3 Clothe the Naked

Welcome back! I am praying you and your loved ones avoid the corona virus. If you are self-quarantining, let me distract you…

From the Old Testament:

Is not this the fast that I choose: [   ]to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicatorshall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.

Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

Isaiah 58:6-9 (NRSVCE)

And the New Testament:

“He who has two coats, let him share with him who has none and he who has food must do likewise. [Lk 3:11]

How might we Clothe the Naked?

• Clean out our closets and donate used clothing to Goodwill or another charity.
• Contribute diapers to shelters or safe houses.
• Buy new coats for foster children during their annual drive.
• Sew, knit, or crochet hats, gloves, or scarves for those in need.
• Keep socks in your glovebox to give to homeless who are asking for money.
• Or, in an emergency, give what you are wearing…

Night Shift

A young, frightened teen couldn’t believe it. Until tonight, she had hidden her pregnancy for almost nine months. Luckily, she wasn’t like those slim, blonde cheerleaders who would have shown within the first weeks. She had donned baggy sweats once she realized what was happening, and no one had guessed. Not many really looked at her, anyway. But then, tonight, her mother must have noticed, or maybe she finally saw how her “stepdad” ogled her. Before she knew quite what was happening, her mom had thrown her out of the house. Well good. She’d never have to avoid her mother’s boyfriend and his roving… everything… again. But where would she go right now? She had no close friends to ask for help, no teachers who made her feel seen, let alone special.

She had walked about a mile in the dark—the Portland’s spring rain feeling colder than usual—simply wandering, trying to figure out where to go. Suddenly she felt her first, but terrifyingly strong contraction, and with that, her water broke. “Oh God! Oh God! Jesus, Mary, Joseph! Help me!”

It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast. She’d read about deliveries in the school library. She figured it would take hours, but instinct told her she would give birth in a matter of minutes. Her back had been aching all day; could that have been the beginning? She scanned her surroundings, realizing that she couldn’t make it far in this condition. She wasn’t in the best part of town, the rows of apartments around her were in the same disrepair as the one her mother rented, but then she spotted shelter beneath some stairs that led up from the sidewalk to a building’s front door. It gave her enough seclusion and cover that she might remain hidden, if only she could stay quiet. If this baby came without anyone else knowing, maybe she could take it somewhere safe, leave it, and go back to her normal life. She slipped into the dark, bumping into a bicycle locked and stored there.

Another contraction nearly laid her flat. She squatted and panted like in the movies she’d seen. She gritted her teeth and allowed only a whispered, “God, help me!” to escape.

Who was she kidding? Her life would never be normal again, and she could never go back to her mother and the creep she let live with them. She felt hopeless.

Suddenly she realized she wasn’t alone under the stairs. Of course not, she thought. Houseless people know all these makeshift shelters. However, another contraction kept her from being able to move.

“Shh, don’t be afraid. You’re going to be all right,” a woman’s voice whispered. “I’ll help you.”

Who was she to argue? She’d asked God for help. Maybe this was His doing.

The woman took off her coat and motioned for the girl to remove her pants. She covered the girls’ naked legs with the coat, tenting it over her raised knees, and slid newspapers under her. From the little light that made its way to them, the woman seemed surprisingly clean, considering she probably lived under these stairs.

“Thank you, ma’am,” the teen offered between pains.

“I’m Miriam. And you?” She stroked the girl’s forehead, calming her.

“Shasta.” Dang, she shouldn’t have used her real name. This had to be done without anyone knowing who she was. But the lady radiated calm and smiled so nicely. Maybe she could be trusted. Another rising pain cut off any other thought.

“You’re doing fine, Shasta. Your little one is in quite a hurry. I see the head already. You can push with the next pain.”

As if she had any choice! Though her body was young, it knew exactly what to do, and push she did! She thought her teeth might break with the effort of clenching back the screams that seemed to rise from her deepest insides and demand release.

Another push and she felt the child slide out between her legs. Such relief she’d never known!

“A little girl, Shasta, and she’s beautiful! Just like you!”

No one had ever called her beautiful before, but she set that thought aside and reached for the now crying child. Her child. Her own.

Miriam cut the cord, then swaddled the baby in her headscarf, and handed her to Shasta. Her little daughter quieted immediately, as if she knew her mother. After she managed one more contraction and push, Miriam wrapped the placenta in something Shasta couldn’t see. Miriam cleaned her gently and lovingly, which brought tears to Shasta’s eyes. She felt completely loved by this stranger.

Giving the baby to Miriam, who wrapped her in her coat to keep her warm, Shasta pulled her pants back on. Taking her little one back, she stroked the child’s cheek and gazed into her dark eyes. The baby seemed to look back at her with complete trust. How could she leave this little one anywhere? She couldn’t even bear to have her out of her sight.

“What am I going to do?” Shasta asked.

“Your grandma has been praying for you. We could go to her.”

