I was going to title this blog entry "Christmas Leftovers" but thought it wouldn't be as catchy as "Would I Kiss A Stranger?"
Let me begin by saying, some days stand out from all the rest. Today is one of them.
Coming back from an hour-long morning jog, I was getting my mail and notices from my pigeon hole in the lobby! Just as I was doing so, a twenty-ish girl who was obviously dressed to go to work decided to get her own mail.
An Australian man who lives on the same floor as I do walked by strangely noticing one thing. He looked up and loudly, he said, "Hey you guys (calling everyone's attention)! I assume neither of these two noticed that they're standing beneath a mistletoe." I looked up and there it was, a nice bunch of artificial mistletoe hanging from the chandelier! "Whoa! The holidays are way over!" I reasoned looking at the Aussie, then turning to the girl. Then the Aussie said, "Well, technically, a kiss under a mistletoe isn't a Christmas only thing...You see, in ancient Scandinavia, when enemies found themselves under mistletoes while walking in the woods, they would kiss and have a truce!" He continued, "Go ahead ma' boy...I'm sure she won't mind...would you, Miss?" While he said those words, there'd already been a build up of curious on-the-way-to-work-and-school people in the lobby. An old mestiza-looking lady with a rosary around her right hand and a fan on her left said, "Go on, beso...it's tradition."
Beso (or beso-beso) is a Filipino term of Spanish roots for cheek kissing, in a cheek kiss both persons lean forward and either lightly touch cheek to cheek or lip with cheek. As in any part of the world where such is practicedm it is a ritual of greeting or social gesture like handshaking.1
"Would I kiss a stranger?" I thought to myself. But even before that sentence was completed in my head, I saw the girl poised with her left cheek ready! What was I to do? I didn't want to kiss a stranger, nor did I want to embarass her in front of a dozen folks? I leaned over and did so on her cheek, and the people like "YAY!!!" followed by a big burst of laughter.
I looked at her and said, "Thanks for being a good sport!" "You too," she answered.
The people dispersed. She walked towards the exit, I walked towards the elevator. I don't know her name, neither does she knows mine. We are still strangers to each other. But that sheer little physical contact was a gift-- no matter how lightly my cheek touched hers, it was still life-altering somehow. It kind of gives people (me, in particular) that they are (I am) at peace with her, and she with me.
Each one of us is capable of giving life-altering gifts to others. We have these moments, these precious moments. These days and hours in which we can offer the very best gift – the gift of our openness to see God in new and unexpected ways.
Surely, among the things we bring with us include our own personal walls of hostility. It won’t do any good to say we don’t have any. Every one of us can name the walls that separate us from each other and from a closer relationship with one another. In some ways I cannot divorce that thought from the deeper spiritual sense fo God relating with us. The Gospel proclaims that through the cross, God kissed humanity, Christ brings the power to break down those walls. What do you make of that?
Quite apart from our puny powers, Christ shatters these walls of hostility between Him and us, and ourselves and others. Christ has already done the heavy lifting and breaking of the walls. All we must do is accept the obvious condition of our lives and receive the gift of his hammer blows, which bring down our walls of hostility. 2
In the Gospel of John, where, near the end of his time, Jesus addresses his disciples saying, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”
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