Got Tea?

 
My mother has a different tea for every ailment. Do you have a cold? Hierba gripal. Do you have indigestion? Dandelion root. Do you have insomnia? Manzanilla. A migraine? Plan A: tea.

I inherited my mother’s love for tea, but my brothers did not. “It’s just dirt,” my older brother says to annoy me, “It’s dirt-water.” I’d never admit it to him, but in a way, he has a point. It’s basically hot water which, as of two seconds ago, had crumbly old leaves or roots or flowers floating around in it. But I drink it, and I drink lots of it. And whenever I have someone over, or whenever I am putting the kettle on, or whenever I see someone feeling anxious or sick, I offer him or her tea.

Some months ago, I remember hanging around the Common Room at STA. Maybe I was doing homework and probably I wasn’t getting any work done. One of my new-found friends walked into the room, looking like death warmed over. He, feeling a bit under the weather, headed straight for the couch. Those of us around him stayed quiet, trying to let him rest. I couldn’t do anything to help, but my friend looked miserable and I hated that. So I made him some tea. As I suspected, the tea did not instantly cure him. In fact, I hesitate to say it, but I’m not sure it had any effect on his sickness.

It’s one of those sad facts of life that we can’t cure the common cold, nor solve everyone else’s problems. Let’s face it: we’re not omnipotent. There will always be times when we see a friend hurting and we can’t fix it. Maybe someone in your small group has to deal with the craziest professor of all time, or maybe your best friend has a lot of strife in his family right now. Whatever it is, we can’t fire that professor, or be their personal family therapist. We can’t fix it.

So, should we just accept that life’s tough and ignore it? Precisely the opposite. Notice your neighbor, your brother, your sister. Notice their problems, their needs, and wants. And if you can, help them. But as we already know, sometimes you can’t. In which case, what do we do?

The answer is, unsurprisingly, love. More specifically, be compassionate. Some of you may already know this, but compassion comes from the Latin “compati,” or “to suffer with.” Consider the implications of this concept. We don’t need to stop someone’s suffering to show him or her love. God never commands us to fulfill impossible laws, and when he tells us, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” He knows full well that we often can’t cushion our friends from the hurt. True Christian fellowship doesn’t stop at the end of our own finite capacity to solve problems, because true fellowship is based on the supernatural grace given to love, to love beyond what we can do as humans. So, have some compassion for your fellow man, and be with him when he suffers. 

One thing that I struggle with is remembering others and being present to them. I don’t pay enough attention to names, to faces, to personal details, because it’s scarily easy to get wrapped up in my own troubles. By contrast, I have a friend from high school who remembers all the tough classes I have and asks about them. She recalls which books are my favorite, my likes and dislikes - in short, she keeps her friends present in her heart.

Am I saying you’re a terrible person if you forget things? No, definitely not. In the Old Testament, Israel constantly asks God to “remember” his people. That doesn’t mean they thought that God is absent-minded and needs reminders that we exist. No, this call to “remember” is a petition to God that he turns his face and heart to them, that he be present with them in their plight. Ultimately, God answers this plea for compassion in the Incarnation, when God entered our history to dwell and suffer among us. This is the meaning of Emmanuel: “God with Us.” ^. This is true fellowship. 

Remember, “quality time” is a love language. It may not be your primary love language, but it is a love language. We can express love by presence: a call, a letter, Zoom, whatever. We are a lonely people, a people starved for love, especially love in fellowship with each other. 
  
So, yes, we’re relatively powerless, and we can’t perfect everybody else’s lives for them. At the end of today, next week, and forty days of Lent, everyone will still have problems, tasks, and crosses to carry. And no one can carry someone else’s cross. 

Sometimes, all we can do is be there. All we can offer sometimes is ourselves, our fellowship, some company, a listening ear, a loving check-up. Sometimes, all we can offer is a cup of tea.