July 15, 2007 Sunday: 15th Sunday Ordinary Time (C)
About six years ago when I was working as an engineer at a chemical plant, I was seriously considering priesthood. I just didn't know what kind—a missionary, a religious order, or a parish priest. In order to give a missionary route a try, I went to stay with a missionary priest over a weekend in Juarez, Mexico which is just across El Paso. He lived in a cinder block house built with discarded building materials. There was no insulation with no heater, so in the middle of winter in this arid and desert area, all you got was layers of blankets to keep you warm. I was out of my comfort zone—my nicely heated apartment with plenty of food and entertainment. He decided to visit a homebound elderly. We entered a dilapidated house, and an elderly lady was wrapped tight in bundles of clothing. The first thing that hit me was the stench. She looked like she has not bathed for several weeks; her hair was all matted. And this was understandable since there is no running water in the whole area. As the missionary priest greeted her with a warm hug and stayed close to her asking how she was doing, I was several steps away unable to move any closer to her. I had a faint smile, but it hid a sense of disgust. I came out of the house feeling miserable. “How can I hope to be a missionary priest if I cannot even overcome my own comfort zone?”
Many of us have experienced being stretched beyond our comfort zone. We could listen patiently to some for five to ten minutes, but after 15, we tune them out and look for a way out. We could open our wallet to put in a dollar to two for a poor box, but beyond five dollars, that's pushing it. The reality of our life is that our patience, our generosity, and our gentleness have their limits. And when we are pushed beyond our limits, we feel frustrated, testy, and tired. It would be great if we could pick and choose ideal situations where we feel like giving. But many of us are already stretched to our limit, and we cannot give any more. But life does not arrive in nice packages, having it delivered when we want it and where we want it delivered.
So what is Jesus trying to teach us with the story of a Samaritan helping a victim of robbery? In the story, a priest and a Levite avoid the beaten man and walk away. I think the Jews of that time probably had a similar reaction as us when we hear that a priest would be so inconsiderate. Don't we expect priests and religious people to be better than rest of us, holier than rest of us? But this story illustrates that regardless of who we are, we have our own comfort zone, and we'll try to stay in that comfort zone even if that means avoiding an opportunity to help someone—even if that someone is Christ himself. Didn't Jesus say, “Whatever you do to the least of my brothers, you did it to me”?
So here is the main point. On our own strength loving our neighbor beyond our preference, beyond our comfort, and beyond our fear is difficult. Supernatural grace is necessary to do this. And that grace comes from Christ. And we need to ask for this grace from Christ the moment we feel the tension between our comfort zone and going beyond ourselves.
There is no better example of this principle in action than Mother Teresa and her Missionary of Charity sisters. We have them right here in the heart of Baton Rouge at St. Agnes Catholic Church. The sisters run a soup kitchen and a battered women shelter. Every morning they welcome guys who need decent, hot meal for the rest of the day. Some of these guys hold signs underneath I-10 overpasses asking for money. When I first volunteered there, I had my own prejudice against them--'Why can't they work? Why do they need to come here?' If I saw them on I-10 and College Drive overpass holding signs, I would have probably avoided eye contact and just drove away. But the sisters taught me that these men experience poverty—the kind of poverty that is different from the poverty that one sees in India. Mother Teresa spoke about how in India, when you give someone who is hungry some bread, they are satisfied. But in US and other wealthy European nations, the poor cannot be satisfied with bread because their poverty is not physical; it is spiritual—lack of love.
The sisters have taught me to see beyond my own prejudice and comfort zone through their example of prayer. When volunteers work there, they have no opportunity to chat. The sisters have us pray the rosary while we are chopping onions, stirring pots, and dish washing. Every working moment is spent on meditating on the mystery of Christ's life through the rosary. This helped us to see the Christ in the poor; in those men who lined up at the soup kitchen.
Mother Teresa said without Christ, what her sisters are doing—caring for the lepers, for the abandoned children, for the dying, for the homeless—will be impossible. All of her sisters spend an hour before the Blessed Sacrament every day. This gives them the strength and the courage to love the Christ in the poor. It is the Christ in the Eucharist that ables us to recognize the Christ in all of us. Once we realize the presence of Christ in others, then we know that when we serve them, we are actually serving him. “Whatever you did for the least of my brothers, you did it to me.”
Why don't we ask Jesus during communion today for that supernatural grace to see him in those that we serve. I'm certain that he will be generous in giving us that gift.
