Bulletin Column: Seeing Jesus in the Poor

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to care for orphans and widows in their affliction and to keep oneself unstained by the world. – James 1:27

A year or two ago, I took my dad to visit an old friend. I heard many stories from their younger days, from middle school through their time in the Army.

I knew my father grew up with a little bit of nothing: He was the youngest of his siblings; his mom died when he was little, and his dad and stepmom had new babies to provide for and little means to do it. That morning I learned that Dad and his friend lived out of Dad’s car for awhile when they were in high school, scraping together what money they could for food or a cheap hotel room by doing odd jobs for their teachers and neighbors.

I learned something else as well: As tough as Dad’s life was at that point, his friend’s was tougher. From his outside perspective, Dad had a wonderful family—a place to get a half loaf of bread if things got really bad. Dad was his friend’s safety net.

My father is not a religious man. His friend, however, quoted the scripture verse above and declared, in his estimation, Dad is the very essence of what it means to be Christian.

I think about that often. I’ve shared before that Jodi and I struggle to make time for the Corporal Works of Mercy—feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked, and so on.

We know we must do these things; Jesus is insistent (Matthew 25:31-46) that our eternity depends on it. But we struggle to do it. For my father, as a young man, it was second nature. Why?
  About that same time as that visit, I started serving with the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, visiting with local neighbors in need to determine how we could best help them. Even in our thriving suburban community, many families are struggling. Their circumstances—often a combination of generational challenges and personal choices—put them on the verge of losing what little they have. And yet many of the families I visited were, like my father, someone else’s safety net.

Those who have little share it. Those who know they are broken accept the brokenness of others, and those who need mercy seem to find it easier to extend mercy.

How Christ-like is that? Jesus, who had so little in this world, gave everything—not only for those who knew and loved Him, but for those He had never met, those who didn’t care, those who spat at Him as he bled and died.
  I used to think that seeing Jesus in the poor primarily meant seeing His suffering in their suffering. But now I see Him just as clearly in their willingness to disregard their own immediate needs to care for an aging parent, to take in a struggling sibling, or to drop everything and use their last gallon of gas to find a missing niece who isn’t answering her phone.
We can help—we who have spare bedrooms, full fridges, and paid time off. So why don’t we?
I’m inviting you to take the first step: Next Sunday, September 24, is the annual St. Vincent de Paul Friends of the Poor Walk to raise awareness and money for those in need in our area. The mile-and-a-half walk begins and ends at the church; sign-in is at noon, with the walk beginning at 12:30 PM and lunch and raffles to follow. Register now to walk or donate at stmcatholicchurch.org.fopwalk.

Last year’s event attracted 100+ walkers and raised $11,000—this year we’re hoping for 150 participants of all ages! New walkers will receive a Friends of the Poor water bottle, and all walkers receive one free raffle ticket and this year’s commemorative water bottle sticker. Please join us, and wear blue if you can!