Happiness found doing as Jesus
did
Every Christmas, we at NCR, as well as many others,
receive a letter from Maryknoll Fr. Bob McCahill, who, many years ago, decided
his lifes ministry would be the simple act of being present to the people
of Bangladesh. He arrives in a village, makes friends, helps the locals when
they allow it, but his main objective is simply being there. Following is his
letter for 1998:
Dear Friends,
Rasheeda, a 4-year-old girl, had spurned food for a whole week and
was starving. I pleaded with her mother to accompany me to the nutrition center
where her daughter would recover. The woman refused because of fear for herself
of what men in the unknown city might do.
A young lady named Zulekha requested my help for burns she had
received 11 years earlier. Now she wants her deformity corrected. It took me a
few weeks and a bit of exertion to arrange with an accommodating surgeon for
her treatment. On the appointed day, however, Zulekha did not appear.
I mentioned these incidents in letters to friends. They commented,
How depressing it must be to have your efforts rejected. ... It must be
frustrating to be able to do so little for the people.
It is kind of friends to commiserate with me, but depressed and
frustrated I am not. The truth is that I am steadily optimistic, because I
sense that I am doing with my life what God wants me to do. The Lord puts me in
a position to mightily assist the bodily health, and save the lives, of many.
Never mind that a mere fraction of the disabled and sick take advantage of my
offer to aid them or that numerous others fail to follow through after all has
been readied for them. I strive to be helpful. Some folks accept, others
refuse.
I have learned to understand that many of the Muslims I want to
help are so suspicious of missioners that they are incapable of using me as I
wish to be used, that is, for their own welfare. Foreigners are not
automatically trustworthy in a country having a colonial history. Also, it is a
widely held belief that Christians only help Muslims in order to convert
them to their religion.
It heartens me that lots of Muslims do, indeed, welcome my
willingness to assist them as a brother. Some of them regain their health and
begin to live fuller lives. On the other hand, some persons I have
helped get worse; some die. Critics and other onlookers observe
that I persist in trying to help. For them, even my unsuccessful attempts to
save instill the lesson that Christians highly value Muslim lives.
A debate continues about the reason for the vocation
crisis in the church. One opinion is that few persons are drawn to the
priesthood because most priests do not adequately proclaim the joy they feel.
So, for the record: Im happy. As a matter of fact, you may not know
anyone happier than I am. This happiness has more to do with inner peacefulness
than with frequent smiles.
From time to time I ask myself: Why am I so happy? Is it because
Maryknoll and the bishop of Mymensigh enable me to restore and save physical
lives as the major focus of my work? Or is it because Muslims and Hindus accept
this witness of a life lived among and for them with ever growing openness and
approval? Is it because I have the freedom to go on all-day bicycle rides to
join Muslims in places where they congregate? Or is it possibly because I so
relish being a surprise to many people, including some local Christians?
All of these and many other aspects of life in Bangladesh are
indeed enjoyable and pep me up. Nevertheless, the prime reason for happiness in
this missioners life is that I am doing Gods will. I am aware that
God uses me for godly, neighborly purposes: to listen and love, to serve and
save and teach.
When, on Oct. 31, 1956, (I was a sophomore in college then, and
feeling miserable) I first responded to the Attractive One, I envisioned a
rather short period of earthly labor to be followed by an eternity of intense
happiness. It only dawned on me a few years ago how wonderfully happy I already
am. Is one foot already in Paradise? All I can say for sure is that this way of
life is full of purpose and, therefore, vastly rewarding. Gratitude is probably
the foremost charisma God gives me. Enduring thankfulness to the Attracting One
keeps me in mission.
Bengalis habitually question me: Why do you stay? Is it
because Bangladesh is the most beautiful country in the world?
I reply: Your country is indeed lovely. However, the reason
I stay is, rather, because of the prolific opportunities to relieve hurt. For a
Christian, helping persons in distress is a profoundly religious act. Serving
the poor as Jesus did is the way Allah wills for me to spend my life.
They dearly love to hear it.
Occasionally I return to visit the five towns where I formerly
dwelt. Each time it strikes me that so many faces are new. How quickly a new
generation replaces an old one in Bangladesh. It affects me that some young
married women have died since my previous visit. I shall try to get to know the
new partners of my old friends. Life goes on. In a milieu of need and struggle,
a missioner could die without being upset by the prospect. This feeling is
beautiful and not at all morbid. The poor and I are essentially equals. I am
part of a people, and there is no chasm between us. All of us belong to
God.
A volley of greetings met me recently as I began visiting the
neighborhood in Kishorganj town, where I lived 10 years ago. Many held out
their hands to be shaken. One man accompanied me on the trail. Just before we
separated at a fork in the path he voiced an appraisal both plain and piercing:
When you come back here to see us, it is a return to your family.
Nice that he feels that way. So do I. I reckon mission in Bangladesh is about
just that: demonstrating that Muslims, Hindus and Christians are one family
already and not merely potentially united in the indefinite future.
The one who saves a persons life saves all of
humankind. This gem of Jewish wisdom urges me to constantly make a start.
Humankind is one. We are all related; were family. Here is a chance to
save the family. The love of Christ impels us.
Fraternally, Bob McCahill
Fr. McCahills address is PO Box 2399, Dhaka-1000,
Bangladesh.
National Catholic Reporter, December 25,
1998
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