Why Presence Still Matters When We Can’t Fix a Thing

By Mary Ann Steutermann, Executive Director of Mission Effectiveness at Assumption High School (Louisville, Kentucky)

A few years ago, I taught a confirmation prep class for eighth-graders at my parish. Naturally, I spent a good deal of time on the Works of Mercy, not only because I’m a Mercy educator, but also because I genuinely wanted the kids to understand that being fully initiated into the faith means not just “being something” (Catholic). It also means “doing something” (Mercy). So, I pulled out all the stops teaching them about the Works of Mercy.

As educators we know that sometimes kids retain facts at a surface level without fully understanding the concept, despite our best efforts. This was certainly true of one boy who kept incorrectly citing “visit the thirsty” as a Corporal Work of Mercy. The third time it happened, another kid said, “Dude, why would you visit someone who’s thirsty? Why not just get ‘em a glass of water?”

I’ve always found it interesting how the first four Corporal Works of Mercy are different from the other three. When you feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, shelter the homeless, and clothe the naked, you meet that person’s concrete, physical need. But with the other three, what need are you actually meeting?

By visiting the sick or imprisoned, I can’t heal or free that person in any concrete, physical way. When I leave, they’ll be just as sick and locked up as they were when I arrived. By burying the dead, I can’t bring them back to life. After I’ve left my flowers on the grave, they will still be gone. So, if I can’t meet their immediate needs, why even bother?

I think the true need to be met has little to do with medical diagnoses or prison sentences or burial proceedings. The real need to be met is being seen.

When I spend time with someone who’s been injured or stop by the funeral home after work, I am saying, “I see you, and you matter.” When I sit with you and your broken heart in silence because I don’t know what to say, I am telling you without words that your grief will not scare me away. When I listen to you describe the horrible injustice you’ve had to endure, I let you know that you have every right to be hurt and angry.

In each case, I don’t fix a darn thing. I don’t solve any problems or lighten any burdens or ease any real suffering. In each case, I simply bear witness to your story.

Perhaps one of the greatest works of mercy is simply to bear witness to another’s pain, to not look away when things get ugly, to be present even when we have nothing concrete to offer.

As Mercy educators, we are “Compelled by Mercy,” and we nurture this Core Value in our students. As stated in our Core Values, we “foster a deep sense of social consciousness, universal empathy, and a commitment to taking action in an interconnected world.” We are called to live the Gospel through our words and actions, and one important way we can do that in our day-to-day lives is to bear witness to the suffering of others. I don’t know how it works, but in some mysterious way, bearing witness to another person’s experience makes it sacred.

We may not need to “visit the thirsty,” like my Confirmation prep student suggested. But then again, dude, why not? Even if I don’t have water to give, I can be present. I can listen. I can hold that person’s struggle in prayer. I can bear witness. And in doing so, I can live Mercy.