by Fred Moleck
Get Off the Bench
Many, many TableTalks ago, I did a piece on “Street Angels,” which focused on the street ministry of Sister of Mercy Cynthia Serjak in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; Mrs. Marge Nykaza in Chicago, Illinois; and Father Ron Raab, CSC, in Portland, Oregon.
The two women are musicians and Fr. Raab is not, but he sings beautifully. That counts.
All three of them have music making as one of the avenues to bring the Gospel of Jesus to the streets. They don’t talk about the Gospel; they live it.
Eleven TableTalks ago, I featured Sister of Mercy Suzanne Toolan and her work with the inmates of San Quentin Penitentiary in the Bay Area of San Francisco.
In the next issue of the GIA Quarterly, she elaborates on her mission of centering prayer and the use of Taizé music in her visits to San Quentin. You will be incredibly touched by some of her stories.
All four of these ministers have similar stories. Add to them the article by Jean Ray Williams and her musical ministry with the soldiers at Fr. Jackson, South Carolina, in the last issue of the GIAQ.
They all have taken music ministry out of the organ/choir gallery and extended it outside of the walls of the church and chapel.
Why don’t you too spend a little reflection time this Lent in your comfort zone (and mine) of church ministry, shielded from the uncomfortable urban zones, where
people live on the street, some of whom are probably psychotic, or people whose lives are riddled with violence on a daily basis or where seventeen-year-old mothers with two children under three years of age struggle against incredible odds to be mothers.I volunteer just about every week at Mercy Hospital in Pittsburgh—now called University of Pittsburgh Medical Center (UPMC)—with the Office for Pastoral and Spiritual Care.
My task is visiting the people on selected floors who were admitted the night before or that morning. After my first afternoon of visitations, I knew that I had no problems.
At least compared to what I saw that day: people with real problems of suffering, the prospect of death, inadequate hospitalization plans, dysfunctional families arguing at their bed side, loneliness, and on and on.
I have no problems, at least on Tuesday night after an afternoon on the hospital floors. But the next day I fall into a pattern of personal whining as I return to my piano bench or my organ bench or my cathedral pew.
It’s time to regularly pull out of the comfort zone and taste a part of reality most of us don’t know about—suffering, genuine human suffering. One should follow the beacons of care and hope of Sister Cynthia Serjak, Sister Suzanne Toolan, Father Ron Raab, and other unsung superheroes.
But first, one must really . . .
. . . “Get off the bench.”
You can reach Fred Moleck via email at fmoleck@comcast.net