Fr Seamus Maguire

This is a series of short stories by Fr Seamus Maguire that have been inspired, for the most part, by his experiences as chaplain at the San Fernando GeneralHospital.
Fr Seamus hopes that this series of anecdotes may help to foster vocations to the priesthood and religious life.
Fr Seamus served the San Fernando Parish between 1995 and 2006. He has since returned to West Virginia, USA.

We have often heard how we are “God’s children.” That unity was never so evident as with Matthew, Donna and Michael.

Matthew, you remember, had died in the AIDS ward just a few days before, but he had become a good friend of Donna over the past six months. Donna was about 18 years old and she first told me, “I am Pentecostal,” very defensively.

To their credit, the young people of her Pentecostal Church did visit her in droves, and they prayed unashamedly over her sick body. However, as there was no sudden miracle of healing of Donna, some of her group faded away. As the months passed, their number decreased until there was no one left. So over the months I got to know her quite well, but I never forced our religion on her.

Then Matthew died and I could see how much it affected our dear Donna. I visited her daily, as well as an elderly man named Michael, who – like the biblical Lazarus – was covered with sores. It was not a pretty sight to see him put ointment on his many sores.

I had given Michael the Anointing of the Sick and Holy Communion. Donna listened in rapt attention as I spoke of God’s infinite love, for her friend Matthew, and herself. I had visited both patients on Friday, but on Saturday would not be able to go to the hospital since I had Confessions, followed by evening Mass in the church. So on Sunday, after two Masses in the mission church, I was anxious to see my friends in the hospital.

When I arrived at the AIDS ward, the nurse said something about “passing away,” which I could not quite catch, so I took it that my dear old Michael had passed away on Saturday. On Friday I had left Donna walking about. To my “Excuse me, Nurse,” she replied, “Donna has died.”

You would think that an old “pro” like the chaplain of the AIDS ward would never be shocked, but I was stunned. I might have expected that Michael had passed away, but a young girl of Donna’s age, who always gave me that delightful smile when  I visited that ward, was shocking. She had missed Matthew very much, and the loneliness and heartbreak of his death had hastened her own.

The following day, Monday, I came to the hospital to visit Michael, the last of my three friends. I took the liberty of first looking in the window of his room. There he was struggling with the sheet. I thought out loud, “Good for you. You are at least alive and kicking,” so I went to visit the other patients.

After visiting the other wards I returned to Michael. As I stood beside his bed, I called out to him but he didn’t answer, so I said the Act of Contrition loudly in his ear. I then implored the Blessed Virgin Mary to be with him NOW (he really needed her help now) and the hour of our death; (I was certain that this was his “hour.”)
I repeated this several times. He was in Mary’s hands!! I then went to the Nurses’ Station to ask them to check on Michael, as I thought he had passed away. “He has just passed away,” she said as we both looked at his poor broken body. “I was with him only a short time ago,” she added.

Michael had been baptised a Catholic, but had neglected the great gift of faith. Now he lay dead with Mary’s green rosary beads around his neck, which he had longingly asked for. He had been anointed, received absolution and First Holy Communion; indeed, he had received his second Holy Communion, before he returned to Jesus his Lord, and only friend. (I had never seen anyone visit him.) I wonder if poor Lazarus had any friends.

All three – Matthew, Donna and the old man Michael – had died within a week. Dare I picture them coming before the Lord: Matthew, thin and frail, Donna with her beautiful smile, and Michael just like Lazarus (now completely healed of his sores) now all rejoicing and thanking Mother Mary for all eternity.

The more, we priests, visit the sick or dying, the more we realise what an extraordinary privilege it is just to be there, and then to be able to bring “God’s gifts” to them. What an honour that is. In the book of The Sacrament of the Sick there is the instruction “Is there anyone sick among you, let him call the priests of the church.”

Why call the priest? Because what he is about to do is so much more important than any other activity under the sun. This sick person needs to be able to pray to God now, and the priest will pray with his friends around the sick bed and encourage them to say short prayers like “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.” I have repeated that dozens of times.

I always tell those with the sick or dying to say the Rosary around the bedside. In this way you keep Jesus alive and active in their hearts and minds. Jesus always loved the sick and healed so many of them. Now his priests are responsible to spiritually heal the sick. What a comforting apostolate.