Friday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Creek Water

While attending the VA chaplains’ training session in Virginia, I was instructed to listen for the Veteran’s “lament.” What is his complaint? Hopefully, it is not about the hospital. But it might not be about his illness either.

Perhaps the lament I meet most often is disappointment. Most of the patients are, like me, getting on in years. The body is starting to break down. It ain’t what it used to be. Somehow I thought aging would come more easily.

Without cajoling or preaching, I sometimes remind the Veterans, “It always takes courage.”

While writing his letters to the Corinthians, Saint Paul still had a long way to go. He was probably in the prime of his life at that time, but had already been around the bend more than a few times. He’d suffered rejection and physical abuse, illness and loneliness and all the usual human afflictions. His life was not getting any easier. But he says in his letter:

Run so as to win.
Every athlete exercises discipline in every way.
They do it to win a perishable crown,
but we an imperishable one.
Thus I do not run aimlessly;
I do not fight as if I were shadowboxing.
No, I drive my body and train it,
for fear that, after having preached to others,
I myself should be disqualified.

My patients (and I) are disappointed with our bodies. Somehow we didn’t think they’d break down quite this soon. Some of us thought we could drink like fish and smoke like choo-choo trains and still enjoy getting up in the morning. Most of us ignored all the warning signs of breakdown. We told ourselves, “It will be better in the morning. I’ll get it back next week.” We looked forward to retirement when we could do anything we wanted, only to discover we don’t want to do anything except get well. And, too often, wellness means going back to the same sedentary habits – eating, drinking alcohol, smoking, watching television, and partying like there’s no tomorrow.

Fortunately, God’s grace is superabundant and we do find courage. With good advice we can change our ways. We can learn to enjoy the purity of air and water and a healthy diet. We can learn to enjoy stretching muscles and limbering joints. We can learn to appreciate the ability to walk, talk and listen. We can learn to say thank you for the help we are given, and to offer what assistance we can give. We can let go of what is gone forever and accept the limitations of aging human bodies. 

And then, sometimes, the Lord sends us where we do not want to go, to assisted living and nursing homes and hospice units and we go bringing a message of peace.

I cannot imagine being human without the need for courage. I don’t think such an existence would mean anything. As we practice courage in this life, we prepare for the next one, where we might even dare to look on the Face of God.