Beneath the Surface: Unexpected Lessons from a Dentist and a Psychologist
What can a dentist teach us about mental health and our spiritual well-being? More than you might think.
In the monotonous rhythm of seminary life, a frequent prayer of mine is “Disturb us, O Lord.” Some interruptions are necessary, I believe, especially those jolts that shake us from our routines and reawaken our sense of wonder. The dental and medical mission during the second week of January led by Dr. Alice Villados and volunteers from the Immaculate Heart of Mary SSDM provided that much-needed interference. That weekend was special. We were visited not just by a prominent dentist in the person of Dr. Villados, but she also brought along her sister, Dr. Grace Orbita, a psychologist. Their combined presence and inputs promised something far more profound than just routine check-ups and cleanings.
That these two were sisters, both doctors, was remarkable in itself. But even more striking were the parallels they revealed between their seemingly disparate fields of dentistry and psychology. Though very distinct in format, delivery, and subject matter, their lectures revealed a common concern: the hidden struggles, the silent battles we so rarely discuss. They showed us that beneath the surface, their professions, like them, were actually sisters, both tending to the places where we often hide our pain.
Dr. Alice’s talk was more than just a lesson on oral hygiene; it was a wake-up call. The realization that I’d been brushing my teeth wrong my entire life was humbling, to say the least. All those years, just going through the motions, mimicking what I’d seen on TV, without truly understanding the purpose. It felt like a metaphor for so many things in life, especially in seminary formation. How often do we go through the motions of prayer or study, without truly engaging our hearts and minds? How often do we follow routines without questioning their meaning or effectiveness? Dr. Grace also reminded us that even our spiritual lives can suffer from neglect, and that nurturing our connection with God is essential for true wholeness. The dental mission became an unexpected lesson in the importance of continuous learning, of unlearning old habits and embracing new, healthier ways of being.
After the lectures, we proceeded to the check-up, charting, and cleaning in the next room. Sitting in the chair, getting my first professional cleaning at this stage of my life, felt like admitting a long-held secret, a secret of neglect. Years of haphazard brushing, driven by a mix of apathy and a vague fear of confronting potential problems, came to light. And beneath that fear lurked another, more insidious one: the fear of the cost, the knowledge that dental care, like mental health care, is often a privilege. As Dr. Alice scraped away the accumulated plaque hidden within the nooks and crannies of my cavities, it felt like more than just a cleaning; it was a stripping away of shame. The guilt was immediate and intense. Why had I waited so long? It struck me then how much we treat our dental health like we treat our mental and emotional well-being: we shove it aside, embarrassed to admit our struggles, until the pain becomes too much to bear. How many other areas of my life have I neglected out of fear or discomfort?
Pointing out our not-so-effective style of brushing, Dr. Alice’s observation about our obsession with surface-level dental care struck a nerve. We meticulously polish the visible parts of our teeth, obsessed with presenting a perfect smile, while neglecting the hidden crevices where decay takes root. It’s a mirror image of how we often present ourselves to the world, isn’t it? We put on a brave face, hiding our anxieties, our doubts, our fears, all the while struggling with the internal battles no one sees. We might judge others for their irritability or lack of energy, failing to recognize the silent battles they may be fighting within the hidden chambers of their hearts and minds. Just like a throbbing toothache, emotional pain is a tangible reality, even if invisible to the outside world. And like an untreated cavity, ignored emotional pain can fester and spread, affecting every aspect of our being.
The reluctance to open up, to share our struggles, whether dental or mental, stems from the same source: vulnerability. We fear judgment, the labels that society so readily applies: “dirty,” “broken,” “crazy,” “weak.” These words carry the weight of stigma, reinforcing our silence. We endure, we suffer in silence, hoping to avoid the shame and blame that often accompany confessions of a condition. I’ve certainly felt this in my own life, hesitant to share my doubts and fears with others, worried about how I’ll be perceived. How many of us carry these silent burdens, waiting until the pain becomes unbearable before seeking help? And how often, by then, has the damage already been done?
After their visit, the work of dentists and psychologists took on a new meaning for me. They are ministers to the hidden struggles, the silent battles we wage within ourselves. They offer a safe space, a gentle invitation to confront the neglected parts of our being before they escalate into full-blown crises. They remind us that, in matters of health, so is with love or vocation; regular care and preventative maintenance are the keys to true well-being.
That night, sitting before the altar in prayer, the feeling of relief in my mouth still fresh, I offered thanks for the gift of dentists and psychologists. I cannot help but wonder: what about our spiritual health? Are there hidden struggles, silent pains, and destructive patterns festering within the souls of those around us, even within my own soul? Are there spiritual cavities, masked by outward piety, that go unaddressed until they threaten to consume us?
I believe this highlights a crucial role — not just for priests but all Christians. We are also called to create spaces where others feel safe enough to open up about their spiritual anxieties and seek nourishment for their souls, not just in times of extreme crisis but in the everyday rhythm of life. Like the gentle probing of a dentist or the empathetic listening of a psychologist, we can all offer a ministry of presence and compassion, helping others uncover and address the unseen battles they wage within, guiding them towards healing, wholeness, and a deeper connection with God.
By SPSF Staff
A government-recognized private higher education institution, Saint Paul Seminary Foundation integrates faith and communication, offering degrees in Communication and Philosophy and a Certificate in Philosophical Studies in Silang, Cavite.