A Prayer for Growing Old

by Robert W. Crooker

My wife’s great Uncle Bob was a Roman Catholic priest. He passed away a couple of years ago. I did not know him very well, only briefly meeting him a few times. But recently I was given this article written by him as he entered his sixties. I found it humbling and encouraging, so have posted it here:

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My Jesus, you told Simon Peter that when he grew old, another would gird him and take him where he had rather not go; by this you signified the kind of death by which he would give glory to God. I am entering my seventh decade; this may not be very old, but it does mean that more and more decisions which affect me will be made by others who are younger than I.

I have seen, in the lives of others, how hard it is for anyone–even one who is good and generous–to glorify God willingly in this way; for one as opinionated and self-willed as I am, old age is a time of spiritual peril. And so I ask–applying especially to this matter the prayer you taught us–that I be led not into temptation, but delivered from evil.

First, of course, there are the aches and pains, the decline of one’s powers, the unreliability of both body and mind to carry out their accustomed tasks, and the inexorable approach of that day when one must take leave of this earth and its concerns. All these I have pondered, and have in principle accepted, saying–and perhaps really meaning–that I welcome whatever of this sort may come to me in your Providence. But like Ignatius of Antioch, I ask that this present declaration be taken as my true will and purpose, rather than any contrary sentiments I might voice with the time of trial upon me.

What frightens me more is the prospect of seeing persons in authority making decisions that appear wrong. This has happened to me before, of course, but such temptations grow with age; my temperament, too, make, me especially vulnerable. Allow me to declare here and now, while not tempted, how I hope to act when the time comes.

Let me first, dispose of the gravest but least likely such test, i.e., being ordered to do what seems evil. This could result from error of my conscience, from an error of my Superior, or even from his deliberate malice. From this trial may your servant be spared But should it come, I beg three favours:

• Send your Spirit to guide my mind and heart, that I may rightly judge what is pleasing in your sight, neither approving what is evil nor condemning what is blameless
• Give me a steadfast will to choose what is right, and to
  suffer any evil whatever sooner than offend you
• Preserve me from all rash judgment, whether of those who
  give the orders or of those who obey them: like Thomas More, let me follow my own conscience faithfully without presuming to judge the conscience of others.

But these, my Lord, are temptations of your heroic servants; surely it is day-dreaming, even vainglory, to picture myself in such a role. Let me arm rather for the likelier trials. It will surely happen with growing frequency that persons in authority will make decisions that I believe gravely unwise, perhaps even blameworthy, without seeking my cooperation or approval. In every such case, Lord, preserve me from the evil of murmuring: if it is truly your will, let me speak with courage and candour to those who can remedy matters, but never, never about them or their decisions in a way that tears down your Church rather than building it up.

I also fear temptations involving real or imagined wrongs against myself. These too could arise either from my own erro-neous perception, from objective wrongs done by others whose intentions are praiseworthy, or from the genuine malice of my fellows. We somehow accept illness, bad weather, and other impersonally caused adversities, more easily than we do the misjudgments and unfairnesses of our fellow humans. What a grace it would be to embrace willingly the opportunities to glorify God in these ways! And if perchance we endure such things with some measure of patience, then we desire witnesses who will notice that we have indeed been wronged! Lord, teach me to accept my vulnerability, and make me content to have no other defender than you. Let me care less about my personal rights, and free me from all need to have anyone notice the injustices done to me. If I must think myself wronged, preserve me at least from brooding on it, and from trying to measure the guilt of those who harm me.

Above all, my Lord, grant that whatever I must suffer may truly avail for your glory and the good of your servant. It may please you that I should remain very weak; perhaps I shall so fail in outward patience that others will see me only as a whining egoist. I dread such a prospect; yet I know it is of small moment, if only at the centre of my soul you so sustain me in faith, hope and love that my frailty works, together with the other evils permitted by your Providence, toward the fulfilling of your gracious designs.

And so, my Jesus, when I cry out in my distress–as I doubtless shall–hear me with the tender mercy of your Heart, which itself felt such dread in the Garden of Olives. Spare me no pain or humiliation that is for my good and your glory; but by that power with which you rose from the dead, bring me through all evils to share in your risen glory, who live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God forever and ever.

Amen, amen.

Robert W. Crooker, csb (Congregation of St. Basil)

February 21, 1985