Standing At The Foot Of Another’s Cross

The vocation of Spiritual Motherhood

By Mary Powers

The love of a mother is powerful. Mothers often go to great lengths to protect and care for their children, such as when they are sick or in danger.

Women were created to partner with God to bring life into the world and restore life in the world as mothers – physically and spiritually. Pope St. John Paul II wrote in his 1995 Letter to Women that:

“Perhaps more than men, women acknowledge the person, because they see persons with their hearts… They see others in their greatness and limitations; they try to go out to them and help them. In this way the basic plan of the Creator takes flesh in the history of humanity and there is constantly revealed, in the variety of vocations, that beauty – not merely physical, but above all spiritual – which God bestowed from the very beginning on all.” (paragraph 12)

Spiritual mothers live this out in many ways. Consecrated women religious dedicate their lives as spouses of Christ to serving Him in His children. Through their different charisms, women religious reveal Jesus’ heart to humanity through intercessory prayer, teaching, nursing the sick, serving the poor and vulnerable, and working in parishes, among other ministries. They look to Our Lady as an example in living out their vocation—the woman in whom virginity and motherhood came to fruition.

We are blessed with many orders of women religious in the Archdiocese of San Francisco. I recently visited with the Missionaries of Charity to experience part of their community’s work.

“I thirst”

Called to serve the “poorest of the poor,” St. Mother Teresa of Calcutta founded the Missionaries of Charity in 1950. Caring for the poor, the sick, the dying and the forgotten of Calcutta brought worldwide attention to the needs of so many—the need to be seen, loved and cared for.

St. Mother Teresa changed the way the world saw those living in the margins of society. They were human beings made in the image and likeness of God. They uniquely reflected God’s splendor. They were precious to Him. He thirsted for their love and to be loved in them. To this day, the words “I thirst” are placed under the crucifix in every Missionary of Charity chapel and church as a constant reminder of their mission and call.

“That Jesus who becomes the Bread to satisfy your hunger also becomes that homeless and lonely and unwanted person, that drunkard or drug addict or prostitute, so that we can satisfy His hunger to be loved by us through the love we show them,” St. Mother Teresa once said.

Since 1982, the Missionaries of Charity have served the “poorest of the poor” of the Archdiocese of San Francisco, caring for AIDS patients, supporting pregnant women in need, serving the poor in the city, running a soup kitchen in the Mission District, teaching catechism and many other forms of outreach. Today their ministries can be found in San Francisco, Pacifica and Oakland.

Spouse of the Good Shepherd

While the Missionaries of Charity operate homeless outreach missions in the Tenderloin in San Francisco and in Oakland, there is a specific mission that focuses on one-on-one, long-term outreach beyond those missions. The ministry, run by Sister Salvina, is a stable resource to those who are chronically homeless. Most of the individuals she visits have one or more mental illnesses, primarily schizophrenia, and have fallen through the cracks of the “system” in San Francisco.

The Missionary of Charity sisters who work in in homeless outreach truly exemplify the heart of the Good Shepherd. Sister Salvina knows the name of each person she visits, including family history, medical history, how long and where they have lived on the street, even their favorite food, birthday and other details. To the world, these human beings are overlooked and forgotten. To her, each person she works with is truly known, seen and loved.

Sister Salvina explained that much of the work she and the Missionaries of Charity do on the street is like that of Our Lady under the cross—being present to others in their suffering, often having to surrender situations and people to God as there is only so much that they can do.

I recently traveled with her, another sister and a 20-year volunteer, Albert Kohler. Sister had already been out that morning with a retired barber who volunteers his time cutting the hair of the homeless. During our visits that day, she told me she hoped we would see a man named William to check on him, as he had told her that he tried to take his life earlier in the week.

Driving through the city in their big white van packed with supplies, we prayed the rosary for those we would meet that day. Sister Salvina would break in to share the story of every person she expected to visit as we came close to their makeshift homes.

At our first stop, while sharing hot coffee, sandwiches, new clothes and a new blanket to help a woman stay warm, the van drew more men and women hoping for the same.

One such person was Dale, who had just gotten out of jail that day. Sister Salvina rejoiced when she spotted him. With tears in his eyes, he told her that he was heading to his family’s house and that he had just had his birthday two weeks prior. It was evident that he was thirsting for love.

After giving him some food and hot coffee, she gave him a birthday present—a St. Benedict medal cross. They prayed together before she gave it to him, and he wore it proudly. She then asked what his next steps were and how he intended to get back on his feet. She invited him to the soup kitchen for food and fellowship.

We next went to visit a man named Renner, who lives in a tent under an overpass. We parked across the street and made our way down the hill into an open area surrounded by bushes. The area around the tent had burnt trash, old clothes and various food boxes. Sister Salvina caught sight of a tin that was empty, happy that the meal she had given him earlier in the week was eaten.

“So often if we don’t bring them food, they don’t eat,” she explained.

Renner was not home, so we got back into the van and headed to another spot down the street. As we drove under another overpass, Sister Salvina told me about the people living in the small pockets of pillars of the bridge. When we arrived, we walked toward the reservoir behind the freeway, tapping on tents as we passed by to let residents know the van was there with food.

We came to a dirt path above the reservoir, and Sister Salvina began calling out to William. This was where he lived—under an overpass near a giant metal pipe. She showed me where she had previously crawled, under the freeway, to try and find him and others to check on them. As we were looking into the cracks to find him, she turned, spotted William behind us, and joyfully invited him to come to the van.

There, along with several other men, William received love and food from the sisters and Albert. Sister Salvina gave William hot cloths with soap to wash his hands and she helped him wash his head. It was still bruised from his attempted suicide.

“Don’t you just love our children?” Sister Salvina exclaimed as we finished at this location. It was hard not to. They were all so beautiful in their own way.

We next met three men who were living in an encampment with their dogs. Upon seeing one of the men, Daniel, Sister Salvina remembered that he had wanted juice the last time they met. She went into what could be described as her Mary Poppins van and found everything they needed, including Daniel’s juice.

Our next attempted visit, to a man named David, failed when we could not find him near his home next to the railroad tracks.

We then visited Michael who lived down the street in a tent. He playfully showed the sisters his new dinosaur mask as they handed him food. We prayed with him and left him with a solar-powered flashlight.

The last man we visited was Serion. He has schizophrenia and autism. We gave him a flashlight and hot food and prayed with him before we left. He silently smiled and gratefully accepted the kindness of Sister Salvina.

As we prayed the Chaplet of Divine Mercy on the way home, I couldn’t help but reflect on Isaiah 49:15: “Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you.”

It was hard not to think of the love of the Good Shepherd, calling us by name, especially His lost sheep. If Sister Salvina knew these men and women so well, how much more does God know us and call out to us when we’re lost? In doing so, the Missionaries of Charity quench the thirst for love in those in need. It is in this self-gift that they find their spouse, loving Him in others.

Mary Powers is the assistant director of communications for the Archdiocese of San Francisco.