Who will stand beside us on the worst days of our lives? When death surrounds us, literally? When uncertainty pervades? While stress provoked cortisol courses through our veins? Where, from all corners, screams of terror expose a relentless chaos seemingly impossible to prevent or contain?
In the frantic, graphic, and gripping new HBO series, The Pitt, this shadowy valley of death takes the form of an under-resourced hospital emergency room in Pittsburgh. Using the immersive techniques of cinema verité, Season One of John Wells’s fresh update on his emergency room genre (Wells also was the creative force behind ER) drags its viewers through fifteen hours of relentless pandemonium comprising one single real-time shift. As promised by Psalm 23, we are thankfully not asked to endure this perilous journey alone. In place of a rod and staff, our exhausted shepherd, Dr. Michael Robinavitch—Dr. Robby (Noah Wylie)—wears a blue hoodie and scraggly beard. Through Wylie’s grizzled and weary portrayal of a dedicated Emergency Room Chief Resident, The Pitt reminds us of our need for good shepherds to guide us through life’s most trying times.
In addition to vicarious viewers dragged along for the ride, Dr. Robby’s “sheep” include dying patients, grieving family members, and, perhaps most prominently, a bedraggled cohort of young doctors trying desperately to do no harm. One such physician is Dennis Whitaker (Gerran Howell), a doe-eye farm boy from Nebraska having a rough first day. In addition to getting urinated, puked, and bled on multiple times, this overwhelmed resident loses his very first patient. Through this gauntlet of hardships, Dr. Robby calmly walks beside his young charge, encouraging and teaching. Instead of crumbling, Whitaker eventually bounces back and thrives.
Then there’s the barrage of suffering patients and family members, almost too many to count. When a middle-aged brother and sister anguish over how much invasive care to provide for their terminally ill elderly father, Dr. Robby comforts and gently advises. When devastated parents rush to the bedside of their cationic son, brain-dead from a fentanyl overdose, Dr. Robby extends care in order to give the stricken couple time to grieve and to consider organ donation. When several rapidly dying patients require risky medical procedures, Dr. Robby quickly demonstrates his considerable medical skill, protecting and healing… until the next crisis arises.
In John 10:11-12, Jesus refers to himself as “the good shepherd.” Among other similarities to Jesus, Dr. Robby shows a willingness to metaphorically lay down his life. When a bean-counter hospital administrator (Michael Hyatt) proposes contracting the ER through an outside corporation, the good doctor stands guard, fervently resisting any decrease to the quality of care. By rejecting potentially more money for himself from the deal, Dr. Robby proves a real shepherd, not a “hired hand” ready to “abandon his sheep” when wolves draw near.
Of course, the shepherd metaphor extends to Christ’s followers as well. 1 Peter 5:2-3 exhorts Christians to “be shepherds of God’s flock, […] watching over them, […] not lording it over those entrusted to you, but being examples to the flock.” The Pitt illustrates the potential fruit of being such an example. From the first episode on, viewers learn that Dr. Robby carries his own heavy burden. Through a series of nightmarish flashbacks, he repeatedly re-lives trauma experienced years earlier during the worst days of the Covid-19 pandemic in which his beloved mentor/shepherd dies from the virus. Today’s shift, we learn, marks an anniversary of this great loss.
So, when the ER unexpectantly again becomes overwhelmed by a new horrific catastrophe, Dr. Robby’s past trauma catches up with him. He finds himself in a dissociated state, uncontrollably weeping in the pediatric ward converted into makeshift morgue. Although by his own account not a religious man, the stricken physician involuntarily mumbles the Shema prayer gleaned from his Jewish upbringing: “Shema Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad” / “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is One.”
During this vulnerable moment, none-other than young Whitaker discovers his supervisor inconsolably weeping and mumbling in a crouched position among the dead bodies. Rather than abandon or report him, Whitaker turns shepherd. He softly beseeches, “We need you out there, Captain.” He then offers his extended hand. Wordlessly, Dr. Robby reluctantly allows Whitaker to pull him to his feet; soon thereafter, the gifted senior resident flows back into the crisis, fully returning to shepherd mode. Sometimes, shepherds need shepherds.
In perhaps my favorite scene from the series, Dr. Robby finds a moment later in the episode to thank Whitaker for the intervention. “I don’t know what that was,” he apologizes. “I felt like I was drowning.” In response, the young resident coyly underplays the scene, claiming that he only witnessed a “brief moment of silent reflection.” Then, with a kind smile, Whitaker divulges that he recognized the Shema prayer because he was a theology major in undergrad. As testament, he then effortlessly quotes Isaiah 40:31: “but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.” Amidst the chaos of an overrun ER, this tender biblical exchange provides a much-needed moment of grace.
Although his hospital administrator disapproves of Dr. Robby’s use of the term “The Pitt” as a workplace description, the nickname fits. More than a derogatory moniker for The Steel City, the hellish landscape depicted in The Pitt evokes Psalm 40:2. Echoing this psalm, Dr. Robby “lifts us out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.”
We need shepherds. We are called to be shepherds.
8 Responses
Love this and love the show. Thank you!
Wonderful comments on great “TV”. As a physician who has lived through those and similar times the representations are true and your comments are uplifting.
Two corrections however. Robby is the Senior Attending not the Chief Resident. It might be said that in your world that might be the difference between an Assistant Director and the Director of a play. The patient had suffered irreversible brain damage (“brain dead”) is was not in catatonic state. Patients in a catatonic state would not be considered organ donors.
Thank you for the corrections and the medical perspective.
I need to get this on my “to watch” list! Thank you!
It was such a beautiful and compelling and engaging show. Thank you for helping me relive some of its best moments and most significant scenes in your beautiful and hope-filled review. Deeply appreciated.
Thank you for this essay. Grace to you and your family.
I love these hospital shows! My wife and I are currently binge watching “The Resident” on Netflix. What I find interesting, especially in light of your last comment (“We need shepherds. We are called to be shepherds”) is that these shows never include a professional “shepherd,” i.e. a Chaplain. Once in awhile you might find a priest giving the last rites, but most of the work of the (CPE trained) hospital chaplain is instead provided by the medical staff. Same for the social workers. This reinforces the narrative that Doctors are God– all-powerful. You would never see a chaplain conduct a surgery!
Such a difference from MASH, where the Chaplain and his support was critical to the medical community’s success.
Thank you for bringing attention to this outstanding series. In this window into a level 1 trauma center, both the traumatic experiences of those needing care and the full humanity of those providing care are thoughtfully presented. I so appreciated your highlighting the episode of mutual spiritual care between young Whittaker in his first day on the job and the most experienced Dr. Robby.