Your Word & My Word
July 26, 2019
July 26, 2019
At mass two Sundays ago my two daughters and I were sitting in the wooden chairs – tastefully covered in red, green, purple, or blue fabric and dedicated in memory or honor of loved ones. These are chairs that have replaced the long traditional wooden benches in all but a few rows where the pews remain preserved – the very pews that greeted us when we joined thirteen years ago, when my oldest was six weeks old. This particular Sunday a visiting priest proclaimed the powerful story of the good Samaritan from Luke's gospel (10:25-37). I leaned over and shared highlights with my oldest – paraphrasing to make sure she understood and could relate this to the current political climate, proposing we could perhaps today substitute “Syrian” for “Samaritan.” In this parable Jesus tells of a Jewish man who had just been robbed and beaten, lying on the side of the road – a man whom first a priest and next a Levite pass by, straying as far away as the other side of the road to avoid the man in grave need of help. Only when a Samaritan passed by -- the one labeled “other,” enemy, outsider -- did the injured man receive the aid he needed.
The Samaritan is the one who is able to rise above the bigotry and prejudices of centuries and show mercy and compassion for the injured Jew after the Jew’s own countrymen pass him by! – Pat McCloskey, OFM
The Samaritan poured wine and oil (what he had with him) on the man's wounds and bandaged them up. (My daughter did ask if this would help and felt it would be a bit gross to have oil rubbed on an open wound! Agreed. But then I figure the cleansing properties of the alcohol helped prevent infection and the care shown helped lift the man's spirits.) The Samaritan did not stop there. He reached out, helped the man up, and took him on his own donkey to an inn where the Samaritan cared for the man overnight. Then the Samaritan paid the innkeeper to house and further care for the man. And that was not all: finally the Samaritan said if the man required care that extended past the given amount, when the Samaritan came back this way, he would pay the innkeeper for any additional expenses incurred, as he implored, "Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back." Not only did the Samaritan go out of his way to help a stranger, but he also expected the innkeeper to do the same and compensated him in advance -- trusting the innkeeper would indeed care for the man until he healed.
After we jubilantly sang more rounds of “Alleluia,” Sister Marian preached -- reflecting on this gospel story of compassion. But then she asserted, "Back then, when you gave your word, it meant something." This trust in one another really struck me -- the tightness of the community and faith in one another--at least in the case of the traveller and innkeeper. So I wonder how we, like the priest and Levite, have ventured so far across the road, so far from the path Jesus calls us to -- and how it is that we find ourselves where we are today.
Growing up, on summer days when my dad, instead of bicycling, would take our green Nova—and later our maroon Buick Skylark--to work, my mom, sister, and I – with my brother in the stroller -- would walk in 100-degree heat several blocks eastward past brick houses like ours and then down the steep hill to cross Villa Avenue into the parking lot of Shepherd Mall – the mall where the flow of the cool air-conditioning would envelope us. We would window shop the small stores, occasionally going to the anchor department stores: J.C. Penney & John A. Brown – later Dillard’s, but more often we would just walk the mall, stopping to sample delectable sesame sticks, sweet-and-sour sausages, banana chips, pastel melt-away mints, and fancy cheeses at Hickory Farms--only buying such specialty items when Father's Day rolled around, and then lingering to watch the glass blower stationed outside his shop blow with fire and mix it magically into a stunning piece of art. As a special treat sometimes we would share a chilled and blended orange juice shake at Orange Julius. (This favorite drink of ours preceded the current popularity of -- and even the term “smoothie” – and was rumored to contain a raw egg, which I would always add in along with a teaspoon of vanilla extract when blending one at home from frozen orange juice concentrate.)
