Finding Christ in the Poorest of the Poor | Eamon Butler’s Encounter with Kala in Calcutta
BY EAMON BUTLER
(as told to Katrina Tulip)
This article is published in the December 2024 issue of Refresh - Humility
During 1990, Eamon Butler arrived in Kolkata (then Calcutta), India, found his way to the Mother House of Mother Teresa and the Missionaries of Charity, knocked on the door, and offered himself as a volunteer to serve the poor. In this article, Eamon shares about a life-changing encounter he experienced soon after his arrival.
I was sent to the home for the dying in Kalighat where I would be providing the smallest acts of service for the poorest of the poor: washing them, trimming nails, massaging arms and backs, serving their food, shaving them and cutting their hair. There were 50 beds for men on one side and 50 beds for women on the other. To protect the dignity of the dying, male volunteers tended to the men and female volunteers to the women.
When we (the volunteers) arrived in the morning, we would help people out of their beds and escort them to the washroom, carrying their featherweight light bodies if they were too weak to walk. The washroom was an open cubicle area where there could be up to six people at a time, each being washed by a volunteer. We would help the men to undress, and then to wash. Some could do this for themselves with minimal support, but others needed to be washed because they were so weak.
It was daunting work, tending to these dying, destitute men. We would work for two hours then go back to our accommodation for a much-needed rest, have our lunch, then head to another place during the afternoon. There we would do the same kind of work.
Saint Mother Teresa ~ Founder of The Missionaries of Charity
During the first two weeks of working at the home for the dying in Kalighat, there was an older man who had caught my attention. I had seen him around a few times. Actually, it was hard not to notice him! His name was Kala and he had elephantiasis. He had a severely distorted, misshapen face; one eye was way up high and his other eye lower down. He had lumps where he shouldn’t have. His muscles had no tone and they hung like sacks. He was truly frightening to look at.
One day as I was cutting the toenails of a comparatively respectable looking man, I looked up, and noticed Kala sitting at the end of his bed, all stooped over with his long, grey hair hanging down around his shoulders, trying unsuccessfully to scratch his back.
I had this inner sense: Go help scratch his back.
No way am I going to do that! was my immediate response. What if I catch elephantiasis and end up
looking like him? (Not realising at the time that the infection is spread by mosquitoes). Then I recalled Mother Teresa’s words, ‘Go to the ones that are difficult.’ I stopped what I was doing, walked down to Kala, and since I couldn’t speak his language, I indicated by signing, that I would scratch his back for him, and as I did so, he gave me the thumbs up.
I quickly returned to my previous task. But as I worked, I heard a little inner voice saying, You didn’t do very much. You just scratched his back then ran away from him. It was the voice of shame. I noted it. I was learning to become more attentive to these inner thoughts and prompts, because they provided some guidance amongst the overwhelming needs all around me.
When I came back the next day, I noticed Kala wasn’t there, so I asked the Sister in charge where he was. ‘He died last night,’ she replied. I was shocked and saddened to hear this. Feeling regret, I thought, If only Kala was still alive, I would go and put my arms around him and show him more love and kindness. I would give him more of my time.
Three days later, I was asked to go to another house. It was a place for people who had been on death’s door, but had miraculously managed to recover. It was more of a rehabilitation centre, the next level up from the home for the dying. I was working away when the doors opened and who should walk in, but Kala, accompanied by two Sisters! I couldn’t believe my eyes. Turning to the Sister in charge, I exclaimed, ‘I was told that he died the other night in Kalighat, yet here he is!’
‘No,’ she replied, ‘he got up in the middle of the night, left the house and went back on the street. Now here he is, back again.’
‘Homeless Jesus’ - A bronze sculpture by Timothy Schmalz
Ah! This was my opportunity to put all my ‘if onlys’ into practice! But instead, to my utter shame, I found myself recoiling from him, reverting to my old fears and misgivings.
Hmm. So much for my good intentions of giving him an embrace and showing him love!
