A young priest went to the hospital one day to visit an elderly Italian parishioner prior to surgery, wearing his Roman collar.  As soon as the woman saw the collar, she said “No, no, Padre! I’m not dying! It’s just my gall bladder!”   Welcome to the world of pastoral care of the sick, and people’s common perception of the sacrament of “anointing.” If the priest is here, you must be dying. If he anoints you, it’s “the last rites,” extreme unction, get ready for your last lap on the race of life!

In line with the theological and liturgical reforms introduced by Vatican II in the 1960s, the church has reflected on this sacrament, investing it with renewed meaning and a broader extension.  Formerly, the sacrament was called Extreme Unction: it was used only in extremis (i.e. when the patient was in danger of imminent death.)  Now, it is made available to any and all who are suffering: physically, emotionally, spiritually.  Just as the sacrament of reconciliation restores us to God and to the community when the bond of that relationship is weakened by sin, so too the sacrament of the “Anointing of the Sick” deepens our communion with God when our faith is tried by illness. 

What’s this ritual about? We find its origin in the New Testament, in the fifth chapter of the Letter of James.  “If anyone among you is ill, send for the elders of the church. They will anoint that person with oil in the name of God and pray over them.  Prayer offered in faith will save the sick one and God will raise them up again. If they have committed any sins, they will be forgiven... The heartfelt prayer of the saints is powerful and effective.”

In the Gospel today, Jesus tells the parable of two men who go up to the Temple to pray: one a respected Pharisee, the other a despised tax collector.  You would think that God would be more interested in the Pharisee, but he only seems interested in himself, boasting before God of all that he has accomplished – and especially about how much better he is than the lowlife tax collector standing, head bowed, at the back of the Temple.  Meanwhile, the tax collector is in touch with his sinfulness, his unworthiness, his need before God.  His prayer is a simple cry from the heart: “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner!”  Yet we are told that it is he, and not the virtuous Pharisee, who went home at peace with God. 

If we are here today – those who will be anointed, those who come forth asking for a blessing, and those who simply sit and pray for those who are coming for healing – it is because we know that we need God.  That we do not have it all together.  That there are areas of our life in need of healing: physical healing, emotional healing, spiritual healing.  And as Catholics, we have this wonderful gift of a sacramental tradition that expresses, using words and gestures and simple gifts like oil and water and bread and wine, God’s capacity to reach out and touch us in a direct and personal way.

In last Sunday’s epistle, Paul reminded his young friend Timothy to “Rekindle the gift of God that is within you,” to fan the spark of faith already present within him into a living flame of love.  He links that flame to the laying-on of hands Timothy had received, presumably at his baptism and his ordination.  If you look closely at the sacraments of the church, virtually all of them include this gesture of the imposition of hands, as the channel and conduit of God’s spirit.  Today, as we celebrate the sacrament of the anointing of the sick, we will hear these words sung by Mark:

Our faith is a tactile faith.  It touches every part of our existence: emotional, intellectual, physical.  God desires to heal us – all of us.  Sometimes, our faith may seem to be weak.  It is hard to believe – to really believe – that God is able to heal us, that he wants to heal us.  Healing was an important part of Jesus’ earthly ministry, as we know from reading the Gospels.  But we may be tempted to think – well that was fine, when Jesus was walking this earth in person.  But Jesus doesn’t do that kind of thing anymore.  Or does he?   Sometimes we get the wrong ideas about how it all works – that as long as you pray, God will cure you.  (And that if he doesn’t, you didn’t pray in the right way – or hard enough!) 

But I do believe that faith can heal— emotional and spiritual healing, but also physical ailments as well.  These different parts of our lives are so interconnected, that often healing at one level will have an effect on the others.   In a few weeks, Fr. Bertoli and I will visit the Henri-Bradet nursing home to anoint the residents there.  Last year, as we performed this ritual, I was not particularly conscious of any special “healing” flowing through my hands.  But when I spoke to Lina, the pastoral and recreation coordinator, after the service, she spoke of eyes filled with tears after the residents had received the sacrament, the healing power of God’s Spirit flowing throughout the room. 

There is no guarantee that the anointing you receive today will magically knit together broken bones, make cancerous tumors vanish, heal the wounds of a broken family or marriage, lift a long-term depression.   One does hear of those things happening, for with God, even “miracles” are not impossible.  The witness of St. Joseph’s Oratory, overlooking our city, informed by the spirit of Saint Brother Andre, reminds us that such healings can and do occur.  But there is always the possibility of some kind of healing: inner healing, peace of mind and soul, greater trust that God is there, ever-faithful, and will not abandon us—whether we beat this illness or not, whether we rise from this sick bed or, rise to new life “on the other side.”  Our faith teaches us that God cares about those who suffer.  God invites us to be his compassionate presence – his hands, feet, eyes, ears, and heart – to those who suffer from pain or diminishment.  As we commission our pastoral home care volunteers this afternoon, we give thanks to God for the precious and essential ministry they perform in our midst. 

So as Fr. Bertoli and I come down to you, as Deacon Bernie, Cathie Macaulay and Evelyn Raphael take their places to pray with those who ask for Christ’s healing touch in their lives, let us be open to whatever Christ wants to do in us and for us.  We cannot promise magic tricks or instant healings.  You may not be throwing away your crutches or canes on the spot. But God is powerfully present. May this anointing relieve your pain, lighten your suffering, and heal you inside and out.  May it give you courage, in the words of St. Paul in today’s second reading to “fight the good fight, to finish the race, to keep the faith,” trusting in God’s power to “preserve us from every attack and to save us for his heavenly kingdom.” We can trust in his promise – even if our faith seems small and weak.  So let us now invite the Holy Spirit to fan into flame that spark of life given to us at baptism, healing and renewing us.  Come, Holy Spirit! Amen.