When the Least of These Become the Most

It is with the smallest brushes that the Artist paints the best paintings. (St. André Bessette)

You’re doing a big load of laundry but forgot to check the pockets. Sure enough, one tiny, crumpled Kleenex was hidden away, and you open the lid to discover a hundred snowy tufts of tissue glued onto every piece of clothing in the load. You have two choices: Do the entire load again, or slowly pick off each minuscule piece from each article of clothing before throwing the load into the dryer. Suddenly, the least little thing became the most important in this task.

It’s easy to miss the tiny things, but often those are the most important points to notice. Our God works daily, I’ve learned, through these small, hidden events, and if I miss them (primarily because of my pride), I lose out on His most crucial truths and tremendous opportunities to know and love Him.

The Least at a Clinic

Two weeks ago, I was praying with a few others in front of a local abortion clinic in a poor, run-down area of town. Our prayer leaders know many of the neighbors well, having developed long-term relationships with them. Occasionally, prostitutes will stop by during the day to pick up condoms from the clinic and will stay to visit with our prayer leaders.

On this day, one such woman came by. She chatted with the prayer leaders she knew, then an escort handed her a full paper bag, and she proceeded to walk on her way towards me. I did not know her, so I said hello, and asked if I could say a prayer for her. She stopped, smiled, and asked me my name, and after I told her, she offered hers. Then she offered, “Why don’t we pray together?” We held each other’s shoulders as she began the Our Father.

She had missing teeth, patches of missing hair on her scalp, weathered skin, and scars up and down her skinny arms. I followed her lead as she prayed and felt a deep sense of love and warmth. We hugged one another, and we both agreed to pray for one another.

The escorts, always so eager to interrupt our prayers with vulgar music and annoying catcalls, stood back quietly and watched. As the woman walked away, waving to me, I realized how stupid I had been. I thought it would be so good of me to offer prayers for her, but instead, it was she who gave me so much more by suggesting that we pray together. It was a little thing, but it has had a huge impact on me, and I’m still praying about it and mulling it over in my mind to this day.

The least had become the most at that moment.

The Least Kneels for Christ

The following weekend, my parish celebrated the Feast of Corpus Christi by having a procession after Mass. I love my parish church. Our members come from miles around to celebrate the traditional Latin Mass in a simply gorgeous old edifice built in 1841. Unfortunately, while there are many beautifully renovated homes in this, the oldest section of the city, there are pockets of decay amid the blandness of public housing and ever-present threats of gang conflict. Because of this (especially after the Jackson decision), we have an off-duty police officer in our parking lot on Sundays.

As Jesus was escorted down the sidewalk by songs and scripture readings, neighbors were respectful and quiet. I did not kneel on the bumpy, broken sidewalk whenever we stopped for His blessing by the priest because it would dirty my dress and hurt my knees—I would bow instead. We made our way around a large block, past alleyways and dilapidated buildings, and back to our church.

As we came close, we noticed a neighborhood woman in the street. She had been riding a bicycle, but when Jesus drew near, she got off her bike and stopped in the middle of the road. Then she knelt on the stony asphalt and bowed her head as the blessing was dispersed. All the parishioners witnessed her presence, and because she knelt, I did too. The police officer, standing nearby, nodded his head and wiped away a tear.

It was an especially holy moment that we had all been blessed to witness. After Jesus was returned inside the church, several parishioners went up to the woman whom they had never met and hugged her. For me, once again, the least had become the most.

Becoming Most Useful to Christ

How often have I already decided what God wants to do without asking Him?

Why does my prayer so frequently begin with a proposed solution to a problem rather than a simple presentation of the facts?

In her plea to Jesus at Cana, Mary did not ask Him to make more wine. In John 2:3-5, she simply states, “They have no wine,” and then completely trusted in Him to take care of things. “Do whatever He tells you.”

In my pride, how often have I decided to ignore the smallest and the least to implement what I feel are God’s plans? I am reminded of my constant need to pray Fr. Mychal Judge’s simple yet powerful prayer:

Lord, take me where You want me to go;

Let me meet whom You want me to meet;

Tell me what You want me to say;

And keep me out of Your way.

Truly, unless I become like the least myself, I will never be most useful to Him. Thank you, Lord, for these lessons.