The following day, I came in and put my apron on, ready to work. The Sister indicated who was next to be washed, and would you believe it, it was Kala! Gulping inwardly, I helped him to get up and we walked out to the wash room. Others, afraid, quickly moved away, giving us plenty of space. I had no choice but to face my greatest fear, that by touching Kala, I might catch his horrible, disfiguring disease.
Nervously eyeing his flaking skin, I helped Kala to undress, then filled a bucket with water and threw it over him. He was able to do a little bit of washing himself, and I did the rest. I breathed deeply, trying to get on top of my fear. As I washed him and then dried him off, my fear subsided, and I became more aware of his isolation. I helped him get into clean clothes, then assisted him back to his bed, upon which he sat quietly.
Just as I was about to leave, Kala indicated by a gesture that he wanted a massage. So, I went and
got the oil, thinking, Whew, I’m getting in deep here! I oiled his arms and his back. I noticed how very dry
and loose his skin was, hanging off him like sacks of water. I concentrated on massaging him, still feeling scared, but managing to control it. I was praying silently, Please God, give me the grace to get through this. God must have been listening, because the more I helped Kala, the more I befriended my fear.
After I had finished massaging him, Kala started pulling at his long hair, indicating that he wanted it cut. Since my mother was a hairdresser, along with five of my siblings, I knew what to do. I even had a pair of scissors handy. I picked up Kala’s long strands and cut them to collar level. As I was cleaning up the fallen hair, Kala touched his face, indicating that he wanted a shave. So, I shaved him as well, which required extra care – lifting up his loose flaps of skin so I could shave underneath them.
So, from the day before, when all I could manage to do was scratch Kala’s back and run away – here I was now, having washed him, massaged him, cut his hair and given him a shave! It felt like I was really under water now! My final act of service was to give him his meal, which I did by carefully spooning the rice and dahl into his distorted mouth.
By this stage, after spending an hour and a half tending to Kala’s needs, I felt like we had become companions. The Sisters usually told us to spread our time out more evenly, but I went overboard on him and nobody pulled me up on it.
Two days later, I ended up going back to that same house. I noticed that Kala wasn’t there, so I asked Sister, ‘Where’s Kala? Has he gone walkabout again?’
‘He died that evening,’ was her response.
‘What?!’ I exclaimed. She repeated her words. Feeling dazed, I put my apron on and started work, but half an hour later, I simply had to pause what I was doing, to gaze at Kala’s empty bed.
It suddenly dawned on me, the incredible privilege I had had, of preparing that man to enter heaven. I had provided him with a physical washing and a symbolic cleansing so he felt ready to die. I thought of Mother’s words: ‘What the poor need, above all else, is to experience the love of Christ. We show them that by example, by lovingly tending to their needs. Language need not be a barrier.’
Kala was famous for his disfigurement. His photo had appeared in newspapers and other publications. He was known as one of the characters of Kolkata. Can you imagine his sense of isolation? And here’s me, invited by God, to overcome my own inner barriers. The Holy Spirit had nudged me, saying, Come on, Eamon, you can do this!
My heart felt full and shivers raced up my spine. I felt so humbled by the privilege I had been given. Now I understood something else Mother had said: ‘Be grateful that you are here, serving the poorest of the poor. They have a gift for you – the presence of Christ.’ I was given the greatest honour, which I still feel today decades later, of preparing Kala on his final day in this earthly life, to enter eternity.
As I served Kala, doing more and more for him, I gradually overcame my barriers of fear and self-protection, until I could be fully present to him. I stopped worrying about catching elephantiasis. I met him. We connected. I forgot about my need to have control over the situation and my need to be protected from his condition. I lost myself in service. I was completely immersed in the encounter, and that’s where I met Christ, in this most distressing of disguises.
Eamon Butler describes himself as ‘a born again Catholic’ who hails from Ireland and resides in Auckland. He loves accompanying pilgrims in spiritual direction as well as facilitating retreats and reflection days.
This article was featured in the December 2024 issue of Refresh.
Refresh is SGM’s journal of contemplative spirituality in Aotearoa, New Zealand. You can view the current issue of Refresh or browse the archives in the Refresh section of this website.
