– Brought to you by Fr. Bernardino Andrade
1.
It was the feast of the patroness of the parish dedicated to Our Lady of Piety (that means mercy, compassion). It was one of those big festivals that congregate the entire parish and attract many pilgrims from other locations of Madeira Island.
I had been invited to preach the sermon of the solemn vigil. The Church was packed with people, the Pastor of the Parish was seated at the presiding chair and I was in the pulpit giving my sermon about Our Lady of Piety (Mercy). There were speakers outside broadcasting my sermon to the entire Parish.
It was the moment when I was sharing about the meaning of piety, mercy and compassion. I was saying that mothers have their favourite children. The favourite son or daughter of a mother is the one who is suffering the most. Also the most disturbing thing is that sometimes he or she is the one who most embarrasses the family; sometimes he is a drug addict, a drunkard and even a criminal. Sometimes he is the one for whom the mother most cries, prays and loses her sleep over. He or she is the one nobody likes. Sometimes he is, or she has, been in jail and the newspapers and TV have condemned the entire family because, when their names are written or broadcast in the news, everybody recognizes his or her family name. He or she is the «black sheep» of the family. He or she is the lost sheep (Luke 15). Nobody likes him or her. But he or she is the mother’s favourite. This was the message I was trying to convey.
In this moment I saw a man walking towards the altar. He was very inebriated, stopped right in front of the Pastor and started yelling at him about his rights to be in that church because he had been baptized and made his First Communion there. His voice was very loud and he could hardly keep standing. He was really full of alcohol. Because it was impossible to compete with him, I had to stop my sermon.
And now? What to do? Call the police? But would arresting this man match my sermon about mercy and compassion? Actually my decision was easy: I just left the pulpit and in front of the entire congregation I hugged him and spent a few moments with him in my arms. Then I helped him to walk and helped him to sit in a comfortable chair. A few moments later he was sleeping.
Then I returned to the pulpit and said: « If this was rehearsed it would not have worked better ». Then I also felt like saying «This was what I wanted to say. Amen». Unfortunately, I kept going with my words, but I think they ruined my action.
2.
Last Sunday when I was coming to say the English Mass I stopped by a bar-coffee shop for a cup of coffee. It was 9:00 AM. Leaned against the counter there was a man holding a beer and visibly inebriated. I started talking with him. I could see that he was in pain. I told him: «You look sad. Are you OK? ». He was very polite and confirmed that he WAS really sad. I didn’t make any reference to the beer he was holding in his hand. In words I expressed my compassion for his pain, but I was in a hurry to say Mass. I left him with his beer, his loneliness and his pain. I felt like the priest of the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10: 25-37). I was a «good» priest on my way to worship God and do «good» things. I had no time for people who are already drunk at 9 o’clock in the morning. I really felt bad about my action.
I felt a big temptation, but I think I was too much of a coward to «fall» in it. My temptation was to invite him to enter my car, invite him to take the first pew of this chapel, and be ready for any unpredictable event. But then I thought « How will my worshipping community made up of tourists and residents react? » Yes! How would you react? Worship that is not transformed into service, with a special preference for the last, the least and the lost, is good for nothing.
God loves you and so do I,
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