The Rite of Anointing of the Sick

This weekend at my parish, we celebrate the Rite of Anointing of the Sick following all Masses. Those whose health is seriously impaired by sickness or old age, or those facing impending surgery are encouraged to celebrate this sacrament.

Anointing of the sick has its origins in the person of Jesus, who healed the sick. The early Church carried on this healing ministry as seen in the Letter of James:

“Is anyone among you sick? He should summon the presbyters of the church, and they should pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord, and the prayer of faith will save the sick person, and the Lord will raise him up.” James 14-15

This passage illustrates the rite of anointing as we know it today. When someone is ill, they call a priest—the only person permitted to anoint the sick. The priest prays over them for healing and strength, and anoints their forehead and their hands with the oil of the sick, one of the three oils blessed by the bishop during Holy Week.

Many of us were formed to reserve the anointing of the sick until just before death. In fact, the anointing was part of what we used to call “the last rites.” That is no longer the case. When a person becomes ill, there is no need to wait until they are near death to request an anointing. The anointing is appropriate at the onset of serious illness as a petition for healing and strength. The human touch, the prayers, and the soothing oil bring great peace to the sick. This sacrament may be repeated when there is a further need for healing and strength.

While the priest alone can anoint the sick and forgive sins, anyone can visit the sick and pray for their healing. Visiting the sick is one of the Corporal Works of Mercy. The U.S. Bishops offer several ways to reach out to those who are ill:

§  Give blood

§  Spend time volunteering at a nursing home – Get creative and make use of your talents (e.g. sing, read, paint, call Bingo, etc.)!

§  Take time on a Saturday to stop and visit with an elderly neighbor.

§  Offer to assist caregivers of chronically sick family members on a one-time or periodic basis. Give caregivers time off from their caregiving responsibilities so they can rest, complete personal chores, or enjoy a relaxing break.

§  Next time you make a meal that can be easily frozen, make a double batch and give it to a family in your parish who has a sick loved one.

Lay persons can also offer Viaticum, the Eucharist given to someone who is near death. Viaticum is a Latin word that means “provision for a journey.” It is food to carry a person on the journey from this life to the next. Viaticum may be given with or without the anointing of the sick. Thanks to the development of Extraordinary Ministers of the Eucharist, Viaticum can be brought by a deacon, a family member, or by a lay minister of Holy Communion.  

Visiting the sick and praying for their healing and comfort, praying for the strength of caregivers, celebrating the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick and Viaticum are many ways the community of believers continue the care and compassion of Jesus for those who suffer.

Sacred Death

Whenever there is a national tragedy such as the attacks in Nice, France, the shootings in Dallas, or the explosion at the nightclub in Orlando, symbols of affection and remembrance abound. Flowers, candles, letters of condolence, and other items are placed at or near the site of these tragedies. These tributes help to express feelings when words alone are not enough. These memorials fill several voids. They offer us the opportunity to do something when we feel powerless. They provide solace for the grieving and they honor the dead whose lives were dishonored by the harrowing ways in which they died. When dying in horrific ways seems to strip us of our dignity, rituals such as these remind us that our dignity was never lost.

The Church’s rituals make paramount the dignity of the human person no matter how he or she died.  At the beginning of the funeral rite, the body of the deceased is welcomed, sprinkled with holy water, and covered with a pall-- symbols that serve to remind us that the dead were baptized into Christ and that they share in his life both then and now. Throughout the funeral liturgy, we pray for, we remember, and we bless the dead and their family. At the end of the funeral liturgy, we incense the body and we sing a song of farewell --a sign that we entrust our loved one to the love and mercy of God.

While the Church allows cremation, it does not share the same value as the presence of the body at the funeral liturgy:

“The Church clearly prefers and urges that the body of the deceased be present for the funeral rites, since the presence of the human body better expresses the values which the Church affirms in those rites.” Order of Christian Funerals #413

 When cremains are present, they are treated with the same respect given to the body from which they come:

“This includes the use of a worthy vessel to contain the ashes, the manner in which they are carried, the care and attention to appropriate placement and transport, and the final disposition. The cremated remains should be buried in a grave or entombed in a mausoleum or columbarium. The practice of scattering cremated remains on the sea, from the air, or on the ground, or keeping cremated remains in the home of a relative or friend of the deceased are not the reverent disposition that the Church requires.”  Order of Christian Funerals #417

The Church sees interring the remains of the dead in the ground or in a columbarium as more dignified and respectful than keeping those remains at home.  It is also safer because, should a house fire or burglary occur, cremains that are in the home could be lost. The guidelines help ensure the honor and dignity of the deceased, even long after they and we are gone.

Finishing the Work

On a cool and sunny Monday morning along the Big Coal River in Orgas, West Virginia, our group on the Whitesville mission trip met homeowners Gladys Ferrell and her son Ken. Gladys and Ken live in one of the poorest communities of Southern West Virginia. They own a home that was built in the 1950s and shows its age. There were many areas in need of repair. Our group’s primary job was to replace the water heater, replace the windows, and frame windows that had been replaced the previous year. As with most projects, especially those done in the home, we kept finding other areas that needed attention. We looked at the outdoor shutters and saw that they were in bad shape. The paint was peeling and some of the wood was warped. The group, all nine of us, grew enthusiastic about working on the shutters. We believed it would be the perfect finish to the new windows. Anticipating the work on the shutters, we picked out a paint color at Flint’s, the local hardware store and one of the few remaining retail outlets in town. Unfortunately, Mother Nature didn’t share our enthusiasm for working on the shutters. The rains came, flooding nearby communities and washing out our opportunity to paint the shutters. We left with the indoor work complete but with the outdoor work far from finished. There was a sense of disappointment--a sense that we left with work that was incomplete, insufficient, and imperfect.

