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Minister's Message
by Rev. Paige Getty I had decided to treat myself to a nice dinner after a long day of leadership training. I parked on the main drag in Morristown, NJ, across the street from a restaurant that looked lovely from a distance. From my car I could see candlelight and linen tablecloths and general tidiness (but no people, I reflected later). I paid the meter then walked down to the crosswalk, and as I was making my way back up the block, I noticed several folks entering Guerriero’s Ristorante, which had not been my intended destination. From the sidewalk, I could see Guerrioro’s kitchen, though not much detail of the dining room… except to see that it was nearly full, and it wasn’t yet even 6:00 p.m. on this Wednesday night! I stepped inside and a friendly gentleman smiled and greeted me immediately. “Will you feed me?” I asked. “I’d love to,” he said with a warm smile. He seated me and then asked my name. Then, with a handshake, “Nice to meet you, Paige. I’m Jack Guerrioro.” After giving me a few minutes to review the menu, I told Jack I’d like the polpette di nonna (homemade meatballs and pasta), or anything else that would go well with red wine. “Do you like ravioli?” he asked. “Very much,” I said. “Then I’ll bring you the ravioli—it’s the best in the entire world—with two meatballs on top.” “And whatever red wine you’d like me to drink,” I said. He frowned. “We’re B.Y.O.B.” (Bring your own bottle.) I felt foolish not to have noticed this distinction (although I had, thankfully, noticed the “no credit cards” signage). “Just the ravioli, then.” Jack returned moments later with a bottle of wine and an empty glass. “It’s a bottle someone brought me. I’ll share it with you.” "Oh, no", I protested! “Yes. I insist, although I don’t even know whether it’s any good.” But it was good. And the ravioli… well, I haven’t tasted all the ravioli in the world, but it’s the best so far. When he came back to check on me, Jack asked, “Where are you from, Paige?” I told him, and also said I was taking a class this week at Drew Theological School. “What class?” “It’s on community-based organizing.” Brief pause. Then, “Are you a rabble-rouser?” Hmmm… I responded, “Let’s say I strive to be a rabble-rouser.” He smiled. Later he returned to my table and picked up my glass of wine and sipped it. “Not bad,” he commented. “In fact, it’s pretty d--- good,” he said. I agreed, and finished the glass. And I didn’t freak out—not then, and not when he called me “Sweetheart.” At Guerriero’s Ristorante, I was awkward, uninformed, out of place. And yet, its patriarch—who knew half the people in there by name—made me feel right at home. He introduced me to the servers, and they were warm and friendly, too. And I got to thinking… would Signore Guerriero feel at home in my place of business? Yours in Faith, Rev.
Paige Getty |