If Only You Knew

A Reflection on Mt. 25, 31-46

When I was hungry, I know you would have fed me, if you knew where I was. But you didn’t know me.

How could you know me? You never held and fed a baby like me before.

You never held a baby too hungry to cry.

When I was lonely, you didn’t know where I was. I lived in a dangerous place. I know you are afraid to go where I live. It’s not safe where I live.

When I was sick, you thought the doctors and hospitals wouldn’t turn me away.

How could you know?

When I was homeless, you gave me some money and said your prayers. But you couldn’t have known the terror in that shelter and why I stayed on the street.

You didn’t know that I was sick—that I saw demons but they were real.

How could you know?

We never talked.

When I lost my little girl because we had no money for medicine, you didn’t know what I needed.

You didn’t know where we were.

We lived so far from you.

They call it the third world, the ghetto, “that area.”

When I sent my boy to sell lottery tickets, you didn’t know us.

You didn’t know I wanted him to go to school but I needed his earnings for food.

We were so far away from you. We spoke in a foreign tongue.

How could you know us?

And you didn’t know why my boy didn’t come home that night. We knew. His father took his money and bought alcohol and beat him so many times. He stayed on the streets and never came back to me. How could you have known he didn’t come home?

You didn’t know how the kids live on the street—and what the older ones do to the little ones.

And you didn’t know about the drugs. How could you?

You didn’t know that I am with those boys too and they do it to Me.

But how could you know?

When I pleaded for fair wages, they tortured Me.

We made your clothes. But you didn’t know who We were.

You didn’t know what they did to those of Us who spoke for fair wages and safe working conditions.

How could you know how far they would go?

When I gathered your food and got sick from the chemicals, you couldn’t know.

You didn’t know what the chemicals did to our children.

You didn’t know the nightmares they caused.

How could you know?

You never gathered foods from the fields.

You never touched or smelled the chemicals.

Did you know that My children work in the garbage?

They collect paper and bottles and cans.

They sell them so We can eat.

Its so dangerous there.

Surely you don’t know of the dangers—of the gas explosions and fires, of the chemicals and disease.

But what can I do?

I have no other way to feed my children.

But you didn’t know.

When We spoke for our land, our ancestor’s land, they slaughtered us.

They mutilated and tortured Me so many times in so many ways.

They smashed my children against the rocks.

They raped and killed my wife and daughters.

They did it for the land owners who sell you your food.

They did it to Me.

But how could you know what they did?

It wasn’t on the news.

None of your friends could tell you.

We live so far from you.

You were so busy with your life.

You had your children.

You rocked them at night and sang to them.

You helped them with their homework and read stories to them and tucked them in and taught them to pray.

You took them to soccer practice and baseball games, to dance classes and music lessons and to the girl scouts.

You were so busy.

You worshipped Me often.

You met with your friends and talked of your love for Me.

I heard your love songs.

I heard your praise and thanks.

You thought I was in heaven.

That’s what they told you.

You just didn’t know.

When you discriminated against me because of the color of my skin or the country I was from:

You didn’t know it was Me.

When you called Me “illegal,” I know you were afraid.

New people and limited opportunities scared you.

You didn’t know what to do.

You didn’t want to hurt Me, you were so afraid.

When you took My money for alcohol and beat Me, you didn’t know that I would go to the streets and never come home.

You didn’t know what they would do to Me.

I know you loved me.

You just didn’t know how much I loved you.

And when I needed money for My daughter’s medicine, I know you would have bought it for Her, if only you knew where We were.

I loved you when I was hungry and you had extra food.

I know you would have fed Me if you could—if you saw Me, if you held Me.

I’m sure you wouldn’t have left Me to starve, if you knew who I was.

If only you knew.

I come to you through those around you.

I come a million times a day.

But look what is done to Me.

I am hungry and sick, beaten and abandoned; I am tortured, mutilated, abused and battered.

I am waiting in Those around you.

Can you hear Me?

Listen.

I am in your heart—your Sacred Heart.

And you are always in Mine.

Come to Me.

Come to Those in need.

Don’t be afraid.

I’ll mend your heart.

Can you hear Me?

I love you. I love you. I love you.

If only you knew.-Anonymous