“We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” — The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Such extraordinary days are these. It seems that some vast planetary reckoning is unfolding, that this occult pathogenic illness is a messenger spear, pointing at us threateningly, of course, yet also pointing beyond us to the environmental devastation we have wrought, to the burgeoning struggle between the over-privileged few and the downtrodden many, to the yawning gap between our technological prowess and our spiritual aspirations — and to our oneness.
These contradictions cannot be sustained, they must resolve, and the healing process will be woven through with much suffering, and also much to hope for, this limited only by our collective imagination. The outcome, for our species, sometimes looks ominous, does it not?
And yet, the underlying unity of humanity, the inseverability of our lives from the environmental matrix in which we all have our being and from one another, is vividly confirmed in times such as these.
No one knows the future, and that is why prophecies of doom are never helpful. Clear-eyed witnessing of a painful present is essential however, no matter the preference to look away. We start right here where we are. We bear witness. We open our hearts to our own predicaments, and to one another. And then, we move forward, together.
We don’t learn to walk because someone teaches us. We manage this difficult — perhaps even improbable — transition from crawling to vertical ambulation because gravity is an unrelentingly consistent teacher. If we incline a bit too far one way or another we fall down.
This is not because gravity has it in for us and seeks to punish us for challenging its law. On the contrary, the consistency of gravity is our disinterested, even benevolent teacher. Our mistakes are our own. Our errors, and the pain of the hard landing, suggest the way to avoid further harsh consequences. To learn to walk we must take seriously the lessons of our past failures in order to not repeat them.
Yet while gravity’s constancy is the necessary condition for our progress toward erect mobility, it is not sufficient to accomplish this. Also required is motivation. We must perceive the advantages of standing up, reaching for what we want, and moving rapidly. This internal urging compels us to cease resisting gravity and learn to dance with it.
Learning to stand and walk is a solitary job. One wonders how we might fare if, in order for each of us to walk, everyone had to learn.
We are in the process of finding out. This is the great lesson of consciousness and compassion, of the recognition of our collective being, that we are compelled to learn in this era, and quickly.
I avoid exposure to this virulent pathogen to protect not just myself but also everyone else. My well-being is inextricably involved with yours, yours with mine, and ours with whomever we have both been close to.
The vast suffering of this burgeoning pandemic brings a crucial lesson to us, one we have spurned when faced with so many other warnings about our insufficient recognition of our collectivity.
This brings to mind Passover. As the pandemic spreads among us, Jewish people gather this week to commemorate perhaps the most relevant sacrament for this time to be found in any great religion.
Pharaoh was not persuaded to free the slaves by 11 plagues of environmental devastation. His heart was turned only by the final one.
When the black death moved through the land, people huddled inside their homes hoping they would be protected by the lamb’s blood drawn across their lintels, and their faith. And then, the newly freed people had to cross the divided sea, to move through what is called in Hebrew a mitzrayim, a “narrow space” or “tight spot.”
We are all in a tight spot right now, and must find the faith, the collaboration, and the creativity to move through it, together, to awaken to the truth of our inseparable connectivity. We must stand and walk together, or fall together. There is nothing personal in this. It’s just reality, our benign teacher, providing an uncompromising lesson to recalcitrant pupils.
It is not essential that all share the same theology in order to pay attention and learn together. But, for those who are believers, perhaps it may be useful to consider the laws of nature as an expression of the will of the creator, established not to punish us, but to awaken us, or more accurately, to collaborate with us in awakening ourselves.
No matter how we look at it, the admonition of poet W. H. Auden, at the outbreak of World War II, is prescient for these times.
“We must love one another or die.”
Nothing personal. Just the truth.
Jonathan Klate lives in Amherst and writes about spirituality, ideology, and the relationship between these two.