Each stage of life is a communion with Our Lord.
One of the great discoveries in seeking to follow the Lord over many years is that Jesus desires to live his life in us. That means we really are called to be extensions of his presence in the world throughout our lives. The way we do this will look different at different times, but it will remain the one Lord manifesting himself.
What that looks like when we are young will differ from when we are much older. Youth and good health eventually give way to old age and sickness. But what keeps us ever new, ever joyful, is that each stage of life is a communion with Our Lord, who is not impeded by limitations of age or health or circumstances from being fully himself in us.
We can often feel a kind of growing uselessness as the decades pass and we can no longer carry the load of responsibility for family and others that we once could. What is the value, we ask, in hanging on for years unending, a burden to others and a puzzle to oneself? Precious little, it may seem.
If we seek to fathom the meaning of our lives at this level of human calculation, we are doomed to come to pessimistic conclusions. But if we remember that Jesus Christ has absolutely no difficulty manifesting himself through us, no matter what state we are in, then doors of light and meaning will continue to open for us till the very end of our earthly sojourn.
I woke up one day recently and found that I had been transferred, at least for a few weeks, to our house in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. Its name is Marian Centre and it’s been located in this part of town (the downtown core) for over 70 years.
I was last stationed here during the summer of 1979. I was a seminarian then, with ordination about two years away. I was sent to get a better idea, as a future priest of Madonna House, of what life in one of our missions might be like. Until then, other than the seminary, I had spent most of my time in MH at our farm in Combermere making cheese and gardening.
At that time, I had what might be called a “brilliant” summer, participating in our apostolate to those coming in from the streets of downtown Edmonton, making friendships with some and getting a first sense of how life in the big city was experienced by those coming in from the reserves nearby.
At one point I spent a week up near High Level, Alberta, living at a shrine to St. Anne, attended to by one of our members, Edie Scott, who was of Cree descent.
I had first come to know Edie by reading her accounts of daily life in the North and had shared with her yogurt recipes from my time as the Madonna House cheesemaker, a few years before going to the seminary in Ottawa. I loved Edie’s descriptions of trying to serve those she called “her people,” listening with such loving patience to their concerns.
This time I’ve been sent to Marian Centre in quite different circumstances. I’ve now been a priest 44 years, and I am no longer young and fit as I was my first visit. Rather than having most of my life ahead of me, it’s not presumptive to say that most of it is now behind me.
The apostolic work here is much the same as it was 45 years ago, but, in the scheme of things, my place now is quite different. With a rapidly developing illness (Parkinson’s) and knees looking like they will need to be replaced, I’m not exactly taking the apostolate by storm here in Alberta!
Of course, there is no need for me to do so, in any case, as our members here are already responding generously and cheerfully to the apostolic demands of this mission, and they are being assisted by a phalanx of volunteers who love coming here to serve those in need and to be with us while they do it.
No, my place here is a different one from that of many years ago. What hasn’t changed is that Jesus is seeking an “opening” in my life to come be with his people— but in a way appropriate for an old man of 73!
For one thing, it’s a rather spacious building we live in here, so there is room to scamper about with my walker when it’s not yet prudent to go outside dodging icy paths.
Mind you, the thought of having to use a walker at all has been a struggle for me, since I’ve only used one for a few weeks so far. But now I see that Jesus kind of gets a kick out of toddling around the place in me, greeting our friends and joining our members here for this gathering or that.
This Jesus is not afraid of further physical setbacks (as opposed to the fellow writing this article!). Our Lord is able to commiserate with people, smile at them, cry with them, speak a word of encouragement and so forth whether he does it as young seminarian or an old declining priest.
In fact, while there is something charming and endearing about a young person showing sympathy and compassion, when the Lord does this through an elder, particularly an elder who is suffering with a person and even for that person, there is a comfort and an assurance, given by the Lord, that, despite appearances to the contrary, all shall be well.
Of course, I’ve believed for a long time in what Catherine Doherty called the usefulness of uselessness. A person may no longer be able to “make” an offering, but he or she can “become” an offering, and that is a mystery that goes deeply into the essence of our Christian faith. It applies in a special way to those who are sick or getting up in years.
There are those who claim that the contribution these people can make is of the greatest value, perhaps because Christ has greater scope to work in human weakness. (See 2 Cor 10-13).
Whether or not Jesus finds it easier to speak and act through our weakness as opposed to our strengths, we can be sure that he longs to show through his followers the joy of his resurrection and the sure hope that the Father in heaven will raise up his children unto eternal life.
I have seen Christ in certain people who suffer much and still manage to have a sense of peace, an acceptance of things as they are, and even a finely developed sense of humor. I love seeing that in people, and I hope to see more of those things in myself as I get more used to being used up!
As the burden of responsibility gets lighter, so the joy in being simply a little child of the Father gets greater. I think this is one of the ways that the Lord loves to reveal himself through old age and sickness: as a child who has a heart trusting that yes, God’s kingdom is coming, will come, has come!
In the meantime, will you please pass me another piece of pizza (last night’s supper here in honor of a member celebrating her birthday), as I’m just a little too stiff and aching to get to it easily myself! And while you’re at it, could you get me a bowl of ice cream (served as dessert for the same celebration) with samples of each of the three flavors being offered?
Certain aspects of old age aren’t so bad, after all. The young get to serve, the older ones get to have their food brought to them instead of having to go in search of it themselves, and everyone agrees it was a great party.
For how can we fast and look glum when the Bridegroom is with us in all sorts of guises, from young and healthy (going out for a run at 10 p.m.) to old, stiff, and wobbly, who enjoy the feel of sheet and blanket at 10:02?
And in the midst of it all is Jesus, bringing his message of hope through young and old alike.
[Photo: Marian Centre Edmonton, 2025]
