Jesus was not there

A couple of months ago I visited St. Anthony's Central Hospital to meet with the Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) Supervisor (who, by the way, reminds me a lot of Zooey Deschanel). I was there to discuss her program and the possibility of applying to be a resident. I met with her and had a lovely visit. After our chat she said she'd like to take me on a little tour.




Just outside of the offices was the chapel and just across from the chapel was a bigger-than-life size statue of Jesus. This was not just any Jesus. He was Caucasian, obviously, and wore brightly colored robes. In a word, he was gaudy. Think velvet paintings or over the top Catholic prayer candles.


The Supervisor commented on it. We had a good laugh at his appearance. But she said that it often provided great comfort to many patients and families that come through the hospital. She explained that the hospital is moving in a few months and they would be taking Jesus with them to the new building.



On Tuesday I returned to St. Anthony's to turn in my application for the program. I didn't remember exactly where the offices were, as this was only my second time in the hospital, but I was confident that I could find them based on the location of the chapel and, of course, the giant Jesus.


I followed the signs toward the chapel. I turned the corner expecting to find the giant Jesus smiling at me. Instead I found an empty altar across from the chapel. I guess they have already taken him to the new building.


I found the offices and turned in my application.


I just thought it was funny that I found myself exactly where I needed to be and Jesus was not there.