Illness and Caring for the Sick -#9 The Liturgical Format (Part 2)

I vividly remember visiting Virginia at home between Christmas and New Years. Her son and daughter and a few close friends were gathering to anoint Virginia. I said a few words after the Scriptures were read. Then I asked each of the people to tell Virginia what she meant to them. Each spoke from the heart. Each testified to Virginia's place in their lives. They mentioned her faith and her love. Virginia quietly listened and took each person's words into her heart. After everyone had finished, the assembly entered into a peaceful silence. During the silence I went over to Virginia and placed my hands softly on her head. Then I sat down and each one got up and did the same. The entire ritual, the laying on of hands, did not last long. But it was a powerful gesture of prayer, a wordless calling down of the Spirit. We were doing as Jesus had done for the sick, as countless Christians have done for the sick. We were laying hands on this beloved woman.

Then came the anointing. I first anointed her forehead and said "Through this hold anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the holy Spirit." Virginia answered Amen. Then I anointed her hands, saying "May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up." She again said Amen. We then continued with the Eucharist. After communion Virginia said she wanted to speak and she told each one present what they meant to her. She expressed her gratitude for their care for her during her long illness and she offered a word of blessing for them. Then we softly sang Silent Night together.

This was a powerful experience of mutual care and a tender moment of shared faith before God. Virginia's illness was terminal. A few months later she died peacefully. Even her former husband seemed at peace when she died. Today, many years after the event, I think of Virginia whenever I sing Silent Night. Today, when I speak with her daughter, she and I reminisce about our experience of that evening, of the power we felt in the ritual, in the singing of Silent Night, and the bond of profound feeling that continues.

I have often thought about what happened that night. The ritual carried us along and taught us its own meaning. Everyone knew this was Virginia's last Christmas and New Years. Everyone knew that God's mercy and love, were present to help Virginia with the grace of the Spirit, that God would raise her up - not restored health - but unto resurrection life. For little more than an hour we had experienced being church, a holy household assembled in Virginia's home. We felt grace wildly and courageously alive in fragility, in illness, in vulnerability, in weakness, in tenderness and in tears.

When ritual is done carefully in our homes and in our churches, when we pray with genuine hearts, something powerful occurs. When we use our humanity and our symbols simply and well, when we are reverent in the presence of the sick, something profound happens. When we allow our vulnerability breathing space, we celebrate God touching us. Our hearts are changed for years to come.