Noble dignity
Yesterday, I traveled to New England to visit my father and look after his medical care. He’s in temporary rehab at a center connected to a nursing home, so we had a great visit there and talked about…life. He has a lot of wit, wisdom and insight, and he told me about the different residents as he joked with them and generally made them laugh. They light up in his presence, because he genuinely cares about people.
Dad told me that a lot of people turn away from elderly folks who are sick and dying, because people are afraid of dying themselves, and it’s uncomfortable to confront it. But he said what I’ve found to be true, myself, by being at the bedside of a dying old priest friend, and then an uncle — that those are some of the most profoundly special times for people to be together and talk. Or not talk, but just be present, showing them the dignity they deserve. Dad said, you know, they’re at that threshold between this life and that unimagineable glory of the eternal life in another world we can’t even imagine. And he said that’s a magnificent moment in the continuum of life, it’s another stage, not an end.
We had a great talk, and I saw my father’s nobility in how he regards everyone, and how he asks God every day to ‘make him an instrument of His peace.’ Within moments, a lady came down the hall and Dad talked with her a bit and then relayed this whole story about how he calmed her mother when there was an emergency by getting information and taking the fear out of it, and just being present for her. I said, ‘there you are, Dad, God answered your prayer. You were an instrument of His peace.’
When I left last night, I had no luggage because the airline misplaced it, so I was annoyed by having to go to a discount store locally and buy just about everything I needed to get through the night and morning. But after thinking about the day and the people and the wisdom — and the sheer love that was there, it didn’t matter. Grace happened.
And then I took a look at the email backup from the day, and found this newsletter from Vatican Information Service about the World Day of the Sick, to be celebrated on February 11.
“We must,” the text of the decree reads, “reflect deeply upon the fact that human remedies have a limit and that, therefore, there will inevitably come a time when man reaches the end of his journey on this earth. To the sick who are in that condition we must offer the most attentive care and the greatest charity, so that their transit from this world to the Father is comforted by divine consolation and so that, as the Church’s prayer for the dying implores, they may see the gentle face of Jesus Christ and clearly hear the voice calling them to eternal glory and joy.”
“With this awareness, the Holy Mother Church hopes that the annual celebration of the World Day of the Sick may become an effective catechesis of the teaching … of the treasure of Revelation, concerning the value and function of suffering.”
We don’t tend to suffer well. But the Holy Father has reminded us of what my own father reminded me at this time, and that is the redemptive power of suffering. And being present with and for those who are is a divine consolation.