By REV. MSGR. SAM R. MIGLARESE

On Friday afternoon, September 5, I heard the sad news of the death of Mother Teresa. Early the following morning I rose to view the procession to the church and the funeral service of Princess Diana. I cannot imagine, but can only speculate on, the reasons for the incredible public response to both of these women's deaths.

First of all, they are certainly two of the most well-known women in the world. Their influence, because of their celebrity, their sincere commitment to human causes and concerns, and their efforts to call attention to these concerns, is enormous. Yet they come from two completely different worlds. one lived the lifestyle of the rich and famous in the world of tradition, duty, aristocracy and—literally—royalty. The other, an obscure nun from the former Yugoslavia, caught the imagination of the world by founding a community of sisters called the Missionaries of Charity. She and they have exhibited a deeply-felt and profound example of compassion for the most vulnerable: the unborn, the dying, the sick, the despised, the outcast, the "untouchables" of this world.

Although they came from different ends of the spectrum, they are linked, at least in my mind, by the fact that they both tried, by their lives and interests, to give meaningful service to others. They were concerned for the rejected, and they called attention to the little ones, the broken ones, the hurting ones. I believe, despite their major differences of style, culture, context, and what motivated them, that their visible concern for the marginalized is the hallmark of their lives and the legacy that they both leave us.

The deaths of these women, the funeral of Princess Diana, and the upcoming state funeral of Mother Teresa a week later, were on my mind as I prepared to preach on the Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time. I looked at the Scriptures and re-heard the prophesy of Isaiah saying, "This is what the messianic era is going to look like." Isaiah names the outcasts, the ones who seem to be cut off from God's protection and care, and says that the healing of these broken ones will, in effect, herald the coming of the Messiah. The blind will have their eyes opened, the ears of the deaf will be cleared, the lame will walk and leap like a stag, and the dumb and the mute will sing with tongues loosed.

Mark in his Gospel presents Jesus as one who is doing the works of the Messiah. In this particular encounter the messianic work involves a man who is deaf and mute. As Jesus leaves the comfort and familiarity of his own neighborhood to go out beyond the boundaries of "his own kind," people bring him a deaf man who has a speech impediment. They want Jesus to lay hands on the man. Jesus is open to seeing the hurt and the need. He is willing to move beyond favoritism, familiarity and family, and to be available, to acknowledge and to be alerted to this need.

What is fascinating is that Jesus in this miracle touches the man's ears and his tongue; and in these gestures, he teaches us something about compassion: that we need to come close to the suffering, we need to enter into people's lives, we need to touch, and we need to make contact.

The reading from James is another example of the mandate that the Church has given to us to respond to the cry of the poor. And it is not optional. It is not a "take it or leave it" part of the Gospel message. We must not have the attitude that responding to the needs of the poor is good, something we should do, but other things are more important. This Gospel message is not on the periphery. It is at the heart of the Church's mission for individuals and for communities of faith. We must take concrete action on behalf of the poor.

All three of the readings give us images of how the little ones are to be cared for if we are to be faithful to the works, the deeds and the words of the Messiah. Is that not what Mother Teresa and Diana did? Diana left the world of tradition and duty and royalty, broke through those boundaries, and called attention to the significant hurts and pains of people. She did not do this just at fund raisers, benefits, or auctions, all-important though money is to support those causes. She came close to the broken ones, entered their lives, made contact with them, held them in her arms; and we could tell that she communicated to them genuine compassion from her heart.

Look at Mother Teresa. I am sure it was difficult for her to leave the confines of her convent in Calcutta to break through those boundaries, to go to receive the Nobel Peace Prize, to reach out to nations, their presidents, and peoples of all kinds to proclaim the cause of the vulnerable, the unborn and the dying. But she did all these difficult things with conviction and a profound faith in a God who loves us in Christ Jesus her Lord.

Both women, each in her own way, taught us that the face of compassion means coming close, it means touching, it means making contact in a hands-on way that profoundly communicates our willingness to care. I see the two women, Diana and Teresa, and I see the three Scriptures on the Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time all coming together to give a powerful challenge to us as Church. This challenge helps us to reevaluate our understanding of the mission of the Church. Will people talk about us as Church in the same way as they talk about these two women?

At the beginning of Mass on the Twenty-Third Sunday, a television news reporter asked me, "Is there anyone able to replace Mother Teresa?" I responded by saying that we must, as members of the Church, replicate the good works that she has accomplished by linking our hands-on, one-at-a-time care for the poor with her example. If we link hands with the hands of Christ, then the Church can be faithful to its mission and make a real difference in the world in which we live.

I remind all the faithful to come to the Eucharist with empty hands and know that, as the Lord touches your life with his bread of life and his cup of salvation, he fills you up with more than enough to be his hands, to touch, to heal, and to communicate Christ's compassion in our world. May our ears be open and our tongues loosed, so that we can continue to live out the fulfillment of the messianic hope that God is in our midst. He has come to cure the blindness, to open ears, to loosen tongues and to reach out with tender concern to all those who are in any way hurting or in need. These are the works of the Messiah and his Church.

(Rev. Msgr. Sam R. Miglarese is vicar general of the Diocese of Charleston and pastor of the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist.)