Elevating The Care Of The Handicapped

Wow! I feel like I just finished a six-day retreat. The topic was “The Least of These My Brothers,” and the presider was Pope Francis.

I don’t know about you, but I’m an experiential learner; and the pope certainly was an excellent teacher. During his visit to the United States, he lived the words from Matthew 25: “For I was hungry and you gave Me food, I was thirsty and you gave Me drink, a stranger and you welcomed Me, naked and you clothed Me, ill and you cared for Me, in prison and you visited Me. . . . whatever you did for one of these least brothers of Mine, you did for Me.”

For six days, we watched our pope as he dined with the homeless, blessed the handicapped and comforted the prisoners.

For me, the most poignant moment — in a series of wonderful ones — happened quickly and quietly at the Philadelphia airport.

Pope Francis had just gone through the pomp and circumstance with all of the dignitaries and he was heading to the cathedral basilica when he spotted a young man in a wheelchair.

The pope jumped out of his car and walked over to the young man, who appeared to be severely handicapped. Our pontiff bent low and tenderly kissed him on the forehead before taking the hand of his mother and then his father.

In that one moment — for me — he elevated the care of the handicapped to a noble status.

Having a handicapped person in a family certainly isn’t much like a Hallmark movie.

It’s hard and it’s lonely.

There are tears and great moments of sadness.

Sometimes, there is a painful disconnect to the pulse of the larger society. When peers are dressing for proms, graduations and Confirmations, the handicapped are being helped with the most basic needs of life.

It’s heartbreaking to see how they don’t have something most of us take for granted. Often, they don’t have friends; and sometimes they know it.

Sometimes drudgery — not joy — overtakes the family. And things seem so permanent, unchangeable and hopeless.

It’s a hard life for everyone involved.

But when Pope Francis lowered himself to the young man’s eye level and blessed him, he elevated him and all those who care for the handicapped. It was a splendid moment.

It seemed that as quickly as the pope arrived in our country, he was gone — and my retreat was over.

The light of my ordinary life seemed dim compared with the brilliance of seeing and hearing our pope show us how to live the words of Matthew 25.

Of course, the challenge is  — as at the end of any retreat — figuring out how to return to our daily lives while living out what we have learned.

Feed the hungry.

Visit the prisoners.

Respect the handicapped.

May God bless Pope Francis for his many teaching moments here in the United States.