Let Love Be Overheard

I went to breakfast yesterday at a usual neighborhood place.

There was a Muslim family there too– an older woman and a two young women in full hijabs; plus a younger couple with two small boys, all of whom were dressed in a completely suburban way. They were talking and laughing and bustling around to get situated. As you do when you are a fairly large dining party and there are small children involved. They were seated at a big table right next to our booth.

Enter, white lady who is seated, by herself, at the facing booth. She sat down, and immediately did a double take as she noticed family next to us. Then she proceeded to glare at them. Overtly.

I told myself I was making too much of it–that because of what I do, and the current social climate, I am always poised to observe the very worst in people when it comes to encountering the other.  I tried to convince myself that maybe she just suffered from Resting Bitch Face–which, hey, can happen to the best of us. But no. The longer I watched, the more I became convinced that this was a hostile stare.

Under my breath, I said to my seat mate, “why doesn’t she just move to the other side of the booth so that her back is to them, if it’s bothering her so much?”

Like I said, this was a muttered comment. I cannot imagine that the woman could possibly hear me–but that’s exactly what she did. Moved to the other side of her booth and turned her back to them. This move put her back to us as well. But it also put her right up against our booth. 

And I thought–well if she can hear us that well, then perhaps we should spend a few moments talking loudly about some things that are important to us. (My dining companion was not a member of my church, but is of the same denomination.) So for the next ten minutes or so, we discussed the work our church is doing to help resettle Turkish and Syrian refugees in the community; our shared commitment to interfaith dialogue; a growing mission partnership with the local Islamic community; and the ways we work to address systemic racism.

My hope is that our neighbor lady enjoyed her very uncomfortable pancakes very much. Excuse me, ma’am, but would you care for some syrup with your xenophobia?? 

You know my spiritual discipline of talking to strangers. This episode was a great reminder that direct engagement is not the only way to do that. I suppose I could have gotten up in this woman’s grill and accused her of making a mean face. But that seemed neither appropriate nor productive. It would have been different had she in some way confronted the family. Demanded that they leave, or unleashed a tirade of bigotry in front of those children. I was poised to intercede if it came to that.

But it didn’t. All this woman did was make a rude face. It’s a free country, so she’s allowed to do that. What she is NOT allowed to do–at least, on my watch–is to sit there in all her judgey discomfort and assume that all the other white people in the room are feeling her pain and sharing her disgust. No, ma’am. I am not ok with letting you project that onto me.

You can hardly accost a stranger and preach them a sermon just because you don’t like their face. So. This seemed like one of those moments when we are called to employ the Third Way of Jesus; to creatively bring the gospel into a given moment without matching the hostility of another person’s behavior.

Sometimes, all we can do is let ourselves be overheard.

Let compassion be overheard. Let wisdom be overheard. Let a broader view of the world be overheard. Say what is true, and let a bigger, more gracious image of God be overheard.

The next time you find yourself sitting next to hate, let love be overheard. Let this be your ministry, every day, and who knows what might change?