Message for Hostel Prayer

This is the text of a message I gave during one of the nightly 6PM prayers at the hostel. My first "homily-ish" piece. Yikes.

ACTS 3: 1-10

I was once given the opportunity to visit a hospital for people with leprosy. I met a man there. He had lived with leprosy for over 10 years. He had been abandoned by his family, his loved ones and before this hospital opened, by society. Was it fear, I wonder, that enabled those he loved to leave him stranded? Allowing leprosy to take over his body, leaving only his mind in tact? I sat down next to him not sure where to look. His grey, empty eyes? His toothless, gumless mouth? The stubs of his legs? I took his hand in mine, no fingers, just a palm. He began to sing. I listened. He swayed and bounced a bit, he was dancing. I joined. This man was happy. This man made me feel joyful. The room stopped smelling like a hospital. It was magically transformed into a cacoon; a safe place where the toothless sing and the legless dance.

As I left, he asked me to remember him. “Remember me when you see birds flying in the sky,” he said. And I do. He couldn’t see the contours of my face, my happiness or my fear. But he looked at me and knew how to show me what is real in this world.

Outside the Beautiful Gate lies a beggar asking for rupees. For dollars. For pounds. For Euros. He was not invited in. Peter and John see him, “Look at us,” they said. The three men made eye-contact. Peter and John acknowledge the beggars personhood in a way never done before. The beggar expected to receive money. Instead, Peter took his right hand and helped him to stand. The beggar found himself “strong.”

Sometimes it is the most simple act that is most meaningful. The acknowledgement of ones humanity. Eye contact between two people. A loving touch.

Something I believe the United States lacks that India has perfected is community living. Ones water bottle is shared without question. Holding hinds while chatting forces deep connection. Homes are open to visitors without an invitation needed, “just come over.” Cousins are the equivalent of siblings. Chaia seems to always be prepared, ready in a minute for the thirsty visitor.

I feel lucky to live in this community. A place where I am free to celebrate my faith and, in some ways, more importantly, free to learn about the faith of those who are Hindu or Muslim. I am lucky to learn from you.

I have been in India now for 10 weeks. I’m slowly learning about the complexity of Indian culture, most obviously through learning Malayalam. A language with over 50 letters in the alphabet, many of which still sound the same to me: “Nga, nja, na, naa?” I still have much to learn.

I’m confused by the hierarchy that rules. Here at the hostel it is final years above first years. In society it is men above women (though in many ways a woman leads your country). India heralds Gandihi’s life, empowering the Dalit community and exemplifying ahimsa and satyagraha for the world. Yet here in Mavelikara, in the Lower Primary School, children melt on hot days without fans and a walk through the village at 5A.M awakens the homeless families sleeping under store fronts.

Do we look at these people everyday, acknowledging their humanity? Or do we quickly walk by, not stopping to speak to the families eating breakfast on the sidewalk and the children dressed and powered for school, coming from one room homes and holey-thatched roofs?

I believe God is challenging us in this passage. Yes, this passage describes a great miracle, one of many. But is also exemplifies a reality that exists now, in 2006. Both in the U.S. and in India. Forgotten people sleeping outside. God is challenging us to act. To empower others. To acknowledge their humanity. TO LOOK AT THEM. To take their hand, maybe a palm without fingers, and help them to stand, or sing, or dance.

In Matthew 6: 21-23 Jesus says very bluntly what is expected. ACTION. It is not enough to praise God.

So I place a challenge before us all. Or maybe two. Te first is to acknowledge, maybe with a nod, a smile, a wave, those around us. The second is to take your faith, whether you are Hindu, Muslim or Christian, and let it inspire you to act on the injustices you see.

In this room, we capture a piece of a generation: 18-26 year olds. When we read the newspaper, it is about what our parents’ generation is doing. We are next. What can we do better? Let’s start thinking now. What is your vision for our world?

Your Gandhiji said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” So what is that for you? Will we walk inside the temple to pray without acknowledging the beggar outside?