Memorial of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Virgin and Doctor of the Church
I will never forget the first evening I spent with my first husband’s parents. I knew very well going into that evening that I was not even close to the sort of woman they hoped their son would marry.
My first husband was raised among some of the most conservative Mennonites in Ohio. To be more clear, these Mennonites were among those who worked hard to hold onto tradition rather than readily adopt more worldly ways. When other Mennonites built church infrastructures like conferences with paid conference ministers, these folks said no. They weren’t going to have conferences. They weren’t going to have conference ministers. They were going to stay focused on the local congregation. I am pretty sure that, like the Amish, they didn’t pay their local pastors. They dressed very plainly. For those unschooled in the intricacies of plain dress, it would be easy to confuse them with the Amish. Their children attended a two-room school house. None of my first husband’s cousins went to school beyond the eighth grade. My first husband did go to high school. But it was a high school held in the basement of a Holiness church. He graduated with 10 other students, if memory serves.
I grew up in the exurbs of the Greater Chicagoland Area. I moved through the public schools of Palatine, Illinois and graduated from William Fremd High School along with about 650 to 700 other students. I played clarinet in the competitive marching band and wind ensemble. I shopped at what was then the largest mall in America—the Woodfield Mall in Schaumburg, Illinois. I attended a mega church—Willowcreek Church—soon to become famous and a model for mega churches worldwide. After high school, my parents moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin and, as a result, I was fortunate to attend the University of Wisconsin-Madison with in-state tuition along with some 40,000 other students. In my freshman year, I participated in rush and joined the Delta Delta Delta sorority with a secret hand shake, secret password, and all the rest. I knew from sixth grade that I was going to graduate school, owing in large measure to my older siblings who both have advanced degrees and are, among other things, very well published. So, after UW I headed off to Colorado State University and then the University of Pittsburgh for graduate degrees. It was at Pitt that I met my first husband in a graduate seminar.
Okay—back to that dinner. To put it simply, I was my first husband’s parents’ worst nightmare. I was super worldly. I knew zip about their religious ethnicity or tradition. I said words like “gosh”—which I thought was really respectful. Little did I know “gosh” is a “byword.” I might as well have dropped the F bomb!
My first husband’s parents took us to an Amish-style restaurant in Sugarcreek, Ohio that first evening. We sat beneath beautiful quilts that were hung above tables in a dining room with cathedral ceilings. Going into that dinner, I knew that I was a threat. I knew that I was not the woman they wanted their son to be dating, never mind marry. But the peace of Christ was at the table. We had an absolutely lovely dinner. And I have loved them ever since. Even through a divorce that was amicable but surely a source of shame for them in their circles, they loved (and love) me and I loved (and love) them.
In the Gospel passage before us today, Jesus sends 72 apostles out to encounter people they don’t know. He tells them to share His peace with all whom they meet. When they encounter people who are able to receive that peace, then they are to embrace the hospitality of their hosts. Whatever form that takes.
I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I headed off to Holmes County to meet my first husband’s parents. I knew that I was a threat. But nothing more. It turns out that they became my parents.
Jesus calls us to put ourselves out there. We are called to make ourselves vulnerable to the other who we do not know or understand. Of course, as Jesus must have thought now and again—who are these people? What are their ways? They make no sense! And he loved us anyway.
Jake and Joan loved the woman who was a great threat and who shamed them by divorce. I pray to God that I love as well as they.
- Susan Trollinger