Witness of Hope - The Disabled Row

Whenever I’d hear the expression “witnessing my faith”, I would automatically imagine someone shouting about God into a microphone in front of a group of people. To me, this type of evangelizing was meant to be done by loud extroverts. But it doesn’t always happen this way. Over the years, I’ve learned that some of the best witnesses are those who don’t even know they are examples of faith. The disabled parishioners of my church parish are such examples.

There is a section of seats in my church reserved for those who are disabled. Those who can’t sit in a regular pew or who can’t walk to the altar to receive communion usually sit in this section during Mass. The seating is a little less confining, and communion is brought to them by a Eucharistic minister. They are physically challenged, yet they are there every Sunday—you can set your watch by them. Some come early because they need time to settle in before Mass starts. There are oxygen tanks to situate, walkers, and canes; those with no equipment have to catch their breath or massage an aching knee. In this section, hearing aids and eyeglasses abound, as do missals and rosaries.

I watch them settle in, like children nestling in to listen to a parent tell a good story. To me, they are like beacons of light. They are full of faith, and once Mass begins, they seem to forget their maladies—so taken with the liturgy in which they participate. But the difficulties still exist. They not only have to deal with their own personal obstacles; they are also challenged by the physical setting. The disabled section is in the back of the church, next to the cry room, making it difficult to hear the liturgy. The air from the heating and cooling system never seems to reach that section of church, so sweaters or fans are needed. Still, they come—faithfully—every Sunday.

I don’t know all of them by name, but I know their faces. They make me glad to be in the same faith community with them. They are attentive, and they participate. They are the last to receive communion, but they wait their turn patiently.

I see each one of them as a witness to their faith. They are as eager to share their love of God as they are to share pictures of their grandchildren. Here is a group who can relate to Jesus in both his joy and his suffering. They know what it’s like to live in poverty—physical and emotional.

Consider that they can be our real faith teachers. They endure much to worship in community, and they are faithful to receiving the Eucharist as their spiritual nourishment. They pray with an abundance of hope, they trust in God, and see God in all things.

These wonderful people, by their mere presence at Mass, act as silent witnesses of faith to me. Their faith is a trusting love for God, shown in meek fidelity to God’s word and the Eucharist. Because of them, I have a deeper appreciation of my own faith. I know that I don’t need a microphone to spread God’s Word—all I need is a faithful heart and a willingness to walk with God in my life.

Going Deeper:

• Consider: Who are silent witnesses to you?

• Does your parish have a section for the disabled? If yes, do you consider them witnesses of faith? Why or why not?

• How does the presence of the disabled at Mass inspire you? Have you ever talked with the people who sit there for mass? What could you do to make them feel more welcome? How could you get to know them better?

• Sit with Prayer of Consideration found here on the Becky Eldredge website, under the tab Ignatian Prayer Resources. Allow God to encounter you as you prayerfully consider the people in your life that serve as silent witnesses to you.

Photo by Jacob Bentzinger on Unsplash.

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Melinda LeBlanc

Melinda is an Ignatian-trained Spiritual Director who is passionate about helping others deepen their relationship with God through individual direction, group faith sharing, and retreats. She received her certification in Spiritual Direction from the Archdiocesan Spirituality Center in New Orleans in 2012. She also holds a Master’s of Pastoral Studies degree from Loyola University. Most recently, she served as spiritual director and campus minister at Christ the King parish at LSU and was on staff at the St. Joseph Spirituality Center. She also serves in the Women of the Well ministry and is currently on the board of the Louisiana Association of Spiritual Directors. She and her husband Darrel live in Baton Rouge and enjoy birdwatching and fishing.