(This article was written for the Neumann News.)

“You must come down,” we first heard Father Ho Lung say during Jesus 2000. “Come work with the poor.”

Starting in 2000, Kathy and I decided to make an annual contribution to Missionaries of the Poor. We would take our Christmas budget– the money we would spend on ourselves and family, and send a matching amount to Father Ho Lung. If we spent $10 over budget, the matching amount would go up $10.

This was a great way to shop at Christmas. Every gift was also a gift to the poor.

In the fall of 2003, Father Brian, one of Father Ho Lung’s lieutenants, walked into St. John Neumann. Kathy felt like Jesus had walked into the room. He told his story of being called from his banker’s job in Jamaica to work with the poor. He told of being sent by Father Ho Lung to start a mission in the Philippines with literally a song and a prayer. Father Brian was inspirational. “You must come down. Come work with the poor.”

That night, Kathy and I decided we should go. With two little girls in school, we could not figure out how the two of us could go together. I think the Holy Spirit inspired us with a solution: I would go with our oldest, Nicole (21), and a year later, Kathy would take our son Danny (17).

A reoccurring thought stayed with me before and during my trip: Get in the boat. Go down the river. Any time I was bothered by doubts or apprehension, I would dismiss the thoughts and picture myself getting in a boat with my 19 fellow volunteers.

There is a trinity to Missionaries of the Poor: the brothers, the residents, and the volunteers. Each enriches the other in some way. Each is better off because of the other. I didn’t see that until the third day.

There were seven compounds that made up the Kingston mission. All were within a few blocks of one another. Each was a walled and gated oasis in what appeared to be the ruins of the Kingston slums. I would learn to look beyond appearances on this trip.

Two of the compounds were the homes of the 100 brothers. One housed the novice brothers who wore tan shirts when working and a tan sash with white robes when praying, dining, traveling, or singing. The seasoned professed brothers wore blue shirts when working and a blue sash with white robes at other times. I thought more than once that this group of young men, blue and tan, made up one of the finest collection of soldiers on earth.

The other five compounds were split among the residents. These were people who were too old, too physically or mentally incapacitated, or too sick for the slum community to support. The residents were abandoned to the care of the brothers and of each other.

After touring the five resident compounds, I decided I did not want to work with the boys in Bethlehem House. It looked too hard for someone who was a first timer.

One of our leaders, Jack, made the assignments that evening. He may not have known my fear, but I’m sure the Holy Spirit ratted on me. Jack assigned me to the Boys of Bethlehem.

Get it the boat. Go down the river.

Paul and I were late for our first day of work at Bethlehem House. As we entered the dorm, we saw Rick (one of 11 volunteers from St. Benedict’s) look up in a panic. He had on gloves and a rubber apron. He was trying to put diapers on a large boy whose legs and arms were twisted with palsy. Wet, naked boys surrounded Rick. Their ages ranged from four to ten. Their sizes ranged from 40 to 120 pounds. Rick was overwhelmed. Two brothers were in the showers washing more boys. Rick shouted, “I’m glad you guys are here!” We dove into action trying to get the boys diapered, dressed, and fed. I quickly nicknamed the boys’ dorm, The Combat Zone. It was chaotic, hard work. I could fill pages with the shocking things I did and saw. I kept watching the clock. Time moved very slowly.

At the end of the day, our bus rounded us up and took us to the refuge of Corpus Christi, one of the compounds housing the brothers. Here the brothers studied, slept, washed, ate, prayed, played (volleyball) and sang. We were so fortunate to get to share meals, Mass, and conversation with the brothers. Music, song, and prayer surrounded us. There were beautiful gardens, birds, fish, rabbits, cats, and even peacocks. One large cage had 100 parakeets all singing at once. One of my favorite moments was watching Father Ho Lung wander barefoot between the cages of singing birds at sunset on his way to the outdoor showers. He wore shorts and a T-shirt with a towel over his shoulder. I thought of God walking through early Eden.

In the evening of the first day, the 19 of us gathered to share as a group. We became a fellowship that night. Those who had been down before could finally give us first-timers advice that had context. Carl, my roommate, gave me the best advice: focus on one person at a time and share as much as you can in those moments.

Later that night, Nicole and I shared privately in the courtyard. She had worked at The Lord’s Place with the baby girls in the nursery. Her day was tougher emotionally than mine. She finally broke down in tears. The physical demands of The Boys of Bethlehem helped me keep emotions at bay. For Nicole, the babies were quieter and more helpless. She had too much time to think about all of their suffering. Thankfully, Lynn, our other leader, had stepped in to help Nicole. (Lynn joined me the next day in the Combat Zone!) We agreed to take on the next day with Carl’s advice: focus on one person at a time… one problem at a time. Get in the boat.

We got up early and went to Mass with the brothers in their new chapel. They had built it themselves. The brothers sat and kneeled on small blankets on the floor on the right side. We volunteers had chairs on the left. Kneeling on the hard tile floor was painful. I noticed on the cross that Jesus had scarred, bleeding knees from the falls. I had never seen that on a crucifix before. I quit worrying about my knees.

I was better prepared for the second day in the Combat Zone. Brother Abby assigned me to shower duty with two of the brothers. I took a deep breath and went in. Get it the boat. Getting 20 incapacitated boys (but who can all cause trouble) stripped and washed is hard work. Many had to be lifted on a table or bench because they could not stand or even sit. While we did the best we could to get the diaper contents into the trash, remnants were floating in the water on the way to the drain in the center of the shower room. I was horrified to find one overweight boy crouched with lips to the floor, drinking dirty water from the drain. I dragged his 120 pounds to one corner. He found a hose and started drinking. Our nurse volunteers guessed his insatiable thirst was a side effect of diabetes. The brothers nicknamed him “Water Boy.” There was no medicine or treatment for him.

Later as I was feeding Water Boy, I realized I should not despair over his condition. He was being cared for by the brothers and the residents. He played with the other boys. He was being entertained by me and the other volunteers. When we dressed him (it took two of us to lift him) he would get tickled and laugh with a deep hearty laugh. I think humor is a blessing that relieves tension. There was a lot of tension. There was a lot of laughter. More volunteers would arrive next week and the week after that. Volunteers were scheduled through the next three months. Big toys for the Boys of Bethlehem.

He is fortunate to be here. I am fortunate to be here. The brothers are fortunate to be here. This is a good boat.

Nicole and I agreed our second work day, though hard, was a good day.

Our third and fourth days were joyful. The transformation was amazing. During my third day in the showers, I took more time with each boy, getting each to smile or laugh. As I bathed their twisted bodies and bent limbs, I stopped seeing them as deformed, but as graceful shapes, like sculptures. I did not worry about the time. I did not worry that I could not give more. I gave as much as possible to each boy during the time I had with him.

On the fourth day, I got to work with the old men of Faith Center applying lotion to their leathery hands, arms, legs, and feet. I felt like Jesus washing the feet of the disciples. Nicole equally enjoyed her third and fourth days working with the girls and women of Jacob’s Well. We followed Carl’s advice. We went down the river.

When you hear the call of Father Ho Lung, one of the Fathers or brothers, or another volunteer, trust them when they say, “You must come down. You must come work with the poor.” Trust the call. Get in the boat. You will be richer when you return.