastoral Care, a field he was inspired to enter by his father, Jeffery Hawkins, pastor of Prince of Peace Missionary Baptist Church in his family’s hometown of Flint, Michigan. His father has been instrumental in encouraging programs to prevent crime and violence in Flint neighborhoods, he said. He has often accompanied his father when he speaks at churches and schools in the area.

Hawkins says that pastoral counseling integrates theology and psychological knowledge into pastoral ministries, which aspects he believes crucial in providing effective care. He hopes to emulate his father’s passion and “imitate how he carries himself.”

“My father has been a pastor for about 14 years,” he says. “He is a motivator and a support system for so many. I want to be that for people, too. I want to be a role model— the positive force in other peoples’ lives.”

Hawkins says he, too, is familiar with being a role model for others: As the only graduate student on the team, he has to act as a “good example” for his younger teammates, and recently accompanied assistant coach Mike DePaoli to a Bronx high school to speak about goal-setting and following the path God chooses for us.

Once Hawkins earns his degree, he hopes to work with adolescents struggling with anxiety, mental illness, and peer pressure. Adolescence is an important time, he says, and he wants to support young adults during this difficult stage of life.

Of course, that job will come after he plays in the NBA, says Hawkins, who is looking forward to making basketball his career before turning to counseling.

“Basketball will definitely be in my future,” he says. “Whether I play in the NBA or overseas for another country, I want to play professionally. These are things you have to do when you’re young, and I refuse to miss the opportunity.”

No matter which way life takes him, he insists that he will strive to chase his dreams and help others accomplish theirs as well.

“It’s God’s call at the end of the day.”

–Mary Awad

“He was yelling into the phone, ‘Get that woman home! How dare you—she belongs with her husband! Those children belong with their father!” MacNichol said of the experience that launched her 30-year career combating domestic violence.

“I was really shaken. I call that my baptism by fire. It was a call to make it my ministry to figure out how faith, theology, and religious communities intersect with this terrible problem.”

MacNichol, PhD, the co-executive director of CONNECT, a New-York-based nonprofit organization dedicated to preventing interpersonal violence and promoting gender justice, was the keynote speaker at the Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education’s fourth annual pastoral counseling conference on May 6.

The daylong conference, “Spiritual Geographies of Domestic Violence,” discussed the stark realities of interpersonal violence and the ways faith communities can better serve survivors.

Intimate partner violence and domestic violence is defined as any actual or threatened physical, sexual, psychological, emotional, verbal, spiritual, or economic abuse that impairs one’s ability to function in a “self-determining or healthy way,” said MacNichol. Abuse is often coercive and recurrent, and the intent is for the abuser to maintain power and control.

Faith-based and religious communities could be invaluable resources for women, men, and children in crisis, but lack of education and unwillingness to confront these issues cause these groups to mishandle abusive situations, MacNichol said.

“The bible is full of family violence,” said MacNichol, who was recently named one of New York’s New Abolitionists. “We need to start asking ourselves what in our theologies promotes domestic violence? What in our interpretations of scripture and communal practices allow us to turn a blind eye to, or even rationalize and directly participate in, domestic violence?”

Many people judge the severity of abuse by whether or not the victims are physically injured, but MacNichol stressed that all types of abuse can cause lasting harm. The stress of nonphysical abuse can have dire impacts on victims’ overall health. Moreover, because the damage is not visible, victims are more likely to question whether the situation is, in fact, abusive.

“There has never been a domestic violence survivor that hasn’t said to me that the emotional abuse was worse than the physical,” she said. “You can see bruises, and they heal. But you can’t see spiritual and emotional wounds, and these take a long time to heal.”

We need to become more aware and less tolerant of invisible abuses, MacNichol said, or else a wide swath violence will remain undetected and unresolved. Faith communities have the ability—and the responsibility, she said—both to lead these conversations and to reduce inflicting further harm on victims (for instance, working to save an abusive marriage at all costs, rather than helping an abused spouse who is trying to escape).

“When you’re preaching on Sunday, think about how it might sound to someone who is struggling with violence,” MacNichol said. “We have to think about [how we]can create safe spaces where people can come for help… where we can accompany them through the maze of self-doubt and shame.”

The conference also featured Jill Snodgrass, PhD, an assistant professor of pastoral counseling at Loyola University Maryland and an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ. Her talk, “The Prison Paradox: Liberated from Abuse Behind Bars,” detailed the pervasiveness of interpersonal violence and trauma histories among women in prison and the irony that these women find safety only after landing behind bars.

Earlier this fall, Lisa Cataldo, PhD, an assistant professor of pastoral counseling in the Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education, ran a workshop for a group of interfaith clergy in Newtown, Connecticut in anticipation of the third anniversary.

“In any community that suffers a massive event like what happened in Newtown, faith groups are often the first place that people turn for consolation and connection,” said Cataldo, who is a practicing psychotherapist.

