Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep

Today begins phase one of reopening here in Spain. The first step toward the new normal. And of course every country is doing it differently and everyone has something to say about it.

Is Spain doing it right? Are various states in the USA doing it right? As much as we like to think we know, no one does, and we all have a different perspective.

There’s the idea that we don’t really react to the weight of something until it affects our personal life. An issue doesn’t really take up space in our brains or hearts until it comes knocking at our door or in our neighborhood, affects us or our friends or family. To an extent, it’s true.

Our experience inevitably changes how we approach, see, and handle an issue or situation.

Here in Spain, corona (that’s my favorite name for it) is not far from any of us — both physically and emotionally. I’ve had friends who have been hospitalized with corona, others who have held the hands of those dying alone in nursing homes, one who has worked long long hours in the hospital, another whose mother passed away. And of course the physical health aspect is just one part.

It’s knocking on my friends’ door and affecting their lives.

Feeling certain effects of something doesn’t necessarily mean we know what the right, best, or good course of action is. Likewise, being removed from a situation doesn’t automatically mean we see it more clearly and can make the right call.

Both simply mean we understand different things, feel weight in places other people don’t.

Does anyone know the perfect way to handle shutting down or reopening in any country? No. Is everyone’s opinion influenced by the people they know, where they live, and how they’re affected? Yes.

None of us have the wisdom to know what to do or what is best. But, we can know a few important things to do and I think one of those things is this:

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. Be of the same mind toward one another; do not be haughty in mind, but associate with the lowly. Do not be wise in your own estimation.” -Romans 12:15-16

Right now some are weeping and some are rejoicing. And some are trying to rejoice over events that should be commemorated with a celebration but are not.

While I can (and should) think critically and share opinions and look at the big-scale picture, I’m not sure that’s what really matters right now. Humbly supporting and loving — through the good and the bad — the individuals I know and “not being wise in my own eyes” is what I want to focus on.

our missing sense 

What if we existed in this world exactly as it is, but we were without eyes. No eyesight, and no one is an exception. Humanity is simply without eyes.

We have ears to hear of the chirps but no eyes to see the bird, and noses to smell flowers but no eyes to see the petals. While our other senses would compensate in many ways, there would still be aspects of this world of which we would simply be unaware.

There would be realities at work around us that we wouldn’t know about, though we would experience the effects. Our unknowing about the realities would have no effect on their existence or their work.

What if this is our reality now? What if we are “missing a sense”? Not in a defective way but simply a lack of knowledge and experience. What if there are realities we are unaware of? What if there is a wealth of knowledge we are incapable of understanding?

We have to humbly acknowledge some sort of finiteness, a degree of a lack of information, a sense of unknown. There are things we don’t know about – more than that, there are things we can’t even imagine of to wonder about.

What if there is a whole realm of which we are unaware? Maybe we aren’t necessarily wrong about what we know if what we know is all that exists. But if it isn’t all that exists, if we’re missing a sense, then what we know suddenly becomes very incomplete and lacking. Can we entertain the idea that we don’t know everything there is to know about the inner-workings of this life? That sometimes things don’t make sense because we are without eyes? And can we entertain the idea of an awe-inducing God who does see?