During our Sabbath Summer, I’ve tried to focus the homilies on themes connected to rest, but, noticing that a number of us are having some struggles in life, I felt that today the Holy Spirit wanted me to touch again on suffering.

However, if I could ask a favour for the future, please: Could you try and have life struggles outside of summer, so that I can stick to my plan?  Thanks!

The first line of the Gospel says, “The people began to complain about Jesus because he said, ‘I am the bread that came down from heaven’” (Jn 6:41).  ‘Complain’ is the same word used when the Hebrew people were in the desert.

They were rescued by God from slavery in Egypt and He led them to the Promised Land, but they had to go first through the desert for 40 years.  This is symbolic of how all of us have experienced the Father’s love, we’ve been rescued by Jesus through His Death and Resurrection, but, after a while, we may complain because life is difficult.

The Jewish people ‘complain about Jesus.’  He’s not meeting their expectations.  Is Jesus, in any way, not living up to our expectations?  For example, Jesus is the bread from heaven, but I’m depressed and receiving the Eucharist changes nothing; this isn’t helping—that’s a kind of complaint.

Bishop James Conley of Nebraska recently wrote a pastoral letter about mental illness, and shared that, in 2019, seven years after becoming the bishop of Lincoln, he started buckling under the pressure.  The first thing to go was his sleep, because his mind was running nonstop.  Then he stopped eating.  Then he could no longer physically exercise.  Finally, his relationship with Jesus started to collapse.

He was medically diagnosed with PTSD, major depression, anxiety, and tinnitus.  He went on leave to a retreat center but still lost all joy.  Even though he held on to the Mass, the Rosary, and the Liturgy of the Hours, they gave little comfort.  On a few days, he couldn’t even manage to celebrate Mass.  And, when he did, he said it “felt like a chore, with no sense of the Lord’s presence”.  Then he started wondering, ‘Where was God?’

There are two things that we can imitate here: 1) Complain to Jesus, not about Him.  We’ve said before that it’s okay to question Jesus, ask Him why we’re suffering, complain about everything that’s going wrong in our lives, but never to insult Him.  Jesus says today “Do not complain among yourselves” (6:43).  We can learn from this: Don’t turn inwards and don’t turn to things like substances, pornography, or social media; turn to Jesus.

2) With God’s grace, hold on to the Mass and prayer.  Bishop Conley wanted to give them up, but said he knew that, if he did, he would become completely unmoored.

A few weeks ago, when we talked about how the Sabbath reveals our hearts (whatever we do on Sunday reveals what we love), one thing I wanted to say afterwards was that, when you’re hurting and still come to Mass, you must really love Jesus!  When you’re in pain and still go to Him, you have a beautiful heart.  I want to affirm you in that.

Jesus then turns the people’s attention to God the Father: “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draw them…  Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me.  Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father” (6:44-46).  Jesus is affirming that we don’t come to Him by accident.  God has a plan for us, and brings good out of evil.  It was the Father’s plan that Jesus would overcome sin through His love on the Cross and overcome death through His rising.  It’s the Father’s plan that we define ourselves through suffering.  We know we really have faith when we’re in darkness; we know we’re courageous when there’s fear.

God the Father used many things to heal Bishop Conley:

1) During prayer, the moon became a symbol of God’s presence, because it’s always there though sometimes invisible.

2) The Surrender Novena helped him to trust the Father more.

3) Scripture taught him that he relied too much on himself, which led him to be more open to support from…

4) Friends, who helped him get outside, out of his own head, and out of isolation.

5) And he bought a dog named Stella.

In his advice for others who struggle with mental health, his number one suggestion is always go first to the Lord for healing: “In the sacrament of the Eucharist, the God who healed lepers, the blind, the sick, and the lame literally unites Himself with us!  So deeply, in fact, that St. Cyril of Alexandria said, ‘He who communicates [receives the Eucharist] unites himself as closely to Jesus Christ as two pieces of wax, when melted, become one.’”  He suggests that, when we pray the words, ‘Lord, I am not worthy that You should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed,’ we should say them with faith, expecting and knowing that Jesus will heal us, as He wants, when He wants.

One truth we need to remember about the Eucharist is that it’s like a vitamin—it nourishes us, but doesn’t taste good.  Don’t expect to feel anything when you receive Communion; just know that you’re being nourished.  Jesus says, “Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died…  I am the living bread that came down from heaven.  Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh’” (6:49,51).  When in the desert, the Hebrew people complained because the manna didn’t taste good and it was the same thing for 40 years.  But it nourished them!  The Eucharist may not change the way we feel but always gives eternal life.

If you’ve ever gone through the whole day without eating or have tried to exercise on an empty stomach, your energy levels are shot.  It’s the same spiritually: If we go a long time without the Eucharist, our spiritual energy levels are shot: Over time, our prayer, love for Jesus, ability to forgive and to help those in need will all decrease because we don’t have the energy.

Oftentimes, I need to remind people that they’re doing really well in spite of their suffering.  All they can see is the pain, which is real, but I see their faith, their love of Jesus, their dedication to their family and work.  They’re crying because the pain is real; but it’s just as real that they’re doing better than they think because Jesus is living in them.  Bishop Conley was in a horrible mental and spiritual space but was actually doing better than he probably thought: He showed his love for Jesus during his depression.

For some of us, it might not be the Sabbath Summer we wanted, but it’s the one the Father is allowing for us.  Our job is to live in Jesus and go to Him for healing.