The park as a melting pot.

At night, the park is the kind of place they drop off dead bodies. But during a sunny holiday afternoon, it is the epitome of innocent fun, and healthy diversity. So I’m sorry if what I write sounds like stereotypes – it is merely observation.

For some reason that I haven’t figured out, there is a significant Russian presence most weekend afternoons. Actually, I’m not positive it is Russian, but it sounds similar to me. From end to end of the park I pass cluster after cluster of fair-skinned families speaking some sort of Eastern European language. They don’t seem to interact with anyone else, but will exchange a pleasant nod when you pass, except for the adolescents, who have clearly learned the art of snobby condescension from their American peers. The Russians walk on the paths and sit on the benches, and sometimes play soccer. Cars with diplomatic license plates are sprinkled through the parking lot.

The African Americans generally gravitate to the picnic tables, sharing a barbeque with family and friends. The teens play basketball rather than soccer. The picnic area is often decorated with party streamers, or with a church banner. Huge aluminum trays of food are transferred from the SUVs, (which have music pounding with a deafening bass).

The Asians are a smaller presence. The children are tiny and polite, and obey their parents when they are told to not wander too far.

Most of the Caucasian Americans are usually there only to walk their dogs – the joggers and serious walkers visit earlier in the day. An occasional father tries to teach his son to ride a two-wheeler. The eternal tension between safety and letting go is played out time and time again.

But on a holiday weekend there are different populations. On Memorial Day, there was a huge crowd ready to watch a Chinese puppet show between the tennis courts and the softball field.

As I continued my walk, I passed the pavilion I saw big banners announcing that it was reserved by the Church of Christ of Israel. I was curious since I wasn’t familiar with that church, so I paused to observe, only to be glared at by a man who was clearly guarding the reserved area. As I walked away I was puzzled to hear what sounded like Salsa music blaring out over the apparently African American crowd. I couldn’t quite figure out what the group was.

Continuing around the parking lot, I encountered an ancient Chinese man, who gave me a smile and a small bow, and courteously greeted me with ‘Ni Hao’. I was pleased to realize that my two words of Chinese were enough to recognize what he was saying, so I paused to return his bow (a little deeper, in honor of his age), and say ‘Ni Hao’ back to him.

Passing the playground I noticed that the little children were the most integrated. They weren’t seated in the isolated clusters of the grownups, but happily played together, without regard for whether they spoke the same language or had the same color of skin or the same shaped face.

On the way back past the picnic area, I heard beautiful singing. It was familiar, yet I couldn’t quite place it at first. Finally I realized that I was hearing “How Great Thou Art”, sung in Korean. They definitely got my award for the best music of the day!

I hardly heard a word of English on my whole walk, yet the overall effect was very American to me.

Don't look now, but someone's watching you.

Our lives are a witness in more ways than we expect. That can be both good and bad, depending on how seamlessly our Christianity is reflected in daily life. I remember that a former pastor of mine used to say that you shouldn’t put Christian bumper stickers on your car unless you could drive without exhibiting impatience, road rage, or rude gestures.
Even while we disparage other people for just being ‘Sunday’ Christians, the temptation is nearly irresistible. We may be subtler than those whose behavior on Monday through Saturday could get them arrested, but to some degree most of us slip to some degree, whether it is gossip or garden-variety unkindness. And people are watching us. Ironically, I think that non-believers often have higher expectations for us than other believers do. They are truly offended when we act like the rest of society.
I was reminded recently of the fact that people notice how we act. The context was in the workplace, and didn’t have anything to do with belief, but it was still a reminder that people observe us, and make inferences.
I had a bad week at work, and ended up arguing with someone. I didn’t say anything I regret, but I spoke with more heat than the situation really called for. I felt a little ridiculous afterwards, and confessed to my boss, whose reaction was reassuring. “Maybe he’ll actually pay attention to what you said because you don’t usually act like that.” So that one sort of ended up as a left-handed compliment.
There was a former boss who called me in one day and complained: “I notice that when you work late, such as 2 or 3 in the morning, that you are irritable the next day.” Let’s see, after working from 9am until 3am the next day, going home and sleeping for 2 hours and then taking the train back in to work at 9am again, he thought I was crabby? Well, he was correct, but I thought it was a stupid thing to say.
Last week a co-worker left to take a different position. When she announced her move to me, she said “you’re one of the people who made it hard”. I was really taken aback – I didn’t have all that much to do with her, but never thought we had a problem. But while I was trying to process this, she clarified – she meant that it was hard to make the decision to leave. She is a brilliant, poised, young woman, who was seeing me as a mentor and role model. I had no idea.
But that’s basically the point. We can be good role models, or we can be bad role models, but we’re role models whether we want to be or not.
Sometimes it’s funny. A friend of mine who is a teacher in Tennessee brought a number of her students on a field trip to NYC. And she informed them that they had to wear sneakers rather than high heels, and quoted as her authority her friend (me!) who works in NYC and knows what to do! I didn’t have a chance to tell her that 20 years ago when she knew me, there were a lot more women wearing sneakers than there are now. Somewhere in Tennessee 20 high school girls are probably still complaining about me. This is the first and last time anyone will make the mistake of thinking I’m a fashion maven.
Sometimes it’s frustrating. I’m peculiarly bad at recognizing people, so I always let the other person say ‘Hi’ first, so I can try to figure out if I know them. Even someone I work with, or whom I’ve known for years, might not register on my brain as someone I recognize. So people often assume that I’m unfriendly or intentionally avoiding them.
I remember a song that was popular some years ago that said: “You’re the only Jesus some will ever see”. It wasn’t meant to be heretical, it was simply pointing out the fact that most non-believers interact with and observe believers before they ever bother setting foot in a church.

Don’t look now, but someone’s watching you. What are they seeing?