From before the Camino: In my parish work I have noted that in moments of great pain, in sickness, and after a death, people often need to share their stories to help process those difficult moments.
When we suffer physically, our capacity for recovery often parallels our opportunities to know that someone cares. When hospitalized, and doctors and nurses can take the time to explain things, it is so helpful. When visitors are able to express their love and care, and are willing to listen, it distracts from the discomfort, even if but for a moment.
The compassion of the community is most particularly needed after a death. The moment a loved family member dies is sacred. The efforts made to prolong life, to allow life to pass, or to provide comfort all weigh upon the ones who make the decisions. Whether the passing was easy or tormented shapes the well-being of the witnesses. Everything matters at that moment, and stories need to be told.
When people are deeply emotional, the feelings can overwhelm a person’s ability to think or reason, evaluate or solve. Healing of a body is one thing that matters. Healing of a person’s spirit is another. Many times, when confronted by sickness, death or trauma, I suspect the most valuable work that priests, ministers, therapists and friends do, is simply to listen and care.
From the life of St. James, Mark 1:29-31 – “29 On leaving the synagogue he entered the house of Simon and Andrew with James and John. 30 Simon’s mother-in-law lay sick with a fever. They immediately told him about her. 31 He approached, grasped her hand, and helped her up. Then the fever left her and she waited on them.
From the life of St. James, Mark 5:35-42 – “While he was still speaking, people from the synagogue official’s house arrived and said, “Your daughter has died; why trouble the teacher any longer?” 36 Disregarding the message that was reported, Jesus said to the synagogue official, “Do not be afraid; just have faith.” 37 He did not allow anyone to accompany him inside except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. 38 When they arrived at the house of the synagogue official, he caught sight of a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. 39 f So he went in and said to them, “Why this commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but asleep.” 40 And they ridiculed him. Then he put them all out. He took along the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and entered the room where the child was. 41 He took the child by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!” 42 The girl, a child of twelve, arose immediately and walked around. [At that] they were utterly astounded.”
For reflection: The first called are also, altogether, the first witnesses of extraordinary moments of healing. In an ancient world where medicines were hit and miss, quite often miss, Jesus was able, with no more than a touch, to bring healing. Shortly after this passage, when the sun had gone down and everyone’s labors were finished, the whole town shows up at the doorway, looking for healing.
James was a witness to this moment, and many others like it. We are not given a window into his sense of awe or surprise. We cannot know what he felt. We don’t know if it ever happened, even just in passing, that he, too, needed Jesus’ healing touch.
Part of the Camino is to witness to the healing that others experience. Their growth in self-understanding, their overcoming of obstacles, their perseverance in adversity – all of these lay claim to our attention. We get to stand witness to what happens in the lives of others, as God works many quiet miracles in the people with whom we journey.
You may well happen upon someone processing the death of a spouse, a child or a friend. They may need silence to grieve, companionship to distract, or a selfless listener to give silent witness to their story.
Can we allow these moments to be about someone else? Can we listen without trying to solve? Can we enter in, compassionately to the fevers of others? Can we take the focus off of our own set of troubles and preoccupations to stand by while Jesus takes someone else by the hand? It’s within our grasp if we set our mind to it.
It is part of what it is to be human, to be a part of a family or a band of disciples, and to allow our sense of well-being extend into and be shaped by the health and welfare of others.
