Abbey-Roads2

The Church as “Hospital”.

It is a question I’ve asked myself before - or once did so - and a question I’m frequently asked by others.  Religion does seem to attract the misfits of society, perhaps none more so than the Catholic church.  Non-religious friends often tell me they wouldn’t be caught dead in church because everyone there is so weird.  (People who think they are normal amuse me.)

Whenever I attended any big city downtown Catholic church, I’ve often seen a variety of characters as well.  The Mass and sacraments, along with the devotional life of the Church offers solace to troubled souls.  In the Catholic religious goods store I manage, we meet people of every condition; some seem to be lost souls looking for guidance.  When an employee remarks about how strange some of the people appear to be, (not you reading this!) I have an explanation at hand.

I remind them of the parable of the wedding banquet, where the king gave  a banquet for his son, only to have the invited guests refuse the invitation for whatever reason.  The king was furious and commanded his servants to go out into the byroads and invite anyone they happened upon - the lame and crippled, the blind and beggars, the prostitutes and tax collectors.  Because it was for these that Jesus had come, the lowly and afflicted, “to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and release to prisoners.” Isaiah 61.  The church is a refuge for sinners, a hospital for the suffering.

I am fond of a quote from Edith Stein in her work, “Science of the Cross”;  “Former pride disappears when a man no longer finds anything in himself that might cause him to look down on others.”

Sometimes I think the mentally challenged, mentally ill, the addicted alcoholic, or just anyone with something wrong with them, is sort of a mirror for those of us who think we are normal.  They show us something of ourselves, or what we could be.  Yet more deeply, they call to us to recognize that they are people just like ourselves, people who need love, understanding, acceptance and a sense of belonging.

My own experience.

Having said that, it seems to me that over the years I have attracted my share of people with emotional or mental problems.  It is probably because my mother was bi-polar and both parents were alcoholics, which made for a rather insane childhood, albeit really kind of hilarious.  Hence my view of life as one big sitcom.

While living in Boston I somehow attracted many friends with  mental disorders.  I guess it was due in part that I spent hours in churches with adoration, and was seen as a compassionate person or something.  (Or they may have sensed something of my childhood experience that permitted my acceptance of bizarre behavior.)  At first, I may have considered some of these people to be eccentric, without ever realizing they suffered from genuine mental illness.

One friend, Steven, worked for a homosexual priest who was later murdered in jail, the infamous Fr. Gagnon.  Steven told me all about him and his activities, introducing me to the priest several times.  He was not a pleasant fellow.  I therefore concluded Steve’s constant complaining and preoccupation with revelations that foretold a corrupt Catholic clergy had been a result of the stress he encountered working for this priest.

One evening we were out for supper and Steve dramatically showed me his hands exclaiming, “I have the stigmata!”  I laughed out loud, lifting up my hands and said - “So do I!” - convinced he was joking.  He wasn’t.  He said it was invisible.  I summoned up all the mystical theology I knew to try and convince him he was mistaken.  It didn’t work.

The next day at Mass I saw his friend Mark and told him what had happened.  Mark explained Steve had probably stopped taking his meds, revealing that Steve was schizophrenic.  Again, I laughed and thought Mark was kidding, saying, “He is not!  How would you even know that?”

That was when Mark told me he and Steve met in an institution and they were both diagnosed schizophrenics, yet if they took their medication, they were fully functional.  I thought I was in the Twilight Zone.  After recovering my shock, I continued to hang out with these guys from time to time, learning a great deal more about mental illness.  They were a lot of fun too.  (Tell me if I’ve told this story before.)

Jesus said those who are well do not need a doctor, sick people do.  That is why there are so many weird people in church - remember that when you see me there.