Whom the Lord loves. . . . .

"Whom the Lord loves. . . . . he chastises". This is a line in Scripture. It is the Word of God.

The poet says: "Lord, must Thou char the wood, e’er Thou canst limn with it?" This means: "Lord, must you burn the wood, before you can draw a beautiful picture with it?"

If you open your eyes, to see people as they really are. . . . .If you open your ears, and really listen to them. . . . .If you open your heart, and really feel what they feel. . . . .you will see how true this is.

God gives pain like a gift. . . . .He gives tears like jewels. . . . .to those whom he loves most.

The most beautiful girl in our extended family was Margaret Gantert. She was the middle one, of three girls. We called them "the laughing sisters". I would visit them with my Dad, who was close to the German side of our family. The visit was always a joy. My Dad and I would always go away laughing.

When Margaret was 18 years old, she married a doctor who was 47. That was the German system. The man was settled, established, before he married. The men in our family laughed, and the women blushed a little when they talked about that marriage, because the men were saying: "The Doctor certainly was not deceived in her. . . He met her on the operating table!"

That is how it happened. Doctor Macklheine was the chief surgeon in two hospitals, and one morning Margaret was wheeled into his operating room for an emergency appendectomy. After the operation, he visited his patient, as doctors should. They fell in love, married, and had eleven children.

They were a tremendous edification in our parish because they came to Mass every Sunday morning, in two cars. It was wonderful to see them all kneeling at the altar at Communion time, from the Doctor to the youngest. My mother said: "They look like steps!" Their family was a pillar of strength in the parish.

When Margaret was having her eleventh child, the Doctor was making his rounds in the hospital. No one was worried, because when a mother is having her eleventh delivery, she can almost have the baby by herself. But suddenly there was a call over the hospital intercom, saying: "Doctor Macklheine . . . . . please come to the delivery room. . . . .urgent!" He went to the delivery room.

The Ob-Gyn came to him, masked, with his hands wrapped in a sterile towel. He said: "The head of the baby is wedged between the pelvis bones. The bones will not stretch. I have to perform a craniotomy, or mother and child will die."

Doctor Macklheine stood stock still for a count of ten. He was thinking: "We have ten children, who need her. The odds are ten to one. I am 70 years old. She is young. It would be better if I were the one to die."

But in ten seconds his normal character re-asserted itself. He said: "Doctor, no. You will not perform a craniotomy while I am the Medical Director of this hospital. Please do all you can to save the lives of both mother and child."

The Ob-Gyn was ashen pale. He nodded, and started back to the delivery room. Doctor Macklheine called to him: "doctor!" The Ob-Gyn turned. "You are the finest obstetrician in this city. I have complete confidence in you. And I promise you – if you lose both mother and child, there will be no recriminations."

Then he cancelled his rounds for that day, left the hospital, and went down the street to Saint Michael’s Church, to pray. He and Margaret always prayed in German. They did not speak German at home, only English. But they prayed to God in German. He was praying for courage, if God was taking Margaret home to Himself.

And while he was praying, the pelvis bones stretched. The baby was safely born, and Margaret lived. My family felt that Doctor Macklheine was the best husband in our whole clan. They felt he was a saint.

It was not only because of that eleventh baby. It was the way he lived, and worked. Whenever he had an operation, he did homework the night before, going over every step of the operation, and comparing it with the medical history of the patient. He made a whole series of conditional decisions, and memorized them. "If this goes wrong. . . . ..this is what I will do." He said, very casually: "You have to do this. Because when you are in an operation you don’t have time to look it up!"

The result was that in a long career as a surgeon, he never lost a patient on the operating table. The other doctors felt that this was a moral miracle.

But then came the market crash, and the terrible depression that followed. He had never dunned a patient for money. If the poor could not pay, he let it go. Those who were well off did pay him, and that was enough. He never had any trouble with finances. He had never been in debt.

But now not even those who once were wealthy could pay him. He had eleven children. The eldest was in medical school. Bills began to pile up on his desk. And he began to worry.

Then one morning he was operating. It was a demonstration. The medical students were on the circular gallery that surrounded the operating room, looking down at him. In those days there was no television. He was explaining the intricacies of the operation.

And his hand slipped. He severed an artery. The blood gushed up in a geyser. There were four doctors around that operating table, and they were all splattered with blood. The patient was a woman. She died on the operating table.

Doctor Macklheine was shattered. He said at once: "I will never operate again." The other surgeons tried to persuade him. They said: "All of us have lost patients on the table! You are unique! Now you are like the rest of us! Don’t give up!"

But he would never operate again. He became a consulting surgeon, where he earned even less. The bills piled high. And he worried.

Then one morning his eldest son – the one in medical school – went into their garage and found his father hanging between their two cars – suicide.

The wake was in their big, beautiful home. Our pastor was sick, so he sent his curate. The young priest sat quietly in the living room, looking at the coffin. Finally he said: "This is contradictory to his whole character. I think it was temporary insanity. We will bury him from the Church."

This was a big decision, because I those days a suicide was not buried from the church. The insurance agents were there. They said: "Well, if that is good enough for the Church, it is good enough for us. We will not record it as suicide. It was an accident. So the family received double indemnity.

Our local medical association went through his books. They discovered that, over his long surgical career, he had a record of three million dollars, in unpaid bills. They published the names and amounts in the newspapers, saying: "We do not want to embarrass anyone. We know that many of these patients can not pay. But the doctor has a wife and eleven children who are now struggling to survive. If you can pay any part of your bill, please send it to the Medical Association."

The money poured in. None of the children had to leave school. The family had enough to carry on.

Then another thing happened. Margaret, who was still beautiful, fell in love with a young man who was only one year older than her eldest son. All of her children went up in flames. They had absolutely no use for that young man. They begged her to drop him.

The only one in our family who defended her – as I remember it – was my own mother. She said to me: "The poor girl! She was always loved by an older man. Now she loves a young man, and he loves her. Why don’t they leave her alone?"

But Margaret listened to her children, whom she loved. She parted from the young man. They never married.

Strange. But this is the way of God. To his own Son he gave the scourging, the thorns, the cross, the crucifixion. On Calvary the Virgin Mary watched the Roman soldiers driving the nails into the hands of her Son. She was spattered with his blood when they drove the lance through his side. She held His body in her arms at the foot of the cross.

God gives pain like a gift. . . . . He gives tears like jewels. . . . .to those whom He loves most.