Morning of Reflection: Ministry to the Sick 1

Yesterday, I was honored to be asked to conduct a morning of reflection for the Ministers to the Sick from our parish along with and a number of ministers from one of our neighboring parishes, St. Theresa in Belleview, Florida. 

The content of this post includes my brief introduction, followed by the first of three talks. I will include the other two talks in subsequent posts. Each talk was about 30 minutes long.

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Good morning all. As Mary said, I'm Deacon Dana McCarthy, one of the permanent deacons assigned here to St. Vincent de Paul Parish. I've been here for 14 years now - in fact it's 14 years next month - and have seen the St. Vincent de Paul grow from a small but ever more crowded mission church, to a large ever more crowded parish church.

But in all those years this parish has been truly blessed by those who were here from its beginnings, people like Mary Wresh and her husband, Al. The other day I came across a 20-year-old parish booklet filled with photos of parishioners and ministries. I think there were six people in the photo of the Ministers to the Sick.

How many do we have now, Mary? Over 100? 

Before we begin, I suppose you'd like to know what we'll be doing this morning and how we'll be doing it. I intend to give a series of talks on various aspects of your ministry. And after each talk I'll toss out a few questions that I hope you will discuss in small groups. We'll then ask you to present your conclusions so we can all learn from what you discussed.

Nothing complex - a very straightforward approach. And somewhere in the midst of it all, we'll take a break or two.

The overall theme today is healing, but more specifically we'll focus on you, as you carry out your ministry as a Bearer of God's Healing Presence. I planned this to consist of three talks, each relating to a different aspect of this overall theme.

In our first session, we'll look briefly at ourselves, and then look beyond ourselves to those we serve, as we try to comprehend the breadth of their physical, mental and spiritual needs.

In our second session we'll jump right into the Gospel and try to understand, if only partially, what Jesus teaches us about healing.

And in our third session, we'll address the gifts that God offers to those you visit - the gift of Himself, His Eucharistic Healing Presence, and the gift of His Church - and how these gifts must change both you and those you serve.

I also hope to reserve a little time toward the end of our morning to address a variety of issues: 

• Ideas or approaches you'd like to share with the rest of us;
• Questions or difficulties you've encountered, and solutions you've come up with;
• And anything else that relates to how we carry out the work our ministry.

And so I hope this morning will prove valuable, and will help you as you care for God's people, often His most forgotten people.

You are ministers of Word, and Grace, and Healing; you are messengers of God's Presence in the world. And this work you do - God's Work - is not a choice you make...not at all. It is a ministry, and therefore it is a calling. Just as Jesus called His Apostles, just as He called Paul, so He has called you.

In so many ways your calling is unique - one of spiritual and physical healing. God has called you to carry His Son to a world in need of healing. Like Mary, you are a Christ-Bearer, one whose ministry must "magnify the Lord."

Like John the Baptist, you are called to point to the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world...to introduce Him to those in need of His Presence. Like John you are sent before the Messiah, the Christ, so you too can say to those you serve, "Here He is...He must increase; you and I must decrease."

And like Peter and Paul and the Apostles, you are called to carry the Church itself to those unable to step through these doors. The Church isn't a building. It's not the Vatican, or the cathedral in Orlando, or St. Vincent de Paul...no the Church is you, and me, and all the baptized. It's the apostolic succession of bishops and popes. It's all those who came before us and those who will come after.

This is your calling, brothers and sisters, the ministry with which God has blessed you - one that should drive you to your knees daily in thanksgiving and humility.

And so, humbled by our call and filled with thanksgiving, let's begin.

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"Again, Good morning, Ministers of Healing!"

That's what you are, you know. Indeed, you are Ministers of Healing, for you take God's healing Presence to His people. This is what we'll be talking about today as we explore just a little piece of this wonderful and very central aspect of your ministry.

In some respects this title - Minister of Healing - is really a much better, more appropriate and descriptive title than the one you've been given. Just think about it: Minister to the Sick. It sounds so very limited, doesn't it?

Some of those you visit are indeed sick, whether in the hospital, a nursing facility, or at home. In truth, though, not everyone you visit suffers from physical or mental illness. Some are progressively or permanently disabled and unable to drive to Mass. But I assure you, they would not like to be called "sick."

Others are recovering from surgery or going through a period of rehabilitation, but they're certainly not physically sick.

And of course there are those who suffer from dementia, Alzheimer's, or other mental afflictions. Indeed, some of these, as their mental condition deteriorates, remain in remarkably good physical condition.

