On My Way Home From Work

October was election month in Japan, and you could really tell. Posters were up everywhere, the morning news was taken over by candidates' promotional videos, and in the train stations, politicians and their supporters greeted their citizens vivaciously. If you happened to be in Ikebukuro at the right time, you could have seen Koike-san (dressed in green, as per usual) or the young and handsome Koizumi making speeches. Here in Oizumigakuen, even during off season, we see campaign posters for Nerima's Representative Isshu Sugawara. His poster hangs here and there on the roadsides, and I've gotten used to seeing his face. He has an earnest and open smile, and like Koike-san, seems to have decided firmly on a signature color for his wardrobe: red. Often when we pass his poster, Karen and I talk about how there is some sort of honest goodness in his countenance.

One evening last month, during the last week being elections, I think, on my way home from work I and  the crowd of late-night commuters were trooping towards the escalators. I was immersed in a rather glum reflections about how recently I had been too wrapped up myself and my wants that I had pushed God and his wants off to the side. That's when I heard a pleasant voice repeating, "Good evening. Hello, good evening." It was, you guessed it, who but Representative Isshu Sugawara himself, in his signature red jacket and white sash. He had the same earnest and open smile as he did in his poster, and he was standing at the top of the escalators, alternately bowing low and calling out "Good evening" to the crowds of business men, high school students, ojiisan and obaasan who were ignoring him.  

  Not one person responded to his greeting. Not one person turned their head to acknowledge the sound of his voice.  

I felt so bad for him. It was late, surely he had a family waiting for him at home, and here he was, bowing and smiling and calling out greetings, and no one was paying any attention. So, as I approached, I looked at him and gave a small smile of acknowledgement. And somehow it surprised me that out of all those people, he saw me look at him, and he looked at me. The moment he made eye contact, I felt something like a wave, or like the clear tone of a tuning fork, or like a firm and friendly handshake. Sugawarasan knew I existed. The moment was over, I was going down the escalators. But suddenly, a phrase from one of the gospels popped into my brain. "Jesus looked at him and loved him." It's such a simple statement that I never really thought about it. But suddenly, I really wondered, what would it feel like to make eye contact with Jesus? To look in his eyes and see that he is looking in mine and to find love there. I thought about that verse all the way home, and as I thought and walked, my glum thoughts dissipated.     (By the by, Representative Sugawara's look was very amiable and warm, but I wouldn't go so far as to say it was loving, because that would be a little weird. He just made me realize suddenly just how meaningful eye-contact is, as meaningful as a hug or a handshake.)