A Messy, Smelly Room: Seeing God in Others
The high ceilings, poor lighting, and odd mixture of smells made the noisy soup kitchen feel like a school gymnasium. With no safe place to store my winter coat or purse, and no instructions beyond, “Get people what they need,” I remember maneuvering through the oversized room feeling overwhelmed and awkward. Sweat dripped down my back as I frantically searched for something productive to do.
As a freshman in college on a spring break service trip, I was uncomfortable in every way. With no experience in a restaurant beyond sitting down and eating, I was distracted, almost causing collisions and spills throughout the morning.
What’s more, I didn’t belong to this community, and I felt it acutely. I’m sure the guests eating a hot meal at the soup kitchen could see it, too. However, they didn’t know that signing up for this service trip had been a leap of faith for me. I wasn’t there to save the world or feel good about myself for completing acts of charity. In my heart, I was searching for God in places I had never seen Him before, and I was open and determined to find Him.
Finally, one man flagged me down and asked for a fork. His request felt like a life preserver. Something to do. A purpose. A reason for taking up space in this crowded, busy, stressful room.
When I returned with his fork, we started talking. Now, years later, I can’t remember what we were talking about. I do remember a feeling of great relief as our conversation progressed and he invited me to sit down across the table from him. The shift was ending and guests were leaving. It was okay to sit and talk for a bit. In fact, it might be better this way – I’d be out of everyone else’s way.
As we talked, I was better able to take in our surroundings. I immediately noticed an enormous tapestry of the last supper hanging high on the walls behind my companion. It was Leonardo DaVinci’s traditional interpretation of the meal, so I had seen it before, but never on such a large scale. Its enormity was striking, especially in a place where many things felt small – the portions, the impact we were making, even me.
But as my eyes wandered from my companion to the tapestry and back again, I felt my heart rate rising. He was here. Jesus. In this messy, smelly room. In my heart full of anxieties and shortcomings and questions. In this man whose life had been so different from mine until the moment when our paths crossed.
Mary Beth Keenan, @mb_keenan.15.
It was a tiny glimpse of what Heaven might be, where we will be able to slow down and focus on what unites us: the eternal, loving, merciful presence of the Lord.
I have often returned to that moment, because I think it was the first time I consciously saw God in another person. He wasn’t on a stage giving an inspirational talk or performing miraculous works of mercy. He was just an ordinary man inviting me to slow down and listen. Because my heart was open to the possibility – even actively searching for it – I was ready to open my eyes and see Him when an opportunity arose.
This Lent, we can take up a similar practice as we seek God in the people around us.
An important first step is physically entering another person’s space. Knock on your teenager’s bedroom door. Swing by your co-worker’s office. Sit on your neighbor’s front porch. Even if you feel out of place, or see things differently than them, or sense tension in your relationship.
Then, can you find, make, or take time to slow down long enough and focus carefully enough to truly see that person with both their gifts and faults? To listen carefully to what they have to say? To marvel at the beauty of God’s goodness in their soul?
To seek God in another person can be a challenging but fruitful practice. It requires an openness and slowness that is not usually part of our daily lives. Yet, God can and will provide the grace we need to seek Him in those He has placed in our families and communities.
Meet Catherine Sullivan
Catherine Sullivan serves her family as a stay-at-home mom and teaches religion and literature part-time at an all-girls Catholic high school. She holds a master’s degree in systematic theology from the University of Notre Dame, where she focused her studies on the female Doctors of the Church and Catholic spirituality. An outgoing introvert with a heart for Catholic feminism, Catherine lives in Maryland with her husband and children. Follow her on Instagram @catherinesullivanwrites.