And some, like so many in our local community, are simply old and no longer as mobile as they once were. But they too are not sick, unless you consider old age an illness.

Yes, in our ministry we're often confronted by a wide variety of conditions, both physical and mental. But they're not all illnesses, are they? At least not in the way we normally think of illness.

But do you know something? Every person you visit, every person who accepts the Eucharistic Presence of Jesus Christ from you, and even the one who can't or won't accept it, is in need of healing. No exceptions. No one is exempt. You and I and those we visit might not need physical healing every day, but every single one of us needs to be healed...because we are all sinners.

And so, as we progress through the morning, I'd like you to keep that truth uppermost in your mind.

We are all sinners in need of healing.

I'll be repeating that, probably more often than you like.

We are all sinners in need of healing.

Whenever possible, I like to keep things simple. It isn't always easy; and those who know me also know that I can very quickly get swallowed up in the muddy details. I'll try to avoid that today.

Quite simply, then, my focus this morning will be on the needs of those we visit and what God brings to them through us. And in bringing this into focus I hope to expand both your understanding of this ministry and your concept of whom we, as Christians, are called to serve.

Of course, when you're seeking God's will in your life, I can think of no better place to turn than to His Word. So let's go right to the Gospel, specifically Matthew's Gospel, to that wonderfully scary passage where Jesus depicts the Last Judgment - Mt 25:31-46.

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"When the Son of man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate them one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will place the sheep at his right hand, but the goats at the left.

Then the King will say to those at his right hand, `Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.'

Then the righteous will answer him, `Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?' And the King will answer them, `Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.'

Then he will say to those at his left hand, `Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.'

Then they also will answer, `Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?'

Then he will answer them, `Truly, I say to you, as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me.' And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life."

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Now, I won't try to second-guess God - which in itself is sinfully presumptuous - by telling Him how He should weigh our sheepfulness against our goatfulness. Instead let's just look at what Jesus says He expects of us. You all heard it.

Feed the hungry. Give drink to the thirsty. What better food and drink to give to those who hunger and thirst than the Body and Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ?

Welcome the stranger. So many in our communities are strangers in need of welcome. Alone, separated from family, without friends, they live lives of desperate loneliness.

Clothe the naked. We might not encounter the naked all that often, but believe me, there are many here in central Florida in need of a winter coat or a good pair of shoes.

Visit the sick - We'll certainly not ignore them today - and the imprisoned. Some of you might be involved in prison ministry, but you don't need to go to the Federal Prison in Coleman to encounter the imprisoned. Many of those you visit are effectively imprisoned in their homes, unable to leave, and  rarely visited.

These are all, of course, elements of the Corporal Works of Mercy, all a part of the ministry to which God has called you.

And did you notice that in our Gospel passage both the righteous and the wicked seem clueless, baffled by Jesus' references to Himself? Neither, really, had recognized Him in the world.

That should lead us to question our own motives. Why do we carry out this ministry?

Is it to please ourselves? To make us feel better about ourselves? To convince ourselves we're good people.

Is it to do good in the world? To right the wrongs we encounter?

Is it to place a check-mark in a box? "Well, I guess I should do something in the Church. Might as well visit the sick."

Or is it to serve Jesus Christ?

Jesus is pretty clear, isn't He? He ties care for others, the need to heal others, to care for Jesus Himself. By serving those who suffer, we serve Him who suffered for our salvation. From this we come to realize that the two great commandments - love of God and love of neighbor - are truly inseparable.

Every person we encounter bears Jesus' own face, and in every sufferer we come to know our suffering Savior. Perhaps Pope St. John Paul said it best:

"Christ said, 'You did it to me.' He Himself is the one who in each individual experiences love; He Himself is the one who receives help...He Himself is present in this suffering person, since His salvific suffering has been opened once and for all to every human suffering" [Salvifici Doloris, VII:29].

It's through the power of the Holy Spirit, brothers and sisters, that we are united to Jesus and allowed to participate in His saving Cross.  It's through this that we come to know Him and serve Him in our suffering neighbors. You want to know Jesus Christ? Then get to know those you serve in His name. Just as Jesus heals a broken world from the Cross, so too do you carry His healing Presence to those you visit.

The trouble is, we allow our titles to limit our thinking. "I'm a Minister to the Sick," we say to ourselves, without considering all those others in need of God's Presence and, yes, in need of our presence.

