Crossing the Threshold

The City of Chester is one of the poorest places in the Philadelphia region. The needs are never-ending and despite this, there’s a resilience among the people and the Church that has been one of the most inspiring things to experience in my ministry over the last few years. The pastor of the only remaining Catholic parish, along with a lean, mean, serving team consisting of a beautiful tapestry of religious women from various communities, missionaries, and Catholic Charities heroes, collaborate together to be the face of God to many people facing desperate situations.

A few weeks ago, I was invited to speak to a summit of these leaders organized by the local Missionary Hub. Camille Crane was the speaker before me. She serves as the Director of the Family Service Center with Catholic Charities. I could’ve listened to her all day. Her humble witness of service was inspiring to say the least, and the breadth and depth of service that the team provides is near miraculous given their resources. But it was the first part of her talk that will not leave me, even weeks later. “Before we talk about what we do for our clients,” Camille said, “We need to imagine what it took for them to even cross the threshold of our door.” Camille didn’t emphasize the courage of her service, but the courage of those she served. Amidst mental illness, addiction, transportation challenges—or most commonly—deep shame, Camille described the most heroic journey was the one where someone finally asked for help.

As I drove home through neighborhoods very different from my own, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own life and leadership. Whether with my family or friends, and certainly with those I lead and serve alongside, how much do I appreciate the journey someone else took to simply knock on my door and ask for help? Do I receive them by honoring their strength to say “I need…” or do I view their requests as a form of weakness? Who do I consider the protagonist or the hero in that moment? How would my help or service change if I saw people who come through my door the way Camille sees her clients?

Later that night, when my 16-year-old came in and sheepishly shared, “I need to talk to you about something,” I remembered Camille’s opening challenge and tried to appreciate how long the short distance between my daughter’s bedroom and mine might have felt to her before she got to my door. As we begin this new week and encounter those whom the Lord places in front of us, let’s remember that they made a journey to get there and pray that we can be people who welcome them as He would.