“Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray
over him anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed any sin, he will be forgiven” (James 4:14,15)
After my ordination a priest told me that the age of a pastor is determined by the number of the Book of Needs he wears out in his ministry. They are like the rings of a tree. The Book of Needs is a manual of prayers for all situations that he has with him at all times. I’m on my third such book and wondering if I should invest in a new one or make this one do. Besides being tattered, dog-eared at the edges with the spine broken so that pages want to pop out, the inner margin marred by oil, the outer pages streaked with holy water stains, it has more than a sentimental value to me.
I read the prayers and recall the situations in which they had been prayed: Happy times on the first day of a child’s life, sober times at the bedsides of those leaving one world for another, blessings of all sorts—for palms, gravestones, crosses, icons, vehicles, and first-fruits.
Another great source of joy is the blessing of dwellings, but especially new homes, with the holy water and ointment on the walls facing the four directions. I have always felt myself calling on the Lord to mark the home a sacred space removed from the secular and profane, an abode where His beloved ones are working out their salvation with holy fear and trembling. Here is a chapel where potential saints are alive with love for the Holy Trinity and for one another.
All the texts in my book meet the circumstances for which they were intended. Even now but more so in my earliest years, I have appreciated the format and ritual prayers, especially in delicate circumstances. For example, at the time of impending death when in our peculiar death-denying culture neither the family nor the terminally ill appear to be comfortable relating to the event. The priest takes his stole [garb worn over the neck], opens his prayer book, sets up his spiritual implements—Holy Cross, Communion kit, sacred oil—and by God’s grace chants the prescribed prayers. Almost always the atmosphere in the room is transformed. Personal emotions give way to the wisdom of the Church as expressed in the holy entreaties. Christ Jesus speaks to His spiritual family through the voice of the priest, and those present with ears attuned to the Spirit of the prayers adjust their attitudes and open their hearts to the will of God.
Some of the pages in the book have not been opened. I have never been called to have a service for those reconciled after a long period of hostility. Of course people do resolve their differences within families and among former friends, but for whatever reason they choose not to have their restoration of affection blessed by the Church. Perhaps it has become the American way—put it behind you and get on with life. We modern folks tend to be iconoclasts of memory, or pretend we are. Consider all the advice given to troubled souls to forget about the past. “That was then and this is now,” is spoken as though it were an explanation for refusing to deal with the complications of a troubled time. But the Book of Needs is designed to meet the events confronting God’s chosen ones at each stage and station on their way through this world and into the next. Despite the state of affairs, be they crises or cries of joy, rites of passage into this world or out of it, we ministers of His grace praise, bless and thank our Father, Son and Holy Spirit together with the people entrusted to our spiritual care.