Yeah, I know Jesus said a bunch of stuff about whitewashed tombs, and dishes that were only clean on the outside. But in spite of that wisdom, I decided to do a little window dressing on my face:
That’s right, it’s my very own Amish beard. If I can’t become a peaceable person, then I can at least look like one. Granted, I don’t have the haircut, or the sweet flat hat, but maybe I’ll be a better person, just by proximity. Or at least stop muttering to people in traffic.
Day one was interesting. People at the store seemed to smile a little more than usual, but that just begs the question, “Are they looking at me, or am I looking at them (looking at me)?” Of course, the obviously Jewish man– wearing a long beard, black and white clothes, and a yalmulke– speaking right out to me while we waited for a crosswalk this morning gave me pause. But again, was that because of my beard, or simply because he has that very familiar manner of a person from the midwest? Still, it’s got me thinking about the uniforms we all wear, and what they communicate about us.