Sensual, tender, extravagant and scandalous love

Imagine the scene, Jesus is at a dinner party and Mary opens a jar of expensive balm and warms it in her hands and then rubs it into Jesus feet. The touch of her hands made more gliding as the balm melts and is absorbed by both her hands and Jesus feet. An effortless-life motion as the balm is rubbed in. Meanwhile the perfume from the balm starts to fill the room. People didn't usually take such liberties. Even in our day it would be considered an intimate act. This is not something that can be disguised or hidden.

This causes discomfort and Judas the 'money man' tucks into Mary about the waste of money.  Imagine what could be done with the money? Yes, the money could be spent on the poor; but would it?

Here in this act Mary wastes her treasured perfume on Jesus in an action that would never be forgotten and that was poignant beyond measure as he journeyed towards death.

It is a wasteful extravagance and for me it speaks so powerfully to how we care for those who are ill. It speaks so powerfully about how we lavish the best care, skill, science, research and -above all- love on those who may never be able to pay it back. Palliative care is perhaps the best example of this.

In your illness, suffering and pain may you know the overflowing and extravagant love that God wants to lavish on you for no other reason than simply because he loves you.

Tender God,
thank you for lavishing your love
generously, wastefully and  lovingly on me.
May I sense the perfume of your presence
in the midst of illness.
Amen

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This reflection is to accompany the spiritual space and Lenten Reflection at the Chapel of Christ the Healer, Cork University Hospital.

If you are in the chapel when you click on this page please feel free to add your prayer to the prayer card on the altar.

If you would like us to pray for you at our weekly eucharist on Sunday mornings at 09:15 please send an email to daniel.nuzum@hse.ie .

If you live in the locality of CUH you can listen in and join us for worship through hospital radio every Sunday morning at 09:15 on CUH102FM

Love that no illness can take away: Finding God and Life in illness.

This week as we continue our Lenten reflections on finding God and life in the wilderness of illness we hear in our Gospel reading from St Luke today about the story of the 'Prodigal Son' and the overflowing, generous love that is demonstrated in the actions of a father towards a wayward son.

During illness we can feel unloveable as our bodies let us down; yet even when our body, mind or spirit is ill we still reflect the image of God who continues to create and recreate within us. 

A powerfully emotional story about unconditional love and a window onto the love that God lavishes on each of us. If you wish to read the parable please click here.

As God embraces you and holds you tightly have the courage to embrace whatever frightens you today, befriend it and allow God to create and recreate even in illness, even in you.

Dear Lord,

you lavish your overflowing and unconditional love beyond measure.

As I journey through illness

touch me, hold me, embrace me and love me.

Amen

This reflection is to accompany the spiritual space and Lenten Reflection at the Chapel of Christ the Healer, Cork University Hospital.

If you are in the chapel when you click on this page please feel free to add your prayer to the prayer card on the altar.

If you would like us to pray for you at our weekly eucharist on Sunday mornings at 09:15 please send an email to daniel.nuzum@hse.ie .
If you live in the locality of CUH you can listen in and join us for worship through hospital radio on CUH102FM

Remembering Dad as light perfuses mist...

On this day, 10 June 2011 I gathered with my mum, siblings and our families around the bedside of my Dad as he journeyed through his final earthly hours. These final hours were spent in hospital. The evening before we were on a journey of interrupted recovery, still holding hope that he might recover, that treatment was still possible. However between the darkness hours of 01:00 and 03:30 it became painfully real to us that recovery in earthly terms was not possible. In hindsight I am only beginning to appreciate the depth and distance of that journey from one future to another. This was telescoped into a very short period of linear time and yet its consequence is for ever.

I have journeyed with so many families at a time such as this and yet only now do I realise what it is to be in that lonely place where we can be presented with options when in effect there are no real options. The only option is to be a companion with the one we love. The mists of life and death, of reality and disbelief come down like a thick fog veiling and numbing past, present and future. In this fog past, present and future become as one. We live in a misty 'now' and stay there for whatever length it takes. Somedays the fog lifts, and on others it descends again -often when least expected.

I am so grateful that our last two hours or so were spent loving my Dad form this world to the next in a tender and gentle way. Each of us played our part as we saw our worlds changing in front of us, in the presence of the one, who with our mum had supported us for all the years that had gone before. She of course misses his presence more than any of us. Now in a timeless metamorphosis everything was changing for each of us during those few hours, the impact of which will unfold for each of us in different ways in the time ahead. There in an Intensive Care Unit where the rising sun lit up my Dad's bedspace as its beams flooded through the fan-light above his bed. The sun rising above the Irish Sea just after 5am that Friday morning brought a hopeful radiance and strength into what was for those few hours our little world.

Today a year later I am pained to be away from my family, my mother, my brothers and sisters, my wife and children as they gather to honour my dad. In the quietness of a wildlife park in the Netherlands it is strangely apt to think of Dad as this place, like him is close to the rhythm of nature and the land. I will remember him and my family at the eucharist here.

So now a year later, a new journey is beginning with so much still to unfold. However the sunlight that filled Dad's bedspace that morning continues to pierce through the mist with light and hope, warmth and strength.




So while separated by distance I am delighted to post this photo from yesterday of my three youngest who play in the grass at home on the farm this weekend. It evokes so many memories of a treasured and carefree childhood on the land (coupled with very hard work too!)






The other is a special memory of dad accompanied by one of his grandchildren and a dog as he went about his work...

The womb of expectation and hope

We are in the final days of Advent. The rush is on to get the final jobs done, the presents bought and the fridge stocked for Christmas. Although there is an economic recession the tills seem to be ringing.
In these last few days what are we expecting from Christmas? What are we hoping for? What is nestled in our particular personal womb that is kicking and longing to come to birth?
What is stirring deep within which we might dare to bring to birth?
We all long for things in life and dream of how things might be different. Yet there is also the painful lesson that pregnancy can teach us; that is, that all new births occur following a journey of pain.
Before the cry of new life is heard there is more-often-than-not discomfort, nervousness, excitement, hard work and pain. A certain sort of 'blood, sweat and tears'.
For me as I approach these last days of Advent I am nesting within the womb of my soul the expectation of experiencing afresh the wonder of love. Experiencing afresh the wonder of the daily miracles that surround me in the people I love and who love me. There is an economic recession at the moment. However, there is no recession in the overflowing love which flows from God and is lavished on each of us and which we are invited to lavish on others. I can feel the kicks, the preparations are almost complete: Maranatha!