Word of the Day

I really like attending Mass at this one church down the street from where I live in Boston. The pastor, who almost always celebrates Mass when I go (to the point that I’m convinced he single handedly runs the whole show over there), has this deep, historian-podcast voice that adds a certain gravity to his words, and I like the old feel of the building and the fact that there’s always someone waiting at the door. It’s good vibes. I don’t always want to go to Mass, but I always hear something meaningful when I engage and actually listen with an open heart. On a recent Sunday - it’s taken me more than a few days to write this post- the priest began his homily with a statement about an African word. He said there is no completely precise translation of it in our language, and this brief disclaimer hooked my attention. 

The word is Ubuntu, and he said that although we lack a definitive translation for it, we can think of it as the widespread humanity of oneness and love for each other because of our shared humanity. In the philosophy of ubuntu, we humans are only important in relation to our connection to others in our shared experience of creation, that is in relation to our creator and to all humanity, including ourselves. In this way, our existence derives meaning from our connection rather than from our efforts to stand out for individual merits. It’s a relationship form of personhood rather than one in which we can only be valued by being singled out as the best or most powerful; it eliminates the need for superlatives and places worth on empathy and generosity. 

This was on what the church knows as Pentecost (from the Greek word for fifty), the Sunday that falls roughly fifty days after Easter. and the Gospel reading relayed the happenings on the first such Sunday as recounted in the Bible. The miracle of Pentecost is that the disciples, who had been holed up by themselves and perhaps terrified of being killed themselves, went out to speak to the crowds and were clearly understood by all present despite the fact that the people in their audience spoke a diverse array of languages. I was thinking that this incident serves as a cool inversion of the chaos present in the Old Testament account of the Tower of Babel. The story of Babel, from which we get our term ‘babble’, functions as both an etiology for the diversity of language as well as a moral warning against human attempts to position ourselves as the highest powers in this world. The Babylonians’ attempt to build a tower reaching to the heavens results in linguistic confusion and division rather than the glory they anticipated. Language becomes a source of misunderstanding and disconnection rather than a tool of communication and connection. The contrast between Babel and Pentecost reflects a simple truth on the forces at play: love is a unifier, and arrogance is a divider. 

I think that love always works this way with language. When we speak with love or act with love, we seek connection. When we operate in an ego-driven mind, these attempts at connection fall short because our true motivation isn’t connection but distinction. This same idea is true of the concept of love languages too. We can fixate on the distinctive nature of the love languages (a concept introduced by Dr. Gary Chapman), insisting that we can only give and receive love in certain ways, or we can accept that these languages all share the same basic message of love. We fail to receive that message when we cling to the selfish belief that people can only show love when they communicate it using the exact form of love language that we deem true. For example, we can reject a friend showing love through a thoughtful gift or song suggestion because it falls outside our preferred love language of quality time. Love is so much more than what verbal and interactional languages attempt to convey, but our limited capacity as humans requires these languages. 

I went to a meeting after Mass - when my mind is particularly messy, I need both - and found myself thinking of the idea of Ubuntu and Pentecost as they relate to my experience in AA meetings. When we share in meetings, we do so to connect. If I’m sitting there with the mindset that no one really gets me and my ‘unique’ struggles or that everyone sharing is just bragging or attention seeking, then I’m missing the gift of connection available in these human efforts at connection. Sharing, no matter the differences in our experiences, can unite us even in our flawed attempts at it. I feel that when I’m struggling most, I’m inclined not to speak or fail at any semblance of an articulate sentiment when I do share, but I’m learning that saying something is a way for me to participate in the connection we strive to cultivate at these gatherings. Like the miracle at Pentecost, our stories speak with tongues we might fear will not be understood, but there is a common voice to these languages when we speak and listen with honesty, vulnerability and love. 

There is freedom in choosing to love and belong rather than to escape and rid ourselves from the connective tissue of community that we might deem limiting with a more selfish lens. When we choose to accept the restrictions of language and look instead at the underlying hunger for connection at the root of so many of our communications and interactions, we can see that invisible channel of love that exists beneath the surface of our often bungled attempts to say what we most want to say: that we want to love and be loved. A terrifying thing to say when our minds insist that putting walls up or proving ourselves superior are safer ways to maintain our value as humans. Choosing to embrace this idea of Ubuntu is a step in letting go of that fear and moving into a way of being that allows us to see the worth in just being human. If we can practice that truth, we can say I’m here, and I’m enough simply because I am and see this to be true of everyone in our lives by the simple virtue of our shared humanity.