A Reflection for the Memorial of St. Benedict
Find today’s readings here.
When I was 16, I lived in France for a month with a host family, and took classes at a nearby university. It was good for the most part, except when I accidentally ate hazelnut (noisettes as I now know), which I’m deathly allergic to. I was rushed to the hospital in a teeny car (because that’s the only kind of car they seem to have there). I could feel my throat closing and my tongue swelling and it was hard to breathe and I was covered in hives. The people checking me in asked all these questions about my name and age and email address and my weight (in kilograms, which I didn’t know so I just made up).
I’ve been to my fair share of hospitals, and it’s probably true what they say about the walls of hospitals having heard more prayers than the walls of churches. It’s scary when you’re 16, in a country you’ve never been to, without your parents, in a health care system that doesn’t have your records or speak your language (I was in the Northwest, not Paris). A lot of situations in hospitals are scary. I was a stubborn (and frugal) kid too. I wouldn’t call my parents, because that would cost $10. But it doesn’t cost anything to have a conversation with God. I was alone (the person who dropped me off had since left), I didn’t know where I was or who I was with. The only familiar presence I could access was God. When you remember that God is always there, then She is always there. So I had someone to sit at the hospital with, someone who understood my confusion as I clumsily tried to talk to the doctors, someone who took on my pain and all my emotions. This wasn’t a big moment of conversion or coming back to a God I had abandoned, but one of the times in my life that I realized just how present, loving and comforting God is.
Moments of fear and frustration are just as valid times to call upon the love of God as moments of joy or reverence.
Moments of fear and frustration are just as valid times to call upon the love of God as moments of joy or reverence. God is there in the little moments, but God is also there in the big ones. I was scared, but as people accept in hospitals, I knew God had a plan. I knew I was in good hands and that eventually I would be able to breathe normally. (The weight I had translated into kilograms and French was significantly more than my weight so the IV of medication I received both restored me and knocked me out). As the Gospel reading for today says, Jesus cures every disease and illness.
I was reminded of this story because today is also the memorial of St. Benedict. Do you need a refresher on what he patrons? (I did.) Europe, kidney disease, monastics, poisoning and schoolchildren. I didn’t know it at the time, but perhaps St. Benedict was watching over me (a poisoned schoolchild in Europe) the whole time. Thanks for helping me with that one.
