My mind swirled with thoughts as capricious as the waves of the Danube that danced before me. Squinting, I scouted a shady spot for solitude on the bank of the river and tried to shove aside the stubbornly impinging concerns of the previous week. This was my time for rest. I would stop analyzing my successes and failures, I would stop brooding over the meaning of service among the poor, and I would certainly stop thinking about money.
Glancing over my shoulder, I was startled by the squealing brakes of an approaching bicycle. Its rider hopped off with hand stretched out to me in greeting, forcing my stewing thoughts into focus as my eyes fell on the beaming smile of Matei, one of the teenage boys who come to our day center. We exchanged pleasantries, and then as quickly as he came, he sped off, shouting euphorically, “I’m goooing for a biiike riiide!”
I stood and watched him, overcome by a feeling of unwelcome chagrin, perhaps induced by the storm of unending questions in my mind and the accompanying absence of joy — joy that so clearly radiated on Matei’s face.
Matei has taught me much about joy since I first met him. Although he has experienced levels of abuse and injustice that are unimaginable to many, he is known as the one who is always smiling. If you ask him why he is so happy, he might tell you it’s because there was hot water for his shower today or because he spent the morning digging in the garden. The depth to which Matei delights in life’s most simple offerings makes me long to be able to do the same. Why is it that I often find myself dissatisfied with what I have and then craving the things that seem better? Why does life always seem so complicated, so lacking in joy?
Although I can get lost in the nitty-gritty of internal skirmishes, I am somehow always brought back to a sense of what really matters by the presence of friends such as Matei. Unflinchingly courageous in the face of suffering, he is teaching me to be content with what I already have as I, too, grow to be more deeply grateful for hot showers and getting my hands dirty in the garden. My desire to achieve, perform and attain is kept in check by Matei through his call to delight in the simple.
On my next visit to the Danube, I hope to go just to revel in the river’s beauty, not needing to escape or to mentally plan my next project. And maybe the next time I encounter Matei’s smile on a bike or after a shower, I won’t feel that same vexing sense of chagrin but will be free to rejoice with him in the gifts that we are able to share together.
Matei’s call is not just a call to simplicity; it is a call to joy, to freedom, to full humanity.
Matei’s name has been changed for his protection.
Photo: Caitlin Palm
John Koon is grateful to be a part of WMF’s youngest community in Chisinau, Moldova. In his spare time, he can be found cooking with too much garlic and listening to Gorecki’s Symphony #3.