Saint Teresa of Calcutta pointed this out to us in her own unique way when she wrote:

Jesus is the hungry to be fed.
Jesus is the thirsty to be satisfied.
Jesus is the naked to be clothed.
Jesus is the homeless to be taken in.
Jesus is the sick to be healed.
Jesus is the lonely to be loved.
Jesus is the unwanted to be wanted.
Jesus is the leper to wash His wounds.
Jesus is the beggar to give Him a smile.
Jesus is the drunkard to listen to Him.
Jesus is the mentally ill to protect Him.
Jesus is the little one to embrace Him.
Jesus is the blind to lead Him.
Jesus is the speechless to speak to Him.
Jesus is the crippled to walk with Him.
Jesus is the drug addict to befriend Him.
Jesus is the prostitute to remove from danger and befriend Her.
Jesus is the prisoner to be visited.
Jesus is the old to be served.

There's no limit is there?

I recall once accompanying one our soup kitchen drivers as he delivered food to the poor. When we arrived at one elderly woman's dilapidated mobile home she invited us in, said "Hi" to the driver and then looked at me and said, "Who's he?"

The driver said, "Oh that's the soup kitchen president. He's just riding along with me today."

She laughed and said, "La-de-dah, the president." Then she added, "I used to be a hooker, but not any more. I'm a good girl now."

So I just said, "Well, I'm glad to hear it. I'm still trying to be good." That broke the ice.

Yes, folks, we're called to serve all, even those the world despises. We're called to serve those who make us uncomfortable, those who irritate us, those who sometimes even scare us.

Some years ago, back in my Navy days, I was on a US Marine Corps base and saw a bumper sticker that read, "Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out."

Now before you get all aflutter about it, as someone who spent many years in the military, let me say that I understood the sentiment. When everyone you see, everyone around you, is shooting at you, such a statement becomes more understandable.

And, of course, crude as it was, it was a joke - perhaps not meant for pleasant society, but a joke nevertheless.

But, you know, with only a single modification, it can serve us well in our ministry. And so let's rewrite it:

"Love them all and let God sort them out."

You see, we don't do the sorting; we are not to judge. God simply calls us to love.

How blessed you are to realize that as you care for others you care for Jesus Himself. And here we encounter another Gospel paradox: when we keep all for ourselves in this life, we lose our lives eternally; and in giving ourselves away to sufferers, we gain everything. You see, that's what the healer must do. Yes, you must give the other Christ's sacramental Presence, but you must also give yourself.

Do we do that? Or has the practice of our ministry become "procedural" - a repetitive event - follow the rite...

Hello. How are you today?...Our Father, who art in heaven...Behold the Lamb of God...The Body of Christ...God bless you and have a great day...See you next week....Amen.

Let's return to our original thought, the one I told you to keep in mind. Does anyone remember?

We are all sinners in need of healing.

Yes, indeed, but to be a true healers, you and I must turn first to the Holy Spirit, for the Spirit does God's work in the world.

Moved by the Holy Spirit you can invite the other to experience new freedom in his or her life, to lead the other to forgiveness - a forgiveness that so often needs to be self-forgiveness.

Diane and I work as hospital chaplains and once or twice a month we're assigned to a 24-hour on-call ministry. We given a list of all the new admissions and spend several hours trying to visit as many as possible. We visit all regardless of their religious affiliation.

One morning, after we introduced ourselves to a patient, he said, "Well, I was raised a Catholic but I haven't been to church in over 50 years. And believe me, in that time I've done so much bad stuff God wouldn't even look at me."

So Diane and I spoke to him about God's love for him and God's mercy and God's total forgiveness. And then we asked if he'd like to be forgiven, if he'd like to be right with God once again. He couldn't believe it was possible, but we convinced him otherwise.

All he needed was the grace of a good confession and then the Eucharist would fill him with God's healing Presence. Like so many he first had to forgive himself before he could accept and experience God's forgiveness and the healing that follows.

On the day I was ordained a deacon, the bishop looked out at us, and reminded us that we are called to preach, to teach, and to heal.

I can recall thinking...well, okay, I can handle the preaching and teaching part, but how do I go about this healing thing?  Then I had a moment of terror. Maybe I should have thought about this before today, the day of my ordination.

It took me a long time in the trenches before I had even a clue, and I'm still a healer in training. Believe me, it's been a very long apprenticeship, over 20 years. And often enough I can't tell the successes from the failures, and so I simply let God handle it.

"Love them all and let God sort them out."

Let me tell you a story...

