Mindy Madasz - CMC Missioner
Not long ago, a dear friend of mine said that he was beginning to think that the greatest social sin was hopelessness. Hopelessness: that state of being in which we find ourselves injected with a crippling and deadly poison of false truth; pulsing through our veins are the tainted beliefs that we are worthless and powerless, that our dreams and desires are unrealistic and unattainable, that the world is too big and we too small to have even the tiniest impact on injustice, poverty and evil, that makes our hearts so heavy we begin to drown in our own tears of anger and despair and it seems even God cannot save us.
Recently, when I found myself drowning in a whirlpool of apathy, self-pity, and powerlessness, pondering - in the words of Dorothy Day - the world and my part in it…why I am here…what I do…and the overall meaning of my life, I sat on the appallingly littered and neglected shore of the South China Sea. Drowning while sitting on shore. One thing made sense - I was surrounded by trash and ugliness. It fit my mood. God must be trying to tell me something.
It was the last day of a week-long summer camp. The next morning we would round up 70 kids, board our buses, and return to the mountains. I suppose I went to the beach that day to hear God's voice. Either God was holding out on me or I was not listening. Nothing. As I sat staring out over the vast and endless sea my reflection consisted mainly of…I wonder if anyone has ever tried to swim to China from here…as if I were 10 years old again staring at the chalice during the consecration trying to pinpoint the exact moment that the wine turned into blood. No wonder I'm drowning, I thought.
I wasn't alone for long when Julius Caesar (how cute is that?) joined me. Julius is a 12-year-old boy who is always smiling despite the disfiguring scars covering most of his body and face, which are a result of a horrible explosion 3 years ago. He was supposed to be with the group. Then again, so was I. There was an unspoken agreement between us that no one had to know about this but us. He collected his seashells with sweet innocence and was in joyful awe of such creation. I was captivated by him. But it wasn't until a week later that I realized the hidden grace of that time spent with Julius.
We hadn't been to the prison for 5 weeks. Needless to say, the boys were not thronging to see what new math lesson I had for them. "Where were you?" They didn't miss the math problems or the games or even the juice and snacks. "Where were YOU?" They missed our presence. In the face of hopelessness I was suddenly aware of a truth that I have been taught a million times, and will probably nee to be taught a million more times during my life - that the simplicity of being present to another is the only sure way to overcome hopelessness.
Sometimes it is not our doing that makes us significant, but our being.
A glimmer of hope began burning in my heart as if it were a blazing fire. Julius had revealed it to me that day on the beach as if my soul cried out for it. And I was then able to bring that glimmer of hope with me into the prison and share it with those who dwell there.
This presence, which is saturated with hope, is how we can share in each other's poverty in order to embrace it and overcome it together. This presence, this hope, is how we can dream while awake and turn our dreams into reality. This presence, this hope, is how we can change the world.
May this truth set you free.
