Morning Prayer said by the Missionaries of Charity:
"Dear Lord, the Great Healer, I kneel before You, since every perfect gift must come from You. I pray give skill to my hands, clear vision to my mind, kindness and meekness to my heart. Give me singleness of purpose, strength to lift up a part of the burden of my suffering fellow men, and a true realization of the privilege that is mine. Take from my heart all guile and worldliness, that with the simple faith of a child, I may rely on You. Amen.
We have our hope in Jesus
That all things will be well
in the Lord."
Grant and I spent one morning at one of Mother Teresa's homes for disabled, ill, and/or destitute adults. Prem Dan is located in on of the worst slums of the city. Just in front of the entrance, two dead rats where being eaten by crows. The shanty homes outside were pieced together by whatever materials could be salvaged from trash heaps. The home is just a short walk from the Eastern Railway Station where scores of homeless and beggars stake their ground on the platforms. Amidst this astonishing poverty is an oasis of greenery, clean walkways, and smiling nuns. As we were greeted by men and women with heart-wrenching ailments, I was astonished once again by the joy that the poor carry in their spirits. They are not "poor in spirit" by any means. As I reached out my hands and greetings to disfigured women, they gave even more - smiles, kisses, happiness that I had chosen to wear Bengali "marriage" bangles.
As I looked around at the simpleness of their accommodation, lifestyle, beds, food, the cockroaches crawling in beds and on walls, the many heads infested with lice, I wondered if these women truly felt cared for. And yet, there was not even a hint that these women were disgruntled. They had been lifted from homelessness, railroad platforms, rescued from fires, abuse, and utter neglect. To be touched, healed, bathed, clothed, fed, and given a safe place to sleep - that was enough. More than enough actually. Standing in my position, as a middle-class American, the conditions seemed much less than adequate. To these women who'd only known desperate poverty - Prem Dan offered abundant life.
I was struck by the community among these sick, maimed, and battered women. They really cared for each other. The seeing helped the blind. The mobile helped the immobile. If a woman had lice, all the others made sure she was brought over to have her head shaved. If one needed a cup of water, the others called out for an "auntie's" attention. They laughed. Those that could dance, danced. They shared one another's joys and burdens, on the most elementary level of life. There were no fights or arguments. This was a place of peace.
It was an amazing privilege to serve them. Scrubbing mattresses, making beds, helping women go to the bathroom, changing their clothes, feeding a woman who hadn't eaten in days. Feeding a blind woman her lunch. Washing up the dishes. Jesus words from Matthew 25 kept ringing in my ears, "as you did it to one of the least of these my [sisters], you did it to Me." It was beautiful to work alongside the nuns. I can't imagine working at Prem Dan day in and day out. What strength of heart and body these dear woman have. I was humbled in their presence. Working with the other volunteers from around the world was just as humbling. Folks from Japan, China, Korea, Sweden, Germany, Italy, Mexico, Ohio, San Francisco, Pittsburgh. From all races, backgrounds, and religions, but all with the desire to help the poor and take part in something greater than themselves; to help carry on the legacy of one small woman, Momma T (as Mother Teresa is affectionately known). There was tremendous unity and community among us.
I don't know if I'll ever make my way back to Prem Dan. But the few hours I spent there are etched in my memory. The 2000 passages of Scripture speaking of the poor have whole new meaning now. My desire to serve the poor is greater, much greater.
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