You could hear the pews creak in that vast crowded church.
I shared how growing up, I often heard Yahood, the Arabic name for Jew in harsh tones which burrowed deep in my soul forever creating a ridged separateness, a kind of not-so-subtle anti-Semitism.
We walk away to a standing ovation at all five Masses. We take it in, the hand clapping, the warm smiles. Obviously, in hearing our story, some deep seated hunger for peacemaking had been fed. And Father W gave a forceful “thumbs up.”
Perhaps Hedy’s openness to the “other” is the kind of fearless peacemaking the present world cries for, one-on-one, I-to-you, difference-to-difference embraced. Imagine something like this practiced on a global scale.
