Worthiness and the diaconate

May I never boast of anything except the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, 

through which the world has been crucified to me and I to the world.

Galatians 6:14

Yesterday I asked Padre German if he would lie for me at the ordination ceremony on July 15.

I was being facetious but the question was sincere.

During the ordination rite, a priest presents the candidate, saying:

holy mother Church asks you to ordain this man, our brother, for service as deacon.

The bishop, in turn, asks:

Do you judge him to be worthy?

The priest responds:

After inquiry among the people of Christ
and upon recommendation of those concerned with his training,
I testify that he has been found worthy.

In the Orthodox Church the congregation is asked the question and responds:  Ἄξιος – Worthy.

What has become clearer to me this year is recognizing – in a non-denigrating way – that I am not worthy.

What this means became clearer this week when I read a passage from a Sermon of the English Cistercian Aelred of Rievaulx, found in Benedictine Daily Prayer, speaking on Peter and Paul as the pillars of the church.

These are the pillars that support the Church by their teaching, their prayers, their example of patience. Our Lord strengthened these pillars. In the beginning they were very weak and could not support either themselves or others. This had been wonderfully arranged by our Lord, for if they had always been strong, one might have thought their strength was their own. Our Lord wished to show first what they were of themselves and only afterwards to strengthen them, so that all would know that their strength was entirely from God. Again, these apostles were to be leaders of the Church and physicians who would heal the sick. But they would be unable to pity the weaknesses of others unless they had first experienced their own weakness.

Am I willing to recognize my own weakness so that I can empathize with the weaknesses of others? Or do I fail to acknowledge my weaknesses and so build defensive walls that keep people out? 

Reading a medieval monk reminded me of a passage from James Keating’s Heart of the Diaconate, The: Communion with the Servant Mysteries of Christ: 

To be called to an ecclesial vocation is not a crown placed upon virtues; it is an act of mercy from Christ in light of one’s own spiritual weakness. Having mercy upon our weakness, the Lord gifts a man with ordination and all the assistance that such a state in life can bring: the liturgy of the hours, daily or more frequent Mass attendance, service to the needy as ministerial obligation, the responsibility of holding a public place as a spiritual leader, and deterrents to sin such as knowing that one has “to preach on Sunday,” or one has to lead others down the path to conversion through the RCIA, adult faith formation, and spiritual counseling, for example. Within all these “helps” and more, Christ begins to slowly shrivel the ego and fill that space with his own servant mysteries. Becoming a deacon is not an honor in the sense that one wins an award for a lifetime of service. In fact, it may be a lifeline of divine mercy to someone who is so weak in the spiritual battle that he needs further and deeper institutional support.

I do not have to be perfect; in fact, it’s better that I know that I am imperfect. I do not have to be strong; it’s better that I can share a bit in the weakness of others. I do not have to be the perfect deacon, speaking perfect Spanish.

What counts is that I am open to mercy – accepting God’s mercy shown to me and sharing that mercy to all those I encounter.

That’s the only way I can see to respond to the question of worthiness.

Mercy: principle and works

Last week the clergy of the diocese of Santa Rosa de Copán had a retreat with the theme of mercy, preach by Father Antonio Rivero, LC. There was a lot of information and I felt overwhelmed by the torrent of words on mercy. Thanks be to God I had the chance one night to visit the sick.

At the instigation of Padre German Navarro, whom I work with, I began reading Jon Sobrino’s El Principio – Misericordia, which I had read in English in 1994.

It is slow reading but I also came across an essay of Jon Sobrino, SJ, (in Christine Bochen’s  The Way of Mercy, p..65-66 )where he notes:

Mercy is a basic attitude toward the suffering of another, whereby one reacts to eradicate that suffering for the sole reason that it exists, and in the conviction that, in this reaction to the ought-not-be of another’s suffering, one’s own being, without any possibility of subterfuge, hangs in the balance. 

But mercy is more than the works of mercy. Note again the words of Jon Sobrino (p, 74): 

When mercy is taken seriously as the first and the last, it becomes conflictive. No one is thrown in prison or persecuted simply for having practiced works of mercy. Not even Jesus would have been persecuted and put to death, had his mercy been mere mercy— without being mercy as the first and the last. But when mercy becomes the first and the last, then it subverts society’s ultimate values, and society reacts.

I think of this as I recall the death of two indigenous activists this month in Intibucá - Berta Cáceres and Nelson García. 

But the past few days I have had two occasions to practice the corporal works of mercy.

When I got back from the retreat on Friday, I was approached by the mayor of Concepción to see if I could house the leaders of the medical brigade which was seeing people in our municipality, Concepción.

The two leaders stayed with me. I helped translate on Saturday and Monday when the brigade was in the nearby Candelaria clinic.

The lines early on Monday at the Candelaria clinic

This was an amazing experience – hearing the people explain their ills and watching the doctors respond carefully and respectfully to their needs. I noted a deep concern for the doctors for several seriously ill persons. But mostly I heard a lot of concern for gastritis and blood-pressure (low and high) and saw a number of people being nebulized for asthma. The brigade examined more than 200 in Quebraditas on Friday, more than 300 in Candelaria on Friday, and probably between 400 and 500 on Monday. (I had to leave before they were finished.)

I also was called on to speak with a man who was in deep anguish – or was it trauma? A son had been brutally murdered a few months ago and he is still grieving. We talked for a while and I promised to visit him during Holy Week.

On Monday, after translating for most of the day, I headed to Gracias where I assisted Sister Pat Farrell in working with several persons in the Gracias jail to prepare for a May workshop on Alternatives to Violence. These people had participated in two previous training sessions; we are helping them prepare to be co-leaders of future workshops in prison.

What impressed me this time was the sense of initiative of the two men in prison as well as the sharing of one of them on his former life. I feel blessed to have been a part of this process.

I returned to Plan Grande on Tuesday afternoon. Wednesday I spent almost the whole day preparing the parish Stations of the Cross which we celebrated on Friday. I had to finish them so that I could get photocopies in Santa Rosa on Thursday.

And so I have been blessed with the chance to shelter the two leaders of the medical brigade, visit the sick and listen to the sick visiting the doctors, comfort the afflicted, and more.

But more than anything else I feel myself sheltered in mercy – by all the people who surround me and help me try to be merciful.