Do You See Me?

Recently a friend quoted Father James Martin, SJ on Facebook:

Here’s what Jesus never said: “Feed the hungry only if they have papers.” “Clothe the naked only if they’re from your country.” “Welcome the stranger only if there’s zero risk.” “Help the poor only if it’s convenient.” “Love your neighbor only if they look like you.”

Someone commented with a rebuttal about people who do not respect the laws and rules of our country. They questioned the deservingness and character of those who expect to be taken care of when they lie, steal, cheat, or come into the country illegally.

I responded with a comment about how Jesus was devoted to affirming the dignity of those suffering. That it takes a lot of compassion, courage, trust, and faith to see everyone as equally deserving and worthy of food, clothing, belonging, and sustenance without the requirement of qualifications.

I felt pretty good about myself, thinking that I was “right.” And then, I read today’s Gospel and I can hear Jesus ask me directly:

Do you see me?
Do you see me in the hungry and thirsty? In the stranger? In the sick and imprisoned?

When I try to answer his question from my own personal experiences, I find that time and time again I have been discriminate with my offering to help.

For example, there are times when I extend cash or food to those who greet me at the traffic intersection, outside a store, or at the exit of a strip mall. However, on closer examination, I find that I give disproportionately to those I relate to more - particularly women with children or those holding signs that say they are veterans.

I regretfully admit that when I do withhold aid, I might tell myself that it’s because there’s a long line of cars behind me or that I’m running late. But, that hasn’t stopped me in the past when I remember circling back or pulling over to park so I could take the time to find something to give.

If I am being honest with Jesus, what stopped me are these thoughts:
This person scares me.
This person makes me feel uncomfortable.
There are jobs available out there.
Why isn’t this person working?
What if this person reaches into the car and takes something of mine?
What if this person is not thankful but combative?

Indeed, I am no more “right” than the woman with the rebuttal. She and I draw from the same well when we encounter resistance to helping those in need without qualification.

So where’s the hope if not even my best efforts seem good enough or ideal? How do I overcome my own bias? Fears? Skepticism?

Jesus’s question “Do you see me?” is not one of judgment but one of accompaniment. Jesus didn’t just ask this of me. He showed me how in every Gospel story after another. As he was fully human and fully God, as he was able to feel the entire range and depth of human emotions and feelings, maybe he felt scared at times too. Maybe Jesus had questions too.

And yet, he touched lepers, dined with outcasts, and healed on Sabbath.

Dear Jesus, when we are unable to see you in others, remind us that you are not only in the other person but also in each person in every encounter, which includes our very own selves. You are the way, the truth, and the light that will guide us to be more loving, more inclusive, more generous, and more trusting.

Remind us that your invitation is not for us to develop our own vision to see ourselves and others through but to adopt yours as our own. May this season of Lent be one of allowing you to accompany us when fear, anger, mistrust, and whatever else we tell ourselves as to why we don’t help or give aid, stop us from loving others as you have shown us to. Amen.

Rae Visita Izquierdo

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