Willie came to the Wildwood Soup Kitchen every day, always among the first to arrive, sometimes two or three hours before we actually began serving our daily meal. He'd always ask for a cup of coffee and if I had a few minutes, I'd sit down across the table from him and we'd chat.

I won't call it a conversation, because Willie was rarely sober, and to be honest, I could understand only about a third of what he said. But we'd talk anyway. We'd talk about God and about heaven and about life and death and about sin and forgiveness. For some reason Willie seemed to think I was the pastor of the Presbyterian church where the soup kitchen is located. And no matter what I said, I couldn't convince him otherwise.

One day I finally said, "No, Willie, I'm a Catholic deacon, over at St. Vincent de Paul's Church."  And he just looked at me, shook his said, and said, "Funny they'd make you pastor here."

Anyway, that was our little ritual every Thursday morning for a year or so. One Thursday morning he asked me if I thought he'd go to heaven. I asked him if he loved the Lord, and he said, "Oh, yes."

And are you sorry for your sins, Willie?" And he said again, "Oh, yes."

So I just said, "You'll be fine, sir."

A few weeks later, early one frosty morning, they found Willie lying in the bushes outside the soup kitchen. He had died during the night. That was about ten winters ago.

You know, I probably learned more about Jesus Christ from Willie than from all the theologians I've heard and read and studied. You see, he had grasped the truth. He knew he was a sinner in need of forgiveness.

In this age when no one wants to take responsibility for anything, when it's always someone else's fault, or society's fault, or our genes' fault, this ragged man, suffering from alcoholism and who knew what else, realized he had sinned and sought forgiveness.

In God's eyes, if not the eyes of the world, Willie was eminently lovable. That's how God sees all of us when we recognize our responsibility for our actions and seek forgiveness. He sees us as lovable. Of course, He loves us anyway, and often enough He loves us into repentance and forgiveness.

Willie neither asked for nor received a physical healing, but God's healing power, His love and mercy, reached out and touched the heart of that man as he faced eternity.
It's important to realize that the healing we need, the healing God offers us, might be something very different from the healing we want.

You know, if you sat down tonight and read all four Gospels from beginning to end, you'd encounter Jesus' healing power on dozens of occasions. But those are just the healing events about which Matthew, Mark, Luke and John provide details. The Gospels are also filled with comments such as this from Matthew 9:

"Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing every disease and every infirmity." [Mt 9:35]

Did you catch that? "...every disease and every infirmity."

Jesus' healing knew no limits, did it? How many did He heal? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands? We don't know, do we? But nowhere in the Gospel did He refuse to heal someone.

And so I thought, as healers (and healees), we might want to take a lessons from the Great Healer, and from those he healed, by making a stop in the pages of the Gospel.

But before we do that, let's first think about our ministry and those we are called to serve.

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Note: At this point, I provided the participants with the following questions asking them to discuss them in their small groups.

1.  How did you become a Minister to the Sick? How did God call you? Describe your response.
2. Has your understanding of this ministry, your calling, changed over time? How?
3. What (or who) are the greatest challenges you encounter in this ministry?
4. How have you changed since you became a Minister to the Sick?

Reflection: Talk to Secular Franciscans on Spirituality

Note: I was asked to give a talk this morning to a local fraternity of Secular Franciscans, who meet at St. Mark the Evangelist Church in Summerfield, FL. It was truly an honor to speak to them. My talk follows. 
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Here I am, a not very holy permanent deacon, asked to talk to you Secular Franciscans about Franciscan spirituality. Something about this just doesn’t seem right.

Indeed, my only real connection with Franciscans is the fact that I was ordained by a Capuchin, Sean O’Malley, a man of great humility. Maybe a little of his holiness rubbed off.

Oh, yes, and let’s not forget that Francis was ordained a deacon, so I suppose that’s an even more profound connection. I suspect Francis came to like being a deacon because of its meaning: to be a servant to all.

And so maybe it’s good …good for me to be here with you this morning…good for someone outside the order to talk to you about the spirituality you’ve inherited from your founder.

Sometimes, because we’re so close to the big things in our lives, we lose sight of all those little elements that make it up. Without them the big thing becomes distorted, a parody of what it’s supposed to be, and we lose sight of its original purpose. With this in mind, today I intend to focus only on the basics.

I’ve divided my talk into two parts; first on the spirituality of Francis and its scriptural roots. And because I’m involved in a number of ministries in our community, in the second part I hope to tie those basics together and share some thoughts about how to put your unique Franciscan spirituality into practice today.

