The ogre, the egg and chaplaincy: on justice, attention and institutional change
By Adrian Pyle, Director of Chaplaincy and Connections.
There is a Sufi story I have been applying in all sorts of ways lately.
A travelling Sufi master meets an ogre who intends to destroy him. The creature relies on brute force. The Sufi relies on something else.
At one point the master hands the ogre a stone and asks him to squeeze water from it. The ogre tries and fails. The Sufi then appears to succeed, though the reader notices he has concealed an egg in his hand. Liquid runs out. The ogre is impressed.
Later that night the ogre attempts to kill him with a tree trunk while he sleeps. The Sufi has already slipped away and arranged the bed to look occupied. The ogre strikes seven blows with the tree trunk. Returning to his bed, the Sufi remarks, quite calmly, that he has been bitten seven times by a mosquito.
I think this story is partly lingering in my mind because it hints at something institutions sometimes overlook. Power does not always appear where we expect it. It may sit in patience, observation and the ability to read a situation carefully.
The quiet side of advocacy
That thought returned to me while reflecting on another characteristic of chaplaincy we have been testing within the Uniting Church. We will release the full set more formally soon. One of them speaks about the role of the chaplain in “justice seeking service and advocacy”.
The use of those words can make the characteristic sound very formal. Advocacy is often imagined as protest, submissions and public campaigns. But while those things matter, the justice work chaplains encounter often begins somewhere gentler.
It begins with noticing: A hospital chaplain may realise that certain patients seem consistently confused about consent processes. A prison chaplain might observe that a procedure quietly disadvantages people with limited literacy. A school chaplain may notice that the language of a wellbeing policy leaves some students feeling exposed rather than supported.
None of these moments call for confrontation – at least not initially. What they call for first is attention; with someone recognising the pattern. That is often where chaplaincy begins to move, almost imperceptibly, from care toward justice.
And as I’ve already alluded to, the movement rarely looks dramatic. A chaplain may ask a gentle question in a meeting, suggest a different phrasing, or connect colleagues who had not previously spoken. Occasionally this leads to more traditional forms of advocacy for change. More often it helps an institution see something it had not quite noticed about itself.
Reading the institutional habit
The Sufi story begins to feel relevant here because the ogre believes strength lies in the size of the tree trunk he can swing. The Sufi understands that situations also contain habits and blind spots. If those are read carefully, the balance of power might shift.
Institutions develop similar habits, whether it’s a hospital prioritising efficiency, a school focusing on achievement and order or prisons operating within strict frameworks of security. These priorities are understandable. They are part of the work. But systems organised around strong priorities will sometimes produce unintended edges, where someone is overlooked, a process works well for most people but not for others or language intended to support unintentionally excludes.
Chaplains occupy a slightly unusual place in these environments. They are inside the institution, yet usually their role is not fully defined by its operational goals. They are there to attend to human experience, including the places where a system does not quite fit the person in front of it.
The art of the gentle question
Justice work often begins there, with some profound questions like:
- Has anyone else noticed this?
- I wonder whether this process works differently for people in that situation?
- Could we try another approach?
The answers are rarely immediate and so this form of advocacy requires discernment as well as conviction. There are moments to speak clearly. And yet, there are other moments when the wiser path involves building relationships, gathering small traces of evidence, or allowing others to see the issue for themselves.
The change can unfold slowly: small adjustments that change the texture of a place: a policy rewritten with greater dignity, a practice that recognises spiritual diversity, or a conversation where someone’s voice is heard without fear.
Final reflection
The Sufi squeezing water from a stone may be an exaggerated tale. Still, it hints at a form of power that does not rely on typical force. Chaplaincy, at its best, may work in a similar way: attentive, relational, quietly persistent.
