Ubuntu

The intersection of our 30th anniversary and Leslie's illness provided our good friend, Lutheran pastor Bob Klonowski, with the theme for a reflection in his church newsletter.

Bob knows a story from Leslie's and my early days that gained new relevance this summer. Leslie and I didn't "meet cute"; it's more like we "stayed together cute," and Bob recalled how. Here's his opening line, I have a friend who got married some time ago, by accident.

Only a week or so into our dating, Leslie spent the day thinking how to break up with me. She had just ended another relationship, and wasn't ready to dive in again. But, on her way home from work, Leslie was in a small bike accident. She wasn't hurt, but her wheel was pretzeled and she was shaken. I was the only person she knew with access to a car big enough for her bike.
 
Here, let Bob take over:

They took her to his house, where his mom and dad washed and bandaged her cuts and scrapes.  And she thought, "I can't break up with this guy.  He's got such a great family.  I love them!"
 
Last week on Monday they celebrated the 30th anniversary of their marriage.
 
The story has always been a startling illustration for me of the importance of community.  We all like to think we make our own decisions, but none of us is autonomous, and we are not really as independent, as free of connection, as we like to think.  The responsibilities we have to others, and the social ripple effects of our decisions, are always there.  What decision could be more personal, more an individual matter, than whom you will marry?  But my friend's declaration - not I love you, but I love them! - recognizes there are a lot more people involved than just you and me.
 
Jesus recognized this, too.  Sometimes we think of the call to follow him as a personal or individual matter - me and Jesus - but read the gospels and see that Jesus calls us, not into individual relationship with him, but into community.  Join up with Jesus, and you're joining up with the Christian community, and also with the community of humankind and the community of the whole creation.  He loves them.
 
My friend, the one who got married by accident, was diagnosed with cancer three months ago.  She's part of our community at Faith now, included on our prayer list.  I visited her a while ago and asked if she needed anything as she goes through her therapy.
 
"Got it covered," she told me through a tired smile.  "You'd be amazed how, at a time like this, the whole community around you steps up.
 
"I love them."

As many of you know, Leslie and I are not particularly religious. If anything, I most closely identify with the Quaker faith in which I was educated. Perhaps, though, that's why Bob's words resonate so deeply - after all, it's the Society of Friends, not the Occasional Gathering of Friends or the Flashmob of Friends...

The aspects of religion that do appeal strongly to us, and that we try to live, are those that recognize our mutual interdependence - virtually every faith has some version of The Golden Rule. Similarly, I've always been drawn to the African concept of ubuntu, the closest translation for which is "I am because you are."

We fully welcome the prayers from our friends of various faiths, as well as the "warm thoughts" of the non-religious and the all-purpose "karma rockets" of my running group. You bring the full arsenal when you go to war with cancer, and all these people are saying the same thing - what I do and hope for you, I am doing for the strength of the community. If I can help you get strong again, you can be there to help others.