Unpacked: A Walker Returns Home

There is a Jewish tradition that God created the world with ten sentences.

Imagine that. Ten sentences, an entire world.

Those of you who are skilled in both math and linguistics, might have noticed that I am already in my fourth sentence. I do believe that I have created in you the sense of “where is this going?”- but compared with God’s first four sentences, in which He created light and dark, heaven and earth and probably more, I’m feeling pretty lame.

Now granted, God has the whole All-powerful thing going for Him. I gather that that’s a handy attribute when it comes to creating. So I don’t feel that bad that God is a better creator than I am.

But Jewish tradition also maintains that humans can, and are supposed to imitate God. And perhaps the most Godly of our human capabilities is speech. When we speak, our words create, too.

In general, the whole word thing fascinates me. I know that I will come back to words time and time again in Unpacked. But for now, what I want to do is begin to figure out how I can imitate God, and choose the best words possible through which to create.

Making speech count in the wilderness wasn’t difficult. That I would be interrupting the sacred quiet of the mountains was reason enough to think twice before making my voice heard. But here? It’s all a mush of words and sounds and motors. So I’m easily tricked into thinking that my words are not precious anymore.

In figuring out how to cherish my words in the midst of the city, I want to start with a very basic element of speech- my saying to you, “How are you.” If I can learn to greet you meaningfully, then I’ll be in the right direction, I think.

Here’s how I sometimes experience “How are you?” in the city.
Often when I’m in a rush, or overwhelmed by a crowd, I walk by you, see you, and as I walk right by, I say the words “Hi, how are you?” and keep on going.

Are you aware of such a phenomenon? Does it ever get under your skin? Have you ever done it to someone else?

Another thing with everyday “How are you,”s, is that I’m really expecting you to say “fine, thank you.” The last thing I want to hear is “I’m actually having a rough time right now. Do you have a minute to talk?” I wish I could say that I ask “How are you” because I really want to know. Most of the time, though, I’m asking just to ask because that’s what we do.

Such exchanges, or lack of exchanges, give me the shivers- How can I abuse words, my most powerful manifestations of divinity in such a way?

So I am going to make a commitment. Maybe you can make this commitment with me: I am not going to ask, “How are you?” when I am not really going to listen. When I greet you, I will really mean it, and I will wait for you to tell me how you are. I will not inquire about how you are, unless I’m willing to listen to your every answer. My words and your words are sacred. I will do my best to treat them as such.

Let’s get back to our sentence count: we’re now at 37 sentences. 37 sentences, and we’ve created a plan to really connect when we say hello. It might not be the moon or the sea or even something small like a carrot. But as far as I’m concerned, creating such a plan is as “creation” as creation gets. Maybe God can create the world in ten sentences. But He’s Him and I’m me, and if after 37 sentences I’ll begin to ask “How are you” like I mean it and like you deserve it, I’ll be just fine.

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Tags: Challenges, City, Words

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 8th, 2008 at 10:01 pm and is filed under Challenges of the City, Words. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.