Christ in our midst
19/02/16 05:28
News came yesterday that a friend of a friend, living in a distant city, who has been on my personal prayer chain for a couple of weeks, received devastating news from the doctors. After a surgical procedure a few days ago, he was told that he has stage four pancreatic cancer that has metastasized and spread to several other locations in his body. Doctors these days do not make time predictions, as they know that such predictions are rarely accurate and that individual differences are such that there is no way of knowing the pace of the spread of a disease. On the other hand, it seems likely that the advanced cancer and/or its complications will be the cause of the death of the patient and that the timeline will be relatively short.
Most of the time we live our lives with a decreased awareness of our mortality. We know that death is out there somewhere, but we focus on living our lives, knowing that there will be time for recovery from mistakes and second chances with relationships. For our friends, who asked that we pray for their friend, there is a new sense of urgency. They know that their time with their friend is limited. Each conversation has in its background the knowledge that there are precious few conversations left. It is a tough reality to face.
One of the blessings of reality, however, is that it allows us to set aside ideology. We humans can be stubborn when it comes to hanging on our ideological beliefs, even when (or perhaps especially when) they are misguided. We develop loyalties to politicians and parties. We stick to particular ideas and images of ourselves and others. We exaggerate once meaningful concepts until they take on new and different meanings.
Cancer doesn’t have ideologies. It doesn’t discriminate between political parties. It doesn’t ask if the person is good or bad. It doesn’t care about economic status. It simply is.
The differences that divide humans from one another are nothing in the face of the reality that we are all mortal.
As i sat in front of my computer, processing the information in the email, I immediately thought of the short journey that lies ahead for our friends. Their visits will demand that they witness pain. Their grief is already beginning. Some of the activities that they have enjoyed with their friends can never be done again. They will be attending a funeral before long and the body of one of them will be in the casket.
I know that my role is only to offer my sincere prayers to God. I know better than to try to direct God’s actions. I pray for peace and understanding and acceptance. But I also feel compelled to offer some words of hope to our friends.
Fortunately for me, before I read my email, as my day began yesterday, I went to a program at a local business called the garage. Periodically, supported by a grant from the Bush Foundation, the Numad Group brings speakers to downtown Rapid City and provides a platform for civil conversation and learning. Yesterday morning’s 7 am speaker was Rev. Dr. Robert “Bud” Grant, a Roman Catholic Priest, author, professor and expert on the new Papal Encyclical on the environment. What I had thought might be a discussion of some of the environmental issues of our day proved to be unexpectedly inspiring for me. The final question asked of Father Grant was about hope. He started his answer by speaking about our ideologies. He held up his right hand in a fist and said, “This is belief. It is what you do when you are grasping and trying to hang on with all you have.” Then he held up his left hand, palm open and raised up and said, “This is faith, it is letting go and trusting.”
He went on to say, in words more eloquent than I will be able to write, that we often use the word hope inaccurately. We say “hope” when we are talking about our wishes and selfish desires. “Hope,” he said, “isn’t found in expressing a desire to be protected from bad things. Hope is what happens when the worst thing imaginable occurs and you discover that you are not alone.”
He went on to speak of love and the relationship of faith, hope and love. I couldn’t have found a better way to start my day. His inspiring words stuck through my next meeting, some work on this Sunday’s worship service, a couple of conversations with church members and a response to an emergency in the lives of members of the congregation that delayed my looking at e-mail until after 2 pm.
They came back to me as I read the news of a family so far away’s anguish over a devastating illness. Hope wasn’t in the words I would type in response to the email. Hope wasn’t in my best wishes for everyone involved. But there was a great deal of hope knowing that we belong to a huge network of prayer. I didn’t have to find the right words for our friends. I needed to be reminded that there are circles of prayer surrounding them in many different locations. “Faith, hope and love abide, these three.”
The people I serve have had a really tough week of devastating diagnoses, destructive addictions, broken relationships. I’ve witnessed more pain this week than usual, though I’m not really sure what usual is. But I know that Father Grant is right. If you really want to draw close to the miracles of God, you will do well to let go of your possessions and walk among those who have none. You will do well to cast aside your ideologies and pursue meaningful relationships. You will do well to abandon your search for a flawless Christology and look for the resurrected Christ in the people in your own neighborhood.
