“Don’t wait till you’re sick to pray,” is the advice of a religious sister of my acquaintance. If you have ever been seriously ill, you have discovered the wisdom behind this suggestion.
That was my experience recently when I spent twenty-four hours in a hospital for some tests. During this period there were times when I wanted to pray but found it impossible. The main reason was the feeling of nausea that I was feeling. It made me so uncomfortable that I could not concentrate my thoughts or succeed in praying without being able to focus.
The machines that were attached to me also caused constant discomfort so that it was hard to attain peace of soul. In addition, nobody knew what, if anything, was wrong with me so the uncertainty made prayer difficult.
As often happens in modern hospitals, my fellow patients kept their televisions on so that I was subjected to constant unwanted noise. Though the three other men were fine people, they regarded the chatter of news and advertising as routine and normal, whereas I found it an obstacle to recollecting my thoughts.
So it was a stressful time, not at all conducive to prayer, even though I felt the need of spiritual consolation.
Fortunately, in the late morning my restlessness was temporarily broken by the arrival of an unexpected visitor. He was a eucharistic minister who was bringing the sacrament to patients who wished to receive the host that he carried. This marked the first time that I had seen a layman administer this rite.
He introduced himself as Joe Tomlinson, a eucharistic minister from St. Joseph’s parish in Lincoln, Massachusetts. Retired several years ago, Joe now has taken over the small electrical engineering company started by his daughter. He has been covering four hospitals, visiting patients and offering them communion.
At one of the hospitals, that specialized in serving people with mental problems, Joe does not go to individual rooms but instead conducts a Eucharistic service for patients who wish to come to him. The service features scripture readings and hymns in addition to the reception of communion.
When he came to my bed, Joe held hands with me and my visitor and led us in reciting the Our Father. His manner was at one and the same time relaxed and reverential. I was impressed by the sincerity of his faith as he reached out to me and the other sick people in the room.
Catholics of a certain age never saw this kind of visit happen when they were growing up. It was only in the middle 1960s that the church appointed lay people as eucharistic ministers. Previously, only ordained priests were allowed to touch the host and give it to others. To me, it is still a reason for thanksgiving that lay people are now expected to exercise this kind of ministry.
In the light of traditional theology, this activity can be seen as the priesthood of the baptized at work. Lay people thus perform a rite for which they are equipped by their own baptism.
The occasion on which Joe first became interested in serving as eucharistic minister happened when his wife became seriously sick. He asked his pastor to commission him for this role so that he would be able to give communion to his wife. Later she died but with the consolation of having received communion from her husband many times.
Joe Tomlinson appreciates the spiritual significance of it all. “Spiritually, I go to the church,” he explains, “and get the host, then I pause to reflect on what I’m about to do.”
He goes on: “It’s got nothing to do with me. The person I am visiting is Jesus Christ because he said, ‘whenever you do this to they least of my brethren, you do it to me.’”
Most people are very respectful, Joe observes, even when they say no to receiving communion. And he senses a spiritual effect on himself when he completes his task: “When I leave the hospital, I feel really energized.”
If Joe and other lay ministers can have the same effect on other sick people that I received, I count it a grace for everyone concerned. As described here, I felt a spiritual lift from the sacrament given me by a fellow lay person and feel thankful for his kindness.
Richard Griffin