Vulnerability: A Gift to be Shared
Summary of a Fr. Gerry Creedon homily from October 22, 2006
"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses." Hebrews 4:15
"Whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all." Mark 10:44
My family combined two very different political traditions. My father's side were Republicans, in the old Irish line of freedom fighters. They began a civil war in the 20's because, among other things, they would not take an oath of loyalty to the King. My mother's father believed that Irish freedom was not worth a drop of Irish blood. He had more faith in parliaments and diplomacy. My mother spent part of her young adulthood as a nurse in the south of England. She brought back with her a great respect for royalty. Christmas dinner had to be interrupted for the Queen's yuletide message. Smart remarks from siblings or my father were strictly repressed.
I took off early one evening last week to see a movie. I had the choice of seeing a film about a corrupt Louisiana politician or about the Queen. My mother must have prompted me to see the latter. I'd recommend it to anyone.
The film told the story of the week following Lady Diana's tragic death. While all of England was showering the palace gates with flowers, the queen and her family stayed vacationing in the Scottish highlands. She considered her grief none of anyone's business. She would treat this death as a private family affair, borne with stereotypical British stoicism. She would follow the path of protocol and ritual. It took Tony Blair's egalitarian instinct to draw her back to mingle with her subjects.
Diana was a different kind of royal. She was known as the "Queen of Hearts". She was at bedsides when people died of AIDS. She comforted the victims of landmines who had their limbs blown away. It was her own fragility and vulnerability that was the source of her influence. It did not hurt that she was not unpleasant to look at.
The movie reminded me of my last assignment. I served as Fr. Tony Casey's administrator during the last months of his pastorate, when he was dying of brain tumors. With a Scottish upper lip as stiff as any Briton's, he felt his illness was his own personal concern. He would burrow at home in the rectory lair. His cousin assisted me in talking sense to him. He needed to share his challenges with his people. When he participated in the Sunday Eucharist, finally, even in a wheelchair, he found himself unexpectedly buoyed up by the faith and love of God's people.
As Catholics we need to ask, "How do I handle my hurts and my grief?" Do we hide our feelings behind formalities? Our liturgies can be turned into cathedral ceremonies, with a focus on the right protocols and rigid rubrics. While there is a place for duty and convention, I thank God for the open sanctuary of St. Charles, and the spontaneity of our youth-filled celebrations that facilitate the sharing of faith and spirit.
Christ preached a message of suffering service. "Can you drink the cup that I drink?" Mk 10:37. The throne he sat on hangs behind the altar. We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses.
Our vulnerability may be our greatest strength. It is a gift to be shared.
