We woke up a bit after 5 this morning and headed to the Las Vegas Catholic Worker. With 600 hot dogs boiling and buckets of buns to pair with each we sat for morning prayer. The book used was the same one Rose, Nazareth, and I used in Jean Rabel, (People's Companion to the Breviary with Seasonal Supplement ;) one of the ones I plan on using with my children. We loaded the trailer and head to the lot. The sun still laid lazily on the horizon, we set up different lines in the coolness of the morning. The people, mostly men, from all ethnicities and walks of life, stood in line ready to receive their daily bread. In the hands of each, and the eyes of all, we saw him again, Jesus. We heard his words through the mouth of the hungry mother, through the rashes, the infections, and the smiles we smelled him, felt him, ate with him, Jesus.
Following that communion, we cleaned our mess at the house and left to the Courthouse for a Peace Vigil for an hour. People joined as they passed by and honked when they read the signs, "Support Our Troops, End the War," "Hate only begets hate," "Honk for Peace," "I really only love God as much as I love the person I love least. - Dorothy Day." We shared with others and in the stories I heard mine and in their search I found mine.
We crossed the railroad tracks back to the side of Vegas where the forgotten are stragically shoved to on the other side of the highway, with a jail near by and government housing, back to the Worker's neighborhood. We picked up 50 bag lunches to distribute around the neighborhood, at the spots where most homeless try to stay cool and avoid harassment and cops. In the interaction between those who work at the Catholic Worker and those who recieve the meal we witnessed the beauty of real relationship. The day to day catching up, the companionship.
We broke bread together once again and went our seperate ways, the people at the Worker staying to continue the work, and us, back home, both to continue finding Jesus in the hands of the other.