A little man with a large heart

The world knows of Mother Teresa, but it is Fr. Fred Sopena who touched my life and I wouldn’t trade all the saints in heaven for that!

He is a dapper little man and has an artificial leg which no one knows about unless they know him. The first time I met him I was reminded of a schoolboy who has just played a prank on his teacher and is waiting to be found out – a delightful mix of mischievousness and lively anticipation. And he must have been all of 75 at the time. The artificial leg is mentioned because despite the trauma of losing a leg in an accident – a lorry knocked him off his bike on the highway – he just picked himself up and got on with doing what he does best – helping those in need. No obstacle too big.

We met because of a letter he wrote in our diocesan weekly, The Examiner. The letter asked for contribution of talent in terms of needlework, woodwork, electrical skills and so on. There was no appeal for any kind of financial donation. This was unusual. I was intrigued. I contacted the numbers given and offered my skills as a crocheter. I was visited, my work duly inspected and my offer accepted. Contributions were sold at Christmas and the resultant funds were used to lay the foundations of Fr. Fred Sopena’s latest project at that time.

A Spanish Jesuit, Fr. Fred’s heart is firmly and totally committed to India and the downtrodden, particularly children. Which is why he realised a dream when he set up a centre in Mahad for the children of Katkari tribals – landless, migrant labourers who have nothing except their skills and who depend on local farmers for their livelihood. The children of these tribals accompany their parents from place to place, which means that they can never attend school. An extra pair of hands to the plough, they would normally face as bleak a future as their parents. But then Fr. Fred crossed their path and life would never be the same. Like the star above the stable, enthusiasm shines from his visage and is so infectious that before you know it, you are caught up in his mission to do what you can – and more – for the least of the Lord’s brethren.

The band of followers has grown with missionary zeal from that one little seed planted in unlikely ground, so many years ago. There are those who know him better and not just from one chance encounter. They will no doubt be able to do a better job of eulogizing the person and his work which encompasses much more than the one project mentioned here.

I write about him because he is the living example of the Gospel message of the power of love and what better time to do so than the season of Christmas – the time when we are reminded of what it is to love and to give.

A Saint for Every Purpose

Being Catholic means an intimate relationship with the saints, from our christening till we depart this earth.

The first saint we encounter is the one chosen as our patron saint and this saint’s name forms part of our own. And as we grow and are able to understand, we are told why this particular saint was chosen for us – either because we were born on the saint’s commemoration day, or because the name belonged to a family member from an earlier generation, or because the saint was someone’s favourite recourse.

In Europe, the name day is more significant than the birthday because of the connection with the respective saint. My husband was thrilled to know this because his birthday and his name day are one and the same – he is named for St. Albert the Great.

But I digress. I started this piece not because of the saints we are named after but because of those we encounter throughout our lives. For example, it must be a rare person who has not pestered St. Anthony to find a lost possession. Then we have St. Christopher to intercede for us when we travel and St. Jude for desperate situations; St. Joseph for help in examinations (provided we have put in a little sweat of our own!); St. Francis of Assisi to watch over a beloved pet (if you have not read Gallico’s The Small Miracle, please do) ; the Little Flower, patroness of the missions and the list goes on. Then there are the saints connected with our Alma Mater, familiar names being: Francis Xavier, Ignatius of Loyola, Magdalene of Cannossa, Claudine Thevenet. Some are easier on the memory based on the situation and others belong to recall from the Lives of the Saints – recommended reading for every Sunday School attendee.

St. Rita, I must confess, was one never encountered till now. A bulging envelope in the Sacristy, spilling out its contents, invited curiosity. And, on exploring further, I discovered that it contained holy pictures – relics of a dimly remembered time when these were highly prized collectibles – with an accompanying biography and prayer of supplication: St. Rita, intercessor for ‘the impossible’. In present time, on our frantic planet, when everything does seem insurmountable, who could resist? I was happy to find that Rita was a saint after my own heart. A real person, who faced the kind of situations we encounter in the daily news: a forced marriage, a difficult husband, wayward sons and a life of submission. The difference lies in the fact that she ultimately achieved her desired goal through steely determination and faith-filled prayer. Firmly tucked into my hymnbook, to be retrieved in time of need, St. Rita’s picture is a timely reminder that faith, hope and charity were alive and well 500 odd years ago and should never be allowed to die.