One incredibly intriguing aspect of our faith is the abundant use of paradoxes; as Catholic Christians we seem to relish countering the attitude of modern society with them. At the same time on a personal level, these paradoxes even rub against the grain of our own human nature in our struggle towards holiness of life.
Scripture is full of these paradoxes: “The first shall be last, and the last shall be first” (Mark 9:35); “Whoever loses his life will save it” (Matthew 16:25); “He has cast the mighty from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly” (Luke 1:52). One paradox that both scandalizes society and challenges us as individuals is the true strength found in weakness.
In this era, as we encounter the influences of a culture of death, we see our weak elderly ones neglected, and our babies denied existence through contraception or killed through abortion. Many view the physically and mentally sick as unwelcome burdens, and when it is too hard, expensive or time-consuming to care for them, they pull all life-support away. Children are abandoned, sometimes physically, but more often spiritually and emotionally. The weak ones of society are marginalized and not recognized for their true strength.
Even in our personal spiritual lives, there is a natural aversion to acknowledging our own weakness; it is very painful to realize we have this addiction, that attachment, or these sinful habits and imperfections. We don’t want to admit to our insecurities and defects because we fear rejection from others, and maybe even from God. We don’t realize that in bringing these frailties to the merciful Trinity, we will find the true strength that the world can only mimic.
Now is the time to believe and live witness to this paradox of our faith. St. Paul said, “I will boast of the things that show my weakness” (2 Cor. 12:30); and the Lord said to him, “My strength is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9). These are powerful statements, which completely contradict the modern viewpoint and defy our interior fears.
It is obvious, though, that the little ones, sick ones, weak ones and sinners attract the attention of God. For as many paradoxes found in Scripture, there are at least as many examples of this truth. When the disciples tried to discourage the children from approaching Jesus, He chided them and said, “Let the children come to Me” (Matthew 19:14). The Caananite woman, snubbed because she didn’t belong to the house of Israel, moved Christ with her humility and faith when she admitted that “even the dogs take from the scraps,” and He healed her daughter. Jesus touched lepers and ate with tax collectors. Mary Magdalene wounded the heart of Jesus through the humble acknowledgment of her sins and her heartfelt sorrow, while Simon, the “righteous” one, really did not impress our Lord.
A modern-day example of this paradox shows itself in Lourdes, France, where thousands of sick people make pilgrimage to the place where the Blessed Mother appeared to St. Bernadette in 1858. Many of the people who travel to Lourdes go with great physical sufferings and ailments, while others carry deep spiritual, emotional or psychological wounds.
When I journeyed to Lourdes, I was struck by the simplicity and faith of those who gathered there, as well as by the freedom I felt to also be simple and weak. Of the people I spoke with, no one expressed shame over their weaknesses or ailments. Pilgrims in my group shared testimonies about what they came to ask our Lady for and what graces she obtained for them. Those who came seeking for spiritual healing and relief from emotional or mental anxieties shared their stories and left with peace. Young students acknowledged their initial reluctance in giving up their free time to be with pilgrims, and then conveyed how our Blessed Mother transformed that reluctance into supernatural joy and charity towards others. Those with physical infirmities witnessed to their search for healing. Some did receive real physical healing, while others became grateful for their sufferings as a way of drawing closer to God.
Everyone was eager to share their limitations and struggles, and by the end of the pilgrimage, these were the happiest, most peaceful people I’ve ever come to know. They were brave enough to be weak, and these dear ones are now the ones who remember to pray for others, who bring joy to those they meet, and who show that in their weakness lies the strength of God.
Sister Mary Raphael is a member of the Daughters of the Virgin Mother, a community dedicated to serving the spiritual and practical needs of the priesthood and of seminarians in the Diocese of Charlotte.