In the Pastor’s Book Group we began in November, we just finished reading Father Gregory Boyle’s book about gang life in Los Angeles called “Tattoos on the Heart.” One of Father Boyle’s stories was about his visitation to the prison island of Islas Marias, basically Mexico’s Alcatraz. To get to the island, one would have to take a twelve-hour barge ride from Mazatlan. Father Boyle was called to be the chaplain there for three months on a remote part of the prison island called Camp Bugambilias. In this part of the camp resided eight-hundred inmates who made bricks, tended livestock, and did a variety of other tasks of manual labor. Boyle joined with the residents by making bricks with them all morning long, leading Mass in the afternoon, and playing dominoes at night.
Father Boyle would also eat with the inmates and recollects that the food was unspeakably bad. He said that “gruel” did not do justice to what was slopped on their plates. Father Boyle ended up losing forty pounds during his stay.
During one of the morning brickmaking sessions, Beto, an inmate and daily brickmaker with Father Boyle, told him to meet him at noon at the lieutenant’s garden. Father Boyle was told to bring his backpack and be ready for a “special assignment.” So, he met Beto at the garden with his backpack draped on his shoulder and saw that outside the lieutenant’s house was a flourishing garden filled with all of the fresh vegetables that Beto, he, and the other inmates hadn’t eaten in a very long time. Beto then arrived and jumped over the garden’s fence. He started gathering up carrots, tomatoes, peppers, and lettuce. “He’s holding his T-shirt stretched in front of him, hopping down the aisles of the garden, tossing in zucchini, eggplant, and a couple of lemons for good measure.” Father Boyle was in a panic not only for his own reputation, but for Beto who was sure to be punished severely.
Beto jumped back over the fence, shirt filled with vegetables, and took Father Boyle’s backpack, filling it with the produce. They left the garden and found a secluded spot just outside of the sleeping quarters among the trees and overgrown brush. Beto took out a pot and started a fire. Then Beto opened a cloth sack that he had with him, that seemed to be moving on its own. And out of the bag he pulled a very large, live iguana. He prepared the iguana and put it to simmer in the pot. Beto then began to peel and cut the vegetables, adding them to the iguana stew. Father Boyle recalled that he hadn’t smelled anything in his life so savory and delicious.
As the stew began to boil and the steam rose over the trees, visitors began to show up. Another inmate appeared and asked what they were doing. Beto told the old man, “We’re making caldo de iguana (iguana stew). Join us.” And so, Beto added water to the stew for the extra person. The old man, eyes popping with joy, said he had something back at the dorm and went to go fetch it. The man came back with a crumpled ball of newspaper filled with a clump of salt. He added the salt to the pot. Shortly after, another inmate showed up and added a shriveled jalapeño pepper. Then another man added a small, rusted can of tomato paste. Eventually eight men huddled around the pot, eating the delectable meal. And there was plenty to go around. Father Boyle said, “Everyone brought his flavor to this forbidden pot of iguana stew, and keeping anyone away and excluded was unthinkable to this band of prisoners. Alone, they didn’t have much, but together, they had a potful of plenty.”
And that is the work of Christmas. The work of Christmas is when we begin to inch closer to each other, not being afraid to be hungry with those who hunger and be captive like those in prison. It’s when we share what we have and we find out that we have a potful of plenty. All places and all people fall within the circle of compassion, fall within the work of Christmas. And in this circle of compassion, no one stands outside. In fact, the more we inch to the margins to find those who need Christmas, we might realize that there are no margins. God is in all people, those of us who walk with a limp, others of us who can’t make ends meet, those of us who are imprisoned and hungry. All margins must be erased.
Our work this Christmas is to stand with those whose dignity has been denied. We need to locate ourselves with the poor and powerless and voiceless. At the edges we join with all of the others who also don’t have their stuff together. “We stand with the demonized so the demonizing will stop.” When we realize there are no margins, we come to see that there isn’t a circle keeping some people out and some people in. What we find is that in place of a fence, there’s a path, a road forward.
What is your road ahead? Is it intersecting with local leaders to make change in our city? Is it learning about and getting involved with those in this city and nation who have their backs against the wall? Is it writing letters to those in prison? I have three letters sitting in my office from incarcerated persons, if that is something you feel called to do. Is it making a point to go to North Dallas Shared Ministries every second Friday to provide resources for the hungry? Is it working at the farm at Paul Quinn college? Is it organizing supplies for Healing Hands Ministries? Is it feeding the hungry and releasing the prisoner? What is the road ahead for you? What work, what path, is waiting for you, and only you, to do?
As we continue to do the work of Christmas in the coming weeks, let us remember that whether we are poor, rich, prisoner, free, hungry, or full, there is enough to go around if we would but share our stories, share our lives, and share our love with one another. The feast of Christ is bountiful and all people are invited… invited to the work of Christmas. Join us, there is a potful of plenty.
Amen.