Life is often like the example above. We take on a project at home, a proposal at work, or activities to fill our days only to have life intervene, subverting our plans and leaving our work incomplete, insufficient and imperfect. This pattern continues throughout our lives so that even when we die, we leave with many things that remain unfinished. I can’t help but wonder how much more Jesus might have accomplished if he had had more time on earth. Surely there were more miracles to perform. Surely there were more sermons to give. Surely there were more people to heal. Surely there were more hearts to convert. But, by uttering the words, “Do this in memory of me,” he left the work to us. Whenever we celebrate the liturgy, we help to complete the work of Jesus. Whenever we speak as Jesus spoke, with words of healing and compassion, we help to complete the work of Jesus. Whenever we work as Jesus worked, for peace and for justice, we help to complete the work of Jesus. Whenever we love as Jesus loved, unconditionally, we help to complete the work of Jesus. As long as we continue to do these things, the work of Jesus continues until the time when all work has been fulfilled.

Remember and Act

People around the world are mourning the loss of Elie Wiesel, the Holocaust survivor and Nobel Peace laureate who died last weekend at the age of 87. Wiesel wrote dozens of books but perhaps he is best known for Night, an autobiographical account of his time as a teenager spent in the concentration camps at Auschwitz and Buchenwald. Spurred by his own recall, Wiesel decided to commit his life to keeping the memory of the Holocaust alive. As a Jew, Wiesel knew the power of keeping memory. He understood the Rabbis who said, “To remember is to give life; to forget is to let die.” He believed that by remembering the horrors of the Holocaust, humankind could never again repeat such an atrocity. He was determined not to allow those who perished in the Holocaust to die in vain. So he became a voice for the voiceless and a human rights advocate. He confronted hatred, bigotry and intolerance and defended human dignity. He spoke out against the massacres in Bosnia and Rwanda and the burning of black churches in the United States. He championed the rights of blacks in South Africa and political prisoners in Latin America. For Wiesel, keeping memory and taking action were two sides of the same coin.

We, too, like Elie Wiesel, understand the relationship between keeping memory and taking action. It is a relationship that unfolds in our midst each time we celebrate the liturgy. We keep memory of the death of Jesus, who, like the Jews in the Holocaust, died an untimely death, and who, like the Jews in the Holocaust, died because he challenged the political power structure of his time.  And we keep memory of God’s power in raising Jesus from the dead. As the Eucharistic Prayer reminds us:

Therefore, O Lord, as we now celebrate the memorial of our redemption, we remember Christ’s Death and his descent to the realm of the death, we proclaim his Resurrection and his Ascension to your right hand, and, as we await his coming in glory, we offer you his Body and Blood, the sacrifice acceptable to you which brings salvation to the whole world. EP IVKeeping memory of the death and resurrection of Jesus calls us to act. It urges us to offer ourselves in sacrificial love. It asks us to refuse to allow the death of Jesus to be in vain. So we too must become voices for the voiceless and advocates for human rights. We too must confront hatred, bigotry, intolerance, and defend human dignity.

Wiesel’s life is summed up in his own words at the entrance to the United Stated Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., “For the dead and the living, we must bear witness.”

May we, who are nourished by the Body and Blood of Jesus, be mindful of his death and resurrection and bear witness to peace and justice for the dead and the living.

The Power of Ritual

When my cousin Jackie called on a recent Friday morning, I knew the news was not good. He called to tell me that my uncle Jack, who had been ailing, passed away. I went home for my uncle’s funeral, which took place at my home parish, St. Vitus Catholic Church in New Castle, Pennsylvania. Before the funeral, I felt sad and anxious. Uncle Jack was also my Godfather and my last surviving uncle. But when the liturgy began, I started to feel more at ease. The familiarity of the prayers and the symbols and the gestures brought me great comfort. The structure of the rituals helped me to stay focused. The community that prayed with me reminded me that I was not alone in my grief. When the liturgy ended, my spirit was uplifted and my soul was at peace.

As my mother used to say, “Death disrupts everything.” When someone dies, whether imminent or unexpected, life is thrown into a tailspin. The future, once thought to be secure and certain, is anything but. Life is in chaos. These are the times when we count on our liturgical rituals. The familiar patterns and structures of the liturgy give us a sense of order when life is disordered. The ease in which we can pray our prayers, recognize our symbols, and enact our gestures brings us peace. When our foundation is shaken, ritual gives us a structure on which to lean.  When we don’t know which way to turn, ritual gives us a direction. When we don’t know what to say, ritual gives us the words. When we feel we are alone, ritual forms a communal embrace.

This is why, when national tragedies happen, such as the attacks of September 11, 2001, or the recent shootings in Orlando, many people flock to church. They believe they will find the order for which they seek in the familiar framework of liturgical ritual. Ritual gives us the reassurance we need even in the darkest moments of life.