as God intended

I sit with my back towards the front of the train as we cross over the Manhattan bridge. It’s a gloomy morning, with the clouds threatening to give way to mixed precip later in the day (or come to find out, in less than an hour). Construction at a few of the stations has forced a few of the trains to share tracks, accounting for our stand-still on the bridge this morning. As the train comes to a hesitant stop, time too begins to stand still. The black woman next to me speaks softly into her cell phone, in French. “J’arrive. Bu-bye.” She gently closes her flip-phone. The petit, Asian woman right in front of us reads her energy bill, in Korean characters. A well-groomed, heavy-set young professional shows her gummy grin as she gushes on the phone (to, perhaps a boyfriend) that she has decided to come into Manhattan on a whim. As she hangs up, her cheeky smile all but alludes to the sheer excitement she has from her spontaneity. The Hasidic Jew, donning traditional hat and curls, got up when Aidan chose a seat near him, and relocated between two men to diligently read his Holy texts in Hebrew. A Hispanic man sleeps, and a few Chinese men and women get ready to get off at the famed Canal Street station, should the train ever get to moving on schedule.

To each of these, this is home. I am simply an outsider to their melting pot of a world, ever fortunate to experience an unspoken equilibrium as it is played out in front of me in this stand-still moment. I think this is the way God intended us to live. Unique in our differences, united in them as well. Sharing a train as individuals, sharing a city as neighbors. In this car, there is no uneasiness between race or religion; no threat of jihad or anti-Semitic preconceptions. No expectations as to what language one should speak, or who should be allowed to gain citizenship and how long they must wait. There is more than just a tolerance here; it is a life lived as God created: quirks, flaws, and stereotypes all living side-by-side, calling the same place home. I think our forefathers would be proud.