An old Rabbi once asked the pupils how they could tell when night had ended and day had begun.
"Could it be," asked one of the students, "When you can see an animal in the distance and tell whether it is a sheep or a dog?"
"No," answered the Rabbi.
Another asked, "Is it when you can look at a tree in the distance and tell whether it's a fig tree or a peach tree?"
”No," answered the Rabbi.
"Then when is it?" the pupils demanded.
"It is when you can look on the face of any man or woman and see that it is your sister or brother. Because if you cannot see this, it is still night."
~ Hasidic tale told in PEACEMAKING DAY BY DAY by Pax Christi 0966628551
We are made for solitude. Our lives may be rich in relationships, but the human self remains a mystery of enfolded inwardness that no other person can possibly enter and know. If we fail to embrace our ultimate aloneness and seek meaning only in communion with others, we wither and die. The farther we travel toward the great mystery, the more at home we must be with our essential aloneness in order to stay healthy and whole. Our equal and opposite needs for solitude and community constitute a great paradox.
If we want to support each other's inner lies, we must remember a simple truth. The human soul does not want to be fixed, it wants simply to be seen and heard. If we want to see and hear a person's soul, there is another truth we must remember. The soul is like a wild animal – tough, resilient, and yet shy. When we go crashing through the woods shouting for it to come out so we can help it, the soul will stay in hiding. But if we are willing to sit quietly and wait for a while, the soul may show itself.
