The Sisters of Compassion and the New Zealand Bishops' Conference announced that the first Sunday of October will be a day of celebration for the Venerable Suzanne Aubert.

Sacred Mystery comes with feeling. We know this. We also know how hard it is to describe feeling. What Mystery needs is the garment of story to make it visible in words and, that no doubt, is why Jesus spoke in parables. The Mystery of God’s unconditional love calls for more stories and here is one that is close to Lent in our time and place. 

Imagine, if you will, a neonatal clinic on the other side of what we call “death” — a place where newborn souls are gently tended by midwives before being sent home with God.

This welcoming centre is set halfway between incarnation and the spiritual realm and has elements of both: green floor tiles, white desk and chairs, and air filled with a dust of gold light that has a living, breathing quality. Several midwives work in shifts and today it’s Suzanne Aubert who is at the desk. She has been called to give reassurance to a small soul that wants to return to its human body.

“A child?” Suzanne asks the midwife.

“Spiritually, yes,” the midwife replies. “But in life-school years he is 78 and this was a major stroke. He’s undeveloped, Suzanne, and he’s brought much anger with him. This may be because his body is still on a life-support system in a hospital.”

Suzanne Aubert notes a shiver in the midwife’s light. “Did he vent his anger on you?”

The midwife bows her head and smiles. “He thinks a female soul has no authority. But there was worse to come. While we were talking, three larger souls passed through. Two were Muslim and one was an atheist. He was extremely upset.”

Suzanne nods. “Le pauvre petit enfant. He needs love, Sister, much room for God’s love. I will talk to him.”

As the midwife leaves, the small soul rushes in, rippling the calm air and causing the white walls to shake. Yes, he is certainly damaged. His light is pale and fractured with anger. “It’s a mistake! I demand to see the man in charge!”

Suzanne leans across the desk and holds out her hands. “What is your name, my dear?”

“Name?” His voice pierces like a red-hot needle. “You are asking me my name? If you don’t know who I am, I’m certainly not going to tell you. Show me how to get out of here!”

“I have to call you something,” she says.

He is too agitated to stand still. “My staff call me Sir,” he snaps. “What is this crazy place? A bad dream? How do I wake up?”

“Dear Sir, you are in a house of welcome. Your body has just given birth to your soul and this is where all souls are received. Some bodies have long labours, allowing their souls time for preparation. Your birthing was sudden. You may still be a little confused.”

He stops pacing. “You’re telling me I’m dead?”

She smiles. “No, my dear Sir, there is no such thing as death, only transformation.

We all go through it and it’s quite simple. You come into incarnation with a spark of God in you and that spark grows into a soul. When it is time for you to graduate from life school your body goes back to the earth and your soul comes to God who — ”

“Cut the gobbledygook!” he shouts. “I’m dead. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? But I’m not supposed to be dead. I’ve got a country to run. So help me, I’m not discussing this with office staff. Take me to your boss!”

Suzanne Aubert is not disturbed. She has seen many a child frightened, angry and her voice is soothing. “I know the suddenness has been a shock, dear Sir, but if you listen, I think I can help you understand.”

“Help?” Instead of growing calm, the small soul projects itself around the walls as a ball of yellow fire, trying to find a way out. “I know what this place is! Sheep and goats! Heaven and hell! It’s the Judgement Zone, isn’t it? Where the poor slobs wait in line to get a verdict? Well, I tell you this, old woman, I’m a godly man, not some idol-worshipping heathen. When it’s my time I’ll be going straight to heaven.” He comes back to the floor beside her desk, stressing each word. “This — is — not — my — time!”

Suzanne remembers how she took children on her knee and calmed their fears. You can’t do that with souls. You can only merge your love to be a part of them. This soul, however, is staying well out of her reach. She says, “There is no judgement place. That’s the truth. God is pure love and love never judges us. We judge ourselves. As for heaven and hell, they are how we live on earth. Heaven is living in loving kindness to ourselves and others, and hell is living with hate that causes harm.”

“Baloney!” he cries. “That kind of talk’s a sure way to destroy civilisation! We’ve got to hate our enemies! There are bad guys coming after the good guys and if we don’t destroy them, they’ll overrun our country, killing us all. You want that should happen? We’ve got to drop those bombs to stop it!” He pauses and says in a different voice. “Huh! You think I don’t know about love? Believe me, I’ve been loved by the most beautiful women in the world — too many to count.”

“Was it really love?” she asks, and when he doesn’t reply, she says, “What about your parents?”

He vibrates so violently she thinks he may harm himself. “Don’t try that old Freudian nonsense on me! I had the best parents anyone could wish for! They taught me the difference between good and evil and made me the man I am!” He gathers his light together. “I’m wasting time here. Where’s the big guy?”

Suzanne smiles. “Everywhere. In this place, in you, in me. Every created thing is a manifestation of God.” When she realises he hasn’t understood, she goes on. “Dear Sir, it’s very simple. Allow me to take you through it again. When we have our physical birth on earth, there is a spark of God inside us. We call it the seed of the soul. That spark of God will grow in the way we live for the common good. When the soul is ready, the body gives birth to it. Sir, you are in a place of celebration. Most souls are very pleased to be born.”

His response is one of cold fury. “You are judging me!”

“Not at all!”

“You’re saying there’s something wrong with me because I don’t want to be here!”

“No! Listen! There may be a reason for your reluctance. You haven’t entirely left your body yet. It’s in a hospital on life-support, which may be why you are still holding some body consciousness.”

“So I’m not dead?”

Suzanne sighs. “Let’s say your birthing is not quite complete. You are still attached.”

The small soul comes closer. “So I can go back? Wake up from this crazy dream?”

She hesitates, then reaches out to him. “Yes, if you are sure that’s what you want, it is possible. You can go back.”

There is no opportunity to say more, for the soul flies like an arrow through the white wall which dissolves in the passing, then is firm again. The golden light in the room settles into stillness.

For a while, Suzanne Aubert sits with old earth memories of compassion and sadness for the pain of ignorance. She is wiping her eyes when the midwife returns.

“It was the right thing,” says the midwife.

“He doesn’t know how hard it will be,” Suzanne says. “When he starts breathing on his own they’ll switch off the machine. But he won’t talk or walk again. He’ll be like a puppet without strings.”

The midwife drags a chair over and sets it next to Suzanne’s. “He’ll lose his toys, the wealth, power, ambition — all that will be useless! He will have a great emptiness.”

They smile at each other and Suzanne says, “God so loves emptiness!”

“Yes,” says the midwife. “The little soul will grow.”

Tui Motu Magazine. Issue 214 April 2017: 14-15.