In difficult times, people of peace may share burden

Stan Malnar, physician and Roman Catholic priest, is so soft-spoken that his patients must lean close to hear him. At church, the volume level on his microphone is set to the maximum. On a recent Sunday, when Malnar talked about war, the entire church grew silent. Malnar said: “Wherever it is – Iraq, Afghanistan, the Sudan, Rwanda – war unleashes the worst, the darkest within the human heart. Murderous rage, revenge, torture, the abduction of children, the systematic rape of women, ethnic cleansing, genocide. (War) teaches us how to kill and leaves behind a trail of resentment and hatred that can last for generations.” These are unsettling times. We wake up to images of burning cars and buildings in Baghdad and swords above the heads of prisoners. Thursday, the FBI issued a terror warning for the July Fourth holiday. People tell me they have trouble sleeping. There is a sword above us all. It’s called war and terror. For the past 10 days, I found excuses to spend time with Malnar, a man of stunning calm. With him, I found some peace in the midst of these unsettling times. I recommend to others that they find people of peace and hang out with them. It helps, believe me. One day recently I shadowed Malnar throughout his morning at The Maternity Clinic at Sacred Heart Medical Center. This is where Malnar works as a physician. Yes, it is unusual for priests to also be doctors. “It was incredibly unlikely,” Malnar said in a quiet voice. Yet Malnar, 58, has now worked at the clinic for 15 years. Most of the mothers-to-be who come here either have low incomes or lack health-care insurance. Malnar wears neatly pressed shirts, tailored pants, and his hair never looks fly-awayish even when he’s rushing (which he rarely does). Malnar told me that when he gets nervous he grows clumsy. But he is graceful in the way people are when they share their talents easily because they have such little ego attached to them. He saw seven patients the morning I spent with him. He told the pregnant mothers to be sure to stay cool in the hot weather. He called their babies “kiddos.” When the women had others with them – husbands or mothers – he asked if they had any questions. Malnar never seemed in a hurry, even when he was. Nancy Roberts, who helps run the clinic, says that in 15 years of working with Malnar, she has never heard him raise his voice. He credits others for this calm. “You see goodness and graciousness in others and that becomes an invitation to be better yourself,” Malnar said. I asked Malnar for a copy of his homily on the war. I read it over and over all week. He wrote: “Is there any way out? I think there is. It is to see the human face of the war. First to see the faces of the men and women who have been deployed honorably for us in our name. They bear the burden of war. To see the faces of their families who wait for their return, who fear for their lives, who mourn at their deaths. “We must also see the faces of the people of Iraq – women, men, children. Harder to do. Conflict distorts things. Blinds us. The Dominican sisters wear this pin that says ‘I have family in Iraq.’ They wear it to remind themselves of their history – they established communities in Iraq over 250 years ago – and to challenge themselves to see things in a new way.” Thursday at 6:30 a.m., I met up with Malnar at Mass at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Lourdes in downtown Spokane. In and around his clinic schedule, he presides at Mass at several different places throughout the community. He writes out his homilies in longhand, memorizes them, then delivers them in his soft voice without using any notes. In the Thursday homily, Malnar spoke of a priest friend who lived in an African village. There, people greet one another with the word Asha, which conveys this meaning: “I see you are carrying a heavy burden.” War and terror have unleashed a darkness in the human condition, here and among the family we all possess in Iraq. This is why we cannot sleep nights. Some people, such as Malnar, are not afraid to acknowledge the heavy burden and offer to share it in a peaceful way. Find those people. They know the way out of this darkness.