Healing Mass

Friday evening Dea, Gabe and I (DC was at a sleep over) went to a wonderful healing mass and it was a magical experience. The church was packed and the priest, a Father Richard McLean from Ave Maria College in Naples, held the Mass. There were so many people there all with their own varying levels of illness. I felt so undeserving of healing, when I looked at the obvious struggles of the fellow church-goers around me. I was overwhelmed with a sense of humility and gratitude for my family and my faith.

As I prayed during Mass I remembered reading about how some people were healed by asking for the intercession of our late Pope, John Paul II. He had Parkinson's disease and had already reportedly healed others. So, I asked JP2 to intercede on behalf of my father, suffering from Parkinson's, my father-in-law, suffering from diabetes, for my brother, suffering from Crohns, and for myself, also suffering from Crohns. I also prayed for my wife and my friend, Kyme.

After Mass concluded they brought out the Eucharist for Adoration and Father McLean walked it slowly around each section of the church, making the sign of the cross and blessing us all. After the Adoration, each row went up to the front of the church and Father would bless us with oil. Some people were slain in the Spirit, which means they would fall back (caught by volunteers and laid gently on the floor). My son was caught off guard by this sight. He had never seen people "faint" like that in church before. The last time I had seen it in person was when I was just a few years older than my son.

In the 1970's my parents got involved in the charismatic renewal, where people were slain in the Spirit, would fall to the ground or be given the gift of Tongues. It is a shocking sight to see first hand, but memorable. In a funny side story, when I relayed the events of the healing Mass to my mom over the phone and we spoke about those charismatic renewal days... she said she was always reluctant to be slain in the Spirit because she was afraid her false teeth would fall out! I could only imagine God in Heaven saying "Her free will is afraid of what???? I can't give her the gift of the Spirit because she's afraid of her teeth? Are you kidding me????"

As Dea, Gabe and I walked up to the front of the church, Gabe's eyes were fixed on the people laying peacefully on the floor. "Dad, people fainted, Dad!" Gabe said with caution as we neared our place in line. I comforted him as we finally reached the front.

Behind us people were ready to catch us if we fell. Father McLean hugged Gabe and made him feel comfortable, asking him a lot of questions about himself. Then, he approached me. I stood quietly, emotions welling inside me of the fear and pain and emotional distress of carrying this disease... those feelings you push to the back in order to get through the day had suddenly rushed to the forefront. I kept my eyes closed and my head bowed in reverance. Father McLean put his hand under my chin and pulled my head up, directing me to look him in the eyes. His eyes were so full of sincere compassion and love, it was as if you were looking into the eyes of Jesus himself. As he blessed me and placed the oils on my forehead, the emotional dam inside of me finally broke free. I didn't fall back or faint, but I was truly moved and immediatly comforted by one of the many volunteers.

He next moved to Dea and blessed her as well. Her body jolted and tears flowed from her face. She hugged Father tightly and we then made our way back to our pew. We prayed together quietly and humbly, unworthy of any grace of mercy bestowed upon us that day. We are so imperfect, so... human in our frailties. Any gift from a present God was something He could only give to us, not something we had ever earned.

As we left the church, Dea talked about her experience. She told me that, as she approached the front of the church she was certain she wan't going to faint. "I kept saying to myself 'I'm not going to fall down, I'm not going to faint, I'm not... but when he put the oil on my forehead it wasn't as if I was pushed backwards, but as if something was pulled out of me with such a force that I couldn't help but move. And when he hugged me, it was as if I was hugging Jesus himself... the love was so strong.'"

It was a wonderful experience. As I said before, so many others in that room are more worthy of healing than Dea or I. But, the gift of healing is not something we control, only something we can ask for.

Personally, I have complete faith in the Lord's ability to heal me. Afterall, he's God. I asked Him to heal me, but above all else I asked Him that His will be done. Perhaps I'm not supposed to be healed. Or perhaps I am. I don't really know and I don't have any control over it. I just humbly prayed and asked for His decision above all else. He knows, in the grand scheme of my life, if healing me will lead me down a path He wants me to take or not. So, if it happens, it happens and I won't be surprised. If it doesn't happen, it won't and I won't be surprised. I am content with whatever decision He has made for me and my family that day.

So, am I healed? Well, I won't really know for a few months, as it will take that time for my latest infusion of Remicade to wear off. Healing or no, I have a new found peace in my life, in my heart. And that, in and of itself, is a small gift, a small miracle. Would I love to never worry about Crohn's for the rest of my life?

Absolutely.

Will I ever have to worry about Crohns again?

I'll let you know when I know.