As suggested by the "man of signs," which appeared in early American almanacs straight through to the end of the eighteenth century, people living before the triumph of modern science believed that everything was somehow, mysteriously, connected. Individual bodies, churches ("the body of Christ"), communities and nations ("bodies politic") and heavenly bodies - our ancestors saw these many bodies as nested one inside the other, like Russian dolls.
The man of signs came to my mind as I watched friends from across the United States react to the total eclipse of the sun this past Monday. People within the "band of totality" described the experience in visceral, bodily terms. Hearts beat faster, palms grew clammy. Inexplicably, and uncontrollably, people laughed and cried and shouted.
Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard's Almanac, 1733 |
Of course we understand a lot more than our ancestors did about how each of these different bodies actually function. But we are also prone to think of ourselves as isolated individuals, cut off from others, cut off from the cosmos, and in this I think we are the more ignorant.
Many scientists find truth in the ancient notion that we are deeply connected to the world around us. Some theologians think of the cosmos as God's body, a vast body within which we all live and move and have our being. Today's science tells us human beings are a carbon-based life form, and I am reminded of the ancient funeral liturgy: you are dust and to dust you shall return.
How would it change us, if we lived our lives as if we were truly connected to the world around us? Wouldn't we be more gentle with each other, even those with whom we disagree? Wouldn't we be slow to judge, and quick to forgive? Wouldn't we be less likely to draw hard boundaries between "us" and "them"?
I think of this as I reflect on the week, now passed.
I groan at our President's casual injections of bile and animus and division into our body politic. I want to tell my children - I want to tell all children - "Don't mind him. Turn him off. He is not good for you. He is not worthy of you."
But I also think of the lunch I had the other day, with someone I can now call friend. We disagreed about politics, but we liked each other, and enjoyed each other's company. He respected me. I respected him. We prayed over lunch. We ate together. We were connected. We still are.
But I also think of the lunch I had the other day, with someone I can now call friend. We disagreed about politics, but we liked each other, and enjoyed each other's company. He respected me. I respected him. We prayed over lunch. We ate together. We were connected. We still are.
The eclipse brought us all together this week, if only for a moment, and reminded us of a deep and abiding truth: it's all connected. Perhaps we should cast more than an occasional glance at the heavens?
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