I loved those long, sweaty 100-degree summer walks to and from the mall and the joys of being together wandering the mall. Other times, when we had the car, we would drive to the far end of Shepherd Mall for necessities -- shopping at TG&Y, a five and dime, and Stone’s, a local grocery store. On this far end of the mall, each store had its own outdoor entrance. Just inside the entry to Stone’s stood a shiny brown mechanical horse. After we had finished shopping and just as my mom was signing one of her yellow checks to hand to the cashier, I would ask for a dime to ride that horse--and then it would be Cristin's and Shawn's turns too; sometimes we would all try to share the same dime--jumping off and on as the horse continued its unimpeded gallop!
Before school would start – back then it was after Labor Day, my mom would always take us to the last store in the mall – past TG&Y and Stone’s and physically detached from the rest -- the furthest from our house: Sears. After shopping for colorful school clothes, we would look forward to taking the escalator down to the basement, where the farm equipment was on display, and we would take turns sitting on the tractor and pretending to steer it. And to top it all off, we would sometimes get to go to the candy and nut counter in the middle of all the merchandise – and share a paper bag of deliciously roasted cashews—well salted and naturally sweet.
A decade later, I remember as a young adult, coming home for the holidays during my second year of college. (Because we were on the trimester system, my school vacation actually spanned a full six weeks from Thanksgiving through New Year’s.) I was sitting at the breakfast room table where I had luxuriously spread out The Daily Oklahoman that my parents have delivered every morning up to this day. I distinctly remember reading that Shepherd Mall’s Sears Roebuck, the oldest Sears in the city, would close its doors after Christmas -- unable to compete with the nearby and newly revamped former outdoor Penn Square Shopping Center that had now transformed a few miles to the northeast into an indoor mall with recent additions of a second story and food court. I continued to read the article as the journalist waxed nostalgic -- about the heyday of the Sears catalogue and how, during the Great Depression, Sears had offered items on credit to those who couldn’t afford to pay. Researching for this piece, I realize that could not have been the Oklahoma City Sears, as it didn’t open until 1954, but I vividly remember this reported tidbit of humanity regarding a corporate giant and how it moved me near tears, somehow.
The Samaritan is the one who is able to rise above the bigotry and prejudices of centuries and show mercy and compassion for the injured Jew after the Jew’s own countrymen pass him by! – Pat McCloskey, OFM
The Samaritan poured wine and oil (what he had with him) on the man's wounds and bandaged them up. (My daughter did ask if this would help and felt it would be a bit gross to have oil rubbed on an open wound! Agreed. But then I figure the cleansing properties of the alcohol helped prevent infection and the care shown helped lift the man's spirits.) The Samaritan did not stop there. He reached out, helped the man up, and took him on his own donkey to an inn where the Samaritan cared for the man overnight. Then the Samaritan paid the innkeeper to house and further care for the man. And that was not all: finally the Samaritan said if the man required care that extended past the given amount, when the Samaritan came back this way, he would pay the innkeeper for any additional expenses incurred, as he implored, "Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back." Not only did the Samaritan go out of his way to help a stranger, but he also expected the innkeeper to do the same and compensated him in advance -- trusting the innkeeper would indeed care for the man until he healed.
After we jubilantly sang more rounds of “Alleluia,” Sister Marian preached -- reflecting on this gospel story of compassion. But then she asserted, "Back then, when you gave your word, it meant something." This trust in one another really struck me -- the tightness of the community and faith in one another--at least in the case of the traveller and innkeeper. So I wonder how we, like the priest and Levite, have ventured so far across the road, so far from the path Jesus calls us to -- and how it is that we find ourselves where we are today.
