Thursday, December 19, 2013
Esther’s Smile
I am walking through crunchy snow, pretty much alone, except
for the occasional car: it is 5:30 on a Saturday morning, and not many people
are on the streets. But I am on my way to the homeless shelter, and my shift
starts at 6:00. When I examine my heart I find a mixture of anticipation and
apprehension: anticipation, because the next two hours will be some of the most
exhilarating of my week; apprehension, because I am always deeply challenged
and sometimes uncomfortable in the face of what awaits me.
After my half hour walk in sub-zero (Fahrenheit) temperatures
I am happy to get inside, and what greets me is the unmistakable smell of about
50 people having spent the night in the dining room. On the 2nd
floor the lights are still out, until 6 am. Then everybody stirs, and the day
begins: packing up their bedding, dressing, cleaning up, a quick cup of coffee
and a donated muffin, then gathering their meager belongings and facing the
cold world again.
On person always
stands out, Esther: she is African-American, probably in her forties, and when
she appears out of the little bathroom she is bright, shiny and all smiles. “Esther,
I love your smile”, I tell her, “it lights up the whole room”. “Well thank you”,
she replies, like a queen acknowledging a loyal subject’s compliment. No matter
what life has thrown at Esther, what struggles she will face today, what needs,
wants and lacks she experiences: there is a poise and dignity in her that are
arresting. As I sheepishly look at her, I am struck by the dignity of man,
which has nothing to do with status, wealth, education or good looks, but
simply with humanity. Esther radiates what Iraeneus speaks of when he says “Man
is the glory of God”. In human beings, if you have eyes to see, you catch the
reflection of God, and ironically, that reflection is often more visible when
those human beings are stripped of the world’s trappings and all that remains
is their bare humanity. The simple smile of Esther tells of a race that was
worth saving and which a child visited many thousand years ago. And he also
smiled, not romantically, not naively, but with the deep assurance that “all
will be well, and all manner of things will be well” (Julian of Norwich)
because God will not abandon man, who is his glory.
And so, as I finish up my cleaning duties and get ready to
walk home again, I realize that I just spent a couple of hours in Bethlehem: a
place of poverty, in many ways not very attractive, challenging in fact by its
poverty, barrenness and crudeness; but beautiful in its simplicity, radiant
with the presence of God, attractive and serene. I think I shall be back next
week for another of Esther’s smiles.
May you find Bethlehem this year, wherever you are!
