Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,
Last weekend, as we celebrated our patron saint, the Archangel Raphael, I found myself reflecting in a more personal way on what his name means: “God heals.”
In the Book of Tobit, Raphael brings hope to the blind Tobit when he tells him, “Take courage! God’s healing is near!” (Tobit 5:10). Raphael accompanies Tobit’s son, Tobias, on his journey, helps deliver Sarah from the evil that torments her, and ultimately helps restore Tobit’s sight. Raphael reminds us that God hears our prayers for healing and desires wholeness for His children.
It seems especially fitting to me that God has called me to serve here at St. Raphael. Before entering the seminary, I worked as a physical therapist in a hospital. As a PT, I helped people recover from physical injuries and regain strength and mobility. Yet I have come to understand that there are wounds far deeper than those of the body.
The beautiful truth is that God is the Healer. Whether through a doctor, a nurse, a physical therapist, a family member, a friend, or a priest, it is ultimately God who heals. We are simply called to be conduits of His healing.
Over these past three years at St. Raphael, I have also found myself returning time and again to an insight from Henri Nouwen: the image of Jesus as the “wounded healer.” Jesus is the ultimate wounded healer because He entered fully into the brokenness and suffering of our human condition. He did not heal us from a distance. He took our wounds upon Himself and carried them to the Cross.
That has made me look differently at my own priestly life and ministry. I have come to recognize more honestly that I, too, am a wounded person in need of healing. I carry wounds from my past, including times when I have failed and made mistakes, as well as wounds I have received from others. Some of those wounds have come through my years of priestly ministry. Like every human being, I can be hurt, disappointed, and brokenhearted.
But I have also learned that I do not have to hide those wounds from Christ. I can bring them to Him. And, by His grace, He can use even those places of brokenness for personal growth and to deepen my compassion for others.
Perhaps this is one of the greatest lessons St. Raphael has taught me during my years here: the person called to help others heal must first recognize his own need for the Healer. I am not called to minister because I am completely heathy and have everything figured out. I am called to minister because I, too, need Jesus.
And perhaps that is why my friendship with Christ has grown in a deeper way here at St. Raphael. I have come to know Him not simply as the One who asks me to bring His healing to others, but as the One who meets me in my own wounds and patiently heals me. In the end, it is not so much that I heal others. He heals them through me.
May St. Raphael intercede for all of us, that we may have the courage to bring our wounds to Christ, allow Him to heal us, and then become instruments of His healing for one another.
St. Raphael, pray for us!
Faithfully yours in Christ,
Father Leo
