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!