Love Thy Neighbor

By A.G. Miller

*Based on a true, barely-concealed conversation.

Judy Placer grumbled as she stuffed leaves into a trash bag. Sundays had once been for the warmth of the church, certainly not raking leaves. What were they doing here? They weren’t feeding the poor or clothing the homeless, or overseeing some other noble cause. No, they were here wasting time. It was all a waste of time.

“Hey, you…”

“Oh, Susan. Thank God you’re here.”

“I know. I’m just dying.”

“Look at Johnny! My baby! He’s absolutely shivering; he’s so cold.”

“They do say a mother feels her child’s pain the most.”

“It’s not right.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Working on a Sunday. Why, it's the Sabbath! Our day of rest!”

“Brian tried to tell the new pastor that we model our Sundays after the Lord, but he wouldn’t budge.”

“Well, I certainly don’t know how they do it in Mexico, or wherever he’s from, but it sure isn’t how we do it here.”

“Beautifying our community? With a storm on the way?”

“It must be Catholic, that’s it. Some weird La-ti-no Catholic tradition. Making us suffer like this”

“You’re right. Raking leaves,” she spat. “What’s next? Will our Bible study be replaced with… with… nacho parties? Keep your day job and your priest duties separate, am I right?”

“I’m going to say something.”

“You must, you must.”

“For the future of our church.”

“When you open the borders the way they’ve done, this is what happens. A destruction of our community.”

“That’s right, that’s right. These foreigners have no place disrupting our way of life.”

“Go, say something.”

“Mr. Go-mez! Can I have a word?”