Last Saturday, like almost every other day, I walked from Saint Ann Church to Our Lady of Good Voyage Church after saying goodbye to some out-of-town friends who had visited both churches that morning. As I approached the rectory parking lot, I noticed a car parked in front of Our Lady’s Church, just across the street from Destino’s sandwich shop. In the passenger seat of that car was a parishioner whom I had not seen since the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic. Let’s call him “Don.”

Over the years, Don and I have spoken quite a lot before and after Mass. He has lived an interesting life. And believe it or not, I have prayed for him, thought about him, and wondered whether he was still around. From a distance, we spotted each other, smiled, and waved. Even though I was running late, it just seemed right to approach the car. As I did, Don lowered the window. We bumped fists and began to chat as if we had seen each other last weekend on the church steps.

It turns out that Don is not well. He will undergo some medical tests this week that could lead to a difficult surgery and a long recovery. Despite the journey ahead, Don was at peace and his spirits seemed good. All of a sudden, his smile was gone. He became emotional and said: “I miss coming to Mass. I miss the Eucharist.” Without missing a beat, I said: “Do you want Holy Communion?” He said: “Can you do that?” I jingled my keys, headed into the church, and emerged moments later with the big ciborium filled with the Blessed Sacrament and a bottle of hand sanitizer.

Returning to the side of the car, I dropped to my knees on the side walk. Don and I prayed together: Our Father…Hail Mary…We begged the Lord for a miracle of healing and asked the Blessed Mother to pray for one. Don received Holy Communion in a spirit of joy that was good and true and beautiful. After a few moments of recollection, I promised to arrange for a home visit. We blessed each other and exchanged greetings for the coming holidays. Moments later, Don was gone.

Pope Francis calls us over and over again to be missionary disciples. He says that the only real way to share the faith is to go out, to meet people where they are, and to risk reaching out to the margins — to the poor, the sick, the lonely, and the left behind. He urges us to draw near to our neighbors — to listen, offer a blessing, or a share a kind word. This kind of evangelization does not require a degree or special training. It requires only a willingness to see those in need and respond with God’s love and mercy.

Let’s be honest. When the Holy Father talks about these things, I am sometimes uncomfortable. I am the most introverted person you know. I deserve no credit for doing what many Christians already do. But for just a few minutes, God’s amazing grace opened my heart to a neighbor in need. He asked me to leave my comfort zone, reach out to the margins, and encounter Jesus — in the Blessed Sacrament and in the life of a fellow disciple who longed for the communion we so often take for granted. This is the joy of the Gospel. This is what it means to find real joy at the margins. God bless you, Don!

Cliff Garvey
Associate Minister
Catholic Community of Gloucester & Rockport
Contact: cgarvey@ccgronline.com

CCGR Weekly Newsletter (12-12-21)
Bringing Home the Word (12-12-21)
The Kids Bulletin (12-12-21)

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Source of True Joy
An Act of Veneration
Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception

By Pope Francis