An outcast. An outsider. An unwanted. Unattractive, repulsive, disgusting. The leper Francis meets early in his conversion might appear like something out of a fairy tale or a legend. How could Francis possibly find Jesus in a person like this? How could what was "bitter" become "sweet" for him, as the biographers write? It must have been candy-coated, or there must have been something angelic about the leper for Francis to be able to come down from his horse, reach out and kiss him.
At least, that's what my mind, still weak in faith, tries to convince me. When I prayed beside a sick, elderly man in his bed in a tiny Jamaican village and swatted ants off of his ailing body, I thought I was doing the heroic thing. My pride helped me conquer my revulsion.
But another time, playing with a group of Roma children on a mission trip in Deva, Romania, I struggled to do so. A little 1-year-old boy stood in the grass, wearing nothing but a t-shirt. He just stared at me. Something in my heart wanted to hold him, but I drew back. I was afraid, afraid of getting messy, afraid that holding him would mess something up, break something in me. The memory of that moment still haunts me, because I let fear get in the way of meeting Jesus.
St. Francis, help me come down from my high place, from keeping up appearances. Help me allow the Lord to break in, to mess things up, to shatter my ideas of rich and poor, sweet and bitter. I want to meet Jesus with you!
Sr. Mary Gemma Harris, T.O.R.
