Hi, everyone!
This is the last in a series on the 500th anniversary of the Reformation which I started a year ago and am only now finishing (because, well, PhD...), six months before our wedding. Today, I conclude my list of twenty lessons I’ve learned from being in relationship with my fiancé Mike. He is Catholic and I am Protestant, and this difference has been the source of many discussions, much learning, and, at times, tension.
I began with seven attitudes I’ve found have helped as we move forward in an intentionally ecumenical relationship. Last time, I discussed seven mistakes I am prone to make when I consider our religious differences. Now, I end the list of lessons with six things that I’m trying to keep in mind, knowing that some of our differences of opinion and belief cannot be easily (or ever) resolved.
15.) I need to be willing to cut the conversation short.
Mike and I love to talk about anything, but where religion is concerned, we could (and sometimes do) go on for hours. In theory, I appreciate that we will likely never come to neat resolutions on some issues, but in the moment, I find myself wanting to continue until we have reached a point of agreement (or at least until I have made all of the points I wanted to make!). I’m not great at conversational cliff-hangers, especially when they mean that I might not have been fully understood.
Mike and I love to talk about anything, but where religion is concerned, we could (and sometimes do) go on for hours. In theory, I appreciate that we will likely never come to neat resolutions on some issues, but in the moment, I find myself wanting to continue until we have reached a point of agreement (or at least until I have made all of the points I wanted to make!). I’m not great at conversational cliff-hangers, especially when they mean that I might not have been fully understood.
This can lead to conversations that are heated or long—usually both. Mike is much better about recognizing this tendency than I am, and he can table the conversation, knowing he can return to it later. Inspired by this, I’ve started thinking of this practice as a spiritual discipline. In the same way that someone struggling with overeating might decide to stop munching on snacks even in the face of cravings, I need to learn to exercise restraint when it comes to discussions (as anyone who has ever had a conversation with me in a car or past 11:00 pm can likely attest).
16.) I need to be patient, recognizing that a single topic may take multiple conversations to discuss.
I am much more willing to cut a discussion short if I remember that some topics need time to sit and develop. One of the very best things about marrying Mike is that we literally have the rest of our lives to talk! Some conversations are like poems or short stories, intentional and meaningful, but short and contained. Some are novels, lengthy and rich, but still digestible as a single unit for those who are up for the challenge. Many of our conversations, though, are the equivalent of the Harry Potter series. Epic and expansive, they have to be experienced in installments. Characters and themes weave in and out, and I find myself growing up and growing deeper as we return to them over time. It takes discipline to put down a compelling book halfway through or to wait for the next installment in a series to be released. But waiting, I’ve learned is part of the process; waiting is where much of the processing and transformation happens.
I am much more willing to cut a discussion short if I remember that some topics need time to sit and develop. One of the very best things about marrying Mike is that we literally have the rest of our lives to talk! Some conversations are like poems or short stories, intentional and meaningful, but short and contained. Some are novels, lengthy and rich, but still digestible as a single unit for those who are up for the challenge. Many of our conversations, though, are the equivalent of the Harry Potter series. Epic and expansive, they have to be experienced in installments. Characters and themes weave in and out, and I find myself growing up and growing deeper as we return to them over time. It takes discipline to put down a compelling book halfway through or to wait for the next installment in a series to be released. But waiting, I’ve learned is part of the process; waiting is where much of the processing and transformation happens.
17.) I need to seek practical solutions even if we there aren’t ideological ones.
Mike and I have come to understand a lot about each other and at times have even changed our minds about long-held beliefs. However, I realize that there are some things about which we will never be in exact agreement. A relationship is lived in reality, not just in ideas. How, we have to ask ourselves, do we work toward a concrete compromise without letting go of beliefs that are important to us as individuals?
Mike and I have come to understand a lot about each other and at times have even changed our minds about long-held beliefs. However, I realize that there are some things about which we will never be in exact agreement. A relationship is lived in reality, not just in ideas. How, we have to ask ourselves, do we work toward a concrete compromise without letting go of beliefs that are important to us as individuals?
One example involves a few aspects of wedding planning. There are a lot of Catholic traditions and requirements for a wedding service that simply aren’t important to me, and a few which I object to for one reason or another. Mike understands my perspective and even shares some of my objections, but because it is important to him that our marriage is recognized by the Catholic church, we have to follow the guidelines we have been given. If we each took a 100% ideologically pure position, we would be stuck. And that would be ridiculous. One of the few things I’m 100% sure about is that I want to marry Mike, so to make that happen, we each budge a bit. We will be married in a Catholic service, but we are asking a Protestant minister to be a concelebrant. The Scripture passages read in the ceremony will be among those permitted in a Catholic wedding, but we will attempt to choose ones that reflect a vision of marriage that I am willing and wanting to sign up for.
Just this one situation has involved a lot of hard work and has taken months to hash out, and I know that there will be many more examples in the future. Being with Mike will continue to challenge me to be a person of both principle and compromise.
18.) I need to remember the Lund principle.
This principle comes out of the 1952 World Council of Churches in Lund, Sweden, and says that churches of different denominations should do everything together except that which, in good conscience, they must do separately. What I find so helpful about this challenge is that it assumes we have more in common than not. Most of the time, in other words, we should be living life together. The times when we need to act separately are actually quite rare. While the Lund principle was intended for ecumenical relations among Christian denominations, it is a helpful reminder for Mike and me as well.
