(6) Well, then, directly you have done that, be ready to pour in the oil like the Good Samaritan. There he is, delightful man, putting off his business to look after the poor man, and we are to remember to our shame that the priest and the Levite had passed by him. Pour in the oil of sympathy. It seemed a very little thing to repeat that commonplace bit of comfort to the mourners; often you may hesitate to write that letter to the tenth man or woman who has lost his or her boy in the war. That letter, written in love, is like the oil; it comes as a healing balm. You have poured in loving sympathy. You cannot have too much of it to give away. The good physician is full of pity even while he uses the drastic medicine, and the best surgeon is wonderfully patient. "When I lost my boy, when he hung between life and death, then I found out what my parish priest was like," people should be able to say. If we have not got sympathy, and cannot pour in the oil, where are we? The world expects us to be kindly, loving, sympathising, sacrificing physicians in times of trouble and sorrow.
(7) And then, once again, do not forget the after-care. We have "after-care committees" for our children when they leave school, but we are an after-care committee for all our people's souls. Our Lord understood all about after-care. When He healed the little girl, He commanded that something should be given her to eat. He at once thought of her needs. He wanted to strengthen her after the strain that she had gone through.
And that brings us to the beautiful work of our guilds. There need be no particular kind of organisation, but we must in our parishes look round and see that everyone has what he wants—see that men and boys, women and girls, are looked after. When they are cured, have we provided that something should be given them to eat, something to strengthen them? Do we carry out the after-care which every good physician and surgeon always displays?
I always remember, from my East London days, a little pamphlet written by the present Bishop of Southwell. It was called "From Marriage to Marriage." It made a great impression on me at the time. I cannot remember all he said, but the point is this: We were too much inclined to imagine that everyone had to go through a dreary course of falls and rescues. But if we really shepherded the little child from the moment he was born, it would be different. Let us begin with the young couple. From the time they leave the church we have to look after them. And then, when their child has come, we have to take care of that little child and shepherd it from the very start. If we do not do that, we have left out our most important work. There is a great deal of work upon which we are engaged—e.g., rescue work—which would not be on such a gigantic scale if we had real after-care committees thoroughly at work in the Church from the time the people are married.
We must examine ourselves to-day, then, very strictly from the point of view of being good physicians: "What about my parish? Are my people dying under my hand, through my carelessness or want of skill? Are there any whom I do not know or who do not know me because I have not won their confidence? Do I visit them as much as I can, and find out what is the matter with them? Am I treating them with loving patience, and yet with frankness and courage and tenderness, looking after them right on to the end?" When the Apostles healed a man they gave us the true spirit in which to do it. "In the name of Jesus Christ rise up and walk." Not in their own name, not in their own power, but in the name and power of Jesus Christ. They did not try to be popular people and make people like them; they had but the one idea, to make it perfectly plain that the power of their Lord was present to heal; and the result was that the man leapt up, stood, and walked, and was seen afterwards in the Temple walking and praising God. If in our healing work we keep out the idea of self, and work as good physicians and celestial surgeons in the name of Christ, the effect of our work will be that we shall see numbers in the parish, perhaps paralysed before, walking and leaping and praising, not us, but God.