Let me begin by talking a bit about Francis, nothing you don’t already know. He’s certainly one of our more misunderstood saints. Indeed, in our popular culture he’s often depicted as a kind of thirteenth-century hippie. But that’s the way of secular culture; it can do nothing else. Because it doesn’t understand faith, it can do nothing but trivialize or politicize everything.

And so we get Francis, the environmental activist, or Francis, the socialist revolutionary, or Francis, the pre-Reformation reformer who tried to turn Church with a capital “C” into church with a little “c”. Of course, Francis was none of these, and our secular culture simply ignores all that he really was.

Popular culture doesn’t give us Francis the meek. It doesn’t give us the Francis who considered every other human being to be above him. It doesn’t give us Francis the prophet, the man who understood not only his own time, but could clearly see what humanity would need for all time. It doesn’t give us Francis the beggar, Francis the lover of Lady Poverty, Francis who saw poverty as freedom – Francis, who realized everything belonged to him the moment he gave up everything. And it doesn’t give us Francis who lay prostrate at the foot of God’s throne – Francis who so loved God, who perhaps more than any other saw clearly God’s immanent presence in His creation.

Our culture has a certain respect for Francis, but that respect is counterbalanced by an even greater aversion, an unspoken disgust with anyone who could so blatantly reject all the world holds dear. And, brothers and sisters, believe me. If you take this unique spirituality of Francis, and truly absorb it into your own life, and make it a part of you, you too will be despised by many…especially today. But we already know that, don’t we?

And so where did Francis come from? Or more accurately, where did his spirituality come from?

When I ask myself questions like this, I always turn to Holy Scripture. And there, in the Book of the Prophet Zephaniah, we encounter the anawim, a Hebrew word meaning “those who are bowed down.”

The anawim are a people humble and lowly who find their blessedness in God. They are the “remnant” of those who have survived the judgment of the Lord in his “day of wrath”, the Dies Irae. These humble believers eagerly welcome God, ready to do his will. Their hope is in him alone. With his double-edged prophecy of doom for the godless and salvation for the humble and lowly, Zephaniah inaugurated the growth of the spirituality of the anawim.

It’s also the spirituality of Francis. In his prophecy, Zephaniah instructs: “Seek the Lord, all you humble of the earth, who have observed His law; seek justice, seek humility…” [Zeph 2:3]

And so we see far more than a hint of Franciscan spirituality present in the Old Testament. We see its very foundation. But as the Church Fathers like to remind us, everything in the Old Testament prefigures something or someone in the New Testament.

And it’s in Jesus that we encounter the ultimate anawim. The “Servant-Son of Yahweh” is “meek and humble of heart” (cf. Mt 11:29).

Let me read Luke’s version of the Beatitudes [Lk 6:17,20-26]:

"Jesus raising his eyes toward his disciples said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for the kingdom of God is yours.  Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh.  Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude and insult you, and denounce your name as evil on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice and leap for joy on that day! Behold, your reward will be great in heaven. For their ancestors treated the prophets in the same way.  But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.  Woe to you who are filled now, for you will be hungry.  Woe to you  who laugh now, for you will grieve and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for their ancestors treated the false prophets in this way.”

Somewhat different from Matthew’s, a slightly edited version perhaps, but Luke didn’t miss any of the important stuff. And did you notice how, in Luke’s version, Jesus contrasts blessing and woe? Blessed are the poor, the hungry, those who weep, those who are hated and despised. And woe to the rich, the satisfied, those who know no grief, those held in the world’s esteem.

Interesting isn’t it? None of the things we strive for in this world, the important things – wealth, happiness, satisfaction, fame – none of these things will help us in the end. God doesn’t care about the size of our investment portfolio; indeed, the larger it is the more we are at risk.

I don’t know about you, but these words of the Lord are always bouncing around inside my head…Always making me a little nervous…Always challenging me to question how much I really need…Always turning my head toward others and away from myself…

I was walking toward the front entrance of Wynn Dixie in Wildwood the other morning when I saw something interesting. A woman, leaving the store carrying several bags, suddenly stopped and approached a younger woman – maybe she was 20 -- who was standing there crying. You could tell they didn’t know each other, but the older woman felt compelled to offer comfort. She put her bags down on the ground and spoke to this young stranger quietly a hand touching the other’s shoulder. It was truly a moment of beatitude; by encountering the girl she was encountering Jesus who said, “I was a stranger, and you made me welcome.”

