Mopping floors never felt more significant. I had just passed three-and-a-half hours cleaning a vast expanse of linoleum at the Gift of Peace house, a residence for the homeless and terminally ill run by the Missionaries of Charity in Washington DC.
When I was making arrangements for my one-week stay here as a live-in volunteer, I anticipated chaos, dirt, smells and unpleasantness. I expected tragic situations, repulsive sights and extremely difficult tasks. But it hasn't been that way at all.
I arrived on Sunday afternoon while the 35 sisters in the house were in the midst of their daily period of prayer and rest. The residents who live in the women's section were similarly at rest in their dorms. One of the sisters emerged from the cloister and greeted me warmly. She showed me the chapel, and then escorted me to my simple, clean room and invited me to take a nap.
I awoke in time to help prepare the residents for Mass. Each woman was putting on her Sunday finery consisting of the nicest donated skirts and blouses. Those who needed assistance had the loving attention of a sister or a volunteer to help zip, button and tie.
After everyone was dressed, we began the long trek up three flights of stairs to the chapel of this former orphanage. We laughed joyfully at the traffic jams caused by the slow but determined "grandmas" as the sisters lovingly call the older women. I helped one very frail younger woman up the stairs; I later learned she was picked up off the street when she was on the verge of dying from AIDS. We arrived at the chapel and sang during Mass with the sisters — mostly from Africa, India and South America — who led us in joyful music with guitar, drum, and tambourine.
Then it was back downstairs to serve dinner to the residents. I chatted with several of them in the living room after dinner. One of the grandmas taught me how to play Deuces Wild after I braided her hair. Then it was time for Holy Hour upstairs for the sisters and volunteers.
When I walked into the smaller of their two chapels, I saw five perfect rows of sisters in white saris with a single blue stripe, just like the one worn by their foundress, Mother Teresa. They knelt on the floor, facing the Eucharist exposed in the monstrance. Their voices blended beautifully as they prayed the rosary in front of Jesus, their beloved spouse.
As I laid my head on the pillow that first night, I had to remind myself that I was here to do mission work with the poorest of the poor. How could such undesirable work be enveloped in so much peace, joy and beauty?
My answer came the next morning as I learned about the daily schedule. The first item on the agenda? Mass and prayer. The sisters and volunteers were in the chapel by 7:00AM to begin the day focused on Christ. We prayed a beautiful prayer by Cardinal Newman, which every Missionary of Charity in the world prays every day after Mass. It begins: "Dear Jesus, help us to spread your fragrance everywhere we go."
This is what the sisters do. They cleanse, purify and transform their daily tasks with the radiance of Christ. They see Him in all they do. Every interaction with a resident is an encounter with Christ who is present in "the least of these." Every meal prepared, every towel folded, every bed made, every adult diaper changed, every counter scrubbed, every blouse buttoned is an act of service to Christ.
As I mopped the floor the next morning, which I had just mopped the day before and knowing I would mop it again tomorrow, it struck me that the repetitive domestic work the sisters do is the same work that most mothers do in keeping up their homes and caring for their families. A wife and mother spends much of her life cooking, cleaning, and attending to the needs of the husband and children which God has entrusted to her care. I believe the secret to the sisters' joy in such work is being rooted in prayer and the Eucharist, and daily professing out loud the intention to be Christ to others. I wonder what effect it would have on the world if every mother started her day in the same way?
When I begin to mop my own kitchen floor with as much joy and commitment as I have mopped this "missionary" floor, I will be well on my way to living my vocation with authentic happiness and holiness. The Missionaries of Charity don't have a monopoly on transforming domestic drudgery into a holy act of love; our kitchens and laundry rooms are mission fields too.
