About a hundred years ago, an Italian tinsmith encountered a problem at the dinner table: The gravy bowl and its accompanying spoon were entirely ill-equipped to dish out an appropriate amount of its contents. So, he crafted a smaller version of the industrious soup ladle – one that not only could properly apportion tomato sauce but could reach into a taller, deeper gravy bowl (or pitcher) more suitable for a table full of people.
The ladle, which has served thousands of grateful guests, passed to his son, and upon that son’s passing at 99, was given to his granddaughter, my wife.
There is only one rule in the care of this ladle: Never put it in the dishwasher.
As with all commandments, its purpose, which is empirical in nature (the heat tarnishes and weakens the metal) is irrelevant to one’s faithfulness in following it. In short, you must be worthy to possess it and care for it.
Which is why, on the morning of Dec. 26, 2017, when the ladle was discovered in a recently run dishwasher in my home, a feeling of visceral betrayal fell upon my mother-in-law, the tinsmith’s granddaughter.
And she accused me of violating the ladle’s one rule.
It takes a provident heart to respond to accusations calmly, one, at least at the time, I did not possess. I’ll spare you the blow by blow, which added a whole new dimension to Boxing Day, but it all boiled down to this exchange:
“Well, if you didn’t do it, who did?”
“I don’t know, there are 14 other people under this roof. Pick one.”
She picked me.
In the absence of facts, when we select one narrative at the expense of all others, we have strayed from a sincere inquiry into the truth into the realm of belief. Belief is a compelling force and considered a measure of character when associated with values such as love, friendship, family or religion. As with all motivational vectors, however, it can be misdirected to things like hate, fear or suspicion, and prompt the most faithful people to commit the most ignoble acts. Some may comfort themselves that despite whatever was done for whatever reason, they are still faithful to their beliefs. Nevertheless, we are still judged by our actions. And, I believe accusing your son-in-law, your host, of mishandling a family heirloom without a shred of proof is an enormous breach of etiquette.
Fortunately, the resulting din and clamor could be heard down Hill Street as my wife was returning from a walk. She ran in, and without missing a beat, admonished her mother. Already wound up, her mother doubled down on her suspicions and threatened to appropriate the ladle. My wife shot back “take it!”
But she didn’t. The ladle is still here, and I just hand washed it last weekend.
I’d like to believe my mother-in-law had a change of heart in her estimation of my worthiness to possess something precious, but I think she relented because she had faith in her daughter’s faith in me.
Sometimes, all you need is a little bit of faith, even if it’s by association, to keep the peace.