IMAGE AND LIKENESS

Published in the Jesus Issue of The Episcopal New Yorker – April, 2016 http://www.evergreeneditions.com/publication/?i=298876 IMAGE AND LIKENESS He was my first patient on my first day as a hospital Chaplain intern. He had just been told he was in the last days of his mortal life. “I am a very sick man”, the patient, Mr. C, told me. He was angry. I asked him, “What is most important to you now?” His reply: “I want more time. I want to watch my children grow and raise children of their own. I just want more time.” Time was just what had been taken away from him. He was in a double room with no roommate, often given to patients who are expected to die. His teenage daughter was in a chair several feet from the bed with one earphone in her ear, texting on her phone. I looked from her to him and back, trying to assess the dynamics of their relationship. She seemed calm, pleasant, detached. I wondered, was her father’s illness old news to her? Were she and her father estranged? She smiled and nodded when I asked her if she wanted to join her father and me in prayer. Having told me he was a non-denominational Christian, I prayed with him in the name of Jesus Christ. I voiced his anger and bewilderment to God; asked that he be made whole in body, mind and spirit, and gave thanks for the blessing of love he had for his family. I asked that if God chose to not grant him more time, his family members would feel his love for them continue throughout their lives, and that they’d feel strengthened by the loving presence of God. Before I left the room, he said he wanted another visit and another time to pray. Our next visit was very different. Mr. C was lying almost flat in bed, twisting and turning. A nurse was present, quietly completing her tasks. He nodded that he wanted me to stay, and I pulled up a chair to sit beside him at eye level so he wouldn’t have to strain. The nurse left the room, and after a few more turns, he settled on one side to face me. I felt grateful he could rest. He gave me his gaze; I gave him mine. We beheld each other. Something changed. Neither one of us blinked or moved. It seemed we had just entered eternity, a holy present beyond linear time. Behind the surface of Mr. C’s face, a white light grew. It became stronger and intensely golden. Somehow I knew this light was God. Mr. C’s skin became translucent, his face like a thin mask through which Spirit was revealed. His whole head filled with this light. Beams radiated everywhere. Thoughts entered my mind: Is this what is meant by the image and the likeness of God? Mr. C is not just the image anymore. He is becoming the likeness. In the light behind Mr. C’s face, I saw another face forming. It was Jesus the Christ. Cheekbones; a head; a face. Not solid, but in shades of luminous gold. Jesus’ head turned - carefully, gently aligning each feature in perfect register to those of Mr. C. Jesus’ dark, golden eyes grew larger and more radiant. They shined through Mr. C’s eyes, then his entire face and body. Mr. C seemed to be in a state of ecstasy, of ecstasy and astonishment. The light grew even more intense, and a complete union - yet with each identity still distinct - was made between Mr. C and Christ. Image and likeness. I can’t tell you how long I sat there in witness, in awe. It could have been seconds, minutes, before Christ pulled Mr. C out of his mortal body. Christ literally lifted Mr. C up and out through the top of his head. I saw the pale grey outline of Mr. C’s mortal body, hollow as a dry shell. A misty, silver light swirled inside. It took the form of a double helix, continued to flow as easily as a breath. I thought: Is this the “tail” of the Holy Spirit doing its final work? Mr. C died a few days later in the middle of the night. His family had come and left. The nurses reported, “They were fine.” To my Chaplain’s ear, this meant they had not broken down emotionally on site. What had they understood before Mr. C arrived at the hospital? What would they feel after his death? I will never know. I only retain the hope of our prayer that they will feel Mr. C’s love in their hearts, and the healing strength of God. What does this mean? What does this say about the process of death; the “workings” of the Trinity; revelation; the office of the Christ? What does this say about the resurrection of the body, of human purpose, of divine love as a force of transformation? I cannot answer this; I can only ask questions. What I was given was a profound and precious gift, freely given and wholly unearned. Recently I’ve been reading Paul. Romans 8:11 especially speaks to me. But if the Spirit of Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the living Spirit aligns you in God. (translation by A. Satterfield) © Ann SatterfieldMarch 2016 [Type text][Type text][Type text] 1