I recently visited a former parishioner, in Toronto, who is ill. It was a wonderful visit, and a joyful reunion for both of us. To my surprise, as I was departing, she mentioned that very few people visit her anymore, since she became ill. She tended to excuse it by stating, with a degree of sadness, "People lead such busy lives....they just don't think about the sick anymore or simply don't have time to visit them...."

What was striking about her comment was that she had not lived like that at all in the years before she became ill. This woman, now confined for the most part to her home, was hardly ever alone in the past. She had such a busy life, full of helping family and others, and full of joys and hobbies. She managed to find time to even visit the sick in the nursing home. Her parish was a great source of faith and strength, and she was a very active parishioner. I was pleased, at the least, to hear that there was still a connection to her parish. Ironically, it was mainly through a home visitation program. The one visit she looked forward to each week was the arrival of a lay minister of the sick from her parish, and the occasional visit of a priest, In each visit, they brought with them the presence of Christ in the Eucharist. It meant the world to her to know she had not been forgotten by her church, or by her God.

Yet, her comments still raised a more disturbing trend in our society in which an older population is living longer, yet also in danger of feeling somewhat lonely or abandoned. I have often challenged myself on how often I might call upon a sick or elderly relative or parishioner. Yet, it is not only the duty of lay ministers to the sick, or chaplains, but of every Christian. To visit the sick or those in senior years living alone is truly an act of great love and faith. Did not Jesus hold this kind of service as a fundamental Christian way of living? In my view, this should never be seen as a burden or an inconvenience; rather, it is a special blessing and joy. Why? Because each person can only grow from the experience of learning something from the other, and of experiencing the Christ in the other. Is it no wonder that Jesus himself encouraged his followers to visit the sick? They are very close to the heart of Christ. In meeting them, in caring for them, they know they are never abandoned or forgotten.

On Sundays, it is so important that our lay ministers to the sick be blessed as they are sent forth to bring the Body of Christ to those who are ill. In effect, to visit the sick is the work of us all. It is a part of our caring for the Body of Christ, the Church, and each of its members.

I think we have all heard stories of people who rarely see family or friends anymore, since becoming ill, or since being confined to a nursing home. It is a pity. Yet, what is sadder is the missed opportunity for each to become richer in faith, hope, and love. In speaking with our lay pastoral visitors to the sick, at the Newman Centre, they cannot begin to describe the joys and moments of richness they find in each visit. I also heard recently from a young man who visited his grandfather and received such good insight into some decisions he was making about his future. He wants to continue to meet with him. He is discovering a person he is called to love but never really knew. Likewise, the grandfather. They are both the richer for the visit!

In reflecting on this topic, on a hot summer day, I recall the witness of a Toronto priest, who died about 20 years ago. His name was Fr. Cochran. He was fond of reminding people to visit loved ones or friends before it was too late. Not to put off such visits, he would say. He exemplified this in his own life. When he died, the parish placed a plaque on the back wall of his church, Transfiguration, in Etobicoke, Ontario, which highlighted his favourite poem (authour unknown). I trust this poem will inspire us to think more carefully about our concern for those who depend on us for friendship and Christian love, especially those who look forward to our visits and good company.

Around the corner I have found a friend,
In this great city that has no end;
Yet days go by, and weeks rush on
And before I know it, a year is gone,
And I never see my old friend's face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well.
As in the days when I rang his bell
And he rang mine.

We were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men:
Tired with playing a foolish game,
Tired with trying to make a name,
"Tomorrow", I say, "I will call on Jim,
Just to show that I'm thinking of him".
But tomorrow comes---and tomorrow goes,
And the distance between us grows and grows!

Around the corner - yet miles away...
"Here's a telegram, Sir", "Jim died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end:
Around the corner, a vanished friend.