Meditation and Prayer in Sickness – Wherever you are, may you find the truth of life and death!
When illness enters our life, everything changes. The rhythm slows, strength fades, and the heart begins to ask quietly: Why me? But sometimes the heart does not need an answer – only comfort. Comfort that does not argue or explain, but simply remains — present, breathing, faithful. A prayer may not heal the body, but it can hold the soul.
Master Reding from the Nigredo Monastery often recites this prayer for the sick — a prayer passed down from his grandfather, a humble and devout man who, in times of sorrow, found solace not in certainty, but in faith.
My father told me that when the children were ill, his father prayed these words aloud. Whether it helped or not, no one knew. But it comforted the heart. And sometimes that is all we can do — to comfort the heart.
This prayer stands in the quiet tradition of those who believe not in spectacle, but in steadfast devotion — a faith that accepts suffering as part of life, and still dares to trust that something holy moves through every weakness and pain.
Prayer in Times of Illness
Holy Lord, almighty Father, eternal God,
You pour Your grace upon the suffering body
and surround Your creation with tender love.Hear the invocation of Your name;
free Your servant from sickness
and restore health once more.Raise them up by Your right hand,
strengthen them with Your power,
protect them by Your might,
and return them to Your holy church
in renewed wholeness and peace.Through Christ, our Lord.
Amen.
Misfortune is the measure of a person’s greatness of character. — Giuseppe Motta
Meditation – Contemplating the Day’s Hewn Work
All morning long I heard the axe resound,
its ringing echoed till the evening hour.
The craftsman built —
only a small roof, perhaps,
yet I longed to see it,
for it was a work in becoming —
a birth, a creation.There was a carpenter, earnest and strong,
shaping his beam with faithful care,
the sweat of labor shining on his brow.At dusk, the master came, softly —
a gentle elder, with flowing beard,
and touched the shoulder of his weary man:
“Rest now, my friend, the day is done.”The place grew empty,
yet I slipped outside
and sat upon the beam,
contemplating the day’s hewn work.I gazed in thought — and suddenly,
a falling leaf brushed my shoulder.
I shuddered, as though the Master’s hand
had touched me there and whispered:
“Enough. The sun is gone.
Go home, my servant —
to the rest of your Lord.”
Reflection – Illness as a Teacher
Illness is not only an enemy. It is also a teacher — one that leads us to the edge of ourselves and beyond. It teaches humility. It slows our breath until we hear the deeper silence beneath it. It reminds us that weakness is not the opposite of strength, but its foundation.
Like the carpenter in the meditation, we, too, must one day lay down our tools — not from defeat, but from trust.
Those who are ill stand close to life’s mystery. When all outer things fall away, what remains is the inner temple — that quiet space where the soul meets God. There, healing happens — not always in the body, but always in the heart.
Afterword – The Hewn Work of the Day
This prayer does not end with “Amen,” but with a gaze — a contemplative look at the work of the day we have been given.
Illness, too, is part of that work. It is a beam in the building of life — rough, heavy, but essential. So may each person who suffers one day hear that tender voice saying:
Enough, my servant. The sun is gone.
Go now, into the rest of your Lord.