Growing up, on summer days when my dad, instead of bicycling, would take our green Nova—and later our maroon Buick Skylark--to work, my mom, sister, and I – with my brother in the stroller -- would walk in 100-degree heat several blocks eastward past brick houses like ours and then down the steep hill to cross Villa Avenue into the parking lot of Shepherd Mall – the mall where the flow of the cool air-conditioning would envelope us. We would window shop the small stores, occasionally going to the anchor department stores: J.C. Penney & John A. Brown – later Dillard’s, but more often we would just walk the mall, stopping to sample delectable sesame sticks, sweet-and-sour sausages, banana chips, pastel melt-away mints, and fancy cheeses at Hickory Farms--only buying such specialty items when Father's Day rolled around, and then lingering to watch the glass blower stationed outside his shop blow with fire and mix it magically into a stunning piece of art. As a special treat sometimes we would share a chilled and blended orange juice shake at Orange Julius. (This favorite drink of ours preceded the current popularity of -- and even the term “smoothie” – and was rumored to contain a raw egg, which I would always add in along with a teaspoon of vanilla extract when blending one at home from frozen orange juice concentrate.)
I loved those long, sweaty 100-degree summer walks to and from the mall and the joys of being together wandering the mall. Other times, when we had the car, we would drive to the far end of Shepherd Mall for necessities -- shopping at TG&Y, a five and dime, and Stone’s, a local grocery store. On this far end of the mall, each store had its own outdoor entrance. Just inside the entry to Stone’s stood a shiny brown mechanical horse. After we had finished shopping and just as my mom was signing one of her yellow checks to hand to the cashier, I would ask for a dime to ride that horse--and then it would be Cristin's and Shawn's turns too; sometimes we would all try to share the same dime--jumping off and on as the horse continued its unimpeded gallop!
Before school would start – back then it was after Labor Day, my mom would always take us to the last store in the mall – past TG&Y and Stone’s and physically detached from the rest -- the furthest from our house: Sears. After shopping for colorful school clothes, we would look forward to taking the escalator down to the basement, where the farm equipment was on display, and we would take turns sitting on the tractor and pretending to steer it. And to top it all off, we would sometimes get to go to the candy and nut counter in the middle of all the merchandise – and share a paper bag of deliciously roasted cashews—well salted and naturally sweet.
A decade later, I remember as a young adult, coming home for the holidays during my second year of college. (Because we were on the trimester system, my school vacation actually spanned a full six weeks from Thanksgiving through New Year’s.) I was sitting at the breakfast room table where I had luxuriously spread out The Daily Oklahoman that my parents have delivered every morning up to this day. I distinctly remember reading that Shepherd Mall’s Sears Roebuck, the oldest Sears in the city, would close its doors after Christmas -- unable to compete with the nearby and newly revamped former outdoor Penn Square Shopping Center that had now transformed a few miles to the northeast into an indoor mall with recent additions of a second story and food court. I continued to read the article as the journalist waxed nostalgic -- about the heyday of the Sears catalogue and how, during the Great Depression, Sears had offered items on credit to those who couldn’t afford to pay. Researching for this piece, I realize that could not have been the Oklahoma City Sears, as it didn’t open until 1954, but I vividly remember this reported tidbit of humanity regarding a corporate giant and how it moved me near tears, somehow.
Today, when we think of credit, we picture Equifax reports and stolen identities, Discover cards and interest rates. But in reflecting on what credit can really mean and what evoked such emotion in me as a nineteen-year-old, I think of a fruit vendor at the El Cerrito Farmers’ Market whose farm stand I frequent weekly to buy whatever delicious pesticide-free fruit is in season – be it peaches and pluots or persimmons and pomegranates. On rare occasions when I have come up a couple dollars short in this cash-only transaction, she has kindly offered in fluent Spanish-accented English, “Pay me next week!” She is the farmer's daughter and a shrewd businesswoman, and she knows I will.
How can we cultivate that vision of community, that kind of trust at a time when we, as a country, so badly need our faith in humanity and trust in one another rejuvenated?
Of course, now I’ve read more about Sears--that for decades they discriminated against women and African-Americans in promotions and prevented their employees from unionizing at a time when other department store labor forces succeeded in doing so. And who knows who they did and didn't extend credit to -- during the Great Depression?! Truth be told, I had never idealized Sears, anyway, and as a tween had quickly grown weary – and wary -- of their basic styleless clothing lines that provided no opportunities for sporting the latest trends! Any family photo from the era can testify to this...
