Sandwiches on Sunday

Rebecca says
the blessing

We arrived at the community center at noon, where 40 people were waiting. A woman approached eagerly, “Are you serving the fifth-Sunday hot meal?” I apologized for being a few minutes late but was pleased by the question. Larger churches in the area alternate serving on most weekends, and our small parish steps up to fifth Sundays of the month (four times a year). We try to produce quality dishes in quantity, and it appeared that our humble infrequent efforts were being remembered.

Diners and servers alike carried the food from the cars to the picnic tables. Through practice we can set up within ten minutes---first the table cloths, then the plates and forks at the start of the line, the lasagna, salad, and rolls in the middle, and the lemonade at the end. The crowd grew to 60 people by the time our seminarian was ready to bless the proceedings.

Teens helping

The eighteen volunteers, nine of them children and teens, scurried about serving the food, refilling cups, collecting utensils, and distributing the brown-bag meals for the diners to take home. Everyone was friendly and appreciative; there would be no repetition of last year’s incident.

I chatted amicably with a gentleman who had fallen on hard times. He was younger than I, but alcohol, injury, and years of exposure to the elements made him look much older. He was already a grandfather, yet he didn’t have a relation who would take him in. I had no words of wisdom that could fix his life and could only give him a sympathetic ear.

We cleaned the tables and trundled the dirty dishes back to the church. The satisfaction of a job well done was dampened by the difficult circumstances of the people we met. A world of unlimited needs---the core of both economic theory and Christian guilt.

Whenever I grow smug about my good works (and conveniently forget the other stuff), I think about much farther I have to go:

if any one would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as well; and if any one forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. [Matt 5:40-41]

An impossible standard? Julio Diaz is an example of someone who can walk the talk.

He was walking toward the stairs when a teenage boy approached and pulled out a knife.

"He wants my money, so I just gave him my wallet and told him, 'Here you go,'" Diaz says.

As the teen began to walk away, Diaz told him, "Hey, wait a minute. You forgot something. If you're going to be robbing people for the rest of the night, you might as well take my coat to keep you warm."

Read the whole thing. © 2008 Stephen Yuen