The Empty Basket
I manage a team of pediatric doctors, nurse practitioners, nurses, medical assistants, and administrative staff for a Catholic healthcare organization that was founded in 1872 when five German nuns, led by Mother Mary Odilia Berger, arrived in St. Louis inspired by the gospel to start a ministry caring for the sick.
These sisters had just $5 between them when they arrived in St. Louis. By 1877, they would open their first hospital in a converted St. Louis home. Almost 60% of the patients they treated were unable to pay for their care. The sisters began to designate these patients in their account ledgers as “Our Dear Lord’s.” Patients who were designated as “ODL” were rendered care with no expectation of payment, in faith that the Lord would provide.
In 1933, thirty-one years before the Civil Rights Act was passed, this hospital would become the first Catholic hospital and nursing school in the United States that welcomed African Americans as students and employees.
The founding sister, Mother Odilia, was known in the streets of St. Louis. She was often seen carrying a wicker basket full of food, clean linens, and medicine that had been donated for patients and others in need.
As history tells it, one day a man came to the convent in search of food. The sisters came to Mother Odilia, concerned that all they had left was a single loaf of bread for themselves. Mother Odilia encouraged the sisters to give the man that last loaf from her basket, telling the women that the Lord would always provide for them.
A few hours later, a child arrived at the convent door, sent by her mother with a pan of freshly baked rolls for the sisters. A sister exclaimed, “The Lord has come! You are the Lord today, little one!”
Mother Odilia's basket has become a symbol for my organization. Her basket sits on display at one of our hospitals as a reminder of the legacy of compassionate care that we have been entrusted to carry forward by the Lord. Each year around Thanksgiving, we reflect on this legacy and recommit ourselves to caring for the needy and the marginalized. It is remarkable to me that these sisters extended care to St. Louis during the pandemic of 1918, and here we are 100 years later extending care to this city again in a new pandemic.
Mother Odilia understood something about her basket that I often forget about mine.
In Matthew 14, we read the following:
”When Jesus went ashore, he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them and healed their sick. Now when it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a desolate place, and the day is now over; send the crowds away to go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” But Jesus said, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They said to him, “We have only five loaves here and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass, and taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven and said a blessing. Then he broke the loaves and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And they all ate and were satisfied. And they took up twelve baskets full of the broken pieces left over. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.
What we see in this story is that five loaves in the hands of the disciples alone were useless. But five loaves being handed to the disciples by Jesus was more than enough to meet everyone’s need.
Mother Odilia entrusted her basket to Jesus, and she saw her job as that of a disciple— I give away what my Lord gives to me in faith that his well never runs dry.
Christian, our job is to distribute the bread. Nothing more. We hold out our empty hands that Jesus would fill them, and then we empty them again. If you are wrestling with the sense that you are inadequate to meet the needs around you, take heart. You are inadequate. But an empty basket is the Lord’s favorite place to work.