This principle comes out of the 1952 World Council of Churches in Lund, Sweden, and says that churches of different denominations should do everything together except that which, in good conscience, they must do separately. What I find so helpful about this challenge is that it assumes we have more in common than not. Most of the time, in other words, we should be living life together. The times when we need to act separately are actually quite rare. While the Lund principle was intended for ecumenical relations among Christian denominations, it is a helpful reminder for Mike and me as well.
I’ve discovered that I have a strange tendency when it comes to people who are different from me. The more different we are, the more likely I am to find and celebrate our similarities.
Paradoxically, the more similar people are to me, the more likely I am to focus on the areas where we differ.
This is ludicrous, but I know I’m not alone. Certainly there are conflicts based on major categories of difference, but some of the most ardent disagreements come about the most minute variations in opinion or belief. How many fights have people in the same congregation had over worship style or the type of bread at Communion? How are we able to focus so intently on such minor differences?
That’s not to say, of course, that the differences are always insignificant, or that we should pretend they aren’t there. But if the majority of what Mike and I believe is the same, maybe we should be spending the majority of our time living out those beliefs. Together.
19.) I need to see the bigger picture always.
One of my favorite picturebooks is Seven Blind Mice, by Ed Young, an adaptation of an old Indian fable in which seven blind men try to identify a new object. Each man (or mouse!) encounters a different part of the object and describes it to the rest of the group. One compares it to a snake. Another insists it is a pillar. Another says it is a fan. It is only the last man (or mouse!) that investigates the object thoroughly, reporting that while it has the characteristics of a snake, or pillar, or fan, all together, it is an elephant. The truth comes from many perspectives, from seeing not just the parts but the whole.
One of my favorite picturebooks is Seven Blind Mice, by Ed Young, an adaptation of an old Indian fable in which seven blind men try to identify a new object. Each man (or mouse!) encounters a different part of the object and describes it to the rest of the group. One compares it to a snake. Another insists it is a pillar. Another says it is a fan. It is only the last man (or mouse!) that investigates the object thoroughly, reporting that while it has the characteristics of a snake, or pillar, or fan, all together, it is an elephant. The truth comes from many perspectives, from seeing not just the parts but the whole.
If I had to choose a life motto, it would be “There is always a bigger picture” (well, that or, “Strive to be a balance of Bert and Ernie”). So how does this sentiment apply to my relationship with Mike? There are, I think, two ways: First, it encourages me to remember there is a bigger picture to Mike than what I experience in any given conversation (see lessons 1-5 and 8-12). Second, it reminds me that the bigger picture of our relationship is one of joyful agreement, unity and partnership.
I recently came across a TEDx talk in which Julia Galef suggests two metaphors for the way we interact with information. We can be soldiers, wanting to defend our beliefs, or we can be scouts, wanting to see the whole truth clearly. I want to be a scout (and not just because I like To Kill a Mockingbird).
20.) I need to remember that my job with Mike is the same as it is with every human: to see and respond to God in him.
I don’t think I’ll ever be un-astounded at this aspect of my faith. As he is wont to do, C. S. Lewis puts it best: “The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbour’s glory should be laid daily on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken. [. . .] it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.” So when Mike and I disagree, which we will continue to do at times, I need to respond as though I’m speaking with God Himself. Just typing that sentence gives me shivers. What an honor. What a responsibility. What a gift.
I don’t think I’ll ever be un-astounded at this aspect of my faith. As he is wont to do, C. S. Lewis puts it best: “The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbour’s glory should be laid daily on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken. [. . .] it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.” So when Mike and I disagree, which we will continue to do at times, I need to respond as though I’m speaking with God Himself. Just typing that sentence gives me shivers. What an honor. What a responsibility. What a gift.
One of the little attention-focusing devices I came up with while I was teaching preschool was to ask the children to turn their ears on (we then pretend we’re turning a switch by each ear and say “Bing! Bing!”), and turn their eyes on (“Bing! Bing!”). The kids seemed to like it and I often found myself using this technique half a dozen times or more in a given day. How would my life change—how would my relationship with Mike change—if, even half a dozen times a day, I turned my eyes on (“Bing! Bing!”) to see the divine in those around me? Would I still focus on ideological and doctrinal differences, seeing people in categories of “us” and “them”?
From what I can tell, the people who model this ability to see the divine in others don’t. Rather, they approach people with loving curiosity, intentional empathy, and relentless humility. They don’t deny genuine differences among people, but they also don’t make differences the defining features of a relationship. That's quite a lot to aspire to. But, as evidenced by the incredibly divided nature of our politics, our religions, our families, and our communities, there are plenty of opportunities to practice!
I’m sure I’ll write more about my relationship with Mike later, but for now, I’ll end by thanking those of you who have responded in person or online to these thoughts. Thanks also to the many of you who have inspired or encouraged these thoughts in the first place. Please keep the conversation going! How are you dealing with the divided world in which we live? How do you work and learn alongside people with whom you disagree? What lessons can you share?
Have a week full of unity, curiosity, and love!
Sarah/Mouse
