People Get You Dirty

I have a visceral reaction when someone comes into physical contact with me and their mess rubs off.  I have distinct memories of times this has happened-- it sticks with me in that iconic, defining way that points to something more profound going on. 

A few years ago in Mexico City, a group of us visited a temporary shelter for families displaced by a mudslide.  The ministry we worked with had developed relationships with families in the shelter, so that several people rushed out to meet us.  One little girl wanted to show us to her house-- each family received their own space in a poorly constructed shed.  We followed her around a few corners into a dark room with a bed and 3 other children inside.  One was an infant, not more than two months old, heavily swaddled.  The little girl scooped up the baby and offered her to me.  I took her, rocked her, and held her while we prayed for the family-- both parents worked all day and this 9 year old was in charge of the rest of the kids.  It was as our faltering prayers finished up that I realized this baby's swaddling was soaked and soaking my own shirt as I held her to my chest.  I sighed; there was nothing to reverse the mess at that point.

A few months ago at a soup kitchen, I was talking with a man who, as we parted, patted me on the shoulder, leaving a trail of crud on my sweater.  Dried soup residue?  Last night's dinner?  I forced myself not to think about it, not to look or pick at it.  Instead, just wearing it.  Part of my day.

Last year I was waiting with a friend to cross a street in L.A. when a man approached us.  He knew her from the meals she served with the Catholic Workers nearby.  He rambled and made very little sense, but as we parted ways he reached to shake our hands.  His hands were crusty-- with weather, disease, dirt or all three, I don't know.  It took conscious effort to give him my hand, to come into contact, and THEN not to wipe it quickly on my jeans or hold it away in disgust.

This morning the devotional at a soup kitchen downtown was about the leper who came to Jesus and told him that he could make him clean, if he chose (Mark 1:40-45).  That is part of what got me thinking about how I am affected by the physical mess of humans, not to mention the spiritual and emotional messes!  (That's a whole 'nother blog post, I'm thinking.)  Yet, I rarely stop to consider: is this an opportunity for cleanness?  - for healing?  -for hope?  I've tended to think that it's a big step simply to be okay with getting dirty.  But what if my focus shifted from the mess I'm allowing and not being threatened by... to the real point apart from the dirt, slime, or crusty crumbles?

The truth is, we're all messy, and our messes get shared and oozed, whether we want them to or not.  But the truth is also that Jesus indignantly reaches out, touches us, and says, "Be clean!"