I began to approach them, but the older woman glanced up at me, smiled and shook her head ever so slightly, as if to say, “It’s OK, this is all she needs right now.” When I came out of the store 10 minutes later, both were gone.

Do you see now what the Beatitudes are all about? They’re, quite simply, a call to action, a command by Jesus to carry His love to all whom we encounter…no exceptions, no exclusions. We humans love to tint everything with shades of gray, but not Jesus. No, He lays it out very simply for us in black and white. We have two paths, one that follows Him, and another that turns away from Him. That’s it. And just like the traveler in Robert Frost’s poem, "The Road Not Taken," we’d do well to take the road less traveled.

It’s the road of the Beatitudes, through which Jesus dedicates His Sermon on the Mount to the anawim: the poor in spirit, the meek, those who mourn, those who hunger and thirst for justice, the merciful, the pure of heart, the peacemakers, and those persecuted for justice’s sake.  All are blessed by the Lord.

Yes, Jesus is our example. He is the ideal to which we strive to conform our lives. He is the one, as St. Paul reminds us, who humbled Himself, becoming a slave, accepting death on a Cross [Phil 2:6-11]. But there’s another precursor to Francis in the New Testament – one who spoke of Jesus using that marvelous paradox that surely puzzled those who heard him: “The one who is coming after me ranks ahead of me because He existed before me” [Jn 1:15].

And it’s in the Gospel, indeed in all four Gospels, where we encounter a spirituality not unlike that of Francis. It’s there we encounter John the Baptist. John, in his poverty of body and spirit, owning nothing but God’s love and God's Word, didn’t hesitate to declare his rule of life, the very purpose of his being, to all who would listen:

As prophet, he shouts to all creation: “I am the voice of one crying out in the desert, make straight the way of the Lord” [Jn 1:23].

As precursor, as son of Zechariah the priest of the Lord God, John turns to his disciples, and pointing to Jesus sends them on the way of truth: “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” [Jn 1:29].

And as servant, as deacon, he reminds us all: “He must increase; I must decrease” [Jn 3:30].

Do you see the spirituality of Francis prefigured in John, in the prophet’s deep poverty, especially his spiritual poverty, a poverty that diminishes John in the presence of God? This is how Jesus can say, paradoxically but without contradiction: “among those born of women, no one is greater than John; yet the least in the kingdom of God is greater than he” [Lk 7:28].

These are just some of the roots of Franciscan spirituality…although I’m pretty sure Francis would reject those words: Franciscan spirituality. He wouldn’t want his name attached to it; he would lay no claim to it. For Francis, his spirituality was simply, as Catherine Doherty called it, “The Gospel Without Compromise.” Like John, Francis wanted always to decrease.

Back in the 70s for a few years I taught at the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. Instead of attending Sunday Mass in the large cathedral-like chapel on the academy’s grounds, Diane and I used to go to Mass in a tiny chapel at the Naval Station just across the Severn River. One of its plusses was the daycare run by the Protestants during our Mass when they were having their adult Sunday school. It was sort of a symbiotic relationship between Catholics and Protestants.

Anyway, our priest was a Capuchin friar who ran what I think was a house of formation in a huge, waterfront mansion just down the road. Some millionaire had left it to the Capuchins in his will, and they used it even though they were seriously embarrassed to own such a place.

That reminds me of a joke the friar told me one Sunday morning: “There are three things the pope doesn’t know about the Church. How many orders of nuns there are. What the Jesuits are going to do next. And how much money the Franciscans have.” 

Anyhow, I used to pick up the good friar every Sunday morning and drive him to the chapel. And every week we’d have some wonderful conversations.

One Sunday morning as I was trying to impress him by waxing eloquently about St. Francis and his importance to the Church, my friar friend, interrupted and said, “Francis was not at all important.”

Naturally, I asked what he meant.

“Francis,” he replied, “considered himself the least important person on earth. His life was devoted to one thing: living the Gospel and attracting others to do the same. He succeeded. He didn’t want us to think of him at all. He wanted us to turn always to the Gospel.

“We are the Order of Friars Minor, Capuchin. It’s only others who call us Franciscans.”

So endeth the conversation.

Yes, just like John the Baptist, Francis wanted only to decrease. And when you look into his life, this becomes very evident. Indeed, Francis once refused to sleep in a particular cell in one of the order’s early houses because one of the brothers had called it, “Francis’ cell.” The idea that anyone thought it was his truly troubled him. I suspect he’d feel much the same about the phrase, Franciscan spirituality.

