Readings: Wisdom 1:13-15; 2:33-34; Psalm 30; 2 Corinthians 8:7,9, 13-15; Mark 5:21-43
When I have reached the end of my rope in my attempts to resolve a situation in my life, I resort to prayer. I thought of this when I read the story of the woman who was plagued with bleeding for twelve years and how she had spent all she had on doctors. It was only then that she turned to Jesus. Why do we often see prayer as a last resort, rather than the first path to wholeness?
Maybe this is as it should be. God patiently waits on us while we discover the limits of our abilities. Then and only then are we ready to rely on God and allow grace to make a way, where there seems no way. Often the sticking point is that we believe we have the best plan for our life – maybe this is a plan of fame and fortune, or perhaps this is a life of safety and security. When this falls flat, we may be ready to accept God’s plan.
This happened to Francis of Assisi. He went off to fight, a knight in shining armor. He came back home as a broken and wounded man, but this was not the end. As a broken man, his heart was open to the poor and the outcast, the lepers outside the protecting wall in the valley below Assisi. Still, he tried to do it his way by helping himself to his father’s wealth. In the end, he left his life of fame and fortune behind and relied on God. God created in him and Claire the grace to accomplish a much broader vision, one that changed the Church and the world. This shift to reliance on God is as essential in small things as it is in great things.
In a jail visit this week one man shared with me that he was struggling with his wife’s medical condition. They had no access to proper healthcare, and she was suffering much from excessive and prolonged bleeding during her monthly cycle. With nowhere to turn they prayed during one of their weekly phone calls. After the telephone call, he went to his, and it opened up to the passage we heard today. He accepted this as an answer from God and he thanked God for the healing he felt would be forthcoming for his wife. He trusted and had faith in God’s grace. He copied this scripture down and sent it to his wife. The next time he called, he figured it would be during her menstrual cycle, she answered and told him she was out shopping at K-Mart with her mother. He was surprised that she was even out of bed, but she related that her difficult symptoms were gone. They have never returned. Their faith saved his wife, and she was cured of her affliction.
As you can imagine many in jail and prison are facing the darkest time in their lives. Your prayers for them are needed. Those who serve as religious volunteers do an essential ministry. These men and women take the time to visit the incarcerated. Your presence can be a grace to buoy their spirits as you walk together with Christ to opportunities and new beginnings. When things are going well in our lives, it is easy to know that God is close, when things get hard (and they are challenging for the incarcerated) it is hard to remember that God is close to us in our suffering. This is the message of the cross – in His darkest hour, when Jesus despaired of God he cried out – “My God my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)
These words from the cross show us that Jesus entered fully into our human condition. This is not a sentimental kind of piety. When we experience Jesus’ cry, we might ask, “Can I make it our own?” As a companion to someone in jail or prison, we let them know that Jesus has not abandoned them in their sorrow and pain. You will be the presence of Jesus for them. You will also realize that it is Jesus you serve when you serve the least. (Matthew 25: 31-46)
The message you will bring to those behind bars is that when they suffer they do not suffer alone. For us, life and death can be a dark and scary place. Even though we believe and trust in God, the hard times of life can cause anxiety and anguish. Jesus does not bring us deliverance from death (for we all die), but deliverance through suffering and death. This is the promise of our presence to the poor.
We live in a culture, which, in many ways, denies the hardness of life; it is afraid to take a bright look at the fact and the meaning of mortality. Sadly many choose to medicate their pain and suffering from drugs or alcohol. The cry of Jesus is a profoundly human cry. At the same time, he refuses the drugs offered him on the cross. (Mark 15:23)
Perhaps this cry of Jesus is a witness our society could benefit from hearing. Can you be the disciple to bring this message to the dark places of the world? Let others know that pain may have something to teach us – perhaps one should not rush to deaden it before it has a chance to show us something new. Like Jesus, maybe the best antidote is to pray to the Father. Jesus expressed his despair (Matthew 27:46) and the Father’s answer is the resurrection, but not until the Son passed through death. We suffer many deaths, but only one is final. Each of the “little deaths” is a preparation to make the leap of faith that calls us to die to ourselves so that we may rise with Christ.
“For through the law, I died to the law, that I might live for God. I have been crucified with Christ, yet I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me; insofar as I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God who has loved me and given himself up for me.”
(Galatians 2:19-20)
When someone reaches the end of their rope, when they have lost everything, their health, their loved ones, their liberty; perhaps you can be the presence of Christ as Jesus was to the parents of the little girl, the woman with hemorrhages, or that man or woman in prison.
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