Seeing Christ in a Stranger   

 

     Last year in January, I was speedily walking to my car in Bellarmine University's parking lot. I was tired from a restless sleep the night before. My dorm roommates decided it would be a perfect night to stay up and keep the vast majority of the students from having a good night's sleep. I was especially agitated because I was late for work, and it was snowing, which is not a good combination on the road. I usually spend mornings in quiet prayer and meditation, but I did not this day because I was late.
   As I walked to my car, a banged up and screeching truck pulled into the parking lot and slowed down. I was immediately on edge for fear of this odd looking vehicle. The truck pulled to a parking space and the driver got out. He was no more than 5 feet tall, and had aged skin, and deep brown eyes. In his hands, he carried a folded up map, which was stained with coffee. His clothes looked unwashed, and he smelled like he was soaked in rotten milk. I wanted to immediately walk away and just ignore him, but something about him kept me rooted to the spot.
   "Can you help," he asked in broken English, "I do not know where I am." I nodded and inquired where he need to go. He proceeded to unfold his map of Louisville and pointed at a street downtown. I pointed out his current location on the map and showed him what might be his best route to reach his destination. The man was obviously grateful.
   "Thank you so much, my friend! What is your name?"
   "Matthew," I answered. I rarely say my full name, but for some reason, I did.
   "Such a good name, I am Ibram. I just arrived from Kiev." He told me that he had just recently moved his entire family here to the U.S. to find work and live with relatives. They found a place near St. Michael the Archangel Orthodox Church, and were attending the Divine Liturgy there. I told him that I was Roman Catholic, and I was studying for a history and theology degree.
   We talked for several minutes, and then he thanked me again for the directions. When we shook hands, I could feel this intense warmth in his hands and I could see utter joy in his eyes which seemed other worldly. As he drove off, I felt this sense of serenity wash through me. I know I stood there utterly shocked at this encounter. To this day, I don't know if I had just met a pilgrim like me or an angel. I do remember thinking "I just met Christ today." 
   So when I see random people who look lost or have no place to call home, I think of Ibram, and remind myself what Jesus taught, "Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of God. What ever you do to the least of my brothers, you do to me."
 
Matthew Morris, Bellarmine University student