June 30, 1994
"It isn't hard to do the right thing. What is hard is to know what the right thing to do is."
Father Buckley - At This Morning's Mass
It is the last day of June. God, how fast days become weeks and then turn into months. I have been out of the hospital for just over a month and little has changed. I stopped by Chatham Storage this morning and nothing has been to my area since Memorial Day Weekend - most of my possessions are still missing. Maggie has either thrown away the rest of my stuff or sold it and pocketed the money. I must now call my drunken, no good attorney and have him find out what's going on - where are all my belongings?
I don't think I'll ever come back to this church again, once I walk out of here within the next hour. For years I have been active in this church, attending daily Mass, being an usher on Sunday and being a member of the Men'c Club. Now, those who I though were my friends have abandoned me. I am not wanted here, my presence a pungent an putrid plague.
During the past month I have spoken a number of times to John, the President of the Men's Club, to Leonard, the President of the Saint Vincent DePaul Society and to Henry, the parish's representative to the town's Ecumenical Council for the Homeless. Each time I spoke with them I told them I needed a place to live. Each time they replied how sorry they felt for me and promised that they would help and get back to me. I am still waiting even though I now know they'll never call.
All during this time I would see them almost every morning at Mass and never have they said more than hello or good morning. Not once have they reached out to me and asked, "How are you doing?"or "How are you feeling?"
Last Friday I spoke with them again and told them how desperate I was and that I needed their help. Each replied that he was working on it. God, how I hate to beg. I don't have the temperament and tenacity to be a successful beggar - I much rather withdraw, whimper and wither away.
Since Monday morning my three Christian friends have stopped saying hello or good morning to me. They have avoided me, deliberately looking away from when our eyes have met. People who every morning at Mass reached out their hands to me and said. "Peace be with you" - now want no piece of me.
One of the great metaphysical mysteries of Christianity is the inability of self-professed pious
to manifest in their actions and behavior the words of the Sermon on the Mount. Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy, blessed are the clean of heart for they shall see God. Are those who have ignored my pleas for help merciful and clean of heart? Are those who everyday bow their heads in prayer more concerned with the appearance of goodness than in doing good? Are those who raise their voices to the Lord unable to hear His message? I do not judge them nor condemn them, for I am in too much pain - to full of disappointment and discouragement. But I do wonder why they have hurt me, why they have disregarded my cries for help?
It is time to move on and leave this town and this church behind. I have lived here for twelve years and I've now become an unwanted stranger. But where do I go? Where do I go when once again death seems to be my only true friend?
What Father Buckley failed to mention in his brief homily this morning were the consequences - the consequences for knowing the right thing to do and refusing to do it. And are we ever excused from not trying to be the Good Samaritan?
2:30pm - Holy Redeemer Church - Chatham, MA
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