Some time ago, thanks to modern technology, after many years of not seeing each other my former school classmates reunited: we created a group on WhatsApp. Between anecdotes and old photos, we managed to identify a companion that no one had heard from anymore and we added him to the group.

He told us that he lived on the street. A series of health problems, a battle with cancer, losing his job and family break up had left him with nothing. At first, some of us contributed some money, but faced with a second call for help, the response was silence or rejection.

Even though we hadn’t been close friends at school, I felt couldn’t just look on. I thought that since he had reappeared in my life through that WhatsApp group, I should do something. I couldn’t simply ignore him

I decided to meet him. I wanted to see for myself how he was doing and listen to him. He had spent a few days in a hostel, but had soon ended up back on the street. I didn’t have the means to solve his housing problem or offer him a home, but I felt the need to discern what God wanted from me in that situation.

We met and talked for a long time. I was deeply moved by the decline in his physical health, so I offered to help him with a natural medicine that I could provide so that, at least, he might regain a bit of peace and well-being. But beyond his physical state, I remembered that he had once felt a strong religious vocation and that he had even been on the verge of entering the seminary. I asked him about his faith.

He told me that he had distanced himself from everything; he had not set foot in a church or approached the sacraments for years. With complete sincerity, I advised him that since his illness was progressing and he felt in danger, he should seek refuge in God.

I suggested that he go to Mass, talk to a priest and, if he felt up to it, go to confession. The next day he called me overcome with emotion. He had gone to church, gone to confession and received communion. He thanked me from the bottom of his heart because he realized that, having lost all material things, his relationship with God was the only thing he really had left.

We’re still in touch today. He managed to get a pension and is feeling a little better. I continue to help him with this natural medicine complementary to his treatment and, every now and then, we meet for coffee or I bring him something he needs, like a pair of trainers. But over time I have come to understand that the most important thing was neither medicine nor shoes: it was the fact that someone stopped to talk to him.

Sometimes, a “neighbour” appears in a WhatsApp group and we run the risk of leaving them trapped in virtuality, where no one assumes any responsibility. My friend taught me that being attentive to another person’s needs, even if we cannot provide a definitive solution, is already a lot. If we could all make even a small gesture, how different things would be for other people! Let’s not allow others to be just a message on a screen, let’s make our help concrete, human and, above all, present.

Pablo Furlán (Argentina)
Illustrative photo: © Pexels-tkirkgoz