The Transfiguration of Barnabas
August 6, 2004
Dear Friends,
Today, the Catholic liturgical calendar marks the feast of the Transfiguration of Christ on Mount Tabor. I have always liked this day, both because celebrations of radiance are appealing, and because it takes place in my favorite month. August is the month my mother and I celebrate our birthdays, and has often been a lazy month of rest and celebration.
For a moment, on Mount Tabor, a few privileged apostles were allowed to see what was under the surface of the ordinary day. The face of Christ glowed like the sun, revealing that the apparent ordinariness of life is charged with the splendor of God. Yes, the vision of that splendor is blunted by the woundedness of sin and we are often blinded to it, but it is there for us to see at special moments of grace. In particular, we are told by wise and holy people that the apostles were granted this special vision because they would need the memory of this experience to see them through the dreadful days of Christ’s passion.
Three nights ago, as we were driving to the orphanage after a long and hot day of work, we came upon a man sitting on the road in the market at Fermathe. He seemed baffled and dazed. He was vomiting, and his body was twisting with the movements of a snake. People from the town were giving him milk to drink. I thought he was just drunk, and I was tempted to pass by, but I didn’t. The quick story from the people was that he ate two bagfuls of rat poison. Since I did not have any antidotes for poison with me, nor activated charcoal to try to absorb what was still in his stomach, we put him in the truck and raced to the nearby small hospital. There was no doctor there. So we raced him along the harrowing road, about 7 kilometers to the orphanage, where I called ahead so that oxygen, IV fluids, activated charcoal and other treatments would be waiting for us.
The man’s name is Barnabas. To spare you a lot of the story, I will simply say that it was soon clear that his snakelike movement’s were not from the poison. Barnabas, who is 43 years old, told me he has been like that since he was 26. I suspect he has Huntingtons, or a similar neurological disease. Barnabas’ wife left him for a normal man, and he lives in Cape Haitian with his two high school age children, whom he can no longer afford to get through school. Tired of his advancing illness, tired of the gawks and comments of strangers, ashamed that he can’t hold anything long enough in his hands to be able to hold down a job so he can get his children through school, he decided to take a bus to Port au Prince and to take his life. He decided to do this far from his family and from anyone he knows, to spare them the shame and despair of his ending.
I asked Barnabas if he really wanted to die, and there was a flood of tears. They were tears from the soul of someone who found a compassionate ear, which is also a bridge of bonding and a relief from loneliness. No, Barnabas did not want to die. Barnabas was in an inner hell and did not know there was still a heaven, until a light shown upon him through a simple act of kindness.
Barnabas now has a job with us. There are many ways he can help us. We will see to it that children finish school. We will find the best medicines available in the United States to lessen his writhing movements and help slow the course of his devastating illness. And now he will have friends to the end, even though it can be a bitter end. We can try to make it at least bittersweet. As I said in reference to today’s feast, the apostles were granted this special vision because they would need the memory of this experience to see them through dreadful days. Our religion is always enormously practical.
After the transfiguration, life became difficult once again. Maybe Hollywood would write the script so that moments of transfiguration would be last moments, but God has a different idea. Jesula, Daniel and now Barnabas are faced with many challenges and their full humanity can make them very heavy to themselves and to us. There are people who have told me that I should have rewritten some of those scripts, that I should be more willing to let people die. The idea of assisting suicide, or of determining who should be helped to live and who should be left to die, are hot and controversial topics in our world today. It is just that I have not yet come across someone who said to me, “thanks, but no thanks. I would just rather die.” I am waiting for such a moment, and its accompanying wisdom.
On another note, in the areas of flooding, we have provided seed for about 100 people to replant their gardens and we are in the process of building the first five simple houses for those who have lost their homes. Sister Philomena, on her own, has raised the money to build an additional three!
On this feast of radiance, we offer our prayers for you and your families.
Sincerely,
Fr Rick Frechette CP