In a day when the president of the United States cancels the commemoration of Dec. 1 as World AIDS Day — while his DOGE canceling of USAID has led to many more AIDS deaths in Africa — and we see daily the dehumanization of transfolk for political gain, here’s a story that never fails to move me.
It comes from the 1980s in a New York magazine article by Gloria Gonzales in a series called “True Tales from New York.” Gloria Gonzales grew up in Spanish Harlem. She tells of the day when the family threw a party for Jose, a Marine coming home after three years in the Marine Corps, a story like one Jesus would have told.
Every family member had contributed a home-cooked dish and a dollar for beer and soda.
Stephen Shoemaker
Now let her tell the story:
Neighbors began decorating the apartment with crepe paper and balloons the night before, and someone had been dispatched to the local funeral home to borrow folding chairs.
The day of the party, relatives arrived from the Bronx and from as far away as San Juan. Papo, Juan’s cousin, and I were posted on the stoop as lookouts.
A taxi arrived and deposited its passenger. Papo and I paid scant attention to the tall brunette in the off-the-shoulder blouse and billowing skirt.
It wasn’t until she screamed our names and swept us up off the ground in a bone-crushing hug that we realized that the perfumed woman was Jose!
In a daze we lugged her suitcases up two flights of stairs, our eyes fixed on Jose’s ankles, strapped in stiletto heels, as he took the stairs two at a time while urging us to hurry.
With the music of Tito Puente in the background, Jose threw the doors open and announced, “I am home!”
The needle was pulled on Tito Puente.
“I was 11. It was the best party I ever went to.”
“Me, Jose, the person has not changed. Only the outside. You are my family and I love everyone of you. If you tell me to go, I will. But if you find it in your heart to love Josefina, I would love to stay.”
No one spoke. Everyone stared. … I stood in the doorway still holding the suitcase, not daring to enter.
After what seemed an hour — but could only have been moments — his mother stumbled forward and said, “Are you hungry?”
Gloria ends the story: “I was 11. It was the best party I ever went to.”
It strikes me that the only question God ever asks at the Table is, “Are you hungry?” The Communion table, the Thanksgiving table, our Christmas tables, our nation’s tables.
Our world is consumed with who deserves to be asked to the table and who deserves to be fed. The only question God and God’s people ask is, “Are you hungry?”
In a world screaming its exclusions, the kingdom Jesus taught and brought was the glad welcome of all. New Testament scholar Obery M. Hendricks, in his book The Politics of Jesus, writes: “Throughout his ministry, Jesus treated the people and their needs as holy by healing their bodies, their souls, their psyche.”
What if we saw people’s needs as holy, not shameful?”
What if we saw people’s needs as holy, not shameful? What if our most powerful and wealthy abandoned their “reverse benevolence” which ignores the needs of people to magnify their wealth and let our politics be generous again, compassionate again to those most in need?
When the rich tax collector Zaccheus, transformed by the divine friendship of Jesus, stood at the dinner table and announced that half his riches he was giving to the poor and would restore fourfold those he had defrauded, Jesus said, “Today, salvation has come to this house!”
That’s what salvation can look like. Social Gospel theologian Walter Rauschenbusch paraphrased the moment: “Here a camel passed through the needle’s eye, and Jesus stood and cheered.”
When Jose’s mother embraced her new daughter Josefina with her words, “Are you hungry?” I am sure Jesus stood and cheered.
Stephen Shoemaker most recently served as pastor of Grace Baptist Church in Statesville, N.C. He previously served as pastor of Myers Park Baptist in Charlotte, N.C.; Broadway Baptist in Fort Worth, Texas; and Crescent Hill Baptist in Louisville, Ky.