Shelter the Homeless

shelter-the-homeless-dmcPentagon, Washington, DC

During our missionary trip to Calcutta, my youngest brother and I were struck by the poverty of the people there. It is palpable in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city — a million people thirsting for food, fresh water, a place to wash every morning, a roof over their head, and for hope.

We spent eight full days volunteering at four of the many houses run by the Missionaries of Charity which serve the poorest of the poor in India: Shishu Bhavan, the orphanage; Kalighat, the house of the destitute and dying; Daya Dan, the house for severely handicapped children; and Prem Dan, the nursing home. The days we spent there with those neglected by society were unforgettable.

Every day at 0530, my brother Michael and I would walk to the Mother House for Mass before starting our day of service. Afterward in the early morning darkness, we were guided only by the small street fires of the poor living on the streets. During our walk, we had to be careful not to step on any small hands or feet of children living under the tattered blankets on the sidewalks.

Despite the destitution surrounding us, every eye we met along our journey was accompanied by a smile and a greeting of “Hello Auntie, Hello Uncle”. My brother and I were blown away by this each day. There was no begging, and no one ignored us as we tried to navigate around the families living on the street.

It was astonishing to see that these people had nothing to give and yet they gave anyway. They gave a smile and a greeting amidst the direst of human conditions. The desperate response would have been to reach out in despair. Yet instead they reached out in kindness. This was the first of many blessings we received during our trip.

A very wise sister of the Missionaries of Charity told me last year, before my trip, “You don’t have to go to Calcutta to serve the poor.” She explained that “Calcutta” is everywhere around us. We just don’t see it yet. My brother and I traveled to Calcutta and back before we finally understood what she meant. It wasn’t until one Sunday morning when I walked out of a ritzy nursing home in the Washington area with the Missionaries of Charity Sisters that I began to realize.

The physical poverty of Calcutta is overwhelming to the senses. The emaciated bodies, the sorrowful eyes, the distant looks, the crippled bodies from living in the streets for a life time — these are the images we see and feel that pull at our hearts. But walking out of this Washington nursing home, where residents want for nothing, poverty caught my attention just as it had while I was walking down the streets of Calcutta. The spiritual and emotional poverty there was overwhelming. The loneliness of the residents is very real.

Now I understand what Sister meant when she said that Calcutta was everywhere. The poverty as intense as Calcutta can manifest itself in many ways. It can be material, physical, emotional, or spiritual poverty. Calcutta is all around us.

It is the young airman, who has no one to reach out to when his wife tells him she wants a divorce, and their first child is on the way. It is the Lt Col who finds out her mother has only a few months to live, and her spouse is deployed for a year. It is in the young airman who has left home for the first time and searches for close friends. Our needs are real in our squadrons, our homes, and in our families.

There is a sign at the entry to Kalighat, the house of the destitute and dying in Calcutta. “We can do no great things, only small things with great love”. This is where we begin to serve our fellow men, our families, and our friends — in the small things with great love.

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