“If you want to see the face of Christ, stop and collect your thoughts in silence, and close the door of your soul to the noise of external things.” (Saint Anthony of Padua).
I have been watching people who are very dear to me suffer very greatly through afflictions of their health.
It is truly terrible thing for a human being to be sick. And it is even more overwhelming for that person to be gravely ill. There is a reason – I suppose – why we repeat the adage to people who suffer material discomfort when we say, “At least you have your health”. For there is something very confronting to the soul in understanding that they must enter into a period of physical suffering or illness. You see, physical sickness and suffering is a burden that is very difficult to bear because it is a reminder that this body of ours is mortal and will soon die.
And when I think about the finality of death, it occurs to me that time is very very brief. You see, in my mind, sickness is merely an indication that our body is in fact decaying slowly but surely. When we are babies, our skin is smooth and soft and our hair is supple and thick. And as we age, our skin wrinkles and sags and our bones grow more frail and our hair more sparse. And in my mind, this is just a gentle reminder that this life is fleeting. And this means that when I see an actress in a magazine, who is applauded for her youthful appearance or her beauty, I see only a vessel that is decaying – slowly but surely. And no matter how hard I try to hold on to my youth and my physical beauty, this too shall fade until there is nothing at all left except the dust from whence I have come.
Saint Faustina experienced this reality of a decaying body in a real and tangible way during her final months of Earthly life and she recorded this experience in her Dairy 1428 when she wrote, “For a month now, I have been feeling worse. Every time I cough, I feel my lungs disintegrating. It sometimes happens that I feel the complete decay of my own corpse. It is hard to express how great a suffering this is. Although I fully agree to this with my will, it is nevertheless a great suffering for nature, greater than wearing a hairshirt or a flagellation to the point of blood. I have felt it especially when I was going to the refectory. It took great effort for me to eat anything because food made me sick. I also started at this time to suffer from pains in my intestines. All highly seasoned dished caused me such immense pain that I spent many nights writhing in pain and in tears, for the sake of sinners.”
And today, as I have been thinking about those souls around me who are bearing witness to their own mortality – to their own sorrows and suffering and the physical decaying – I am reminded of the fleeting nature of this life… For Saint Anthony of Padua said, “The Lord manifests Himself to those who stop for some time in peace and humility of heart. If you look in murky and turbulent waters, you cannot see the reflection of your face. If you want to see the face of Christ, stop and collect your thoughts in silence, and close the door of your soul to the noise of external things.”
And it occurs to me today – as I pray for those who are sick – that I must close my ears to the noise of this world so that I can see the face of Christ, who is the Prince of Peace…
For with prayer, I stand on Holy Ground where everything is clear. Here. At the Foot of the Cross.
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