Shasta didn’t think to ask how Miriam would know this. Such things seemed minor on a night of miracles like tonight. She wondered aloud about it later, though, once safely welcomed into her grandmother’s home.

Her grandma simply smiled, as if she knew a secret.

(Excerpted from my Miriam’s Joy!)

2 Give Drink to the Thirsty

Where do we get the corporal works of Mercy? Here’s one of the sources from the New Testament:

Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Matthew 25:34-36 (NRSVCE)

How can we give drink to the thirsty?

• Donate water to a shelter or during an emergency.
• Contribute to a charity that provides clean water (wells, filters) to those in need.
• Invite new neighbors for tea.
• Offer cold water on a hot day to the solicitor at your door.
• Pay for the coffee of the person behind you at coffee shops.
• Or, bring a beverage to share while you visit with someone who is lonely…

Night Shift

The spring evening felt unusually warm. Miriam walked down the sidewalk carrying a bag with two bottles of lemonade from the convenience store, remembering how much she had enjoyed the lemonade Yosef had shared with her. It was dusk, but she passed several couples who were out for a walk, hand in hand. She stopped in front of a house with a particularly attractive garden.

“Your daffodils are lovely,” she called to a middle-aged woman who rocked on the porch. “And I bet your roses will be breathtaking in June.”

“Thank you. They really are at their best then,” she answered. “Are you a gardener?”

“I love flowers. Do I see hyacinths and tulips in bud, too?”

“Come into the yard. I’ll show you more.” The woman walked with Miriam around the side of the house, pointing to hydrangeas still leafing out, and rhododendrons with their shiny ever-green leaves. In the backyard she listed what her raised vegetable beds would hold this year, once the ground was warm enough to plant, and what the fruit trees would bear.

On the far side of the house, the woman gestured to what she called her Marian Garden, complete with a statue of Jesus’ mother with down-stretched arms. “All the flowers in this area are mentioned in the Bible, or named for Mary, or symbolic of Mary’s life, or figure in stories that have something to do with Mary’s life. You can’t see them all yet, but I grow Rose of Sharon, marigolds, lilies, of course, reminiscent of her purity, and iris whose long blades remind us of the sorrows that pierced Mary’s heart. Some people say the lavender bush first grew fragrant flowers when Mary spread Jesus’ clothes on them to dry.”

“This is truly touching,” Miriam said. She ran her fingers over last year’s rosemary and awakened its aroma. “It’s a beautiful tribute.”

As they circled back to the porch, she invited Miriam to sit with her a while.

“I happen to have bought two bottles of lavender lemonade,” said Miriam. “I’m new to lemonade, and I’ve never tasted it flavored with lavender before. Will you try some with me?”

Before long, the women were rocking together on the porch in the dark, while deepening their conversation.

“You seem a bit sad,” observed Miriam.

“Ah, does it still show?” She took another sip from the bottle. “This is delicious, by the way. Thank you.”

Miriam simply nodded and waited.

“I have twin girls who are busy with school functions tonight. They’ll both be leaving for college in the fall. Then my nest will be empty.” She paused as if deciding before she continued. “You see, I was widowed a few months ago.”

She met Miriam’s eyes but continued before Miriam could offer her condolences. “My husband had a heart attack, totally unexpected. I worked in his dentist office as his bookkeeper and receptionist. I received a call at the office from a woman who obviously didn’t know I was his wife, telling me ‘Dr. Spencer’ had collapsed at her house and was on his way in an ambulance to the hospital.” She paused. “I don’t know why I’m telling a stranger this. I guess I’ve kept it to myself too long. You have an openness about you that makes me feel safe.”

Miriam encouraged her with another nod.

“He was supposed to be at the gym. He scheduled his workout for every Tuesday and Thursday after lunch. I had no idea that was a lie. So, on one very normal day, I lost my husband, my job, our income, and my self-respect.”

“You weren’t the one who did anything wrong. You have no reason to be ashamed,” Miriam said with both reassurance and understanding in her tone. “Do your daughters know?”

The woman sighed. “They loved their daddy so much. I wouldn’t take away their admiration for him. No one else knows but the woman on the other end of the phone. Most of the time I’m doing okay. The first shock is over. Now I’m simply dreading September when it feels like my purpose in life will be over, with the girls gone and my marriage and job gone, too. To top it off, today’s my birthday. I hit 50.”

“A Jubilee Woman!” Miriam said, raising her bottle of lemonade to the woman, as if to toast the happy occasion. “Congratulations. Our Father proclaimed in Leviticus that each 50th year should be one of liberation, forgiveness, rest, and mercy. I hope it is a jubilant year for you. A new start.” She grew more serious. “What would your ideal day look like, if you could spend it any way you wanted?”

“That’s easy. I’d spend it in a garden. Every day at the dentist office I wished I were outside planting.”

