The much-anticipated snow storm had already started when a young man walked through the front doors of the Mother Teresa Center. He looked to be of Hispanic descent and said nothing. Peggy, our front desk volunteer greeted him, but still he said nothing. After a few uncomfortable seconds, we realized he spoke no English. He appeared to be in no great anguish or despair. He was calm, but you could tell he wanted something.
I did a quick check with the few people that were in the Mother Teresa Center to see if anyone spoke Spanish. No luck. We do have a bilingual staff member we call on in moments like these, but she was not available. The young Latino man pulled out his phone and started using Google Translate. I did the same, and our international texting duel started.
First, he asked what we were, what we did here. I explained that we provided for the homeless. That we can also provide food for those in need. We have a free clinic if he is ill. Did he need either of those? He assured me he didn’t. The iPhones were doing their job, and I was relieved how well this was going. But I still didn’t know what he needed.
He inquired if we were a church. I told him of our beautiful chapel. I could see he was thinking of what he was trying to ask, how he wanted to phrase his request. Using two fingers, he typed in the question and raised his phone for me to view. The screen said, “I would like to pray”. I gently took his arm from the elbow and led him into the chapel.
As we approached the chapel entryway, I asked if there was something or someone special we were praying for. He nodded yes. My mind immediately went to someone close to him who might be sick or dying. Maybe he was in a terrible financial situation. Maybe it was a relationship that was struggling. I tried to imagine what hardship we were going to be asking the Lord’s help for. He texted to me, “I want to thank God for my life, the good things that are happening to me and my job.” I nodded back to him and felt my eyes well up. We entered the chapel.
We knelt right at the altar in front of the tabernacle. Side by side. Close so we could see each other’s phones. After some silence, I started, “God Almighty, our Creator, thank you for life, thank you for this beautiful world you have made for us. Father, truly all good things come from you. God, thank you for sending your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, to die for us, to save us from our own sins.” It was at this moment I realized I hadn’t even asked this man his name. I continued. “Thank you for providing us with our health, our jobs, all that we need to survive and to serve you. Lord, let us always trust in you. Amen”.
As I prayed these words into my phone, they appeared in Spanish and my new prayer partner repeated them. We continued to kneel in silence and let the Lord’s love come to us. I then stood and stepped back to sit in a pew, he followed me. I typed, “What is your name”? He typed back, Juan Diego. Immediately, I had goose pimples on my arms and every hair seemed to be standing straight up. For more than a few seconds, I thought, “could it be?” Lord, did you bring Juan Diego to us today? With God, anything is possible. I asked him, like the Saint? With a warmth in his eyes and slight smile, he nodded.
We walked out of the chapel to the front door and I told him I would like to pray with him again. I hope he returns.
Pax Christi,
Jim