Daily Seasonal Reflections
Wednesday of the First Week of Advent
Fr. Trey Nelson
 
“Great crowds came to him, having with them the lame, the blind, the deformed, the mute,
and many others.” (From Matthew 15:29-37)
 
For me to share the following life-image with you, I am changing some of the details. This moment of grace happened exactly as I will describe it, and the point will be well-taken.  Many of you knew and have heard me speak of a young man by the name of Jeff Nola. Jeff was a religion teacher and campus minister at Catholic High School here in Baton Rouge. After a brief and difficult struggle with cancer, he died in 2011 at the age of 35.  Jeff will always be remembered as someone who went out of his way to help all others feel accepted, especially the students he served at Catholic High.  One weekend, I found myself unexpectedly in a conversation with a student who was hurting badly over something that had happened the day before.  The more I listened, the more I realized that this issue was bigger than me.  So, I asked him, “Is there anyone on campus here at school—a teacher, counselor, coach—with whom you’d feel comfortable speaking? We can’t do this on our own.”  As he cried and tried to compose himself, he said, without hesitation, “Mr. Nola. Definitely Mr. Nola.”  Without sharing any details, the young man, with the help of Jeff and others, made his way through the experience and is doing great today. This would come as no surprise to those who knew Jeff.
 
The Gospel passage that we read for Mass today is broken up into 2 parts, commonly referred to as the healing of many people and the feeding of the four-thousand.  Most of the time, the miracle of the feeding takes center-stage in any reflection. However, for me this morning, I was drawn to the first words, included above.  “They came to him—all of them.”  Somehow, some way, they knew they could.  It occurred to me that, whenever you and I have approached someone for comfort and healing, we do so, because we know we can approach them.  In that moment, they are, for us, approachable and accessible, and based on that, we reach out and ask for help. A friend of mine in his mid-forties shared with me not too long ago that his memory of me when he was a boy and I was one of the priests serving in his parish, is that I was accessible and approachable. Now, it is true, one can certainly be too available, but I never expected to hear him say that to me. It didn’t just make me feel good but reminded me of the importance of conveying a welcoming, non-judgmental persona.
 
Is that us today?  You and me?  How approachable are we?  Do the members of our families, our friends, coworkers, fellow students, and so on feel that they can appeal to us in their moment of pain—free from judgment?  I hope so.  There is already way too much line-drawing being done today, pretty much anywhere and everywhere.  Approachability erases those lines.