Letter from a Dying Priest

Father Mike Crosby, O. F. M. Cap., is another noted spiritual writer.  He is also a social activist.  Recently he was diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus and colon.  Here is a circular letter he sent recently to members of his family, his Capuchin family, and his friends around the country.  Truly an "encyclical."

When our Founder, St. Francis of Assisi, wrote his Testament, he urged us to greet people with the words of Jesus:  "May the Lord give you peace."  So, as I begin this blog post, I repeat the same to you.

I didn't expect I would begin 2017 writing a blog like this but none of us knows the day nor the hour when some of us will hear the words, "You have cancer."  This happened to me the last week of Advent.  While I still don't know the extent of it and my prognosis, my GP has let me know that most people with my type of cancer die within the year of experiencing the symptoms.  A CT scan shows I have cancer of the esophagus (four centimeters at the juncture of the esophagus and stomach) that also has entered at least one lymph node.  It is lodged in an inaccessible place in the area of the esophagus, stomach and pancreas.  I also have a cancer of the colon (which is in its initial stages).  Because of this uncertainly I will have a PET scan on Friday, January 6.  I will then meet with a radiologist and my oncologist.

While studying in Berkeley, I had a very bad car accident.  My injuries later turned into blood clots.  When the doctor told me I might die, my first reaction surprised me:  "That wouldn't be too bad."  This led me to try to maintain the same attitude if I lived and if something like this would ever happen again.  A key element of this involved having no hard feelings in my heart against anyone.  It seems this time has now arrived.  So, while I am prepared for that day and hour (for which I'm not volunteering) I have no especial desire to postpone it.  This gives me great peace.

While I can't yet answer the question, "What's the prognosis?" I can respond to a question many have asked me since I've received the diagnosis:  "How are you doing with all of this news?"  Simply said, I'm doing (to my own surprise and gratitude) very well.  Not only am I not afraid of Sister Death; I find something deeper is happening in me.  And for this I cannot thank St. Francis of Assisi but the founder of the Jesuits, St. Ignatius of Loyola.

You may recall that when the Jesuit Jorge Bergoglio was elected pope, he did not take the name "Francis" to honor the Jesuit missionary disciple, St. Francis Xavier; rather he took the name of our founder, Francis of Assisi.  Well, conversely, I have learned something very important from St. Ignatius.  He wrote the Spiritual Exercises; I prayed them for 30 days some years ago and have been forever thankful for the experience.

Many of us who attended Catholic grade school were asked in Catechism:  "Where is God?"  We dutifully replied:  "God is everywhere."  Now that I have an adult faith that response is becoming ever more meaningful.  Heaven isn't a "place" that we "go to" but a way of being in relationship with and connected to God and all God's people, whether friend or foe, now and forever.  This realization led me to adapt something from the Exercises.  I greet each day praying:  "Loving, Trinitarian God, grace me to seek and find you in everything and to love and serve your Divine Majesty in everyone and everything."

Now at this time of my cancer, I can thankfully say, I have found God's real presence in my cancer and all those cell-critters that are fighting the good cells in me.  "This is my body" too, another form of the Eucharistic banquet of life to which I now find myself invited.  I don't know if I'd have this assurance without faith and know many without it also find such acceptance in the face of their cancer too.  But I believe it and it grounds me and sustains me.  I also am sustained in this faith by a passage from Exodus 15:2.  I read it the other day during the Prayer of the Church shortly after my diagnosis:  "God is my strength; this is the God who saves me.  This is the God I praise, the God of my people."

You, good reader, are "my people" and for this I am most grateful.  As we continue this part of my journey, I am thankful that we have been able to walk together and hope it will be a long, long time before we part ways here on this earth!

In hope, Mike

P.S.  If you want to make a donation in my name, I'd ask that you consider our Province, the Midwest Capuchin Franciscans.  We still are not fully funded for our retirement and health care (which will be at my service these days) nor for the care of the significant number of men who are now in the process of making their full commitment (vows) to our way of life.  You can send anything you desire to St. Benedict Friary, 1015 N. Ninth Street, Milwaukee WI 53233.  Thanks for this too!

  Father Mike Crosby, O.F.M. Cap.

A personal connection.  One day several summers ago I was preparing for Sunday Mass at St. Mary's Church in Sharpsburg (St. Juan Diego Parish), where I was pastor.  I saw a bunch of men in brown robes walk into the church, and sit in the middle pews.  Most were young, in their 20's, one an older, bald man.  It was very unusual for us to have men in brown robes in our church!  But Mass went on.  That day, for a Spirit-filled (but unknown to me) reason, I preached on connecting the Gospel to everyday life.  Somehow I mentioned as an example the difficulty the city transit authority was having getting stable funding.  I said, I have a car, and find it easy to get around.  But what about people on the margins, who need bus transportation.  Supporting their need was an act of solidarity in this community.

After Mass, I greeted the men in brown robes.  As I had guessed, they were Capuchin Franciscans, in stages of formation.  And yes, the bald leader of the pack was Father Mike Crosby, whom I had never met.  He complimented me on my sermon, which was right up his (social justice) alley.  I mentioned I had read several of his books.  I dropped the name of a friend whom I knew he knew from his years of working in the Interfaith Center on Corporate Responsibility in New York City, and internationally.  Mike said he was giving a retreat to Capuchin novices and seminarians in Pittsburgh, and thought it would be good to go to "an ordinary parish church" for Sunday Mass.  How small the world is, that a famous author and speaker would end up in tiny Sharpsburg.  

Pray for Mike.  Share his words.