“The workshop was about dealing with the aftermath of a communal trauma over the long term, because when anniversaries come around, all sorts of memories and emotions get reawakened.”

Three years later, Newtown is working toward healing while also dealing with continual reminders of the trauma whenever a new tragedy occurs, such as the shootings in San Bernardino and Colorado Springs.

But the families of Newtown—as well as the victims of the latest wave of mass violence—are not the only ones whose grief is magnified at this time of year, Cataldo said. For many of us, the holiday season brings up poignant reminders of people and places we’re missing.

“People think they’re supposed to be happy during the holidays. This is supposed to be a time of sharing with your family, of positive relationships, of celebration and joy,” Cataldo said. “Many people feel alienated, because they’re not in that space, and that idealized image of the holidays only makes them feel the lack of those things more acutely.”

Even if one gets beyond the “shoulds” attached to the idealized holiday season, there still remains the stark reality that someone or something has been lost.

“This is true for people who are in the midst of active mourning, but also for anyone who has experienced loss,” Cataldo said. “On holidays, the absence of the people we’ve lost is louder.”

Coping With Grief During the Holidays

The holiday season presents a challenge for many people, Cataldo said, but not everyone is open about his or her suffering. One reason for this is that our society tends to overvalue strength and resiliency, leaving little, if any, any room for vulnerability.

The key to coping with holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, and other difficult days is to make room for the grief, rather than shutting it out.

“We put pressure on ourselves to be strong when what we really need is to be more compassionate toward ourselves—to say that I need more time, that I’m not okay yet,” Cataldo said.

“Many people fear, ‘What if I can’t handle the holidays?’ The thing is, you don’t have to. It’s perfectly okay to say that you need to take this year off, that you can’t engage in these types of celebrations right now.”

For some people, she said, it can be helpful to deliberately include the loss into holiday rituals and customs. This might involve creating new traditions that honor lost loved ones, such as going to a certain religious service or writing a letter to them.

“It’s important to support people in moving through this time in the way that is best for them,” she said.

A New Normal

Holidays also serve as cues to reflect on the previous year. For those who have experienced hardship and heartbreak, the resounding question at these milestones is, “When am I finally going to be okay? When will I feel normal again?”

The reality is that there might not be a return to normal, Cataldo said.

“Any kind of significant loss creates a new normal,” she said. “Things won’t go back to the way they were before the loss, because life has changed.

“But it is absolutely possible to feel okay again. The memories won’t always be a source of pain—they might one day be a source of comfort and connection. Life won’t look the same, but it can still be wonderful.”

Taking time to deal with the stress and anxiety that accompany helping professions is imperative, said Robert J. Wicks, PsyD, at the Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education (GRE) on March 6.

“Severe secondary stress is dangerous,” said Wicks, a professor of pastoral counseling at Loyola University Maryland and an expert on secondary stress and trauma in caregivers.

“For every case of someone who is experiencing severe secondary stress, there are a least a dozen others on the edge of some form of secondary stress.”

Wicks told an audience of chaplains, therapists, and students of pastoral care and counseling that secondary stress is a reality they must face within their chosen careers. Also called vicarious trauma, this stress is a kind of “emotional residue” that comes from constantly witnessing pain and suffering.

“We run the risk of catching others’ sense of despair,” he said.

Wicks headlined a GRE conference that borrowed its name from his bestselling book, Riding the Dragon: 10 Lessons for Inner Strength in Challenging Times (Sorin, 2003). He discussed five red flags that portend burnout and secondary stress:

1. Becoming over-involved in others’ emotions: Empathy is vital to establishing rapport with patients or parishioners, said Wicks. However, mental health professionals and ministers must avoid becoming emotionally entangled in patients’ distress. Otherwise, counselors and clients alike will be incapacitated by their pain.

“The seeds of caring and the seeds of burnout are the same seeds,” Wicks said.

2. Acute secondary stress: No matter how much care one takes to maintain an appropriate emotional distance, this isn’t possible 100 percent of the time, he said.

He recalled a recent session when a patient was recounting the horrors of war she endured. Before he knew it, Wicks found himself gripping the arms of his chair.

“I do darkness for a living, yet I find that if I let my guard down, I’m in trouble,” he said.

3. Chronic secondary stress: Wicks said that communications theorist Marshall McLuhan once posed the question, “If the temperature of the bath rises one degree every ten minutes, how will the bather know when to scream?”

“Many of us don’t know when to scream,” Wicks said.

Members of helping professions hold themselves to high standards, expecting to care for all people all the time, he said, while also balancing a heavy workload.

It is imperative to practice self-care as a means to deal with the stress, anxiety, and even trauma that one inevitably experiences in this profession.

