History Magazine

"The Veil Between This World and the Next is Very Thin..."

By Brutallyhonest @Ricksteroni

Fr. Longenecker spends time with a dying lapsed Catholic:

One of the sweet things about being a priest is being able to minister at a person’s deathbed. The veil between this world and the next is very thin at that point, and you can see so much. When I say you can “see” so much what I mean is that so much is revealed. At that point the person who is dying is usually very vulnerable and open. Their worldly facade is fading. Their accomplishments and pride are forgotten. They realize that all the stuff of this world will soon be left behind.

Often the person is quietly sleeping. The family is gathered around and there is no response as the last LastRitesrites are given. On the other hand, sometimes the process is very conscious. More than once I’ve been called to visit a man or woman who has called the parish office specifically because they know they are dying and they want to see a Catholic priest.

So I once made my way to a small apartment in a not so good part of town. I was admitted to find a man in his sixties with a haggard expression gasping for air. Call him Ralph.

“Are you a Catholic priest?”

“I am.”

“It’s about time. I’ve been calling all around town for the last three weeks trying to get hold of a Catholic priest.”

“I’m sorry. It looks like you’re pretty sick.”

“Yep. I’m dying. Doctor says only a few more weeks. They can’t do anything for me.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Lung cancer. It’s my own damned fault. I couldn’t give up smoking,”

“Uh huh. Why haven’t you seen a priest up til now?”

“I was in the hospice and when I asked they sent some old guy around wearing a blue shirt. That made me suspicious so I asked him and he said he was a Methodist. I told him to get lost. I want a Catholic priest. So off he went and a few days later I asked again and they sent some woman around wearing one of those shirts priests are supposed to wear. I knew she wasn’t a Catholic priest, so I told her to get out and go find me a Catholic priest.”

“Why didn’t you send for your parish priest? What church do you go to?”

He laughs, then starts coughing. Coughing really bad. I think he’s going to cough his lungs up—what’s left of them. Finally he stops laughing-coughing and says, “Hell, Father I haven’t been to church for fifty years.”

“Then why start now?”

“Because the nuns told me when a Catholic is dying you’re supposed to call the priest. Right?”

“Right.”

“And I’m a Catholic and I’m dying so I called a priest. What next?”

Go and find out.  You'll not regret the trip.

Carry on.


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