Mitra

The love of a friend always comes with a lantern in hand.  

Joan Chittister 

  

  

October 15 marks my ninth year in the ministry.  I think because of this milestone, I have been thinking of Mitra, one of the first people I met in this journey. In response to my invitation to come join us for worship, she told me that she had absolutely no trust in anyone who has anything to do with church, and pretty much dismissed us all as liars. While I have some sympathy with that thinking, I could not let that be the last word.  I replied that while I could not promise her that everything that came out of my mouth would be correct, I could promise her that she would not hear me say anything that I did not believe.  For whatever reason, that promise was enough for her, and for the next couple of years, she would often join me, and eventually began taking communion. When she could not face getting out of bed, I would visit her in her room. Her mental illness was profound, but so were her moments of clarity.  Her challenge for honesty is something I will always be grateful for. 

          

 

March 8, 2008

Cross Roads  

A couple of weeks ago, Mitra surprised me by not only staying in worship, but taking communion as well.   Afterwards, I went up to her to say hello.  She said, “Jesus still hangs on the cross and I am still insane.”  I know she is Catholic, so no doubt she has seen many crucifixes in her life.  She has also mentioned before that she struggles with mental illness, so the combination made me unsure how to respond.  I opted for silence, and then she spoke again.  “I am at the end of my life.”  I asked her to tell me about her life.  She looked away and replied, “I think it has been an unmitigated tragedy.  I had a complete breakdown at the age of 15, and since then, I have never known a day without fear.”  I replied, “Then you are probably one of the bravest people in the world.”  She looked at me in the wide – blue eyed way that only Mitra can, paused a few moments, and then said, “Well, then, perhaps you would not mind getting me a drink of water.”   

I had the good fortune to spend a couple of days this week at the San Damiano Retreat Center in Danville.  While I was there, I found myself meditating on the cross of San Damiano.  This is the cross that so influenced St. Francis, and I can see why.  It is very beautiful and very unusual.  Yes, there is Christ on the cross, but in the background there are other beings there as well:  angels and saints, a centurion, Mary and John, about 33 in all.  The figure of Christ is alive, and simply seems to be waiting in the foreground.  As I pondered this cross, I thought of Mitra.  She may be right.  It probably is easier to tuck Christ away some where, rather than to lift Christ from the cross and into our hearts.    

Mitra, and a host of others who have been tucked away, wait, sometimes fearfully, sometimes patiently, but with more courage than perhaps we realize.   Let us at least to try to wait with them, bringing a drink of water when we can.