Mon | Aug 20, 2018

Diary of the Ghetto Priest | Whatever you ask ...

Published:Friday | February 2, 2018 | 12:00 AM
Missionaries of the Poor brothers feeding the poor.
Missionaries of the Poor brothers showing love.
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"It will be given to you! I will do it! That the Father may be glorified in His Son, if you ask anything in my name I will do it" (John 14, 13-14, 16:23).

My dream, dear Father in heaven, is this, expressed in words and melodies 23 years ago:

I Dream

I dream of an island of peace and love

I dream of a country of brotherhood

I dream that the gifts of

each man shall be used for us all

And we'll struggle and work

and we'll labour and sweat

And we'll lift, we'll build

till we raise to the heavens

city of God.

I dream, I dream.

I dream of a nation of love and truth

I dream of a country where justice rules

I dream of a people of faith

who are brave, who are strong

who will work unto death

build a future of hope

and we live, we work

we lay down our lives

for the city of our God

I dream, I dream.

Oh Lord, how much I love my island, how much I desire to see justice and mercy in our land. It can only happen, Lord, by the power of God, and our love of You and our poor fellowmen. It is the impossible dream that must be dreamt by all of us, Jamaicans.

Is it idyllic? Yes, it is. But without dreams, there is nothing to live for. If we would be selfless, if we would make sacrifices and service above all to be our way of life, we must be ready to live and die for others, especially the outcasts - the poorest of people and the greatest of sinners; if we could give of what we got, and forgive those who have sinned against us.

If there is forgiveness for those who hurt us; if we could stop condemning other people despite their wrongs; if we could forgive! Forgive! Forgive!

As the Lord says, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." When we are hurt by others, the pain passed on from one to the other is so terrible, especially in the case of those who love us or people whom we love.

There are so many loveless people we encounter each day. There are so many forgotten ones! They crawl in the streets, they dig through the garbage, they are abandoned in the hospitals for months. They have no food, not a glass of water, no clothes, no bed, no house, no loved ones. They weep, they are hungry, they are forgotten! Poor people! There are so many! What will we do? How will they survive?

 

LIFE IS HARSH

 

Anxiety, fear, terror! They don't belong to anyone or anywhere, they exist alone. There is no one to turn to for food, clothing, a shower, to go to the toilet.

"Please God, help me, show me your hand, let me see your face, hold me in your arms, take me by the river, bathe me, wash me, wipe me. Let me drown in your love, let me drown in your kindness and your love, and your tenderness."

I dream of an island of peace and love

I dream of a country of brotherhood

I dream that the gifts of each man

shall be honoured and praised

and we'll show all respect, and

we'll work for the poor

and we give praise, we sing praise

we sing of the city of God

I dream, I dream.

Life is so harsh! Everybody going on their own, everybody so busy. As they go about, busy brusquely. Our brothers and sisters live and die in the street. Dogs lick their sores.

We send forth Missionaries of the Poor brothers in the name of Jesus Christ. They take in the forgotten ones, our brothers and sisters in the street who have lost their way. Maybe they sinned, maybe they were weak-willed, maybe they were apathetic. But they are in pain, such great pain. We must love them in the name of Jesus Christ.

"Brother, brother, I am so hungry. Are you an angel? Take me in your arms."

This is not a time of condemnation, but a time of love.

I dream of an island of brotherhood.