Caring for the sick: modeling discipleship

Feb 19, 2016

By Mike Nelson
Some of Jesus' final words to his disciples help form the foundation of our corporal works of mercy -- including "[I was] ill and you cared for me" (Mt 25:36).

But let us also recall Jesus' words much earlier, in his commissioning of the disciples (Mt 10:7-8): "Cure the sick. ... Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give."

Though "caring for the sick" is not the same as "curing the sick," there is certainly healing when we are sick and tended to by caring people who we may or may not know, but who are truly interested in our well-being. And they aren't the least bit interested in being paid back.

My late mother was a registered nurse, an excellent nurse by all accounts. That was her profession, but it was also her gift that she continued to share long after she stopped working professionally.

In her retirement community, she continued her nursing career unofficially, checking in on those she knew were sick or elderly and in need of attention.

While she didn't administer medication, the time she spent with these folks no doubt brought them a measure of comfort and, I am sure, healing -- physically, spiritually and emotionally.

For who among us wishes to be lonely, however healthy we are in body? And if we aren't healthy physically, how much worse do we feel if no one -- other than, maybe, our doctor -- ever does anything for us?

We would expect to receive loving care, of course, from our families and those we know. But how many of us model the good Samaritan, who, in Luke 10:29-37, lovingly tended to an injured stranger on the road, without regard to cost or kinship?

In this story, Jesus not only makes a Samaritan -- an outcast in Jewish society -- the hero, he casts a priest as one of the villains for not tending to the injured man's needs.

This is a device Jesus uses regularly, to let us know that we cannot be bound by societal customs or mores when it comes to serving (and loving) one another -- if, that is, we wish to be his disciples.

Or, for that matter, if we wish to model discipleship for others.

My mother was not Catholic, or a regular churchgoer, but she cared for everyone. Sadly, in the later years of her life, she suffered from Alzheimer's disease, which robbed her (and her community) of her healing gifts. Or did it?

My father was never known for patience (or for churchgoing), but he loved my mother. When she became so ill from her disease and could not perform the most basic functions of living, my dad -- in the 60th and 61st years of their marriage -- became her nurse.

He gave his time and attention to her, doing his best to make her comfortable, just as she had for him and so many others throughout her life.

Without cost my father had received, and without cost he gave. That is how we share God's gift of mercy.