I took the 6 train today from Union Square to church. In that short time, the guy sitting across from me decided to pull his used bandaid off of his skin and out from underneath his clothing and toss it on the floor. It came off in parts, and he tossed each part individually on the floor. I thought mean thoughts about him in my head b/c it was so gross, but then I realized he was wearing a jacket that was so old and tattered, ripped to shreds, and his shoes were really old and raggedy too. His pants were too short and her socks too short so that a good portion of his ankle and leg were exposed. I felt bad for judging him once I realized how shabbily he was dressed because maybe he's never really been in an environment where you'd know that tossing out your old bandaid is disgusting?. But then I watched as he purposely cleared his throat and hawked two gigantic wads of spit onto the floor in front of him. I was grossed out completely. He didn't exactly look homeless. His skin seemed really clean, but his clothes told a different story...and I don't even know WHAT story his behavior told. It was sad and disturbing. People around him gave him glares or snickered and exchanged disgusted looks with one another. I just kept to myself. The whole thing bothered me, but on a deep level. Something about the Gospel makes it hard for me (sometimes) to have the 'natural' reaction. He got off the stop before me, and I was glad because he somewhat frightened me, which I am ashamed of. His hand shook violently, like tremors that were bad. I wonder what all the things are that have gone into composing that man to be exactly who I saw on the 6 train today. How many hard things, I wonder, has he seen? Perhaps I could not even imagine. Life is more complex than the fancy men and women who work in nice office on the expensive avenues of New York City. People are more complex, and there are many more people in the state of this 6 train man than there are in the state of the rich executives...or even middle class suburbanites.
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