By Norris Burkes Feb 9 2026

What do you get when you assume?” goes the common riddle.

The answer comes when you divide the word assume down the middle: You make an ass out of “U” and “Me.” Don’t worry, I can say “ass” because it’s in the Bible.

But during my years as a hospital chaplain, I called this assumption, “The Donkey Syndrome.” That’s because I found it very easy to make damaging assumptions about hospital patients.

For instance, it was easy to assume that the lung cancer patient who asked me why God gave him cancer had likely brought it upon himself. That is, until I learned he was like the 10 percent of lung cancer patients who have never smoked.

On another occasion, it was easy for our emergency room staff to assume that the mother who brought her son to us hadn’t been watching closely enough to prevent his electrocution. That is, until we discovered it happened inside the locked tennis court of a gated subdivision.

Assumptions can be damaging, but most especially when assessing relationships.

When my training supervisor advised us that we could avoid many relationship assumptions by simply asking people how they know each other, I discarded the advice as awkward.

Instead, I just assumed the relationship between a visitor and a dying woman by asking, “Does your mother have any particular religion?”

“First of all, she’s Buddhist, but more importantly, she’s my wife – not my mother!”

Assumptions hurt.

I recall a chaplain colleague visiting a gravely injured man and quizzing the nurse about the whereabouts of his wife.

The nurse replied, “Which wife?”

Awkward.

But that’s what happens when we make assumptions about people based on our preconceived notions about their color, their piercings, their accent or
their tattoos. I think we can shed our donkey tails when we learn to squelch our assuming closed-ended questions.

What are “closed-ended” questions?

They are questions that assume a single-worded answer, like yes or no. The inquisitor reveals his assumption that the issue is black and white.

One example of a closed-ended question is when the television reporter asks a family devastated by a hurricane, “Don’t you feel awful?”

When we discard our closed-ended questions and pose open-ended questions, we invite people to share their spiritual journey.

Open-ended questions usually begin with “how?” and “what?”

Better still, avoid the 20-question game and use a sentence that starts with “Tell me.” “Tell me what you are thinking.” “Tell me what that feels like.” “Tell me
what you might do next.”

Like many world religions, some of Christianity’s most profound teaching springs from the answer to an open-ended question. For instance, when Jesus
was asked, “What must I do to be saved?” or when Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do men say that I am?”

As a chaplain, I see one of the worst assumptions we put onto people is our closed-ended assumptions about faith.

The Apostle Paul challenged some people in the early Christian church when they thrust their assumptions on new converts, telling them that they must carry the mark of circumcision to be people of faith.

“Don’t you see?” he asked. “It’s not the cut of a knife on your skin that creates a person of faith, it’s the mark God puts on your heart.”

Paul was warning that the assumptions we put onto people about faith can be like using a knife to extract God’s grace from them.

Bottom line: Don’t assume you know what’s best for people. Get close enough to ask them open-ended questions and read the writings, not on their
appendages, but on their hearts.