October 19, 2022 at 2:36 p.m.
Jesus, our Healer
Jesus, our Healer
Whenever I bring up the subject of those who have suffered from various forms of abuse — physical, sexual or emotional — as I often do when preaching, I notice the congregation becomes quieter. Some, I am sure, might be thinking by now, “Oh, here we go again.” Others, however, might be taking some consolation in knowing that their suffering is close to my heart and, because I am a priest acknowledging it, the whole Church.
The popular image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, surrounded with thorns, both attracts and repels. How is it that God can really suffer? Yet was it not God’s passion for our souls, for our eternal salvation that led the Father to saint his only Son to save us from ourselves at the cost of a brutally painful crucifixion? Should we deny either this reality or refuse the gift of the graces it brings by looking away or ignoring it?
Many survivors, particularly those sexually abused by clergy, cannot even look at a roman collar anymore, let alone enter an empty church. Yes, we know that over 85 percent of survivors were abused closer to their home, typically by relatives, family friends or others nearby. My heart is especially concerned for those who suffer in silence, and it is not only those abused directly. Abuse affects so many more, the entire family and social networks, be it a school, a church or a team. The least we can do as a community of faith is acknowledging the wounds and offer our prayer and hope for healing.
We are continuing our Masses of Hope and Healing in our parishes, this Sunday at St. Gabriel’s in Rotterdam at 10:30 a.m. I invite everyone, survivor or not, to join in prayer for those wounded and who continue to suffer from the effects of abuse. Nothing is more central to the mission of the Church than to lead all to Jesus, our Healer, who shows us his wounds, as he did to his Apostles on Resurrection Sunday (Jn. 20:20). Why would Jesus do this if it was all over?
It is true that the historical Jesus, who suffered and died on the Cross, can no longer suffer physically in this way, but the compassionate heart of Christ continues to ache with passion for those who do suffer, especially in silence. The mystical body of the Church — all of us united through Baptism to the Jesus present among us — as members of his body want to share in his mission of hope and healing, which he entrusts to us.
Those words I quote at the start of my article were used often by St. Francis throughout his life. Handed down by his Franciscan brothers throughout the centuries, they became a focal point of the para-liturgical practice of the Stations of the Cross. Known more for his love for and service of the poor, St. Francis would utter these words whenever he saw a church or chapel, because of his strong eucharistic devotion, his desire to lead everyone to Jesus, the Healer of humanity. The stigmata of St. Francis bears witness to the intimate connection between love for the poor and the suffering we call compassion and, in the case of St. Francis, quite physical as well. Jesus still suffers in some way through those wounded by the sin — but how?
Mother Teresa, drawing from her own experience and from the words of Christ himself (“I thirst”) came to see the suffering of Christ as one of passion or thirst. St. Augustine, one of our greatest theologians, reflecting on the meaning of doing the will of God, seeks to associate it not only with an intellectual discipline, a conforming of the mind alone to what God wants for us, but a bond of the heart. God’s will is a loving will and love burns with the ardor of passion and desire — desire is the word Augustine uses.
The thirst of Jesus Christ is alive and present not only in heaven but to us on earth, in his mystical body, the Church, and its sacramental life, consummately in the Holy Eucharist. He in and through his personal and sacramental presence, desires to reach the heart of every wounded soul, to heal the effects of sin, whether self-inflicted or caused by others. So, we as his mystical body welcome all who are wounded or afflicted.
It is beyond ironic that the very source and summit of the Christian life, the Eucharist, is what the scourge of sexual abuse by clergy attacks. The survivor in need of healing is deprived of the Healer by the horrible personal wounds that traumatize the heart seeking solace in the very source of all healing. Not all survivors will be able to make the journey through these wounds to the loving heart of the Healer, whose own wounds are opened by sins against them, but our work of prayer, purification and restoration may, with great patience, help open some rays of hope toward recovery. The real goal is to know the merciful love of the healing heart of Jesus, wounded by sinners and thirsting for our souls, each and every one of us, for whom he would have died if we were the only person in the world.
Toward our mission of healing and recovery, the Diocese of Albany intends to disclose and chronicle the ongoing efforts to bring relief and support to survivors, their friends and families, by every means at its disposal, financial, therapeutic and spiritual. Overcoming the wounded or broken trust begins with acknowledgement and full disclosure — and, without reservation, extending apologies to everyone who has suffered from this scourge. Measures and efforts toward prevention have been in operation for some 20 years, subject to regular auditing and monitoring, always open to the need to remain vigilant and responsive.
My heart goes out to all survivors, their friends and families. I want them to know that, wherever they may be on their journey of faith, I want to “leave the light on,” to leave a crack in every church door open, to accompany them, even literally to walk with them along the next steps in their healing and recovery. Where the justice that legal systems may offer falters or fails entirely, we will be here. The Church, to remain true to its divine commission, must seek out the lost, abandoned and abused. They — you — are all children of God, dear to the wounded heart of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. You are all our brothers and sisters and, with the help of God’s grace, may you know you are not lost, but on your way home.
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