4. Getting caught up in colleagues’ anger, hurt, and fragility: Every parish or clinical setting has jaded employees, said Wicks. These people deserve compassion, because their anger is often a cover for deeper pain. However, he cautioned that helping professionals should not “give your joy away” to them, or else they risk contracting their negativity.

5. Confusing the “five levels of critical”: A surefire route to burnout is mismanaging priorities, Wicks said. He advised organizing work and life according to five levels:

• Critical now: urgent tasks and situations
• Critical in the long-run: self-care, maintaining friendships, etc.
• Critical for others: tasks and favors others ask of you, which you must triage according to your availability and limitations
• Not critical: the overflowing email inbox, the pile of papers on your desk—these must be done, but they can be “zipped through” to get them out of the way
• Critical not to do: tasks you decide ahead of time you will not do—in other words, boundaries. “Be aware of [your boundaries],” Wicks said. “If you give in when you’re exhausted, feeling unappreciated, or experiencing stress… you’re going to hurt yourself and someone else.”

It turns out that when he counseled his disciples, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself,” Jesus was tapping into a concept that neuroscientists say could reduce stress for our hyperanxious society.

At Fordham, Kirk Bingaman, Ph.D., an associate professor in the Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education, is taking his lead from these neuroscientists and arguing that those who find solace in the sermon would also benefit from what science has to say. In his latest book, The Power of Neuroplasticity for Pastoral and Spiritual Care (Lexington Books, 2014), Bingaman suggests ways pastoral and spiritual caregivers can draw on contemporary neuroscience to help their clients and congregants relieve undue anxiety.

“We hear it in the Sermon on the Mount and we hear it in our churches today—don’t worry about tomorrow, stay centered in today. We grasp it intellectually, but how, practically, do we not worry?” said Bingaman, who is also a pastoral counselor.

Neuroplasticity and the Negativity Bias

In the book, Bingaman explores the impact that an adaptive mechanism known as the negativity bias has on our well-being. An evolutionary cousin of the “fight or flight” phenomenon, this bias describes the brain’s propensity to experience negative events more intensely in order to alert us to potential danger.

A built-in negativity bias was vital when humans lived as hunter-gatherers ever at the ready to flee from a hungry lion. In the modern world, however, this bias tends to cause excessive negativity and anxiety.

“[This] anxiety spills over into our relationships with others and with ourselves,” Bingaman said. “It causes us to assume the worst, to overreact to situations in ways such as, ‘Why did you look at me this way? Why did you use that tone?’”

Fortunately, he says, we are not condemned to primal negativity, thanks to the human brain’s capacity to change across the lifespan. With every new experience—creating a memory, learning new information, or adapting to a new situation—the brain undergoes structural changes, generating new neural pathways and reshaping existing ones. This ability, known as neuroplasticity, forms the crux of Bingaman’s book.

He argues that the most effective way to harness the power of neuroplasticity is through mindfulness meditation and contemplative spiritual practice. Through these therapeutic and spiritual techniques, clients learn to become aware of their thoughts and feelings. Rather than reacting to or trying to eliminate them, clients learn to simply observe them as they come and go, without getting “hooked.”

“Thoughts and feelings have a 90-second shelf-life biochemically. So when we experience an anxious thought or feeling, [the reaction]will dissipate from the blood in 90 seconds—unless we feed the thought or judge ourselves for feeling that way,” he said. “The key to mindfulness-based therapy is to let thoughts and feelings come and go without fighting them. This then reduces the limbic activity in our brains and calms the amygdala.”

These practices—which are so well-regarded that they are central to the “third wave” of classical cognitive behavioral therapy—can take a variety of forms and be applied in both religious and nonreligious settings. For example, one might spend 15 minutes each day sitting quietly and focusing on the ebb and flow of his or her breath. Alternatively, one might practice something like the Christian centering prayer, in which the practitioner meditates on a “sacred word” (such as “Jesus,” “God,” or “love”) while learning to modulate the many other chaotic thoughts that crowd the mind.

A New Approach to Pastoral Counseling

Bingaman says that these practices, informed by the science of neuroplasticity, will “necessitate a paradigm shift” in the way pastoral and spiritual caregivers approach their work with clients, especially clients whose anxiety may have been exacerbated by their own religious beliefs.

“When a theology views the spiritual quest as a matter of warfare—as a battle within the person, or as a matter of good versus evil and flesh versus spirit—that activates neural circuitry that causes stress,” he said. “If we overdo that construct, the person in our care might see himself as flawed and defective, and that could end up reinforcing the negativity bias.

“Whether it’s therapy or theology, we need to look at the frames of reference we are using to help the person in our care to calm their anxious brain. Some of our approaches are going to fire up the limbic region, and others will do the reverse,” he said. “So we have to make more use of contemplative practices in religious and spiritual circles… They’re not just for the mystics off in the desert. They’re for you and me and everyone else.”