If Jesus Is A Physician, Does He Want Me To Be Spiritually, Chronically Ill?

I write this to make a brief announcement. 

And if it is in God’s plan, I hope this can land in the hearts and minds that are destined to be united to mine in a common mission that I’m only starting to discover now. 

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been struggling with the thorn in my side. (Cf. 2 Corinthians 12:7) It’s been there for decades, but the intensity of my recent falls and failures has been alarming. I’m still unsure why my propensity to sin has been so much stronger lately, but it’s clear that I still have much room for healing. Far more than I thought, in fact.

My reflection on my need for healing, and on the word, itself, eventually took me to Blessed Niels Stensen (a.k.a. Nicolaus Steno), a 17^th Century Lutheran scientist who converted to Catholicism and became a bishop. I recalled his 1673 pastoral address, “Sermon on the Care and Duty of Priests”, in which he compared the duty of a pastor to that of a physician, and started my online search for it. I figured that his knowledge and experience as both scientist and pastor could inform my own healing journey as physician and former seminarian. I didn’t find it but in the process came across another paper titled, “Science, Ethos, and Transcendence in the Anatomy of Nicolaus Steno.”

Reading through it, I realized that Stensen was truly special; a Christ-like unicorn capable of scientific discoveries (there are body parts named after him because of his anatomical work), austere holiness, and a rare independence of thought: “Steno criticized the scholastic habit of clinging to Aristotelian method when demonstrating the parts of the brain. According to Steno, the consequence of such clinging was that new discoveries resulted from mere luck, because the researcher would recognize only what fit predefined theories.” (123) Good science, according to Stensen, was more Cartesian, in which the observer tried to suspend preconceptions and cognitive biases as much as possible when trying to learn from natural phenomena.

Not only good science, however. At least not in my opinion. Good, theologically sound pastoral care should also be Cartesian in the sense that preconceptions and biases should be suspended to first see what is wrong with the person in need. Take, for example, my providential run-in with a nun I hadn’t seen for 15 years. Still a medical student, I had decided to pop into a church for a few minutes of prayer and encountered the Sister that helped with youth group when I was in high school. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, I knelt in one of the pews and closed my eyes, only to feel a tap on my shoulder a few minutes later. It was Sister, with her warm smile and welcoming eyes embraced by a grey and white habit, handing me a book.

“This is such a great book,” she said, “you should read it.”

As she walked away, I looked at the cover and chuckled to myself. I chuckled at the absurdity of the gesture, because spiritual material is never completely benign or recreational. Just like medication, both have mechanisms of action, side effects to look for, indications and contraindications. Blood thinners should be avoided in hemophiliacs, just like excessive confessions should be avoided by the scrupulous. 

But like Stensen’s contemporaries, and the Pharisees, and today’s authorities who confuse political coercion with medical recommendations, Sister dished out an order based on predefined theories, rather than suspending her judgment to learn what I actually needed. 

And that’s what struck me today: I’ve been falling and struggling for years, and much like Sister, I keep trying to force myself into scheduled acts of piety and preassigned books, rather than trying to learn who I am and what I actually need. In true, auto-Pharisaical fashion, I’ve multiplied my obligations and needlessly burdened myself, when all He wants at the end of the day is for me to come to Him so he can give me rest.

And so, it is here that my quest begins. My prayer life will no longer be downloading an abstract exercise regimen and trying to adhere to it, or grabbing someone else’s prescriptions and trying to swallow their pills. I’m going to learn about the exercises and medications the Church is offering me; about their targeted outcomes, their proper use, the side effects to look for, and the proper dosing. I will rely on Blessed Stensen’s comparison of the priest to the physician, and remember that my soul can be healthier or sicker, like my body, and its state will determine what it needs the most. 

I think it’s pretty sick right now, so I’ll begin by going to the doctor, Himself. And I don’t just mean Mass. I do that with my family, and my attention is now divided between the little ones that I’ve accepted in His name. No, I’m going to adoration, to bask in His presence and love, and to ask for His rest.

And if a nun doesn’t interrupt me with more prescriptive reading, it should go well. 

As I read, pray, and discover, I will reflect and write, and publish here every second and fourth Monday of the month.

Please wish me luck, pray for me, and if any of this resonates with you, please reach out.