I continue to find it remarkable how much care, compassion, empathy, consolation, light amidst the darkness, hope and beauty I receive from authors who do not offer answers to life’s questions as they demonstrate the courage to articulate their lives with clarity and integrity. Kierkegaard, Camus, Hammarskjold, Merton, Nouwen, and Rupp: none of these folks are rooted in solutions; they continue to offer me their stories, their questions, and little pieces of light that breaks through the veil of darkness that often covers my soul. They share their search and so I feel as if they are walking with me as I search and seek. I do not believe I am the only person who has been or who is today blessed by their presence/presents.
They struggle as I do. They model the courage (think ‘heart’) to immerse themselves (at times by choice) into human suffering. They become present to the pain of the other and they become present to their own pain. From the pain they find the courage (again, think ‘heart’) to speak words of insight and words of healing. Because they are fully human they provide me the courage (‘heart’ again) to embrace my humanity – to embrace my imperfect, fully human, ‘self.’
‘To Care,’ means to be present to the other. I know, from experience, that those who care for me are present to me. I know, from experience, that when I care for another that I am also present to the other. ‘To Care’ means to listen intently and receptively. This type of listening is a gift to both. ‘To Care’ means that when one chooses to speak then one improves on the silence (anyone who has attempted to live into this knows how challenging this is to do).
Because the one caring accepts me on my terms, because they ‘take my life seriously,’ because they ‘trust’ that in the end all will be as it needs to be, and because the one caring is committed to being present to me I experience their very presence as a healing presence.
Because I am an imperfect human being I do have a tendency to run away from the painful realities of the other or I strive to make ‘it’ or ‘the other’ better. I fall into the trap of substituting ‘cure’ for ‘care.’ After many failed attempts I do realize that ‘cure’ rather than ‘care’ moves me to seek quick changes and moves me to becoming impatient, or worse moves me to refuse to embrace the other’s pain. How often do we as individuals or as a collective (think ‘Nation’) seek to ‘cure’ without first seeking to ‘care’? Another way of framing this question: ‘When is caring potentially immoral?’
Another question has emerged into my consciousness: ‘How can a collective become a Caring Community?’