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Friends United Meeting |
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December 2000
God's Healing Spirit: An Answer to Our Suffering
By Amy Runge Gaffney
"Our hope is not based on something that will happen after our sufferings are over, but on the real presence of GodŐs healing Spirit in the midst of these sufferings." --Henri J. M. Nouwen, Making All Things New
Last week, my father passed away. The four days leading up to his death were an ordeal, both for him and for family members who were with him. He kept trying to do things he couldn't really do anymore--like walk to the bathroom without collapsing. As his strength rapidly diminished and his external awareness decreased, the most basic of tasks became impossible. More than once, he held his bowed head, shaking it in bewilderment and said, "I don't understand what's happening to me." Again and again, one of us expressed feelings about the injustice of it--asked why a man who, as a physician, had given so much to so many people, would have to suffer such a death.
Words can provide partial answers to these questions, but none of them is satisfying. We might say the process he went through was necessary to his letting go of this life, or to his preparation for the next, and both might be true, but neither answers the anguish we feel. Our minds wrestle with why these things happen the way they do, and come up with responses that are apt to sound especially hollow when our aching hearts are confronted with the reality of human suffering.
But the four days leading up to his death were also a time of healing. The best that can be said is that we loved him through it; that our actions witnessed to him, and to one another, of our deep love for him and for each other in the midst of our loss. For hours, my brother walked with him around the same small room, closely "spotting" him (despite our father's repeated protests) in case he suddenly collapsed. My sisters and I sat with him, and helped our stepmother with the intensive nursing care required at all hours of the day and night, so he might be able to die as he had wished, at home. His wife was ever-present to him, endlessly patient, diligent, affectionate and brave. And when, at the end, no touch or spoken word could calm his agitation, I lay on the bed next to him and sang slowly over and over right into his ear, "Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright..." until he quieted, his breathing changed and he was able to finally let go.
And I can say--yes, our hope is based not on some promise of distant rewards, but on the real presence of God's healing Spirit in the midst of our suffering. My father knew this, and he let his life speak, not flawlessly, but with a large measure of success. Former patients of his told stories of his generosity, thoughtfulness, and kindness, of his going out of his way to attend to them. In unasked visits to their homes and midnight house-calls, in encouraging words, and simply his calm, steady presence, he let himself be a vehicle for God's healing Spirit in the midst of others' suffering. His community rewarded him many times over the years with its heartfelt gifts, genuine thanks and praise, and deep affection.
Not only is the reality of God's healing Spirit the basis of our hope, it is the only profoundly satisfying answer to the why of our suffering. It is not an answer our minds can grasp (and so we call it mysterious, or even unreal), but it is one that comforts our hearts and sustains our souls. God's healing Spirit is present in all our ways of remembering and caring for one another--in gifts of sustenance, in loving attention, in works of faith and charity, in courageous or kind or encouraging words, and in the gift of our understanding. It moves in us always in our moments of release. It is the still, small voice that calls to us, and it bears the faith that calmly sings us home.
Copyright (c) 2000 Friends United Meeting
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