Have a great break! ('I receive, therefore I am')
IT'S JUST ME - HUMBLED AND GRATEFUL: In the ambulance vehicle following the accident.
IT'S JUST KEVIN
By Very Rev. Kevin George
HOW MANY people, I wonder, expressed to me their genuine wish that this summer would be a wonderful break for me? It had to be hundreds.
It was a busy 2025 for us at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Getting the major remodeling of the Nave completed by the third week of June was, I’ll admit, tiring. The reward for that? Hosting the General Synod of the Anglican Church of Canada, which came with its own stresses and demands. So, a time of sabbath rest was certainly in order and I was excited to take five full consecutive weeks off for the first time since I was ordained. I believed those around me that I needed a break.
The English language is really interesting. Take, for instance, the word ‘break.’ It can mean more than one thing. It can be a verb or a noun. As a noun it can mean “a pause in work or during an activity or event.” As in, “Because Kevin has been working hard for a number of months, we feel that he should take a five-week vacation as he could sure use a big break.” How thoughtful people can be!
But events of the past few days have me questioning whether or not I have been using the word ‘break’ in the wrong sense of the word. You see, as a verb it can mean “to (cause something to) separate suddenly or violently into two or more pieces, or to (cause something to) stop working by being damaged.” As in “With just two days left on his summer vacation Kevin was forced to come to a quick stop while enjoying a ride on his new bike. To do so he firmly placed his foot on the asphalt causing his leg to break!”
As I rest with leg elevated in a local rehab facility, trying to find some relief from the pain in my surgically repaired ankle, I choose to believe that the wishes for a “great break,’ were hopes for the restorative time Catherinanne and I enjoyed until just over a week ago and not the violent destruction of my ankle.
In the meantime, I have come to gain insight into just how fragile our day-to-day carefree lives are. I have multiple fractures of my tibia, and fibula, and have torn up the ligaments in my ankle. This has been repaired with plates, screws and pins. I will not be able to bear any weight on my right leg for 10-12 weeks. It is the first time in my life that I have stayed in a hospital, broken a bone, or needed surgery. At this early stage of my healing, I need help with everything. I am helpless.
When I stopped the bicycle, looked down and saw that my toes were pointing to 3 pm instead of 12 o’clock, I was in shock. My excitement to get back to work was dashed in one quick moment, one poor decision. Instead of going to hospitals to visit parishioners, I would now lie in bed and welcome visitors. Instead of giving care, I would now learn to receive care. I now am forced to admit that I cannot do anything to heal that ankle. I need to allow others to give me the optimal conditions for healing. I have to accept that there is so much that I have no control over. I have to admit that no amount of hard work or ‘doing’ will give me a quick fix. That is much easier said than done. As a follower in the Way of Jesus, this should not come as a surprise to me. Again and again, Jesus reminds his followers that grace, love, healing, forgiveness and hope are all gifts freely given to us by the Creator. None of it is earned.
Part of my restful time has been spent reading. In his book The Sound of Life’s Unspeakable Beauty, luthier Martin Schleske writes, “The only power that can transform us into something good is love. It is the power of God, humbly sanctifying everything that it touches. Nothing in us can be holy if we are not able to be recipients. I receive, therefore I am. This is what the washing of the feet stands for. Can you bear to be this kind of recipient before God? The holiness that God requires cannot be earned; it must be granted to us. This is the purity that knows about our own behaviour and questionable thoughts, yet still allows Jesus to come and be near in this fragility and intimacy.” I read these words upon being returned to my room today after my bath. Perhaps It’s no surprise that these words brought tears. I sat alone in my room in a moment of tenderness.
I don’t know Tina. Today was the first day she was working with me as a Personal Support Worker. She took me to the washroom. She spoke to me with care and gentleness. She explained how I would be loaded onto a lift and lowered into the tub and what she would do for me. She asked me if I was ok. In her every action, gesture and mannerism she reassured me that she was there to help me and to show her care for others in her work. This is one of God’s own who brought me some healing today as she washed, not just my feet but my hands and my head and all of me as well. It was a sacred laying on of hands.
Schleske writes that Jesus comes to us in fragility and in intimacy. This intimacy, this fragility, “brings existential healing: the healing of one’s entire existence. I need quiet moments in which to close my eyes and take it in: “Jesus, I will let it happen!” There is a reason that he says: “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Grace is poured out like water in the basin Jesus uses to wash the disciples’ feet. It is not fortified by our magnificence. My [body] has been washed, and I allowed it to happen. That is the whole of my riches. Sometimes it is actually harder to believe grace than to do good, because in good works, I am still looking at myself. Simply being loved creates a holy unselfconsciousness that is absent in works. Love that must be earned is not love but payment. Love can never be earned. It is the epitome of grace. It purely a gift.”
Perhaps I needed both ‘breaks’ this summer. [To be clear, this is not in any way to suggest that this misery was brought on by God.] John’s gospel places considerable emphasis on the foot washing. As Tina gently washed away the filth from my body today, I prayed that God would wash away any notions I may have of my own magnificence. John told the story of foot washing because we all need to be humbled, we all need to be recipients. ‘We must spiritually sit in a row with the other disciples and know that our turn will come. Can we bear it?”
I digress. I must as Jasper just came in to administer my pain meds. He’ll help me to the bathroom and lower my bed for a night of rest. So, I will lay down, my prayer being, “Nothing in us can be holy if we are not able to be recipients. I receive, therefore I am.”
Very Rev. Dr. Kevin George is Rector of St. Paul's Cathedral, London, and Dean of Huron.