I was walking through the Target parking lot Tuesday after work for a quick pre-holiday run to the store. I had a project I wanted to get done-hanging a new shower curtain- and I most needed hangers. So I probably had a determined look on my face as I was fighting against the incredible heat of the day to get back to my car. I never park close because I want the steps for my daily total, but sometimes I regret the optimism of arrival.
So I am pushing the cart to the back of the lot when I pass a young black man. Like I said, maybe I looked mean in the heat of the moment, literally. But he was looking at me with a resigned, cautious look. I smiled, he smiled, and it was all OK. But I am haunted by that look.
I realize I have been distracted from racism in our community by the racism happening on our southern border. I am so heartbroken by children being taken from their parents that my energy for compassion overall is wounded.
But as I thought about it later, that young man was anxious about me. And he had every right to be. Not that I am bad or dangerous in any way. But the news reports almost daily white women calling the police about black men for ridiculous and arbitrary reasons. I would be wary about me too. It is so irrational that anything can seemingly set off alarms.
In the Gospel this week, we hear Jesus sending his disciples out to heal. And, by the way, it worked. Healing happened through them because of their belief in Jesus. They called upon God and God answered them. They healed people.
One of the YSU signs flashes something about peace beginning with a smile. Every time I have seen that I have thought, what a low bar. But it is true. Peace was given to that young man and I in that moment because of a smile. Maybe that can be the heart of our healing mission, that we treat all people with the smile of kindness and assurance and solidarity. We are sent out to heal. And that can happen even in the Target parking lot.