Spirituality: "My" lepers. On love without end.

This is a painting in the church in Louvain which we visited today. There is a major exhibition of the life of Jozef de Veuster, or, Damien, who is much admired in Belgium. As a young man he received a calling and left for Hawaii as missionary.

In 1973, when he was only 33 years old, he was appointed to work in a colony of lepers. They were outcasts there, dumped by authorities and abandoned. No one wanted to work there. Damiaan cared for them as their spiritual father figure, as farmer, teacher and nurse. He made enemies because he fought their cause with so much conviction.

With time he became a Mother Theresa-like figure who began to attract international attention because of his work under the lepers. After 16 years he also became ill and at the age of 49 he dies of leprosy (1889).

In the church in Louvain there are huge pictures – amongst other of him as a youthful person, ready to commence with his missionary work. His face reflects a still eagerness, an inner fulfillment, someone who is ready to serve.

On the opposite side there are pictures of his later life: the misleadingly beautiful scenic setting of the colony. So stunning, until one realizes that the place was a huge jail where these people were dumperd without any care and support.

And then, next to it, a group photo of Damien. It looks like a normal group of people, until one, on a closer look, recognizes the faces covered with leprosy. In the middle sits Damien, no longer the serene young man. Now a suffering leper, covered with wounds, a man of sorrows. He is surrounded by young children with misformed faces. The face is that of a man of wounds, surrounded by death on all sides.

The photo’s I take and the quotations printed under them, reveal a world of suffering.

In one quotation Damien talks about the awful illness of which he also fell prey. But it is not so much the leprosy which saddens or upsets him, he says. He misses it much more that he can no longer serve the eucharist. He was in good spirits, but the spiritual suffering is a heavy burden to carry. And yet, not even this breaks his spirit. “Would I be given the choice to leave here in good health, I would not hesitate for one moment to say: ‘I remain here with my lepers until the end.”

“My” lepers. The phrase hits my in my stomach.

In that one phrase one recognises the meaning of life. This man and his life is about love, intimacy, close-ness. He believes and lives love which transcends all the safe boundaries around us by which we keep the unwanted away from us and out of our sight. We do not want to be near them and we do not want to see them. His is a life which says the opposite of those who reject and abandon the needy and the destitute. What others chase out to far away colonies of leprosy, his love embraces and draws nearer.

For some reason or other, this phrase makes me think of Salvador Dali’s painting of the cross. It is as if the “my” lepers sheds new light on what Dali painted. He portrayed Christ on the cross from the perspective of heaven: here God is looking down on the still face of death, on the mystical Jesus whose head hungs forward, in death. There is no blood, no suffering, no ugly misformed body. God looks at the Son in love, in deep unity, in true intimacy. “I have called you by the name. You are my Son. I delight in you.”

No leprosy, not even death can eliminate the beauty of those who give in love.

There is another quotation of what Damien said shortly before he died: “Look at my hands. My wounds are coarse and they are turning black. It is a sign that the end is near. Look at my eyes. I have seen so many dying lepers. I am not making a mistake here. Death is not far. I wish I could have seen the bishop one more time. But God calls me to celebrate Easter with Him.”

Coarse, black wounds. Breaking eyes. And yet, the awareness of the Divine Invitation, the prospect of being released, of being healed, of celebrating the conquest of death and the new life. The resurrection. Easter.

The young Damien