Canon in D (english): Lost Saints of Rome

I met Luigi in a public transportation bus coming back home from celebrating the Eucharist with the Sisters of Charity of Mother Teresa. I go to their convent the third Saturday of the month to say Mass in the morning. It is always challenging, but I look forward to it. It is the only homily I say in the month. I don’t know what to preach them. They preach to us all the time. However, I preached about hope that day; on how we bring hope to the world just by believing. I got on the bus route number 85 at about 8:30am. The bus was rather crowed. All the seats were taken and many people were standing. Not so rare for Rome. However, I noticed a free seat next to him. Nobody seemed interested on taking it. It was strange. I checked around if anyone else would take it, but not. So without hesitation I took the seat.

Luigi was on the window seat and distracted looking through it. When he realized I was there, he seemed being surprised. He turned his face around from the window and met my eyes. I smiled and felt the smell. I, then, understood why no one was there with him. He turned away again to the window. It was like indifference was his daily bread. I couldn’t resist the desire to talk to him and look at his eyes again. So I touched his shoulder to call his attention. It seemed so foreign to him: touching, attention, affection, importance. He looked at me with reservation but at this time, he smiled back. We never talked but we looked at each other for the rest of the trip, 5 minutes … maybe? That moment was broken when I reached my destination. I got out of the bus astounded and only could come back to myself to take care of my wet face.

I never have seen him again, but his ragged look, unpronounceable smell, messy hair and bear are in my mind ever since. I wonder in what corner or street he sleeps. What he made me realize wasn’t the great amount of homeless people in Rome but my indifference towards them. And I will guess everybody’s indifference. When they approach us begging for money, we are prompt in turning them away, because we have rationalized their needs and state of life very well. They are lazy, they are addicts, they are just not good. I am not going to patronize it. It is the answer we give to console our attitude. But you know what? Luigi made realized how materialistic we are in that regard. How materialistic they are also in what they beg for. That morning on bus route 85, I saw hopeless and lack of affection; two major expressions of simple no love. I saw my opportunity for simplicity once more. I saw vulnerability ready to be taking care of.

I didn’t know what I should do then. I prayed with Luigi image like for a month or so. I walked around noticing the great number of neighbors sleeping in thresholds, but afraid to approach any. Many ideas came to mind. I thought on preparing as many as possible sandwiches and go out to distribute them. I thought on writing to the FAO (Food and Agriculture Organization) whose headquarters are right here. I thought unbelievable things to do for the homeless. But every time I got excited about any of those doable projects, I noticed each project being dependable of others and my dealings with bureaucracy. Again, Luigi reminded me how materialistic I was thinking. What Luigi begged was for no indifference, affection, simple love.

One recent morning this is what happened. My mother’s birthday was only some weeks ago. I remember growing up, my annual frustration of not being able to buy her a “suitable” gift for the occasion. But the great solution was to surprise her with a rose and breakfast on bed. She told me stories about it when I called her this year for her birthday. For all of you who know me well, it is not a secret my difficulty to wake up in the mornings. I admire early birds, they are my heroes. I will rise up early to fulfill responsibilities but never for myself. So last Sunday at 6:00 am, I put together all of that. I prepared coffee, put it on a thermo bottle, grabbed some cornetos (Italian breakfast bread) and went down the block. It was chilly. This time I met Bill, Francesco, and Enzo still sleeping on their cardboards. I woke them up and told them I had coffee for breakfast. Again, like Luigi on route 85, they looked almost terrified. But this time, they made room for me to sit on their blankets; we talked, and had breakfast together.

Like the pope said this morning: Prior to all of this is the encounter with Jesus Christ, inflaming us with love for God and for others, and freeing us from seeking our own ego. In the words of a prayer attributed to Saint Francis Xavier: I do good, not that I may come to Heaven thereby and not because otherwise you could cast me into Hell. I do it because of you, my King and my Lord. I came across this same attitude among the Sisters of Mother Teresa, who devote themselves to abandoned, sick, poor and suffering children, without asking anything for themselves, thus becoming inwardly rich and free.