Following worship recently, I grabbed a bite of lunch and watched some of the India Day Parade.  Crossing Madison at 34th Street, I was on my way to the subway when I made eye contact with a man immediately in front of me. He was disheveled, with a long unkempt beard and dirty clothes, and the look in his eye was both angry and frightened. For no reason, he began to yell at me. When I simply smiled in return, he was apparently angered all the more and began walking down 34th beside me, hurling insults step by step. Finally they became obscene, so I just turned and walked away, crossing amid traffic to the opposite sidewalk. As I walked, I heard his angry voice, shouting behind me. Poor man.

Who did I remind him of? What event or individual did I call to mind? Who had hurt him in some irrevocable way, and why did my presence resurrect that memory? When I looked into his eyes, was a boundary crossed? Did he feel vulnerable again, as if someone accidentally stepped onto his turf and he was no longer safe? Has he no family to provide shelter? Are there no institutions where he could be treated? I have no idea, but I know I saw a man whose life is defined by pain. And his pain took the form of irrationally lashing out at a total stranger who must have reminded him of something or someone.

Once, years ago, I was driving at night in North Carolina. As I rounded a corner onto a ramp to the interstate, standing on its haunches in the road was an opossum. It had evidently been hit by a previous car, injured but not killed. Blood had dripped from its mouth which was open menacingly. It stood, teeth bared, claws extended, challenging any car that drove its way. One car had hurt it, and now it was prepared to answer in kind to any auto within its reach. Sometimes we replicate that, expressing hostility to others because of a previous injury.

Though I cannot fix all the persons whose scars are deep and whose actions are unreasonable, I can endeavor not to inflict fresh scars on anyone else. Jesus talked about that in regard to adults who influence children. "Better to have a millstone tied round your neck and to be cast into the ocean," He said, "than to cause one of these little ones to stumble." He was talking about how our lives affect the lives of others, especially those who are vulnerable, impressionable, or defenseless. Those persons may be young or not so young, but we have the capacity to injure or nurture all who are within our circles of influence.

Through word or deed, we can help or hurt, bless or burden, affirm or abuse people whose lives connect with our own. Part of Christian discipleship is to treat others as we would want to be treated, wrapping them in Grace rather than covering them with wounds and scars. I hope my influence will be most of all loving. I want to equip others to trust and believe in people and to greet the world intelligently but without fear. For those whose lives I influence, I hope that when a stranger looks into their eyes on a street corner, they will respond with warmth and kindness rather than fear. I hope I will have impacted them to the point that they can intelligently trust themselves, their neighbors, the world, and God. We tend to pass along to others that which we ourselves received. So, I want to share love. As clichéd as it sounds, I simply want to share love -- so that someone else will pass it along to another -- and they to another -- and on and on until maybe my little corner of the world is nothing to be afraid of.