I just got home from Notre-Dame-de-la-Rue and was so moved by the experience that I decided to sit down and write. For those who don’t know, Notre-Dame-de-la-Rue is a charitable activity organized by the Archdiocese of Montreal and in which Communion and Liberation participates. The activity involves going out onto the streets of Montreal to give food and spiritual support to homeless people, and is led by Abbé Claude Paradis, himself a former homeless person.

The evening began at the Catholic Cathedral as usual. When I got there, a CL friend of mine was already there, so we began chatting and at some point he told me about a tragic event that had happened to him the week before. I was at a loss for words; my expressions of sorrow seemed insufficient. I listened to him and hoped a sympathetic ear would help. After a while, he said that was the reason why he hadn’t replied to a message I had sent a few days before. I couldn’t believe how considerate he was, how he could think of my feelings during such a difficult moment, and how—despite dealing with a tragedy—he was still there to help others. It’s beautiful to see how thoughtful people can be. And so the evening began.

I had once told my friend Giacomo that I participate in charitable activities not only to do what I can to help those less fortunate, but also to provide comfort to my friends while they participate in charitable work. I’m new to CL, and some of these friends have been doing the same charitable activities for some time now. I had the impression at first that part of why I was there was to provide moral support to them so that they could find renewed energy to keep on doing what they do. I certainly see this when we volunteer at Catherine Booth Hospital. Witnessing so much sickness can be hard sometimes, but it can also be moving. Last Saturday at the Hospital felt like a comedy of errors: nothing seemed to go right, and it was a small wonder that we saw the mass through to the end, but that was part of its beauty. There Cecilia and I were, assisting Bishop Wingle as he presided over Mass for the very small number of patients who had come and who, along with Bishop Wingle, didn’t seem to take any notice of all the absurd little mishaps. Living in a hospital must be difficult, so for those who appreciate Mass, what CL does must truly be a God-send. As I was pushing an elderly lady in her wheelchair back to her room, she kept on touching her heart and saying, “Ça fait du bien” (“It feels good”).

I was equally moved by the response from the homeless people we met on the streets during Notre-Dame-de-la-Rue. Earlier tonight, after setting out from the Cathedral, my friend and I stopped at a pharmacy to buy water and at a Tim Horton’s to buy baked goods, because the granola bars and canned fish that the Cathedral had provided didn’t seem to cut it. Sometimes I make sandwiches or pick something up from my local deli, but I didn’t have time for that after work today. After stocking up, we headed over to Saint Catherine Street to visit the Anglican Cathedral and The Bay, since there are always people hanging out there. Sure enough, we found three young men on the steps of the Cathedral. I felt a little silly offering them the meager things we had, and I regretted not finding the time to make sandwiches, but their eyes widened with delight when we approached them. They were thirsty and one of them had a cat that was thirsty, so the water turned out to be just what was needed. Another man said he needed protein as he took the canned fish with a smile.

I was touched by these moments, because they reminded me of the reading my friend and I had done together before we left. I had brought a copy of the Meaning of Charitable Work with me and explained to my friend that Marco usually reads from it before we set out. The reading we did together that evening talked about how we all have a deep need to give others not only the things they need, but also part of ourselves, which we share through attention to—and consideration for—them. If we don’t fulfill this need by sharing with others, we never feel fully satisfied but diminished. These three young men in front of the Anglican Cathedral were fulfilling this deep need I had, not only by taking the meager things I was offering, but also by showing consideration for me in the way they took them. It showed their willingness to share themselves with me so that I could also share in their being. What’s more, my friend, by sharing his tragedy with me, had given me an opportunity to offer him support for an evening, and through his considerate words, had shown attention for me. So at that moment, I felt more human, like I was really living. These tiny little charitable gestures, by addressing a deep need we have, help us to see how we are meant to be. That’s why I do charitable work: it fulfills me in ways I can’t fulfill myself.

The evening continued along the same lines. We saw many humble people who were happy to see us and took great interest in what we were offering, picking out what was to their taste and politely declining what wasn’t. One woman just wanted a granola bar and water, where her friend’s eyes lit up at the sight of a croissant. An elderly man was very grateful for everything but politely declined the granola bar because he had bad teeth. Everyone was a delight to interact with. These are people that most people walk by without noticing, but there we were having a truly human interaction with them. It was so beautiful.

I’ve learnt so much since I started coming to Communion and Liberation activities just over a year ago. But most of all, through the readings, discussions, and activities with my many dear CL friends, I’ve learnt about the beauty of life.

Emma, Montreal, Canada