Prejudice and the Foolishness of Peace

Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless.  Not to speak is to speak.  Not to act is to act. ~ Dietrich Bonhoeffer

It seemed like the perfect day to clear my head and get some exercise, but as I biked down a narrow country road one sunshiny day, I came face to face with an episode of road rage that quickly escalated into a political incident. And I was more than a mere, innocent bystander.  Here's the story.

As I biked down that narrow country road, a young kid in a souped up Subaru WRX roared by, so close that a deck of cards would have barely fit between his car and my bike.

I responded with a hand gesture that expressed my outrage at his recklessness.  It was not the one-finger salute that has become a universal symbol of disapproval, but an old-school full-handed salute like an Italian nonna (grandmother) might use to correct her grandchildren, "Hey! What-sa-matta-you!"

The wheels of the Subaru skidded to a halt and the young man jumped out of the car and "got into my grill" if you catch my meaning.  He poked his finger into my chest, and I countered with a flurry of words that questioned his competence and judgement.

Fortunately, he eventually saw my point and began the retreat to his Subaru.  At least that's what I thought until I heard footsteps, cursing and the sound of heavy breathing hastily approaching from the rear.  A couple of "full-figured" men who had been watching the incident from some distance away decided to join the fracas.

At first I thought they had come to lend a hand, but it quickly became clear that they were not on a humanitarian mission.  Their mission had more to do with inforcing the ethnic purity of the community.

Even from a considerable distance away, they could tell the young driver was not from the neighborhood.  They were pretty sure his poker straight black hair and cinnamon colored skin revealed that he came from somewhere south of Texas.  They said something like, "You F...'n Mexicans need to go back home and leave America to us Americans."  That was pretty much the moral high ground of their assault. Things went downhill from there.

I knew I needed to say something to de-escalate the conflict before someone got hurt, but the only thing I could think to say was, "He's not Mexican.  He's Cambodian!"

Miraculously, the explosion of words came to a full stop and the men became unexpectedly silent. They turned to me with one of those, "What planet are you from?" kind of looks and said "F... you!" Then they quietly walked away.

When Bonhoeffer said, "Not to speak is to speak," he probably had something a little more erudite in mind. My words were not even clever.  I've replayed them many times in my head since that incident and each time I push replay the words seem more foolish. I have finally come to this conclusion: in the eyes of the world, the words of peace often reflect the foolishness of peace.  Our words may not need to be profound, but they do need to be spoken.