Trauma and Passion

Photo by Arjovanderjagt

I'm sitting in on a New Testament class this semester (same professor). He told us about a Eucharistic miracle (not yet approved) that allegedly occurred in Pope Francis's diocese in Argentina, back when he was bishop there.

Someone found a host on the floor of the sanctuary, so they put it in a dish with water in the tabernacle so they could dispose of it later. (When the host stops resembling bread, the real presence is gone, so proper "disposal" is to let it dissolve in water then pour it out.) They went back to check on it and found it rimmed with something red, and went back to check later and found it looked like flesh and blood. Days went by, and it didn't rot or stink.

They sent a sample to the crime lab in the nearby big city and were told it was tissue from a human heart. (So far this is a 100 percent typical Eucharistic miracle story; it always comes back as heart tissue.) Several years later they sent another sample to a crime lab in New York City and those forensics guys said it was human heart tissue from a man who had undergone severe trauma at the time of his death.

The word "trauma" jumped out at me. Usually when we talk about the crucifixion, we use words like "passion" and "suffering" and "agony" and we never use those words in any other context, so they lose some of their meaning. I know what trauma is. Trauma sends some people to the ER and other people to prison. Trauma means loss and grief for family and friends. It means ventilators, feeding tubes, car accidents, violence.

I like to think of my little sufferings -- getting out of bed in the morning, being far away from Michigan, getting sick, stress from work -- as being united with Jesus's sufferings on the Cross, and I like to think I'm being all noble and holy about it. But nothing I'm going through or have ever gone through could be called "trauma." My sufferings are actually kind of cute compared to trauma.

I don't say this to make anyone's sufferings seem illegitimate. This reflection came right after a stressful week, and I was double-overwhelmed by thinking I was just selfish (or maybe crazy) if I was overwhelmed. Tallying up the week's events and recognizing that my stress was legitimate was incredibly helpful.

It's good to unite our sufferings to Christ's, no matter how traumatic or petty they are. But it's also good to keep in mind what the Cross really was (and is) and that it's not something any one of us can do.