He walked up, slapped him on the back and said, ”Hi, Bro, Welcome.”
Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith (Hebrews 12:1-2).
In Winslow, Arizona, where I served for a total of 28 years, I found myself surrounded by just such a cloud of witnesses. What follows are some examples about how the men in the Scripture group there witnessed to me about listening to the word of God and putting it into practice.
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Pete (not his real name) had been married a number of years and had two children, but like many men, his most important relationships were with his male friends. Together they would drink and smoke. He sometimes placed this ahead of his family until one day, his wife laid down an ultimatum: “Either straighten up, or you are not going to have a wife or children in your home.”
He really did love his wife, and he loved his children, so he went to the church to pray. Picking up the parish bulletin, he saw a small paragraph about the men’s Scripture study group at Madonna House and decided to try it out. There he was encouraged by the men and their fellowship and by the word of God, which he began pondering.
A few days later he was driving home from his work in the local sawmill when, stopping at a stop sign, he saw in his rearview mirror an Arizona Public Service truck coming up behind him. The driver was distracted. Pete realized the driver did not see the stop sign and was not going to stop. There was nothing he could do, so he relaxed. The car was totalled; he was fine. They settled things between them.
But at work the next day, his companions all said, “You can sue them, they’ve got lots of money, just say you got whiplash.” “I can’t do that,” Pete answered. “It’s not what Jesus would do.” This was after only one Scripture class!
He continued coming to the Scripture classes. A couple years later, at a wedding dance at the local armoury, there was too much drinking, and one man broke a bottle and went after another man. The fight was broken up and nothing happened, but the family of the intended victim was intent on having revenge on the family of the assailant.
A few days after the incident, I walked into the men’s Scripture group and, much to my surprise, saw that one of the men (probably unaware of all that had gone on) had brought a friend who was the brother of the assailant. Pete, who was the brother of the intended victim, was not yet in the room.
A few minutes later, Pete walked in. He saw the brother of the assailant sitting there, and took a deep breath. He walked up, slapped him on the back, and said, “Hi Bro. Welcome.”
Then he went into the little kitchenette. I followed him. He was gulping down water. Turning to look at me, he said, “Kathy, when I walked into that room and saw him, I had a choice. I could stay and welcome him, or I could turn around and leave. If I left, I didn’t know if I’d be back. And if I didn’t come back, I would die.”
What courage it took to make that decision! At that point, through studying God’s word, Pete knew what his decision needed to be. Otherwise, he would die interiorly.
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A couple years later, the men of the group were having a retreat with a Benedictine priest from Pecos. Following the retreat, the priest was going to be giving a mission in St Joseph parish, which was mostly Anglo (non-Hispanic) on the north side of town.
He said to the men, “On one of the nights you are going to witness to what God has done in your life.” “We can’t do that!” they said. “Why not? You mean God hasn’t been working?” asked the priest.
They were confronted by this, and although there is rivalry, and Southside people don’t mix with those of North side, Pete was among the three who agreed to try.
When Pete got up to give his witness, he began, “The fact that I’m standing here before you tonight is a sign of God’s existence. I never graduated from high school because I was too terrified to stand up and give an oral book report in my English class.
“But the other reason my being here is a miracle is that I hated you. I hated you because you wouldn’t let me speak my language in the school yard. I hated you because we Mexicans could only go to the movies the night before they cleaned the theatre. I hated you because we could only go to the pool the day before they emptied the water and cleaned it out for the next week.
And I hated you because when I came to this church, you sat on one side and I had to sit on the other side.
“But I got to know God, and I got to know that God is my Father. And if God is my Father, then God is your Father. How can I hate my brother and sister? That’s what we are. I came here tonight to let you know that this is what God has done.”
The only other person I ever heard express this so clearly was Catherine Doherty.
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Then there was Sam. One year on Good Friday, Sam was in church with his family when suddenly he started to cry, sobbing loudly. Afterwards he said, “When we were reading the Passion, I knew I was Judas.” Then he went to confession and began coming to the men’s Scripture group. He taught catechetics to young people, but his family life went on as it usually does in Winslow.
One evening, when he came to the class, I knew he was working something through. Then he said, “Why don’t I just be plain about this: I’ve been working as a garbage collector for the sanitation department for 25 years and thought I should be asking for a raise. So I went to see my supervisor.”
Now his supervisor lived right across the street from him and Sam used to give him a ride back and forth to work every day.
They went in, Sam presented his case, and the boss turned to the supervisor and said, “Well what do you think?” The supervisor answered, “I don’t think getting a raise is a matter of how many years you’ve put in.” And Sam knew he wasn’t going to get the raise.
The incident quickly became known to his co-workers.
At lunch time Sam said to his supervisor, “Come on, let’s go home for lunch.” “Are you crazy?” the guys asked him. “He just shot you in the foot and you’re going to give him a ride?” Sam answered, “Didn’t Jesus tell us to love our enemies?”
In great simplicity, without a lot of complicated figuring things out, he had hit the core of what he needed to do in order to witness to the word of God and live it out in his life.
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The next person is Tom. When we got to know him, Tom was actively drinking and using marijuana. He invited us to a baptismal party for one of the many children he and his wife were asked to sponsor.
We went to the church for the baptisms, but we normally did not go to the parties, because we knew how things could sometimes develop at these gatherings. But Tom pleaded with us, and we agreed to come for a little while.
So we went, had some food, and visited a bit. Then, as people continued drinking and the atmosphere began to change, we got up to leave.
Tom came out of the shed, and thanked us for coming. He said, “Look at us. W e’re all messed up. But I knew that if you came, people would see that there’s more to this baptism than we make it seem. That’s what I wanted.”
I was deeply struck by his sincerity. Tom knew that baptism meant more than just having a party, and he also knew that he was unable to convey this by his own life. That’s why he so wanted us to be there as a sign.
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Several years later, after the Scripture group men had their first retreat, Tom decided to stop drinking. He persevered and one day, as we were talking about it, he told me, “When I get the urge to drink, I go out and pick up my guitar. I sing hymns to Our Lady until it goes away, and then I’m okay again for a while.”
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Those are some of the men who have witnessed to me and who have challenged me to take the word of God seriously in my own life.
