It’s one thing to visit the sick; but actually visiting the sick is another thing entirely.
In her illustrated essay about depression (which can still be found at her old blog, Hyperbole and a Half), cartoonist Allie Brosh uses fish to explain what this means. She envisions herself as a woman with a dead goldfish in each hand, desperately trying to impart the gravity of her loss to her friends. But every piece of advice that she receives has nothing to do with their death. “Let’s keep looking for them! I’m sure they’ll turn up somewhere!” says one friend; another asks her, “Have you tried feeding them?”
This, in essence, was Brosh’s experience whenever she tried to talk to people about her mental illness. Instead of engaging with the actual facts of her problem (the fact that she was suddenly unable to feel anything) her friends kept giving her advice that had nothing to do with the situation at hand. But instead of making her feel supported, this only served to reinforce her belief that there was something intrinsically wrong with her (which, needless to say, is the last thing that a depressed person needs).
When visiting the sick, it’s tempting to play doctor. We’re the healthy, after all—surely, we must have the answers. But even though this attitude might be well-intentioned, it isn’t exactly oozing with mercy. Mercy, as Father James Keenan puts it, is “the willingness to enter into the chaos of another.” This means putting aside our preconceived notions about what’s best for someone, and acknowledging their dignity as children of God.
If you always insist upon playing the judge, your opportunities for forming a connection with those you visit will probably be pretty limited. But if you visit people with a spirit of fraternal charity, you’ll be able to help others and yourself.
Teresa de Mallorca is the pseudonym of a neophyte who just completed the RCIA program at Holy Name
Share your thoughts below or on social media, tagging Holy Name Cathedral and using #SeasonOfMercy.
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