Peculiar Peoples

Why We Need Each Other

It occurred to me recently that I’ve been reading the story of the Good Samaritan all wrong.

It started in Sunday school. I’ll admit it: my mind was wandering. Thinking about the prescription I’d forgotten to pick up and wondering if we had enough milk in the fridge to last us until grocery day. Though the teacher was fantastic, it was just one of those Sundays where the week feels like it’s already clinging to your leg. I had just made a mental note to buy more toilet paper when my ears perked up. “…we were in Los Angeles…” someone was saying.

I don’t recall the whole comment or even what prompted the ward member to speak up. But I do remember their next words. “…you know,” they said, “the literal Sodom and Gomorrah.”

I think I actually heard a record scratch in my head. I’d heard people refer to other cities before as “Babylon,” or “the great and spacious building”—those hotbeds of moral turpitude, like Las Vegas or New Orleans during Mardi Gras. But Los Angeles? I love Los Angeles.

I grew up in a suburb just thirty minutes outside the city. I have so many memories of trips to museums and theaters. Buying street food on Olvera Street. Twice a year, my mom checked me out of school early to attend the Los Angeles Temple with our youth group. We got burgers and shakes at the In-N-Out in Westwood afterwards.