Being Presence: Being Mercy

A REFLECTION FOR WORLD DAY OF THE SICK, 2022 

The World Day of the Sick, initiated by Pope St. John Paul 11 thirty years ago and recognized in the Catholic Church each February 11, is a day set aside to pray with and for those who are sick and to be reminded of our human and faith-based call to respond with care, commitment and healing presence. This designated day is not, however, a one-off annual remembrance. Its intent is to sharpen our focus everyday on the needs of those who are sick.   

Given the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic we might want to say that we cannot help but be aware of the overwhelming numbers of those who are sick; many ill with Covid, others whose medical care and treatments have been delayed, numerous others struggling with mental health issues and those at the end of life facing isolation in dying. We are living days of great disease, of suffering and of loss. To what then does this World Day of the Sick call us in the context in which we find ourselves?  

In his message for the 2022 World Day of the Sick, Pope Francis reminds us that we are called to be “merciful like God”. He says, “mercy is to be understood not as an occasional sentimental feeling but as an ever-present and active force. It combines strength and tenderness.” It’s to this that people of faith, as we work with others, are called in these harrowing times. Christians, Francis says, must imitate the healing ministry of Jesus, who as the Gospels remind us, “encountered people suffering from various illnesses” reaching out to heal them.  

While we are rightly grateful for all the advances made in medical science and for courageous, self-giving health care professionals risking all right now, we also each have a role in caring for those who are sick. 

Image: Unsplash/Kelly Sikkema

Sometimes, when faced with illness, we can feel fearful or inadequate and yet we are, nonetheless, called. We can never forget the dignity and vulnerabilities of each person. Someone who is sick is always more than his or her disease. Dr. Lissa Rankin, a physician specializing in mind-body medicine remarks, “Sometimes we forget when people are sick that what they most need is to feel connected, to be loved, to be touched.” Each of us, given the diversity of our gifts, can attend to this even in these days of restriction. 

Image: Unsplash/chris liu

Perhaps, above all, we are called to be a merciful presence; to be with, to walk with those who are sick and with their carers for whom we may be able to offer practical help or a time of respite. Even if I have personal physical limitations I can pray daily with and for those who are sick. I may be able to call someone to support them, send a card or letter expressing love, comfort and concern reminding a person of the gift they have been in my life or recounting special memories of times past spent together. Perhaps a visit is possible, even a socially-distanced visit! Above all, I can find ways to listen respectfully, tenderly. I can simply be with another. I don’t need a multitude of words, I don’t need to worry what to say I just need to “be there”.

Silence is sometimes the gentle gift. An appropriate tenderness of touch can speak more than a million words. Especially in the context of illness at the end of life, presence is one of the greatest gifts I can offer. This is expressed eloquently in the question posed by Sister Mary Catherine Hilkert, O.P., “Can I say to my neighbour ‘I have no solution, I don’t know the answer but I will walk with you, search with you, be with you?” This, perhaps above all, is the invitation of the World Day of the Sick each year. 

-Sister Mary Rowell, csj

A Home for Peoples' Souls: A Service of Retreat

“A Home for Peoples’ Souls: A Service of Retreat”: Words for a New Day

Have you ever experienced hearing a phrase that seemed to claim you in a special way, has stayed with you over years and that continues to inform and guide your thoughts and actions today? I first heard “my” phrase during novitiate (the time of early formation for new sisters in religious communities) some 18 years ago. When being introduced to the history of the Sisters of St. Joseph in France, where our Congregation was founded, we were told that just prior to and during the French Revolution (1780s) the Sisters became a “home for people’s souls – a service of retreat”. These words somehow lit a spark in me, and I’ve since pondered deeply their possible relevance for today.

The French Revolution took place within a context not unlike our own. Many people lived in deep poverty, disease was rife, there was societal violence and corruption in both church and state. Many lived in fear. Inequalities in society were marked. People were dejected, sick and hope was waning. Above all, people needed a place to feel valued, loved, cared about and safe, a place of momentary respite, a small glimpse of beauty, a moment of promise for a new day. And so, today as we face similar struggles, I think those same yearnings are present in the world and in our local communities, yearnings that Fr. Ron Rolheiser, OMI, calls a “holy longing”, especially a longing for meaning and belonging in a time of uncertainty and chaos.

people needed a place to feel valued, loved, cared about and safe, a place of momentary respite, a small glimpse of beauty, a moment of promise for a new day

As I reflect on these times in which we are living, the words that I heard and loved so long ago seem to have taken on a fresh urgency and relevance: Be, “a home for peoples’ souls, a service of retreat”. By this I don’t mean some superficial, pious interaction or a running away from reality but a being there for one another, being a listening, loving presence, recognizing the needs and vulnerabilities we all have at some time and receiving them with grace. We can all make a difference, however simple, in our own and other’s lives through encountering one another in respect, compassion and care with a deep understanding and non-judgmental approach to the stresses, suffering and anxieties of this time, our time.

In the words of some beautiful prayers of intercession that I encountered this morning: May we be:
home for the broken-hearted;
peace for the war-torn;
hope for the powerless;
wine for those who thirst for justice;
a voice for the oppressed, and
a comfort for the sorrowing.

In these ways may we become for a new day “a home for peoples’ souls, a service of retreat” - witnesses to a oneness of being and fundamental human experience, the reality of belonging, a hidden joy, and an unfolding hope.

-Sister Mary Rowell, csj


image: unsplash/Luís Feliciano

An Encounter on a Winter Walk

Early Sunday morning I embarked on London’s Thames Valley Trail amid brilliant sunshine, gleaming snow and –12 C weather.  As I walked along the River Thames, a thirtyish man walked from his small tent at the river edge up to the trail. He asked if I was one of the women who had left some Tim Horton’s donuts for him. I had not.  He introduced himself (I will call him “John”) and we shook hands; his enclosed in thin gloves and mine in bulky fleece-lined hide mitts. Asked about being cold with his thin jacket and flimsy tent, he stated that he was warm enough.  He then spoke about a sixty-one-year-old friend. The man’s bicycle had been stolen. A month earlier, the man had suffered an injury caused by a tree falling on his ankle - the same ankle that had been fused following a previous injury. The friend had crawled a fair distance through the scrabble along the river edge to John’s tent and John arranged for an ambulance to transport his buddy to the hospital. John had not been able to locate his pal and was concerned. He wondered if his friend would be able to walk again. When I told John that I would pray for him he asked if I went to church on Sunday. He was on his way to meet a pal at a nearby church.  He described a church in east London that had become so crowded that a second site was opened across the city.  John asked if I knew anyone who might need help for tasks such as clearing snow from their sidewalk.  He liked to help older people. I had no suggestions and we amicably continued along our respective paths.

This weekend a convoy of trucks and a multitude of supporters in Ottawa are angrily protesting mandatory vaccines, obligatory masks, vaccine passports, and other covid restrictions.   I reflected on my chance encounter with a man who was living in a tent in -12 C weather.  He expressed no anger, blame, or frustration about living in a tent, covid restrictions, or food insecurity.   Rather, he was cheerful, grateful for an anonymous gift of donuts, concerned about others, and confidently lived his faith in God.  I wondered if John would have felt welcomed and at home in my church. And I thought that if Jesus should make an appearance in our city whether he would feel more welcome and comfortable in John’s church than in mine.

-Sister Pat McKeon, csj