“So why don’t you? You certainly have the green thumb. You could look for a gardening job, or if you don’t need the money, you could volunteer at one of Portland’s beautiful gardens.” She ticked off on her fingers: “The Rose Garden, the Rhododendron Garden, the Japanese Garden, or the Chinese Garden.”

“We do have some beautiful places to choose from, don’t we? Do you think they’d hire an amateur like me? I suppose I could take some courses to learn more.”

“You could be a Master Gardener before long!”

“You know, I could be, couldn’t I?”

A quiet enthusiasm in the woman’s voice made Miriam smile. She stood then to go, and the woman rose and gave her a warm embrace.

“Thank you! I’m so glad you stopped by and brightened my birthday! Maybe my girls won’t be the only ones returning to school this fall!”

(Excerpt from Miriam’s Joy!)

Corporal Works of Mercy 1- Feed the Hungry

Welcome to (or back to) our 4 Minutes 4 Growth Lenten posts. This season we will explore the Corporal Works of Mercy and focus on one per week through an excerpt from my novel, Miriam’s Joy!, where the Virgin Mary visits Portland incognito as Miriam.Only after I had published it did a friend surprise me with the observation that the “Night Shift” portions of the story illustrate corporal and spiritual works of mercy.

Ideas to consider for our first Corporal Work of Mercy, Feed the Hungry:

• Donate to or volunteer at the Food Bank.
• Help with meals for the homeless.
• Carry a dinner across the street to a neighbor recently home from the hospital.
• Rethink the “chore” of cooking for your family as a work of mercy
• Or, provide a feast for the lonely…

Night Shift

A woman named Esther sat alone in her room, her first evening in the new “senior living home” her children had chosen for her. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted her own house, her own bed, and her own walls that contained 50 years of memories. Realizing she was courting resentment and determined to stay positive, she decided to explore some of the building’s common areas in order to distract herself.

A Catholic organization ran the home. She and all her family were Jewish. She knew they’d chosen this arrangement because it was equidistant from her children’s homes, but Catholic? How would she ever fit in?

She noticed quite a few residents were entering a little in-house theater. “What’s playing?” she asked.

“The Cardinal,” answered one lady who wore a large crucifix around her neck. “It’s old but a classic.”

And Catholic, Esther thought. Like everything else here but me.

She walked toward the sound of a lilting hum and found a woman alone, rocking in a small parlor with two or three tables and several easy chairs. She seemed young for the home, but one never knew what type of illness might require assisted living. She wore a long skirt and a modest veil around her head. It reminded Esther of the hair coverings that some of her more conservative friends wore. The woman saw her and smiled, while motioning Esther into the room.

She liked something about her smile and joined her. “I heard you humming. It sounded like a song from…” She was going to say synagogue but didn’t know if she wanted to identify herself as an outsider just yet.

The woman grinned. “Sing with me! If there are any like us, they’ll come. And if they don’t know the songs, they’ll come for the food!” She gestured toward one of the tables, and Esther couldn’t believe her eyes. Four different desserts filled the table, and not just any desserts, but pastries identical to what her mother used to make for Passover or Hanukah years ago. There were crescent-shaped rugelach, cinnamon braided babka breads, triangular hamantaschen cookies, and Esther’s favorite, sufganiyot, little strawberry-filled donuts.

“I’m Miriam,” the younger woman said. “I’m a visitor, but I think we will find there are residents who will enjoy our treats.” She began to sing then, and Esther was amazed to hear the same accent her mother never had lost, even though she had emigrated as a teenager and spent almost 70 years in America.

Esther sang along, quietly first but then, encouraged by the joy and strength of Miriam’s voice, she sang Hava Nagila with gusto. Next Miriam began Dayeinu, one of Esther’s favorite songs from Seder celebrations.

Two women peeked into the room and, after their eyes widened at the sight of the treat table, entered and joined in the song. They were quite a choir now, and someone in the theater across the hall closed the door to keep out their noise. Laughing, they kept singing as first one, then two more men shyly entered and joined their voices to the group. They sang songs of faith and family and difficult times. They connected through their sung history, their eyes saying, “You, too? I didn’t know.”

Miriam changed to a soft, reverent Shema Yisrael and her little choir responded with tears in their eyes and emotion in their voices. When the song ended, the group began to introduce themselves or tell their tales. They were still visiting when the movie across the hall finished, and they invited other friends to come enjoy some delicious treats with them.

What had been quiet, unshared backgrounds now emerged as points of pride and opened the way for telling treasured stories. The Jewish elderly became a small community, welcomed within a larger community. The residents raved about the evening so much that the chef promised to try the recipes found under each serving tray. Soon cultural singalongs and desserts became a regular event.

Esther made many new friends that night, but somehow Miriam had slipped away before she was able to thank her. No one else seemed to have noticed her or knew which resident she might have been visiting.

(Excerpt from my Miriam’s Joy!)

May God bless your week and keep you healthy!