Today is the Feast of Juan de la Cruez or, as we know it in English: John of the Cross. He helped Theresa of Avilia, Spain, rejuvinate the Carmelite Community for women and so they are now worldwide. I used to work in Bon Secours Hospital in Glasgow, where I consulted. It was run by the Soeurs de Bon Secours de Paris, a Nursing Order of RC nuns. Opposite was the Carmelite Monastry and nuns from there would often come across to the hospital chapel for services and meetings afterwards. I was always under the impression they were a contemplative Order but whenever I met the lovely sisters from over the road, they were always friendly, smiling and very chatty; a most interesting group of ladies, far removed from the idea of nuns shut away from the world so much they can no longer relate to it. Nothing further could that be from the truth. My consulting room was adjacent to the chapel so it was well used by me as well. The altar was carved by the Benedictine monks of Pluscarden Abbey by Nairn. Anyway, there I met a 6ft tall blind Franciscan brother, with a great shock of white hair and a beard, a deep and sensitive voice and a great bellow of a laugh. He could have got a job immediately on the set of 'Whisky Galore! ' He lived at the Franciscan Friary in the Gorbals, Glasgow. I met him as he left the chapel one day. He hesitated before the door and asked 'Hello?' I spoke "Hello Father, I'm Graeme." 'Ah, you have the consulting room next door, which used to be the chapel years ago.' "Oh, I didn't know." ( Curiously, my last consulting room was the Prayer Room, adjacent the chapel of St Mungo in the RC Chaplaincy at Glasgow University. ) We used to meet and chat about inner anguish, as well as football - not that I know much about the latter. I had to laugh as he told me he hears Confessions from various convents dotted around the south-side of Glasgow. 'I have a queue to see me as they think I don't know who they are, so I hear all sorts of things!' And then he had that great guffaw and he would say, 'You see, I DO see, but not with my eyes; you'll know what I mean.' "I see" I replied and then we'd both laugh. This led to many discussions about confession and absolution in both the Roman Church and other Catholic Churches such my own Scottish Episcopal Church. He was interested in my views on individual morality versus corporate morality. I said I viewed it all as firstly individual conscience, but that is nurtured by psychosocial development initially, so is sometimes flawed in some people as adults, who often fall foul of the law and end up in prison. I said that when visiting both the only Women's Prison in Scotland at Cornton Vale and indeed, the State Hospital, Carstairs, I was always struck by how "innocent" folk were at heart; innocents abroad or, "for they know not what they do" in the sense of individual conscience, although they often did see the 'Oh well, I was caught out and so here I am' idea that the state imprisoned them. The key then, is early nurturing before the age of seven or eight when by which time the personality is set and formed. Thereafter we all hope to get wiser. Some of us do and some of us are still foolish at times. My individual psychoanalytical psychotherapy work over many years is often about re-addressing the inner self problems of personality characteristics which need correction - by interpretation and not by condemnation or criticism; by example and by an accepting love of them, warts and all, so to speak. Curiously, many folk; indeed most folk in psychoanalysis with me, eventually ask about the spiritual life. Their question is usually something like, 'Are you a Christian then?'[ I think it must show ], Or perhaps, 'Is there a God? If there is, why does he let me suffer so much?" Or, "I pray so much to God but he doesn't hear me." I am often tempted to answer the last one with something like "But perhaps he sent me" I don't say that, but that's what I feel. So, my ministry is all bound up with my professional and personal selves. "That's me" as we say in Scotland. I do feel that my professional / personal / Christian SELF is parental. Why do I feel this? It feels so, and my 'faithful' as I call my people, intimate that they want to regress to 'grow again' this time to get it right in safe hands. Such awesome tragedies; such lovely people; I wonder often if they are angels - certainly they are often 'innocents abroad', for they do not know they do wrong or 'they know not what they do'. My 'faithful' folk are therefore gifts from God, for they and I are all God's folk. My individual care of my dear folk is therefore an 'in-house' job in the Christian family sense. "Home is where the heart is"
(Donald W. Winnicott).
Talking of Bon Secours Hospital, Glasgow, which is now a block of luxury flats, with the Convent still there though, I had a friend in a resident there. He was the Auxiliary Bishop of Glasgow RC Archdiocese. He said he was retired but still did all the Confirmations in the Archdiocese.
We'd sit by his fireside in his residence and drink tea and he'd smoke his pipe and have a good 'craic' (chat) and a laugh. He was a friend of our then Diocesan Bishop and the two would go in mufti to evangelical rallies, raise their hands and should halleluliahs, which he thought was great fun. He said 'all your Piskie ladies fuss over me, just like our Catholic Mothers - just the same. One day we will all be one, but sadly it won't be in my time.' I'd see him 3 times a day wending his way along the corridor to the chapel next to my consulting room. He had to attend the Western Infirmary twice a week for renal dialysis ('good time for prayer' he said). He would stagger a bit as he was frail. The Rt Revd Charles Renfrew was a Glaswegian, born and bred. He had been Principal at Blairs College, Aberdeen, the RC Seminary. Then sadly he died and was no longer there, and I missed him. He body lay overnight in the chapel. Next morning I was there at my door to pay respects as the cortege and all the nuns wended their way down the corridor and out to St Andrew's Cathedral on the Broomielaw in Glasgow. Because of the gait of the pall bearers I noticed that the coffin staggered down the corridor and I admit to having to suppress a laugh which I think Mother Superior noticed as she looked quizzically at me. Later I told her why and she threw her head back and laughed loudly: 'Bishop Charles would love that comment' she said. Sister Irene was the Matron of the hospital and she ran a very efficient and caring hospital. Some of the nuns worked as nursing sisters; one worked as chaplain to the nearby Victoria Infirmary. One of the nuns was Consultant Pathologist at the Vic. A tall, graceful and most attractive young Irish nun. But, she was not one for the 'craic' as I learned when trying to make conversation when she came home in the evening. I became a patient in my own hospital and I was impressed with the care. I had an intra-occular transplant and after surgery was in my room recovering when the ward sister arrived with a tray and a book. She was a Baptist and she bathed my eye and after re-dressing my eye, opened the book - it was the Bible, and she read from the NT the story of Jesus's healing of the man with eye disease at the Pool of Siloam. 'Nae mud packs for you though tonight, but prayer. Let us pray...' I found that infinately comforting in a profound way and I was soon asleep. I was awakened by the Mother Superior. 'Now Mr Vahey, have you said your Morning Office?' 'Well, er...no Sister, I, er..." She got my dressing gown and produced a wheelchair and wheeled me to the lift and down to the chapel where the Community awaited us. She led us all in the Morning Office, with the nuns intoning the lovely Gregorian chant. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Such care, as they took me to their heart as "one of them". Nice memories.