How can we cultivate that vision of community, that kind of trust at a time when we, as a country, so badly need our faith in humanity and trust in one another rejuvenated?
Of course, now I’ve read more about Sears--that for decades they discriminated against women and African-Americans in promotions and prevented their employees from unionizing at a time when other department store labor forces succeeded in doing so. And who knows who they did and didn't extend credit to -- during the Great Depression?! Truth be told, I had never idealized Sears, anyway, and as a tween had quickly grown weary – and wary -- of their basic styleless clothing lines that provided no opportunities for sporting the latest trends! Any family photo from the era can testify to this...
Nonetheless, I still remember fondly gripping the tractor steering wheel and tasting the salty-sweetness of those cashews on my tongue and reading about that extending of credit -- the mere possibility of corporate compassion had somehow struck a chord in me.
In the face of corporate and political leaders who mock the concept of truth and shared humanity, how can we revive a sense of ethical responsibility and human generosity -- imperfect as all our efforts may be?
Hanging in my closet by a couple pieces of Scotch tape is my oldest daughter’s handmade accordion-style Mother’s Day card from two years back--crafted with sturdy though faded gray-blue construction paper, a rainbow of colorful markers, and detailed self-designed stickers. Recently, I dwelled on one of the descriptors: my daughter had listed the “h” in “Michelle” as standing for "honest." I was deeply honored -- not to mention impressed she had thought of that in fifth grade – what with the silent “h” and all! Phonics aside, this acrostic -- bursting with love and idealism -- reminds me of who -- and what -- I aspire to be:
Marvelous
Inspiring
Caring
Honest
Excellent
Loving
Laughs
Extraordinary
"Laughs" -- in the faded neon green -- is secretly my favorite, though. Sometimes I'm too serious about being honest and do need to relax and laugh a little more --laugh in exasperation, laugh at myself, laugh at the daunting task ahead!
May we all seek to be truthful to ourselves and others -- mixing humor with honesty, for our survival depends on this: reaching across to the other side, giving one another a hand up--laughing together and extending compassion and care whenever we can.
In the face of corporate and political leaders who mock the concept of truth and shared humanity, how can we revive a sense of ethical responsibility and human generosity -- imperfect as all our efforts may be?
Hanging in my closet by a couple pieces of Scotch tape is my oldest daughter’s handmade accordion-style Mother’s Day card from two years back--crafted with sturdy though faded gray-blue construction paper, a rainbow of colorful markers, and detailed self-designed stickers. Recently, I dwelled on one of the descriptors: my daughter had listed the “h” in “Michelle” as standing for "honest." I was deeply honored -- not to mention impressed she had thought of that in fifth grade – what with the silent “h” and all! Phonics aside, this acrostic -- bursting with love and idealism -- reminds me of who -- and what -- I aspire to be:
Marvelous
Inspiring
Caring
Honest
Excellent
Loving
Laughs
Extraordinary
"Laughs" -- in the faded neon green -- is secretly my favorite, though. Sometimes I'm too serious about being honest and do need to relax and laugh a little more --laugh in exasperation, laugh at myself, laugh at the daunting task ahead!
May we all seek to be truthful to ourselves and others -- mixing humor with honesty, for our survival depends on this: reaching across to the other side, giving one another a hand up--laughing together and extending compassion and care whenever we can.
Online Sources Perused
https://www.franciscanmedia.org/the-rift-between-jews-and-samaritans/
http://www.deadmalls.com/malls/shepherd_mall.html
https://oklahoman.com/article/1917537/last-original-shepherd-mall-store-is-closed
https://oklahoman.com/article/2370828/sears-to-close-its-oldest-city-store
https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/rise-and-fall-sears-180964181/
https://www.405magazine.com/May-2018/Sears-A-Bygone-Icon/
https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/ct-sears-company-history-timeline-htmlstory.html
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Penn_Square_Mall