When the opportunity presents itself, I go along to evening Mass a few times during the week. The church in question is a small intimate building, situated alongside the local hospital. For whatever reason, I'm frequently rushing to be on time and take the short cut through the hospital grounds.
Despite the hurrying, my eye is always drawn to the scene outside the hospital entrance. At this time of evening one is almost certain to notice people standing around. Often in twos or threes, in anxious conversation. I assume the bystanders have had a family member admitted to hospital and have come out for fresh air and to talk to each other, as they attempt to come to grips with the hard reality of serious illness in their family. Occasionally an individual is visibly upset and often another is speaking on a mobile phone, probably conveying the news, good or not so good, to someone back home.
Illness can strike suddenly and for the individual and his/her family the world is quickly turned upside-down. Ambulances come and go, and every ambulance pulling up at the hospital signals major disruption for some person and family. As I walk on towards the church, I'm conscious of the drama being lived out in the small area around the hospital entrance, while the rest of the world rushes about its normal business. It is only when one requires hospital care or when a family member is detained for treatment, that we give much thought to sickness or death.
Not long ago, I sat in the car park with a close friend. An only child, his father had died 18 months earlier and now he was waiting to meet a consultant who would maybe confirm his worst fears about his mother's state of health. The fact that he did not have siblings made his burden greater and I felt powerless to reassure him or to ease the anxiety he was feeling.
On another occasion, much further back, I spent about three weeks in this same hospital, not as a patient, but sitting with a neighbour and good friend who was dying. When the news broke that Betty had inoperable cancer, family and friends arranged a rota of people to sit with her during the final weeks of her life.
It was the harvest time of year, when people are hoping for good weather for the saving of crops. I have a clear recall of looking out the upstairs window of the hospital ward at the sheets of thick mist drifting by and thinking how insignificant the weather is when someone dear to you is dying. The experience taught me that life looked at through a hospital window provides a completely different perspective on matters.
The celebrant of the Mass visits the hospital beforehand and brings Holy Communion to those who wish to receive. The Mass is relayed into the wards and during the Prayers of the Faithful the priest always prays for 'those who are seriously ill or dying,' and also mentions those who care for them. This strong link with the sick gives this evening Eucharist its special character. Most people bring their personal concerns to Mass but the awareness of the patients nearby who are unable to get out of bed or even to pray, keeps the normal worries in context.
While it is important to be mindful of those in the community who are sick in hospital or elsewhere, there is another side to the equation. When one is seriously ill, praying does not come easy and indeed may be almost impossible. However, there are many in every parish - the old and infirm or those with a long-term illness - who are actually a tremendous resource. These parishioners have grown to accept their limitations; they patiently endure their pain or disability. Confined to their homes because of age or infirmity, they usually spend far more time in prayer than younger, more active people.
Furthermore, they give quality time to prayer. Through the prism of their sufferings they frequently move into a deep compassion for the wounded and distressed in society. For younger, more active individuals, if we do pray, it is often rushed. We can be over dependant on words; making plenty requests but not listening very well. The slowing down that comes with age allows the elderly to be drawn into a more intimate relationship with their Lord. This helps to sustain them through this phase of life and gives them the wisdom to let go in the aspects of life where surrender is essential. But they normally go beyond personal concerns and spend time interceding for others. In fact many become the contemplatives of their parish, although they would not think of themselves in this way.
Another important group in each parish are those who are retired but still active. With a more relaxed routine many attend daily Mass. With those confined to their homes or in nursing homes, they make up the spiritual power-house of the community. At parish level, they represent the Mary element of the famous gospel story of Mary and Martha. Because of retirement, age or infirmity, they now spend more time sitting at the Lord's feet. On the other hand, those with a busy work schedule, and especially the parents of young families are usually similar to Martha, they 'worry and fret about so many things.' (Lk.10.41)
It is time to affirm and give greater recognition to those who commit themselves in a special way to prayer. This can be achieved by inviting them to pray for the needs of the parish, for particular groups and special occasions - Confirmation, First Holy Communion, Christmas etc.
Communities need parents, teachers, priests, children and the many others engaged in active work. But it would be a shame if the retired, the elderly and the infirm felt that their contribution was of little importance. Jesus told Mary that she had chosen the better part and parish leaders need to constantly remind those who put in the extra time at prayer that their sitting at the Lord's feet is of crucial importance to the wellbeing of the local church.
St. Paul, writing to the Corinthians uses the analogy of the body. We, the church, make up the Body of Christ. Each part of the body has its role. The various parts depend on each other; no part can claim superiority and no one part is insignificant. Indeed he states, 'What is more, it is precisely the parts of the body that seem to be the weakest which are the indispensable ones.' (1 Cor.12.22)