When the famous Chilean poet and Nobel laureate, Pablo Neruda, was a child, he received a gift from a stranger whose face he did not see. Looking back on the incident long after, he wrote: "To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life, but to feel the affection that comes from those we do not know... Who are watching over our dangers and weaknesses, that is something greater and more beautiful because it widens the boundaries of our being and unites all living things."
Giving secretly of one’s resources, avoiding acclaim has been extolled by all faiths, through the ages. A Jewish sacred text tells the story of a righteous man who performed charitable deeds surreptitiously. He was in the habit of quietly slipping money under his neighbour’s door and, on one occasion, he was almost caught. Unwilling to reveal his identity, he hid in a huge oven that was still hot from recent use. His feet were burned, but he chose discomfort over disclosure.
Unknown benefactors are among us today. As we view the impersonal online funerals, to which we have grown accustomed, we should not overlook their generosity. Anyone succumbing to Covid is unceremoniously carted away, and his or her last rites are performed in indecorous haste. Numbers are restricted and often, for reasons of age or infirmity, even family and friends cannot be in attendance. Shining through the gloom are incredible individuals who ensure that the deceased get a dignified departure.
These valiant volunteers may be seen at crematoria and cemeteries, manoeuvring wheeled biers and staggering under the weight of caskets. Shrouded in shapeless protective paraphernalia, they perform their grim tasks with compassion and commitment. We may never get to know these remarkable people, especially since they are completely concealed. Besides, they seek no recognition. This does not mean that we should take them for granted. Let us honour, with gratitude, our anonymous angels.