Living the Passion

Last Sunday was the fifth and last Sunday in Lent.  I preached on the passage from the Gospel of John in which Jesus says "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life."  This passage tells of the end of his public ministry and the beginning of his Passion - his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the Last Supper, the Crucifixion, and the Resurrection.  I talked about something having to do with the church being willing to give up traditional ways of being the church and finding new ways to minister in an environment suspicious of the church and religion in general.  I reminded my congregations that we were poised at the threshold of Holy Week which begins this Sunday with Palm Sunday.  Holy Week is the annual opportunity to relive the journey to the Cross and the empty tomb.  Little did I know how prophetic I was.

When I got home after my last service, my wife told me I had a message from one of my parishioners, the brother-in-law of a woman I had known for years who was a member of the local Catholic church.  She had been fighting ovarian cancer for nearly seven years and he was calling to tell me that she had just gotten home from her latest round of radiation and that she had just found out that there was nothing more to be done.  She was asking for me.  When I got to the house, the whole family was there and her husband, a poker buddy of mine, met me at the door.  He was visibly upset.  He told me that they had been told that it was a matter of days or a week or so.  I went back to the bedroom and found my friend in a hospital bed, missing all of her hair, jaundiced, and paralyzed from the waist down.  She looked right at me and told me she was dying and that she was ready to go.  It had been a long fight, and she was tired.  She's 44, with two teen-agers, one who graduates from high school in a month, and she will not see him do it.

I am about to live Holy Week for real with a woman and her family who know very deeply that they must go through a very difficult time to find life.  And they are teaching me a few things.

On Tuesday, I sat with her alone for a few minutes and after a brief silence, she took my hand and asked me if I believed in an afterlife.  She has a profound faith, but even Jesus, knowing he was in God's hands, had his doubts at the last moments.  I knew she was looking for more than the stock answers a priest always gives his people about such things.  We want proof about things which are unprovable.  All I could do was tell her a story about my own experience with life after death and let her come to her own conclusions.  I told her about my father, a surgeon, who died a couple of years ago.  He was always the one I called first whenever I or my family had some medical problem we wanted to make sure was being handled properly.  It took a lot of the guesswork out of it for us, as Dad was an excellent diagnostician and could cut through the BS of medical community.  Shortly after he died, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and was facing surgery.  I realized for the first time in my life I was facing a life-threatening event, alone, without him to back me up.  I struggled through all of the testing and biopsies and decision making about the surgery until we scheduled it.  I had about a two month wait and didn't think much about it until a couple of weeks before. I started getting nervous and feeling very alone and scared.  One day, while I was exercising, I just blurted out a prayer and said, "Lord, I'm really scared about this surgery and what it's going to turn up.  I have had to deal with the details alone and it would be really great if it would be possible to have Dad at least be in the OR with me when I have the surgery."  As instantly as my prayer was out, I heard Dad's voice saying, "I'll be there."  I stopped rowing and broke down in tears.  My wife asked me what was going on and I told her and we both cried for about ten minutes.  I was at peace and ready to face what ever was coming.  On the day of my surgery, the pre-op was a bustle of activity.  I didn't have a moment to myself except for a minute or two just before they came to take me into the OR.  It all came crashing down on me right then and all I could say was, "Lord I really need something right now."  I felt what I thought was a hand on my shoulder and looked back and there was Dad, in scrubs, ready to go.  I knew right then that life goes on, never ending, only changing, and we can witness it if we are willing to adjust our perceptions.

All we can do is tell stories.  My friend seemed to understand and so did her husband.  She has been asking me the hard questions...how worried she is about how it will be when the end comes.  Questions that can only be answered with stories and metaphors, and love.  I truly believe I am witnessing and participating in the Passion of our Lord right here at this bedside.  This Easter will be very special indeed.

I will not be writing much over the next I-don't-know-how-long.  As The Preacher and Barbaric Yawp know, this is a really busy time.  I will also be spending a great deal of time with my friend and her family in the honored place of being invited to journey into life with her and no one can predict how long the journey will take.  I do know from experience, that it will be relatively soon.  I ask your prayers for her, for her husband and her children...and for me, too.  Take a moment in your busy lives to ponder the Holy Week mystery, and receive my prayers and blessing for a joyous Resurrection in your lives, too.  Oh, and remind someone you love just how precious the time you spend with them is.

Peace.

9:58:38 PM
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