December 14, 2014
Dear Parishioners,
This is Gaudete Sunday. It is an invitation to all Christians to rejoice; not because the world is perfect, but because Jesus is coming into the world.
Let’s not pretend; each of us knows that there are countless intolerable situations our world. Most people have known times of deep darkness at some point in their lives. And for some, Christmas is a time of additional pain, because the joyful celebration of others only highlights their own loneliness and lack of hope. So, what do we, as Christians, have to say to those who are in despair?
Before I became a priest, but while I was discerning priesthood, I volunteered in a hospice. A hospice is a place where people go when they have a terminal disease. I was on-call Christmas day. Most of the patients were taken out for the day by their relatives and friends; or if they were too sick for that, the family came to visit. The only patient in the whole hospital who didn’t get a visit was a little old lady of 81. The nurses called me about her. They said “please, you’ve got to come and see her, she’s been lying there crying her heart out for four hours.” So I went to see her immediately. All around her were other patients with their visitors. And she was just an island of misery with tears covering her face. When I arrived, I pulled the screens around her so we could be in private. Then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I sat down and held her hand. And, within a minute, it all poured out, how neither of her two children, nor the rest of her family, had contacted her for years. How she had no friends who kept in touch with her. She acknowledged that this would be her last Christmas, and that nobody in the world cared if she lived or died. And how probably no-one at all would come to her funeral.
I searched for something to say that would comfort her and not sound trite, but I could not think of a single thing. So I sat with her, holding her hand in silence. After about twenty minutes, a nun came in very quietly. She sat on the other side of the bed, held the other hand, and began to pray. I don’t remember how long we sat there praying, but it was quite a while. Then the nun went away as quietly as she had come. And the old lady turned to me and said “Thank you, I think I’ll sleep now.” And she smiled beautifully. Her smile made my Christmas.
I never saw her again, she died that night. At her funeral there was only the priest, the nun and myself. But I hope, and I believe, that she died at peace with God and with herself, and with the family and friends who had forgotten her.
As Christians we are asked not merely to repeat the words of the Gospel, but to give expression to them in our lives. If the love of Jesus is to be a reality in the lives of those who most need it, it can only be through our consoling love and strengthening presence. If we truly live by faith, and have experienced the coming of Jesus as a strength in times of suffering, then that is a gift to be shared. There are many who are overwhelmed by trouble and can only be saved from despair if we reach out to comfort them in the spirit of Jesus. We, too, have been appointed to carry on the healing ministry of Jesus. We are not the light, only witnesses to speak for the light; this is our ministry. We are Jesus’ disciples in 2014; if we don’t do it, no one else will.
Fr. Leonard+