Dismissals

  • In 1932, my mother and her sister drove a 1924 Dodge south through the New Mexico desert on their way to Mexico. Steam came from under the hood. A man at a gas station said, “Radiator’s busted. Six dollars.” They paid and pressed on. More steam. The man with the tow truck said, “Water pump’s shot. Four dollars.” In Mexico, again, the steam. A mechanic in overalls smoked and listened intently to their long, sad story of the water pump and the radiator. He said, “The trouble is the radiator cap. It is my gift to the senoritas. De nada!”

  • I have a photograph of my father and grandfather seated next to a ticker tape machine. They were stockbrokers. Someone has died and, as was the custom, both wore black armbands. My father smiles at the camera. He is young, not yet thirty, and he is confident. It will be alright. My grandfather, then 56, sits slumped. His eyes are watchful, as if to say, ‘the troubles are only beginning.’ The photograph, dated on the back, was taken eighty-eight years ago, months before the onset of the Great Depression. I have heard the stories and taken them to heart.

  • In a rented car on the German Autobahn, I admired the BMWs and Mercedes as they passed me going well over 100 mph. I stopped for gas, figured out the pump and went in to pay. Behind the counter, magazines, for all to see, showing men and women in various states of undress. I remarked to the cashier that in my country we would not see this at a gas station. The man shrugged. “It is true. I have been to your country. Here it is different. In Germany, we would not sell beer the same place we sell gas.” Go in peace to love and serve the Lord! Josh

  • It was a beat up box of electro-junk: A transistor radio, several remote controls, a cordless phone and a telephone answering machine. I opened the lid of the answering machine, blew out the dust and plugged it in. The red light blinked three times. I pushed “Play.” Beep … Oil change is done. Come get your car. Beep … Your video is in at the video store. Beep … “Hi! Josh! This is Mark …” A good message, a voice I knew well. Gone now. I do not recall if I called Mark back. Strange, that light still blinking after all these years. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord! Josh

  • A man I know fought alcoholism for years. One day, inexplicably, it was gone. He never drank again. People doubted, “Must not have been much of a problem!” The man read in a scholarly journal of another man’s remission: “After years of relentless drinking, he experienced a sudden liberation while simply walking down the sidewalk one day. He never drank again. When [the doctor] asked him to describe what happened, all he could say was, ‘On the way to the grocery store I discovered equanimity.’ It was a mysterious, unexpected gift. And after receiving it, one is never the same.” * Go in peace to love and serve the Lord! Josh * Gerald May, From Cruelty to Compassion Through Personal…

  • Yvette told about her twenty years cooking in the soup kitchen. Yvette peeled, prepped and washed the pots, ordered food and scrounged when there was a shortage, all for a bunch of folks who needed a good meal. What did she learn in twenty years? “I made it my business to bake a nice cake whenever anyone had a birthday. Now, there’s folks won’t say a word about their own birthday but some, let’s just say some folks have more birthdays than others. What I learned is not to worry whose birthday as long as there’s enough cake for everyone.” Go in peace to love and serve the Lord! Josh

  • Every morning I put my money on the counter at the big box drug store and Loretta hands me my own, personal copy of the New York Times. Last Monday Loretta told me, “My people’s house got blown down.” Tornados. Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Family home. “They been on that same land since the war.” I asked, “Which war?” Loretta said, “War of Emancipation. My great-great-grandfather built that house. It’s gone now.” I asked, “Will you go to Hattiesburg to see your folks?” Time off from work. Her old car. Hattiesburg so far away. “One day,” Loretta said, “I will.” Go in peace to love and serve the Lord! Josh

  • A food pantry, long line at the door, each patron will get one brown paper bag with vegetables, canned goods, maybe a quart of milk, and paper products that food stamps won’t buy (toilet paper!). Miriam, with a clipboard, checks everyone in. Some are fearful or just plain ashamed to say their name. For each who pauses to draw a breath before they can say their name, Miriam writes in her big scrawl “Chesed” and sends them on. There were many people named Chesed that day. It’s a good name, don’t you think? Hebrew, it means Grace and Loving Kindness. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord! Josh

  • In Dublin, with time to spare, a friend invited me to Castlebar in County Mayo. Early next morning I made my way to the station. I found the County Mayo train. On an empty car, I pulled my hat low and fell asleep. Then, as if in a dream, the car filled with nuns. Black and white habits and rosaries were everywhere. Nuns sat next to me and across from me. They said, “This is our pilgrimage to the Shrine of Our Lady of Knock in County Mayo!” They prayed the rosary, shared their food with me and showed me sights as the train moved west across Ireland. Many times they sang a lilting song telling the story of Our Lady…

  • My Dad was up at 5 a.m., sitting at the kitchen table, coffee percolating on the stove, writing letters and postcards to all manner and condition of people. When I left home, he wrote to me often, about the weather and this and that. I have those cards and letters somewhere in a box and I need to read them over. Truth is, I didn’t pay them much mind at the time, too busy was I with my own life. I expect it was good for my Dad to write to me about the hometown team and my mother’s condition and how my grandmother might like to get a ‘postal’ from me whenever I could find the time. Now I…

  • In my twenties, I took my first fearful step into an Episcopal Church. I liked the pew at the back. I liked the Book of Common Prayer and the music was OK. And nice windows. But what was this Communion business, anyway? When it was that time, I stayed in my seat. Once at a Wednesday potluck, seated around folding tables, all stood as Father Hutchins said the words of the Eucharistic Prayer. He started at my table with the bread and wine. This was it … no way out … the Bread of Heaven … the Cup of Salvation … my first communion. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord! Josh

  • It was cold out and I had the heater turned way up on that old Plymouth Fury police cruiser. Round and round the village I went, a quiet night until I chanced to stop by the laundromat. A man sat on a milk crate, his bare legs sticking out from a poncho he had pulled tight around him. I asked him, “Watcha doin’?” He tilted his head. “Only clothes I got is in there.” A few threadbare bits of cloth spun around in the dryer. I dropped a dime in the payphone and asked the chief what I ought to do with this desperado. Chief told me to hold the fort, he’d be over directly. The chief came with an…