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My mother had a multitude of pithy sayings, some her own phrases, some borrowed from others. One such saying was, “Misery loves company.” I thought of that when I read today’s second reading. “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are,” Paul writes to the Hebrews. Someone who can sympathize with us; someone who understands our sufferings; someone who shares in our misery. The question that begs for me is, does that make it easier to bear? According to my mother it ought to. According to Paul it makes Jesus easier to approach and it makes it easier for us to receive mercy and find grace.

It has often been said, frequently by those in the Church, that it is usually in our suffering we feel closest to God. Folks who are dealing with debilitating illness, devasting loss, challenging issues are meant to find comfort in their faith. In my own journey I have been told that the Gospel stories should become more real for me through this experience. That is certainly the case – I hear and see things differently. I have a deeper appreciation for the many kindnesses which are extended to me. I am more grateful than usual for those who surround me with love and support, especially Wayne. However, I cannot say that I feel closer to God, although I work hard to see God in the ordinary. And I am not sure I am always able to find the grace to respond positively to my situation. Because for me grace means you accept and do not complain. Me … I am fairly good about the complaining.

In a theoretical sense I accept that Jesus is completely human and completely divine. And yet while I accept that teaching and understanding of the Church, I frequently feel myself wondering … completely human? yeah maybe. But he is also God. Which equates for me with, so not really as weak as we are; not really suffering as we do. Nonetheless, last Sunday in his homily, Bishop Vienneau said something which resonated, something which I think taps into the entire issue for me. It is about control. To fully embrace God, to fully embrace God’s Son, we need to relinquish control. That is challenging for the type A personality I am, one who must control the narrative, one who has made plans for her entire life, many of which do not work out the way I had planned or hoped for, by the way. If I could tell you how often some form of ‘but you have no control over that, so you need to let it go’ has been said to me. Nevertheless, I persist. You have heard the saying “We plan; God laughs.” 

Still, naming our reality and accepting what is, might help us to better cope with it. It might help us to survive it in whatever way we are meant to survive it. When we pray the Lord’s Prayer for instance, we pray “give us THIS day our daily bread” – simply what we need for this day, not for tomorrow, next month, 10 years from now. We pray “THY will be done” – not yours, not mine, and yet somehow, we hope that the two converge. To pray that and really mean it, means relinquishing control. Maybe, I have been thinking, we are truly only able to do that when we hit rock bottom. 

Many years ago, our youngest child Jordan had encountered challenges while living on his own in northern Alberta. We wanted him to come home. Yet he insisted on staying there and working through those challenges. He told us it is only when you can only count on yourself that you finally begin to do so. While this young man would never have articulated or even equated that with counting on ‘the high priest,’ that is exactly what he did, because as Christians we know we never do anything ‘on our own.’

Does misery love company? I cannot answer that question. However, I am beginning to realize that grace comes in times of necessity … if we can only let go of the need to manage it.

~Ellen Bennett