An Impersonal Majority

Today I walked the block and a half to our fruit and vegetable market. It is a trip so close and worth it (good, cheap fruits and veggies), but I always find myself hesitant to make it. I did today though, and when I got there, I breathed a sigh of relief because the only other one in the store was the cashier, who is, to put it simply, a lot more like me than many others in this neighborhood. I gathered my items and went to purchase them. The cashier and I engaged in a bit of small talk, and I left and walked the block and a half back to our apartment, veggies and fruit in hand.

I’ve been thinking about my relief I felt in the store today and why I felt it. And I realized that that my inhibition in being out in this neighborhood is that I almost always feel as if I am being judged and/or watched. John and I talked about this tonight, and the fact is, I am. Because I am not Jewish, I will be judged here, seen as one who does not belong. And because I am not black, I am seen as an outsider, one who is lost or out of place. I know that I can’t assume that everyone thinks this. But because there have been more than a few instances of this, I assume it is true at least to an extent.

Sometimes it is frustrating. Sometimes it is intimidating. Sometimes it is aggravating. Sometimes it is not a big deal, and goes unnoticed. Almost all of the time, it is unfamiliar. I have seldom known what it is to be viewed as an outsider, and especially because of the way that I dress, my unapparent religious beliefs, or the color of my skin.

I have said before that I thought in moving to NYC, moving to Brooklyn would be less of a culture shock than Manhattan. I continue to find my hypothesis to be incorrect; the opposite is true. Other than being in the minority of people who have a significant hearing loss, this is the only other time I’ve truly felt to be something I have seldom experienced before:

A minority.

Sometimes it is easy to feel the desire to shirk back, to just slip in and out of our apartment and the five blocks between here and the subway and try to go unnoticed, and sometimes I do that. But overall, I think that is silly. We are all people. The love of Christ that I have experienced and know compels me to give, to serve, to look for opportunities to meet people’s needs, and to take them. I have been able to do that here in different instances. There are people I have seen the needs of, but was shut down and rejected by them when I offered help. There have been other times where I saw a need but didn’t know how to meet it or simply didn’t do it. But the recurring theme in this is that

We are a people in need.

And as a follower of Christ, I am compelled to give and meet those needs.

It isn’t easy though. I’m learning how to recognize people who are open to a conversation or having a need met. There was an older woman artist who approached me yesterday and asked for help finding a certain subway line. We ended up taking the same one and so we walked together and engaged in conversation. It ended when we got to the station, but then I picked it back up again. I learned of who she is in simple laymans terms and was invited to her gallery show starting in September. I gave her my email so she could send me an invitation to it, and we boarded the subway. I was on for just one stop, and when I got off, we both said goodbye cheerfully to one another.

Isn’t this how it should be?

I believe so. I believe that though we are people who put on the front of wanting to be self-sufficient, we do crave community and welcome help, even from a complete stranger. It’s just that some people have more barriers in their lives, whether self-placed or not, that keep them from receiving it from people they do not know. Sometimes it is religion. Sometimes it is race. Sometimes it is another factor we don’t know of.

I started rereading a book last night that I started a few years ago. In the first chapter, it referenced a famous experiment by Dr. John Calhoun involving mice. Here is the summary from Wikipedia in simple layman’s terms:

In July 1968 four pairs of mice were introduced into the Utopian universe. The universe was a 9-foot (2.7 m) square metal pen with 54-inch-high (1.4 m) sides. Each side had four groups of four vertical, wire mesh “tunnels”. The “tunnels” gave access to nesting boxes, food hoppers, and water dispensers. There was no shortage of food or water or nesting material. There were no predators. The only adversity was the limit on space.

Initially the population grew rapidly, doubling every 55 days. The population reached 620 by day 315, after which the population growth dropped markedly. The last surviving birth was on day 600. This period between day 315 and day 600 saw a breakdown in social structure and in normal social behavior. Among the aberrations in behavior were the following: expulsion of young before weaning was complete, wounding of young, inability of dominant males to maintain the defense of their territory and females, aggressive behavior of females, passivity of non-dominant males with increased attacks on each other which were not defended against. After day 600 the social breakdown continued and the population declined toward extinction. During this period females ceased to reproduce. Their male counterparts withdrew completely, never engaging in courtship or fighting. They ate, drank, slept, and groomed themselves – all solitary pursuits. Sleek, healthy coats and an absence of scars characterized these males. They were dubbed “the beautiful ones”.

The conclusions drawn from this experiment were that when all available space is taken and all social roles filled, competition and the stresses experienced by the individuals will result in a total breakdown in complex social behaviors, ultimately resulting in the demise of the population. Calhoun saw the fate of the population of mice as a metaphor for the potential fate of man.”

I love what Charles Swindoll, the author, has to say about this, and I will leave the thought here:

“What was most interesting to the observers was the strong independence, the extreme isolation syndrome of the mice. This was greatly emphasized by the fact that courtship and mating—the most complex activities for mice—were the first activities to cease. What result would similar conditions have on humanity? What would be the results of overcrowded conditions on an inescapable planet with all the accompany stress factors? Dr. Calhoun suggested that we would fist of all cease to reproduce our ideas, and along with ideas, our goals, ideals, and values would be lost.

It’s happening.

Our world has become a large, impersonal, busy institution. We are alienated from each other. Although crowded, we are lonely. Distant. Pushed together but uninvolved. No longer do most neighbors visit across the backyard fence. The well-manicured front lawn is the modern moat that keeps barbarians away. Hoarding and flaunting have replaced sharing and caring. It’s like we are occupying common space but have no common interests, as if we’re on an elevator with rules like ‘No talking, smiling, or eye contact allowed without written consent of the management.’

Painful though it may be for us to admit it here in this great land of America, we’re losing touch with one another. The motivation to help, to encourage, yes, to serve our fellow man is waning. People have observed a crime in progress but refused to help so as to not be involved. Even our foundational values are getting lost in these confusing days. And yet, it is these things that form the essentials of a happy and fulfilled life."

Charles Swindoll, Improving Your Serve, page 3