Know and Be Known

She had that look. I’d seen it enough to recognize it, but it was unsettling still. Led by hand into the coffee shop, placed in her seat, and chaperoned while another went to get coffee, her vacant look and inability to sit by herself made the tragedy that is Alzheimer’s visible.

Her son tried to connect with her, but there was no recognition. She did not know who he was, and, for all intents and purposes, he didn’t know the woman across the table either.

In seminary, I was taught the concept called “via negativa,” which is seeing or learning something through its opposite. Like a vase given shape and definition by the darkness and shadow surrounding it, the son and mother across from me revealed one of the most important things about being human: knowing, and being known.

It’s been said, God created us not because he needed us, but because God longed to be in relationship. In other words, God sought to know and be known. We, too, have a similar hunger, both spiritually and personally. It’s what makes us human, but it’s as difficult as it is essential. To know is to open one’s heart. To be known is to open one’s arms. Neither is easy, yet they represent the key to a full and meaningful life.

Across from me is an example of life without knowing and being known. That it’s a mother and son makes the vacancy all the more painful, and yet it can serve as a stark reminder of the opportunity we’ve been given.

Today.

This minute.

Whether with God, or another, time is of the essence. We can take the risk and open our hearts and our arms, know and be known, or we can live detached lives. The choice is ours. Unfortunately, the mother and son across from me no longer have that choice.

Our Full Story

When asked to participate in the art show, she arrived with half the canvas painted. When asked to recite, the actor delivered a portion of the monologue. And when the band performed their recent hit, they sang only two verses.

Absurd scenarios, I know, and yet they describe what so many of us do when offering our stories to the world around us. Perhaps we do so for self-protection, perhaps we do so because others wish to remain comfortable, but, whatever the reason, when we hold back parts of our story an incredible opportunity is missed. When we cling to our greatest asset, and our lives, and the lives of others, are diminished.

Recently, a friend told of when she sat beside another who was wrestling with a personal tragedy. Instead of sharing her experience with much the same tragedy in her own life, she remained quietly sympathetic. Too embarrassed to admit she’d been there too, the other was left feeling alone in her embarrassment, guilt, and grief.

At a church out west, members of the congregational leadership were encouraged to write “faith statements,” and take turns sharing them with the others throughout the year. Much to his dismay, one man was not asked to share his. With a dramatic downfall in his past, there was little room between the dots about why his invitation was withheld.

Instead of partially painted canvases, portions of a monologues or songs, we owe the world around us all of who we are, the good and bad, the ups and downs. To edit, is to squander the very experiences that make us who we are. To offer them fully is "to see how our experience can benefit others," as they say in 12-step recovery circles. It's a moment when life becomes abundant, and the ground between us sacred.

The season of Lent is a reflective one, a time to examine our lives fully. We all have things of which we are proud and ashamed, and many others that fall somewhere in between. To not regret our past, nor wish to shut the door on it, is to offer the world the sacred gift it needs most, our selves.

Lent II: Problems = Solutions

In math class long ago, I looked up at an equation, with the problem on one side of the equals sign and the answer on the other. It was neat and tidy, and the teacher spoke of the problem and the solution as two separate things, but, looking back, I can see the two were not as divided as they were made to seem.

Reaching the solution, one needs to begin with the problem, begin within the problem. Those fractions and square roots that bewilder, are also the very things that lead to the solution. They stand not as an obstacle, but a gateway.

Most mornings, as I begin my day in a twelve-step recovery meeting, I see many  join us thinking all they need do is quit drinking, but they don't stay around long. They want to jump across the equals sign to the neat and tidy solution, when the key to long-term sobriety lies on the other side, within the messy problems and issues feeding the addiction.

Examples of jumping over the equals sign are not limited to addicts. A company with a morale or culture problem throws a fancy Christmas party in hopes it will make everyone happy again. A couple decides to have a baby in hopes of restoring their crumbling marriage. An overeater has liposuction without changing his or her eating habits. An employee is fired for complaining about irregular accounting practices. A family moves to a new town in hope of being happy again.

Like my friend in math class who pleaded, “Can’t you just tell us the answer?!” doing the work on the other side of the equals sign is hard and frustrating, but I now see the problem is not to be avoided, but explored and embraced.  It not only leads to a solution, it is the solution.