And so, rather than calling it Franciscan spirituality, perhaps we could better call it a Gospel spirituality, a spirituality of poverty, prophecy, and service. I think Francis would approve of this.

Let me now try to take this Gospel spirituality, the true spirituality of your order, and bring it to life with a couple of examples.

About ten years ago, after my wife and I had been volunteering at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen for a while, I was asked to join the newly formed board of directors. The soup kitchen is located at the First Presbyterian Church of Wildwood, and during one of those early board meetings we decided we could best define our guiding vision simply by proclaiming the words of Matthew 25:35: “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me.”

It just seemed to say it all. Sometimes, though, I think we need to reread, to reabsorb, that entire passage. Interestingly, it’s the only place in Scripture where the last judgment is described in any detail. I’m going to read it to you. Now it’s about 15 or 16 verses, so it’s not real brief. But we should never tire of hearing God’s word, so bear with me.

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be assembled before him. And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?' And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’ Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, a stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.' Then they will answer and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs?’ He will answer them, ‘Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.’ And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.  [Mt 25:31-46]

Did you notice how we’ll be judged? Or maybe I should say: Did you notice on what our judgment will focus? Francis certainly did. Indeed, his entire ministry was all about seeing the divine in the human: seeing Christ in others, and being Christ for others.

For a number of years, I was president of the board of directors at the soup kitchen until, finally, I refused to continue in that position. Since then I left the board and simply work as the Thursday Captain in support of my wife, Diane, who’s the Thursday cook -- all been a part of my own decreasing.

Thinking about the soup kitchen the other day I was reminded of what the Fathers of Vatican II said about the role of the laity in the Church.

In the Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity they urged the laity to broaden and intensify their mission as Catholic Christians. In their words:

“…the unmistakable work being done today by the Holy Spirit in making the laity ever more conscious of their own responsibility and encouraging them to serve Christ and the Church in all circumstances.”

In all circumstances…that covers a lot of territory. And later in this same decree, the Council Fathers instruct us more completely when they say:

Wherever there are people in need of food and drink, clothing, housing, medicine, employment, education…or are afflicted with serious distress or illness or suffer exile or imprisonment, there Christian charity should seek them out and find them, console them… and help them... It is altogether necessary that one should consider in one’s neighbor the image of God in which he has been created, and also Christ the Lord to whom is really offered whatever is given to the needy person.

And that’s one of the Holy Spirit’s jobs: to instill in us the awareness of whom we help when we help the poor. Quite simply, we are helping Jesus Christ. Can you accept this? Most people can’t, you know. Oh, they say they do, but their words and actions say otherwise.

Years ago, as a deacon on Cape Cod, I assisted in a ministry to the homeless. Many churches offered their facilities as temporary shelters to those you could not find a bed in any of the permanent shelters. We’d pick them up, take them to the designated church hall, feed them, provide them with a bed to sleep on, show a movie, and cook breakfast in the morning.

One evening, working as one of the chaperones, I was locking the doors of the building before lights-out and one of the homeless men, an interesting fellow named Roland, asked me what I was doing.

Without thinking, I replied, “Just locking up, Roland. Have to keep the riff-raff out.”

Roland just laughed and said, “Uh, deacon, don’t you know, we are the riff-raff.”

Now Roland‘s a funny guy, always good for a laugh, but there’s an element of truth in this, isn’t there? To many people, the homeless, the poor, the unemployed, the illegal immigrants – all those extremely inconvenient people – really are riff-raff.

One volunteer from my parish, often joined me in the morning and helped me make breakfast for the homeless men. One morning as we were cooking a batch of pancakes he said, “You know, sometimes you just want to grab them and shake some sense into them. I mean, they’re so lazy. Why can’t they just go out and get a job? All we’re really doing is helping them stay unemployed and homeless.”

Now tell me that’s not a common attitude. You can’t, because most people probably feel the same way. And from a human perspective, a worldly perspective, they and my friend are absolutely right! If all those folks had jobs, and if they coupled that with an ounce or two of ambition, and if they avoided all those destructive and addictive behaviors that lead to so many problems, to so many broken families and personal devastation…

Yes, if, if, if…

If they did all these things, the world would be a brighter, sunnier place. More people would be working, the economy would be stronger, taxes would be lower, GDP would skyrocket along with the stock market…heck, the price of gasoline would probably go down too. Yes, from a human perspective, my friend was right.

