I developed a strange allergic reaction/swelling to something I have yet to figure out. Not bewitched and no over-the-counter drugs to alleviate the mouth swelling.
A&E (Accident and Emergency Hospital Ward) was my only portion, the endless waiting department in hope against hope to be attended to and treated as soon as possible. Indefinite waiting to consult, blood tests, results, and treatment plans—it could be up to 12 hours, as my lot turned out to be, instead of an hour or so in any walk-in clinic or medical practice place.
What do you do when the serenity prayer doesn’t come to mind, and the tide is against you? The answer is nothing, even if rhetoric suggests that not doing something should ever be an option in just or unjust situations. Anger doesn’t work, frustration only intoxicates. Prayer is only trivial, arbitrary, casual or escapist in the drunken atmosphere of pain and restlessness.
GLORY AGAINST ALL ODDS
In retrospect, it seems the already digested famous “Letter from Hell” or of Saint John of the Cross’ “Dark Night of the Soul” or the inklings of other mystics inspired positivity and resilience.
The true measure of humanity is essentially determined in relationship to suffering and to the sufferer. This holds true both for the individual and for society. A society unable to accept its suffering members and incapable of helping to share their suffering and to bear it inwardly through “com-passion” is a cruel and inhuman society… (Pope Benedict XVI, Spe Salvi 38). I, Paul, in chains for the name of Christ, wish to relate to you the trials besetting me daily, in order that you may be inflamed with love for God and join with me in his praises, for his mercy is for ever. The prison here is a true image of everlasting hell: to cruel tortures of every kind—shackles, iron chains, manacles—are added hatred, vengeance, calumnies, obscene speech, quarrels, evil acts, swearing, curses, as well as anguish and grief. But the God who once freed the three children from the fiery furnace is with me always; he has delivered me from these tribulations and made them sweet, for his mercy is for ever. In the midst of these torments, which usually terrify others, I am, by the grace of God, full of joy and gladness, because I am not alone—Christ is with me. Our master bears the whole weight of the cross, leaving me only the tiniest, last bit. He is not a mere onlooker in my struggle, but a contestant and the victor and champion in the whole battle. Therefore upon his head is placed the crown of victory, and his members also share in his glory. ~From a letter of Saint Paul Le-Bao-Tinh).
I watched with my eyes wide open, apart from momentary on-and-off nods or dozes between 10 pm and 8 am, all that was happening in the ward and wait, the patients and nurses, the rare to-see doctor, cleaner or potter. Luckily, I had taken a nap earlier on before the trip to A&E as if ready, like the sensible bridesmaids, and I was not really in any pain or discomfort. It could have been worse.
So I was ready for mission – mission in a hospital A&E. My famous danceable celebratory Mission Appeals composed lyrics say I’m a missionary in five ways:
I’m a missionary by, PRAYING; I’m a missionary by, VOLUNTEERING, I’m a missionary by, OFFERING UP MY SUFFERINGS, I’m a missionary by, EDUCATING, TEACHING AND PREACHING – handing on the faith; I’m a missionary by, CHARITY – to the poor and the needy…
Like many people on this fateful night, prayer was minimal and uncomfortable, to say the least. Volunteering was not possible, and preaching, teaching, educating, and charity had to wait. Only offering up my sufferings was plausible, with nudging, lingering, pleading, gazing, and smiling at me.
I recalled the people and situations I was or could offer up my suffering for, just as a mentor once exhorted me: if you ever have to sleep on the floor or rough surface someday, don’t waste your suffering, name the person you are bearing your suffering for… A family member? Souls in purgatory? World peace? The sick and the dying? A colleague? Perhaps Enemies?
I went back and drifted off from these sentiments of mission as I watched different reactions of different patients around me – some loud and swearing, some restless and demanding, some fidgeting with their phones or parts of their bodies, some on the floor, wheelchairs, others accompanied and watched by the police.
Even the notorious and recurring adverts on the drinks refrigerator modern sales machine displaying girls munching chocolates and boys crisps, every 20-30 seconds was annoyingly invited and reminding me – offer it up.
Then, I was seen at long last and prescribed the medication that could have been prescribed in twelve minutes, not hours. I knew this had to be, and I refused to moan and moved on in silence.
And the swelling and the concern was taken care of. And I had not been or refused to be angry, frustrated, impatient – done that before and gained nothing.
I was glad to have been a missionary, though not so much through my prayer, voluntary services, preaching or charity, even in thoughts, but by offering up my sufferings.
NO GLORY
And who can compare this taste for foretaste with the prophecy and indictment of Pope Francis to all clergy and religious, reminding me/us/them of our common humanity, fragility, vulnerability and fate with the laity: There is no ‘glory’ or ‘majesty’ for the pastor consecrated to Jesus. No, brother, you will end up in the most common, even humiliating circumstance: in bed, having to be fed, dressed, useless, sick… (Pope Francis, 6th June 2014).
Emmanuel Mbeh, MHM, August 2024
Check out Fr. Emmanuel’s song that speaks about “Jesus, We Cry to You: A Song of Healing and Hope for the Restless Soul.”
The lyrics of the song:
- Jesus I’m not feeling well, I’m crying to you (in Bafmeng dialect).
- There is an emptiness in each one of us, a restlessness in each one of us, a wound inside each one of us.
- And so we need a saviour to heal the wound, the calm the storm, to fill the emptiness.
- Lord Jesus we believe that you can save us, Lord Jesus we believe that you are present here.
