And together we are all his hands and his feet

This past Sunday, Classic Rock and I participated in the Gospel dramatization during Mass.  The day's Gospel story was Jesus healing the Blind Man near the pool at Siloam (John 9:1-41).  Classic Rock was the disciple who asks Jesus whether it was the sin of the man or of his parents that caused the blindness.  Jesus was played by a wonderful family friend who starts growing his beard out just after Christmas each year in order to participate in the Lenten dramatizations.  He manages to become the persona of Jesus so very well, I believe, because he and his family strive to live Jesus' teachings.

The Man Born Blind

by Carl Bloch

image via art.com 

I was designated to play the role of the blind man's parent.  If you'll remember in the story, the parents are called forward by the Pharisees and questioned as to whether or not the man was born blind and how the man could suddenly see.  And I totally love the response of the parents - they throw their son under the bus.  They admit he was born blind, disavow any knowledge of his sudden sight, and then tell the Pharisees to "ask him; he is of age; he will speak for himself."

How many times are we scared to do what's right and needed?

I thought about this more as, after Mass, another friend and I led the First Eucharist preparation class for our sweet crop of excited young children.  This year, Jazz is in the group as she will celebrate the Sacrament of Eucharist for the first time this May.  My friend and I discussed with the children the various components of the Liturgy of the Word (the first half of our Mass) and why these components (procession, Confiteor, readings, homily, etc) help to unite us to Christ.  We brought up the image of the vine and branches, referring to Christ's own use of the term.  We reminded the children (or let them remind us, actually) that if the branch separates from the vine, it withers and becomes useless.  The connection to the vine is essential for us to do His work.  We are his hands and feet now.  [I will be exploring the topic of Eucharist more during the next several weeks as Jazz prepares for the celebration].

 Late Summer Wine Scenes from Tuscany, Italy

photographic print by Richard Duval

image via art.com

Jazz and I returned home later in the afternoon to find Irish Jig napping, the boys playing Madden NFL on the wii, and Mr. Neoclassic happily planting seedlings in his front gardens.  I was practicing guitar when I heard him come into the kitchen a few minutes later and start moving dishes around.  I asked him what was going on since dinner was already prepped and waiting.  He responded that while he was planting, a man road by on his bicycle and stopped to ask if we had any food to offer.  This gentleman was newly homeless and was on his way further downtown to a rescue mission.  Mr. Neoclassic constructed a simple sandwich and I put together a small bag of oranges and bananas - enough to help the man but not enough to insult his pride.  We gave him directions to the mission and told him of a local soup kitchen, taking just a few moments to converse with him.  He seemed genuinely appreciative of the food, but mostly of the humane treatment.

It occurred to me as we watched him ride away, that we really are His hands and His feet.  We are here to serve each other in small and in great ways.  Sometimes serving requires us to do what's right and needed even if we're scared or wary.


Today's post title = Many and One by Steve Angrisano and Sarah Hart