But, brothers and sisters, God challenges us to view our world and its problems from a very different perspective…from His perspective. Yes, God’s ways are not man’s ways.

To my knowledge, Jesus never told anyone to get a job. In fact, He told a number of them, His closest friends, to quit their jobs. He fed the hungry, as many as 5,000 at a time, but He never checked a single 1099 or W-2 before handing out the food. He healed the sick all over Galilee and Judea, but never asked for proof of health insurance, and never told anyone to get back to work now that they were once again physically whole. Yes, God’s ways are different from man’s ways.

We see this manifested in God’s mercy and justice as well. The prodigal son who blows his inheritance on prostitutes and is treated like a king by his father; or the hired men who worked for an hour but were paid as much as those who worked all day.

What kind of justice is that? Certainly not ours. No, it’s God’s justice, the justice of forgiveness. It’s the hound of heaven justice that pursues each of us until our last breath.

And that’s where we as Christians come in. You see, Jesus asks us to do the humanly impossible.  He asks us take on His ways, to accept the Gospel without compromise, to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, heal the sick, visit the imprisoned, befriend the lonely…and He asks us to do all these things with absolutely no qualifications.

Our job is to help the least of His brethren any way we can. And it’s through our meager work that Jesus works His miracles, something He never tires of doing; for God’s way is the way of miracles.

Let’s take a moment to turn back to the Gospel and read the story of the healing of Bartimaeus, the blind man of Jericho.

They came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a sizable crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind man, the son of Timaeus, sat by the roadside begging. On hearing that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.” And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he kept calling out all the more, “Son of David, have pity on me.” Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” So they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take courage; get up, he is calling you.” He threw aside his cloak, sprang up, and came to Jesus. Jesus said to him in reply, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man replied to him, “Master, I want to see.” Jesus told him, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way. [Mk 10:46-52]

"You have nothing to fear from him!  Get up!  He is calling you!"
 

Blind, unable to earn a living, Bartimaeus spent his days sitting by the road, calling out, asking for alms. You can almost hear him: “Have pity.  Have pity.  A coin for a poor blind man.” A small thing to ask, but on this day he mustered up the courage to ask for more. Rebuffed and scolded, he cowered, worried they might shove him aside or even beat him for his impudence.  How dare a beggar speak to the great teacher, the holy man who would be king.

There’s such a thing as a healthy fear of the Lord, a fear born of awareness that God is Other, that we are not God, we are God’s creation. Even though our faith assures us that we will someday be united with God in glory and fullness, God will always be Other. And so, though our relationship with God is meant to be personal, childlike and affectionate, it should never be casual. God is God is God.

And yet God, in his goodness, desires to enter into conversation and relationship with us.  He calls us, and He sends us His Son. It is His voice, and only His voice, heard in our poverty, that leads us to true and lasting wealth. This strange paradox of a God who is so beyond our reach and yet who reaches out to touch us can be a real stumbling block, and causes many to reject Christianity.

Indeed, this is the biggest difference between Christianity and Islam. For Islam makes God a distant law-giver, one who can be reached only by a perfect following of his laws. Other religions solve the paradox by dissolving the distinction between created and creator. All are one and salvation is achieved in realizing this essential oneness. In the end neither approach satisfies.

Our God is a God who always takes the first step, who reveals Himself to us, who calls out to us. He is a God who loves so much He became one of us in the flesh. What else could He possibly do to convince us that He wants a relationship with us, that a relationship with Him is even possible? 

And yet we hesitate to answer his call. Even when we do find the faith to call out, like blind Bartimaeus, others interfere and try to lead us back into fear and blindness: “How dare you presume that God would be personally interested in you!”

Knowing how difficult it is to hear His voice, to believe He is calling, God gives a second call to those who have already responded.  He calls us to draw close to those in darkness, to encourage them in their fears, and to make it definite that "Yes, brother Batimaeus, God is calling you too."

How many blind Bartimaeuses are there today, wanting to find God, but hindered by voices telling them it's impossible.

How many sit alone, along life’s roadside, hoping that God might one day pass by?

How many are waiting for someone to take them by the hand, to deliver them into God's presence where they will find healing, purpose, and life?

So I’ll leave you with one thought. Can you really and truly say you see Jesus Christ in every person you help?

If you do, you’ll treat them as you would treat Jesus.

If you don’t, quite simply, you’ll treat them as riff-raff.

Just remember that Francis, as he walked the pathways and roads through the hills and villages of Umbria, never passed by another leaving him unloved.