With Bread

 Love. With Bread.

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I live in a very progressive city.

But, not everyone is of one mind.

In fact, three houses to the north live Merrilee and Sardar, who, prior to the 2020 election, posted a “Trump—MAGA 2020” sign in their yard.

The day Biden was elected, I texted them that a number of my friends and I were going to gather outside—it was peak Covid times—to celebrate the win.

(I just wanted them to be forewarned.)

Merrilee responded, “I do believe your intentions are far from honorable by trying to rub this news perpetuated by the mainstream media in my face.”

Oops.

Soon thereafter, they started flying an American flag upside down outside their house.

I wrote about it at the time.

We went seven months without talking, until I offered her a fresh-baked challah in May, 2021.

 

She said yes—confirming my woo-woo, optimistic outlook: give people the chance, and most will choose to follow their natural inclination to love and be loved.

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Here is a story I remember learning in Hebrew school in the 1980s.

(Because we have the internet now, I can tell you that it’s not a Jewish story, but one based on 13th Century Persian morality tales of the king’s court.)

A king had a wise vizier, his most trusted advisor.
One day, a man publicly insulted the vizier in a humiliating way. Word reached the palace, and the king was furious. He summoned the vizier and said, “This man has dishonored you. Name his punishment—he will be executed.”
But the vizier bowed and said, “My king, I ask for no punishment. Let him live.”
The king was surprised, but agreed to her terms.
Time passed.
Later, the king walked through the palace garden and stopped in disbelief. There, the vizier was sitting at a table playing chess with the very man who had insulted her. They were calm and friendly, deeply focused on the game.
The king called out, “What is this? I offered you justice, and you refused it. Now you sit with him as if nothing happened?”
The vizier replied:
“My king, more than nothing happened. I chose to trade an enemy for a friend.”

 

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I challenged myself to love/befriend Merrilee and Sardar.

Well, I can’t quite go around saying, “Love your adversaries” unless I do so, too.

And I did what I could to love them.

Made a vow to myself that I would try 1,000 times before I stopped.

(If you want to commit to doing a thing, let me suggest setting your “at-bats” to 1,000.)

So, when the sidewalk in front of their house was graffited “RACISTS,” I assembled a chain of borrowed garden hoses and extension cords, brought my powerwasher down, and removed it.

When Sardar was unexpectedly hospitalized, I organized neighbors who were amenable to drop food off for Merrilee.

About six months ago, when their grandson suddenly died, I put Merrilee on my “Friday Night Challah List”—a group text message I send out Friday mornings to see how many neighbors would like a home-baked egg bread.

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You don’t have to love your (apparent) enemies.

You don’t.

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A story:

Two people walk in a desert when one of them stops, draws a line in the sand, and says, “This is my side. That is your side. Stay on your side of this line.”

The other looks at the line, steps across it,
“Why did you do that?” the first asks angrily.
The second replies, “Now we are both on the same side.”

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This past Friday, in response to my “Anyone want a challah?” text, Merrilee told me she and Sardar were moving out of their house.

 

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Here’s a picture of us when I dropped off her last bread before she moved.

 

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The roots of the word companion are “with” (com) and “bread” (pan)—a companion is someone you share bread with.
With love,
Rb