Once, when he was late for a meeting at the Vatican, Father Grant burst through a doorway and nearly knocked over Mother Theresa. It wasn’t the meeting with the saint he had envisioned. It makes a pretty funny story the way he tells it these days. It is also a reminder that Christ walks in our midst every day and comes to us in the form of the people who surround us.
I pray I can learn to slow down and recognize what a gift this is.
Most of the time we live our lives with a decreased awareness of our mortality. We know that death is out there somewhere, but we focus on living our lives, knowing that there will be time for recovery from mistakes and second chances with relationships. For our friends, who asked that we pray for their friend, there is a new sense of urgency. They know that their time with their friend is limited. Each conversation has in its background the knowledge that there are precious few conversations left. It is a tough reality to face.
One of the blessings of reality, however, is that it allows us to set aside ideology. We humans can be stubborn when it comes to hanging on our ideological beliefs, even when (or perhaps especially when) they are misguided. We develop loyalties to politicians and parties. We stick to particular ideas and images of ourselves and others. We exaggerate once meaningful concepts until they take on new and different meanings.
Cancer doesn’t have ideologies. It doesn’t discriminate between political parties. It doesn’t ask if the person is good or bad. It doesn’t care about economic status. It simply is.
The differences that divide humans from one another are nothing in the face of the reality that we are all mortal.
As i sat in front of my computer, processing the information in the email, I immediately thought of the short journey that lies ahead for our friends. Their visits will demand that they witness pain. Their grief is already beginning. Some of the activities that they have enjoyed with their friends can never be done again. They will be attending a funeral before long and the body of one of them will be in the casket.
I know that my role is only to offer my sincere prayers to God. I know better than to try to direct God’s actions. I pray for peace and understanding and acceptance. But I also feel compelled to offer some words of hope to our friends.
Fortunately for me, before I read my email, as my day began yesterday, I went to a program at a local business called the garage. Periodically, supported by a grant from the Bush Foundation, the Numad Group brings speakers to downtown Rapid City and provides a platform for civil conversation and learning. Yesterday morning’s 7 am speaker was Rev. Dr. Robert “Bud” Grant, a Roman Catholic Priest, author, professor and expert on the new Papal Encyclical on the environment. What I had thought might be a discussion of some of the environmental issues of our day proved to be unexpectedly inspiring for me. The final question asked of Father Grant was about hope. He started his answer by speaking about our ideologies. He held up his right hand in a fist and said, “This is belief. It is what you do when you are grasping and trying to hang on with all you have.” Then he held up his left hand, palm open and raised up and said, “This is faith, it is letting go and trusting.”
He went on to say, in words more eloquent than I will be able to write, that we often use the word hope inaccurately. We say “hope” when we are talking about our wishes and selfish desires. “Hope,” he said, “isn’t found in expressing a desire to be protected from bad things. Hope is what happens when the worst thing imaginable occurs and you discover that you are not alone.”
He went on to speak of love and the relationship of faith, hope and love. I couldn’t have found a better way to start my day. His inspiring words stuck through my next meeting, some work on this Sunday’s worship service, a couple of conversations with church members and a response to an emergency in the lives of members of the congregation that delayed my looking at e-mail until after 2 pm.
They came back to me as I read the news of a family so far away’s anguish over a devastating illness. Hope wasn’t in the words I would type in response to the email. Hope wasn’t in my best wishes for everyone involved. But there was a great deal of hope knowing that we belong to a huge network of prayer. I didn’t have to find the right words for our friends. I needed to be reminded that there are circles of prayer surrounding them in many different locations. “Faith, hope and love abide, these three.”
The people I serve have had a really tough week of devastating diagnoses, destructive addictions, broken relationships. I’ve witnessed more pain this week than usual, though I’m not really sure what usual is. But I know that Father Grant is right. If you really want to draw close to the miracles of God, you will do well to let go of your possessions and walk among those who have none. You will do well to cast aside your ideologies and pursue meaningful relationships. You will do well to abandon your search for a flawless Christology and look for the resurrected Christ in the people in your own neighborhood.
Once, when he was late for a meeting at the Vatican, Father Grant burst through a doorway and nearly knocked over Mother Theresa. It wasn’t the meeting with the saint he had envisioned. It makes a pretty funny story the way he tells it these days. It is also a reminder that Christ walks in our midst every day and comes to us in the form of the people who surround us.
I pray I can learn to slow down and recognize what a gift this is.