dirty feet

This evening I went to an Ash Wednesday service at a really small church here in Wichita. Our chairs were seated in a square and about 20 people were there. The youth ran the service and did an awesome job. My friends and I all walked in an sat on the same row. Just as the service was starting, an older man and his family walked in.

He was wearing old and worn clothes, a stocking hat and had a grey beard. I'm ashamed to say that the first thing that ran through my head went something like this: life must be hard for him. is he homeless?

Then, his daughter I think went to pray and kneeled on the alter. Her feet were hanging off the edge and I caught a glimpse of them. Her feet were covered in dirt and the first thing that ran through my head went something like this: how sad.

Then I caught a glimpse of her children running around behind us and their faces were dirty and sadly, I thought : I wonder what their home life is like? Surely nothing like mine.

Does that make me a terrible person? To assume that he was homeless just because his clothes were the same as mine, just because his beard was scraggly, just because I've been taught my whole life that "people like him" are homeless? Am I any better this his daughter and her children who had smudged faces because my clothes, feet and face were clean?

When we first came in to the church, a small sheet of paper was sitting in our seat. It had a list of 5 suggestions for something to fast on for Lent. It had these.

Fast from complaining; Feast on appreciation.

Fast from unrelenting pressures; Feast on unceasing prayers.

Fast from self-concern; Feast on compassion for others.

Fast from discouragement; Feast on hope.

Fast from thoughts that weaken; Feast on promises that inspire.

My favorite word on that list is compassion.

Instead of judging them, why can't I put myself in their shoes?

Why can't I can't picture myself in a scraggly beard, torn up clothes and stocking hat? Why can't I picture myself with dirty feet? Why can't I picture myself with dirty clothes and smudges on my face?

I'm too comfortable with who I am to "put myself in their shoes." Not anymore. Becoming aware of the needs of others, which in turn makes you want to somehow help alleviate that suffering? Whats that all about? How do I help to end the suffering? If helping out people with dirty feet and scraggly clothes would make them more like me, would that even be a good thing? What if they're closer to God than I could ever imagine? What if, in all actuality, they are a better person than me? What if I'm the one that they look on with pity and compassion?

Compassion is a hard thing to grasp. A hard thing to discover for the first time. A difficult feeling to feel.

I think I have, though.

I wish more people could.