Scottish Catholic Observer

‘Lord Jesus, you who heal body and soul: we ask your special blessing on those living with depression.

Be close to them in their moments of darkness, loneliness and pain.

Send your angel to comfort them, as you were comforted in the garden. Bathe them in the light of your face, which dispels every shadow.

Refresh them in the living spring which flows from your own pierced heart.

Call them forth, as you called forth your friend Lazarus to a restored life. And speak their name, with the same love with which you spoke to Mary, opening her eyes to your presence as her Risen Lord.

May all who labour and are overburdened find rest in you. Grant this, Lord, in your great mercy: You who live and reign with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit. God, for ever and ever. Amen.’

Last week’s sixth year retreat passed off without incident, although I’m certain not much heather was set ablaze by my ruminations on ‘building the future.’ Inevitably, there was a technical glitch which meant that a short clip I played them on St Francis of Assisi (from Bishop Robert Barron’s Catholicism: The Pivotal Players series) had no sound. Thankfully, another glitch meant that it also had subtitles, so I was able to salvage something.

The clip in question recounted the moment St Francis heard the crucifix in the ruined chapel of San Damiano call him to repair his house, which was collapsing around them. St Francis took the call literally, but we know that he was also responsible for a more radical spiritual renovation of the Church throughout the world. I reminded the sixth years that they also had a part to play in the renewal of the Church in our day.

They offered some suggestions as to how that might be achieved. Perhaps inevitably, some of these looked a lot like ‘getting with the programme’ as dictated by the values of secular culture. Others, however, would have cheered the heart of Archbishop Philip Tartaglia, who recently warned of the dangers of ‘wishy-washy’ Catholicism: there was one suggestion that we needed ‘more Faith’ and another to have ‘better explanations of Church teaching.’

One suggestion made me smile: perhaps focusing literally on the idea of St Francis’ attention to the fabric of the Church, someone wrote ‘paintwork’ and, perhaps realising the wider question, added ‘evangelise.’

That would be music to our own bishop’s ears as it would suggest that something of the theme of our recent diocesan synod has percolated through to our younger members.

The mission of the new evangelisation is something in which all age groups have an interest—indeed, as I reminded our 17-year-olds, they have more ‘skin in the game’ than the rest of us. A flourishing Church, not just a surviving one, is a task entrusted to them, as it was to St Francis.

It so happens I have a meeting with the bishop this week to discuss the implementation of the synod at parish level. We had very committed and enthusiastic parish delegates at the synod, and Stephen, Kevin and Claire have kept their finger on the pulse thereafter. In fact, Claire sits on no fewer than two of the post-synodal implementation groups, so perhaps I should be asking her along to the meeting to keep me right.

Following the publication of the synod’s acta, the formal record of what took place before and during the synod, it is really up to the priests and people of the diocese to help the bishop decide what constitutes the ‘after’ bit. I know that various initiatives have been proposed and it’s encouraging that many of these have been lay-led.

The advent of the Mercy Bus, well publicised in this paper, is one such example. I have to be honest and declare that my only contact with the Mercy Bus was something of a near-miss, when I was asked to come along at short notice and help out with Confessions.

I was just back from holiday and still on leave, so I needed some time to get back to the parish to change and get down to the town centre. By the time I had made myself presentable, I had received a voicemail to tell me to ‘stand down.’ When I say ‘near-miss,’ I mean it was a lucky escape for the omnibus penitents, as I didn’t have time to shower (TMI, or ‘too much information,’ as my sixth years would say).

As a result, however, I wasn’t able to witness for myself just what impact the initiative had. On paper, it looks marvellous, combining an experience of ‘the chapel’ with getting on a bus for free—both of which, I am told, are very popular with Catholics of an older demographic.

But how many of those who clambered aboard were not already at Mass that morning, and at Confession not long before that? How many of these didn’t have bus passes themselves? I ask that not ­facetiously, but out of genuine interest.

I am full of admiration for those who have the imagination and the drive—no pun intended —to actually do something rather than just hand-wring and theorise, but I’d hope that all evaluations would be honest.

Even as I typed that, I’m mindful of an inner voice (not voiced by Fr Brennan this time, oddly enough), saying that even one soul sacramentally reunited with the Lord is worth it all.

Last weekend we reverted to the normal roster of Masses after the lighter summer schedule. Perhaps under the influence of the canine imagery in the Gospel, I treated the returning 5 o’clock Sunday Mass crowd a little coolly at first, the way Jasmine treats me when I come back from a holiday, as if to say ‘thanks for leaving me.’ It’s a wonder I have a congregation at all. They put up with a lot.

I am on call for the hospital this week. As it stands, there are some parishioners in hospital who are overdue a visit from me. I hope my call-outs fall within the hours of daylight, because that will provide the impetus to pop into the wards where these other patient parishioners are being looked after.

It’s quite fitting that this week also sees the beginning of one of our annual highlights at St Joseph’s: the St Peregrine Novena. The novena, at which we pray for those suffering from cancer and other serious illnesses, always attracts a goodly crowd.

We also have a number of friends who join us in making the novena at home, or in some cases, from their hospital beds. This form of intercession is popular precisely because it gives people a way of helping, it breaks through that sense of helplessness which can sometimes affect those whose loved ones become ill with a terrible disease.

It is a simple demonstration of the power of Faith and love. But it should also be about hope. Alongside the prayers attached to the novena, I try to ensure that the scriptures we use speak of hope and healing, as well as of acceptance of God’s will. I’ve probably broken the rules of the novena by extending its scope to another debilitating illness which afflicts so many: depression.

I had one concerned parishioner warn me that depression was St Dymphna’s patch. When all’s said and done, I reassured her, the Communion of Saints isn’t quite like an earthly union and there is no policy of ‘one saint, one job.’

I hope that folk won’t find the comparison between depression and cancer distasteful. It just strikes me that the parallels are somewhat obvious, not least in a gradual onset where something feels not quite right through to the shadow it casts over the future, to say nothing of the other emotional effects on everyone concerned.

Depression, like cancer, affects whole families: the suffering of one person inevitably touches all those who love them and worry about them. Above is a novena prayer I composed for those affected by depression. You may find it helpful.