The prophet (a homeless woman) in my parish basement.
This past Sunday, a new face appeared: an elderly European woman. She was very reserved and pleasant. Nothing about her appearance indicated she was homeless, but the parish priest had been attempting to help her connect to a place to stay all week.
As our weekly gathering drew to a close, we invited everyone present to sit together (volunteers and homeless alike) and pray through the Gospel of the day. This week it was the account of John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness (Matthew 3:1-12). We do this every Sunday. Sign of the cross, one person reads the Gospel, another reads a reflection, and we ask for intentions. It’s a simple and predictable rhythm.
When the reflection concluded, the woman cut through the silence, “Can I say something?” I doubted she was fluent in English and so she would probably only keep us for a few words longer than planned.
Wrong.
“Like John the Baptist, I too am isolated. And so God has called me to be a prophet.”
Immediately, I wondered whether she was fully present. In English, we tend to think of a prophet as a fortune teller. Nonetheless, I love it when our friends from the street speak up for themselves.
But she continued on a very prayerful, coherent, and theological message.
The woman who was in many ways unwanted (an experience of everyone who is homeless) spoke on moral theology. And that allowed me to think of the words of John the Baptist in a living way present right in front of me.
1) A prophet calls our attention to reality
We are quick to look past the suffering of the poor. Our programs and services are important but they often fail to solve away the isolation and marginalization that people experience. This woman named her vulnerability (isolation) and called our attention to the lack of love of God present in the world. “God is love!” she said. She was challenging us to act in a way that shows we know what that means.
2) The liturgy
This was just a prayer service, but like any liturgy of the Church it follows a very predictable rhythm. The funny thing is, the point of the liturgy is to create opportunities for the divine to break into our daily lives where we otherwise might be failing to encounter God in a real way.
When she began speaking, she brought us “off script.” The prayer has a very predictable cadence to it. And so in a way, it’s easy to block out the prophetic meaning of prayer. Liturgy brings us to our own “wilderness” and listen to the voice of the one crying out.
Her off the cuff theology reflection “God has isolated me too” made her a liturgy in some sense. The divine interruption. The Gospel is not an act or a rite that we recite like a school play, but a true reality that we should urgently encounter in our everyday lives. This woman revealed Christ among us.
3) The calling
For many of my friends, their encounters with the homeless are limited to passing by them on the streets. “Please, I am hungry.” Beggers.
John the Baptist, like any prophet, was not living in his home. There was distance between himself and the comfort of familiar life. But that is not what makes you a prophet. It is that understanding sparked by God that your fragility and weakness enables you for a higher form of engagement.
Speaking for herself and calling our attention to her vulnerabilities, our guest did not view herself as a victim. She viewed herself as sent by God – not in a magical crazy sort of way. Through her Baptism.
The Gospel enables us to see the brokenness in the world as the vehicle God uses to convey dignity. Theology is not just something you can read about in a blog but an encounter most clearly understood through people who have felt discarded by society or the Church.
