PRICELESS

Today is the Feast of St. Blaise. Tradition has it that St. Blaise saved the life of a child who had a bone stuck in his throat. On this day the Church celebrates the blessing of throats, and the healing of whatever ails us, with these words: “Through the intercession of St. Blaise, Bishop and Martyr, may God heal you.” Often we confuse healing with curing.

My brother, Vito, has been battling leukemia for more than 12 years. Thanks to a bone-marrow transplant, modern medicine, and countless prayers, he is still active and enjoying life. But about eight years ago it looked very bleak. One of my nephews, Joe, came to me one day and said, “I don’t understand it Uncle Frank. I’ve been praying that God would heal my Dad but nothing has happened.” My response was, “How do you know that God has not healed your Dad. Healing draws us closer to God; curing merely takes care of our infirmity. There are many who may be suffering from some disease or infirmity but need no healing, while others who appear to be perfectly healthy are in great need of healing.” Often the healing that takes place is within the heart and soul. And indeed in both Vito and other dear friends I have noticed that in the heat of battle with cancer or some other life-taking malady their RELATIONSHIPS with those around them, family and friends, and with themselves, and with God GREW STRONGER. Despite their fears and desire for life, there was an internal fortitude and PEACE. And more…

Back in 1996, I was at the beginning of my religious journey in Chicago. At the church of St. Paul I met a beautiful, holy woman – Sr. Emma – a Sister of St. Casmir, 88 years young at the time. She was wheel-chair bound, and suffered from a variety of ailments. Yet her face was aglow with radiant joy. I invited her out to dinner to get to know her better. She accepted my offer but said she would like to eat early because she wanted to be with her community for evening prayers. So I said we could dine at 6:00 or even at 5:30 if she wished. She said, “Let us dine at 5:00.” I picked her up at the convent and took her to a fine Italian restaurant nearby, Bruna’s, on Oakley Street in the Heart of Chicago, where there are a number of Italian restaurants, including the old Villa Marconi, supposedly Al Capone’s favorite. Given the early hour, when we entered the restaurant it was empty of patrons. She looked around and said, “My, but you are a big spender. You reserved this whole place just for me.” I replied, “Of course. Nothing is too good for you.” When we were seated, I finally took the opportunity to ask, “Sister, you radiate such a profound joy. What is your secret?” In an instant she said, “Perhaps it’s because I have suffered so much.” That was the last answer I expected. Yet suffering can lead, and in her had led, to JOY. And more…

I previously mentioned that I used to volunteer at the Port, a Franciscan soup kitchen in South Chicago. One Thanksgiving, because they were expecting great numbers, they assigned the regular volunteers to specific duties. Mine was to be a greeter at the door. As I approached the door, I noticed a man already there. He had such a brilliant smile. When I was almost upon him, I also noticed that he had a long, white cane. He extended his hand and said, “My name is Wayne. What’s yours?” Despite his blindness, he knew that I was within hand-shake distance. I gave him my name. We had both been assigned to be the “welcoming committee.” I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. Wayne quickly shared his story with me. He had been a photographer and reporter for the Chicago Tribune. Then he began to lose his eyesight. He not only lost his profession, he became so angry and bitter that he also lost his wife. He contemplated suicide. One day as he was thinking how best to end his life, he walked by what he sensed was a church. He walked in, and sat for a long time. In fact, the pastor had come to him to say that it was quite late and they were closing the doors. However, when he noticed the white cane, he said he could stay a while longer. Wayne said he would leave, but asked if he could come back. “Of course”, the priest said. Wayne went back a number of times. Though he was brought up in another faith, he found so much serenity, warmth, and comfort in this Catholic church that he converted. He said to me, “I used to get so angry when others wanted to help me cross a street, because I felt helpless…less than whole. Now I am so grateful. I welcome all who want to help so that I can share with them my encounter with the Lord. Just as St. Paul said, ‘When I am weak, then I am made strong.’ Now I can share the Good News and EVANGELIZE by giving witness to my own journey of faith.”

Entering into a stronger relationship with God, feeling inner peace and deep joy, and being an instrument of sharing God’s love and presence…TRUE HEALING...(and as a current commercial says, PRICELESS).