Scripture: Job 14:7
Jubilees: the sick, adolescents, people with disabilities
“If it is cut down, it will sprout again, its tender shoots will not cease.”
Have you ever felt cut to the quick? Cut off? Cut down? The sensation of being cut can connote pain, frustration and helplessness.
I would like to introduce you to a person who has experienced a lot of limitations already in her short life:
Meet Lucy, one of the most delightful little girls I’ve ever met. Lucy was born with Down syndrome. If we imagine her life like the tree in the book of Job, you could say that from the moment she was born, the tree trunk of her life has been “cut”.
Let’s listen once more to the book of Job: “For a tree there is hope; if it is cut down, it will sprout again, its tender shoots will not cease.” In my experience, it’s not a question of if it is cut, but when it is cut.
For Lucy, this is visible in her Down syndrome. A superficial perspective would only see limitations and pain in her life. Limit. Limit. Limit.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
Ouch.
I think we find a truer, more complete perspective in the words of Charles Pegùy, a French poet who loved hope, which is the theme of this Jubilee year.
“Once again, in the insufficiency… in the insecurity… Once again the old trunk will give birth to leaves and branches, once again the old sap will work the old trunk, and the old trunk will blossom again, the old trunk will put forth buds, which will become branches, the old trunk will put forth buds and flowers, leaves and fruit. Once again grace will work. Once again it will work; already grace works, my friend.”
Pegúy helps us contemplate the tree from another angle: from within, where healing is born, where vitality in the midst of death can be explained only by grace.
Several saints speak of the Cross as the tree of life. Theodore the Studite, an eighth-century monk, has this to say: “How precious the gift of the cross, how splendid to contemplate! In the cross there is no mingling of good and evil, as in the tree of paradise: it is wholly beautiful to behold and good to taste. The fruit of this tree is not death but life, not darkness but light. This tree does not cast us out of paradise, but opens the way for our return.”
How can this tree of the Cross be “wholly beautiful to behold and good” when it is a tree of pain? A tree that has been cut down?
The secret lies in the Scripture from Job that we are contemplating: “For a tree there is hope; if it is cut down, it will sprout again, its tender shoots will not cease.”
Let’s go back to our little friend, Lucy. These are ways I have seen hope in her life:
Lucy tells her parents what she wants. She doesn’t hide her needs.
Lucy can complain when her body hurts, when her surgery is causing her pain, when her neck brace is bothering her.
Lucy finds immense joy in playing in the rain and creating “ice cream” out of mud. Best chocolate ice cream in town.
Lucy is an artist: she paints with so much care, so much attention. She doesn’t get distracted. Every color has a place. Every corner of her paper is special.
Lucy knows what she wants. And she tells you.
Lucy disarms you with her smile
Lucy lets her Daddy carry her, even though she would always prefer to run on her own two legs. All the time.
Lucy is loved.
Lucy is a gift.
I will never forget this recent experience: I gathering with some friends, including Lucy and her family, and after dinner we had a praise and worship session in the living room. Simple songs of praise. Family. Home. At one point I look up from playing the violin and see Lucy, who is praising the Lord will all of her tiny body, “singing” along in sign language. I see the words of our worship songs translated in the graceful gestures of this tiny creature, and something in me is undone. I look at Lucy, so fragile and yet so strong, praising her Jesus with her whole self. We are on sacred ground, and the tears begin to flow as we sing:
Thy Body, Soul, and Godhead, all,
O mystery of love divine.
I cannot compass all I have,
For all thou hast and art are mine.
Sweet Sacrament, we thee adore;
Oh, make us love thee more and more.
Oh, make us love thee more and more.
As I was moved to reverence toward the gift of Lucy and her precious life, I felt like I was contemplating the Body of Christ truly present in her. I couldn’t help but be in touch with my own poverty, my own littleness, my own need. This month we are reflecting on the Jubilee of the sick, adolescents, and people with disabilities. The people in these categories are often some of the most beautiful mirrors given to us: they reflect back our existential poverty in a way that is disarming. A person like little Lucy shows me the deep need for God that I always carry, but that I so often manage to hide or forget.
Thank you, sweet Lucy: you teach me that God is love with my littleness, and that He is so happy to love me right here. I hope we can have eyes to see the “Lucys” in our lives — our greatest teachers as we hope for new life.
Concrete Resolution:
- Name an area of personal poverty that you struggle to accept. Then, invite the Holy Spirit inside this place and ask Him to bring new life here.
- In prayer, ask the Lord if there is a way He is inviting you to spend more time with the sick, with teenagers, or with the disabled. If you yourself identify with any of these categories, ask Jesus for the grace to be a sign of His love for others in the Body of Christ.
This month’s meditation is by Sr. Ruth, AVI.
