You likely don’t need any reminders that May is jam-packed with celebrations and events, ranging from milestones like graduations and the end of the school year to Memorial Day, Mental Health Awareness Month, and for us Catholics the month of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Chances are good that if you are at all affected by the cadence of the academic calendar, this all goes by in a blur.
It does for me, at least.
Truthfully, I sometimes roll my eyes when I learn about all of the (obscure) causes that have adopted a month. However, at around the same time I was reading Father Henri Nouwen’s The Wounded Healer, I learned that National Nurses Week is celebrated the week of May 6th.
Timing is everything, isn’t it? Especially about books.
Father Henri Nouwen was a Catholic priest who wrote extensively on the relationship between faith and community, pastoral ministry, psychology, depression, and vulnerability. His most famous book, The Return of the Prodigal Son, connects many of these themes. He was a speaker, author, theologian, retreat leader, professor, and chaplain. Likely because of his willingness to speak to the topic of vulnerability, he was (and continues to be) widely accessible.
The Work of Healing
Nouwen’s lens in The Wounded Healer is specific to those providing spiritual care, or hope of any kind, to others in an increasingly existential culture. He is explicit in the need for those of us who have experienced wounds to walk with One Who has been wounded (Christ) and emphasizes the irreplaceable role of those who stand in the gap between the wound and the wounded seeking healing. Uncannily, he describes the landscape of ministering to an increasingly hopeless generation (in 1972), which is all the more relatable today.
Whether it be through our professional lives or our vocations, often the desire to offer hope and healing comes from a desire to be healed ourselves. And because we know that “hurt people, hurt people,” Nouwen named the necessity of addressing the work of healing in ourselves before we can be of comfort or hope to another. By remaining vulnerable enough to acknowledge our brokenness, we allow the healing of Christ who has experienced deep wounds to step in and heal us and in turn make us instruments of healing.
Tending to Our Wounds
As I mulled over the wisdom in Nouwen’s words, I called to mind some of those in my life who have attended to my wounds, both physical and spiritual. Specifically, I remembered the two nurses assigned to me after the unforeseen complications of my daughter’s delivery. They were so attentive to me. They did not leave my side through any procedure, advocated for my desire to nurse my little one, created a makeshift tube top for me after days of living in a gaping hospital gown, washed my face, and stayed close and updated us while my husband cared for our daughter.
I also remembered my spiritual director who walked with me as I tried to make sense of a deep loss. She gently prompted me to enter Scripture alongside the brokenhearted–-the uncomfortable readings of the Holy Innocents (see Matthew 2:16-18) and Mary weeping at the tomb of Jesus (see John 20:11-18). Her presence itself did not provide healing, but she offered accompaniment and hope.
Our Wounded Healer
Ultimately Christ is the Great Physician—the Wounded Healer. The One Who tends to our wounds. The One Who is intimately familiar with being wounded, having been wounded Himself. Nouwen makes the connection that if the Lord of the universe has experienced wounds in order to be close to humanity, it stands to reason that our wounds might offer a place of healing as well: for ourselves and others.
Saint Gregory of Nazianzus wrote, “For that which He has not assumed He has not healed; but that which is united to His Godhead is also saved” (source). In other words, God redeems what He assumed. By taking on humanity, Jesus offers redemption to us. In the same way, Jesus assumed the experience of suffering, not as a valiant act of chivalry or showmanship, but to enter the most wretched brokenness we experience, that it might be redeemed. Without directly saying so, Saint Gregory and Henri Nouwen were speaking the same language, nearly 1500 years apart.
In relatable terms, Nouwen offers examples of vulnerability, accompaniment, self-awareness, and attentiveness to those we may walk with through difficult seasons. By encouraging deep listening and fellowship, The Wounded Healer encourages each of us to take seriously our invitation to offer and seek hope in a hurting world. May it be so.
Keep track of your notes while you join us in reading this new BIS Reads pick! Our spiral journals flip open to make it easy to jot down quotes you love or insights you gather from Nouwen's words!
MARY SHOWS US THE WAY
Just as a mother might pass on a beloved family tradition to her daughters, Mary shares the recipe for growing in virtue with us.
This study on Mary's Virtues will breathe new life into your everyday, beginning right in Mary's home.
Katie Cassady is a regular contributor to the BIS blog. She is a wife and mom to three little girls in Denver, CO. Steeped in theological reflection, beekeeping and motherhood, she is appreciative of any and all wisdom she can glean from those living intentional lives of faith. Find out more about her here. Read all of Katie's posts here.
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