[Written for The Southern Cross]
My first emergency call to the hospital as a priest came just a few days after arriving to my first parish assignment. I carefully placed my brand new container with fresh oil in my shirt’s pocket and I held the official Pastoral Care of the Sick green prayer book in my hand. I took the elevator to the intensive care unit.
As I entered the unit after having called the nurses station, I heard a man say after we made eye contact, “Good. The priest is here.” He was anxiously waiting for the priest. He was not waiting for a specific priest whether old or young, experienced or new, but a priest. The middle aged man led me to the room where his wife lay connected to a series of beeping machines that kept her alive. I said prayers and anointed the dying woman. When I was done, the man thanked me profusely and I left. Before I knew it I was back in my car driving back to the parish to continue the day’s work. I never saw or heard from the family again.
Rather than driving back to the office where I had left in the middle of a meeting, I headed to the Blessed Sacrament chapel of the parish. I sat and asked in prayer, “Lord, where were you in such a sad and tragic moment? Where were you while this woman’s children cried from the inconsolable pain of losing their mother? Where were you?”
The answer to my questions shook me and taught me lifelong lesson about the priesthood. God was there through the priest. God was there through the sacrament of the anointing of the sick. While caught up with my own questions and sadness, I had failed to see God at work through the priest.
Today a parishioner mentioned how it must be difficult to tend to a dying person be it at the hospital or at home. I agreed, it is difficult. Nobody enjoys seeing a person die or seeing a family stricken with grief. Yet, it is at these difficult moments that the priest channels the light of Christ into the darkness of death and sorrow. The priest becomes the presence of Jesus bringing hope and consolation in the midst of loss and distress. This transforms tending to the dying into a blessing and a privilege.
During this month of November we remember the faithful departed. We remember all those who have gone before us, especially our loved ones. We trust that Christ’s light has conquered the darkness of the experience of death, allowing us to remain hopeful that we will see them again when we join the multitude of saints around the throne of God in heaven. Death has lost its sting, and as priests, we experience and give witness to this reality daily.
Pictures are mine, all rights reserved
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