I once met a strange and funny Priest. Many of the Parishioners didn’t like this guy. He was a bit abrasive. I once wanted to confess, and he asked about ‘what’, so I told him, and he told me it wasn’t important. I didn’t much like that—Hey! If I think it’s a sin, then it’s a sin! I could see how this priest could get on people’s nerves.
But then I had this strange experience with him. Although he was an old guy, he was a new Priest in the Parish and so he got the dirtiest job – the job that New Priests in a Parish always get – he was the Priest that had to go to the Hospitals in the middle of the night to give the Last Rites. This also made him the Priest in charge of the “healing sacraments”. Well, I got the flu. I was sick as a dog, but everyone knows that in late afternoon, no matter how sick you are, you get a little bit of a remission. So I jumped in the car and drove to the Church and looked around and found Father Nacho and asked him to cure me. He looked at me funny like I was joking, but I told him that I knew for a fact that it was his Job to do the healing, so “heal me!” So he said a quick blessing, and I went home. I felt better almost instantly but figured it was the accident of an afternoon remission, which often happens during a fever. But the fever never came back. Everyone else in Town was sick for two weeks, while I whistled a happy tune and had a spring in my step.
The next time I was in the Parish Office everyone was dumping on Father Nacho, with him standing right there. I said “Wait a minute!” and ripped into everybody how, obnoxious or not, Father Nacho was the Real Thing! A few minutes later Father Nacho signaled me to the door and we went outside for a talk. He told me this strange story. That when he first got the job of healing and giving Last Rites he would go to the hospitals, and since they always called him much too late, he would give last rites to the corpses. The startling thing is that they would come back to life. Of course, this would create havoc as the doctors and the nurses would have to get the crash carts and take the ‘corpses’ to intensive care. And every time they would just soon drop back into death. It happened again and again and again. The doctors and nurses were beginning to dread the death of any Catholic – they simply did not stay dead after Father Nacho would show up. Finally the doctors asked Father Nacho if he could give Last Rites without bringing them back to life. He said, “I guess so”. And from then on the dead bodies stayed dead.
So when I had confronted him that one day and asked to be cured, he wondered whether he would be able to cure me, since he had seemed to have renounced the ‘gift’, so to speak. He told me that he was very happy that he still had the “knack”! True story! ”