Community and Self-Disclosure

We've said that if we want wholeness in our lives, we need meaningful, authentic connection with other human beings. One requirement for meaningful, authentic connection is mutual self-disclosure. We can't live fully in our relationships if we aren't able to reveal who we really are. When we hide our true feelings and needs, we can't reasonably expect other people to know us, to accept us, or to participate in satisfying relationship with us. The best we can hope for is that other people will know and accept the masks we wear. It's up to us to grow in our ability to show our authentic selves to others.

Self-disclosure is tough, though. We hide our true selves because it seems safer than letting people see who we really are. Somewhere along the way, we learned that we aren't acceptable as we are. We became ashamed of something about ourselves, or we became distrustful of others. Somehow, we decided that it was safer for us to hide who we really are and pretend to be someone else -- maybe someone who didn't have the same wounds and needs and wants that we have.

The problem is that we all have wounds and needs. No one gets through life without emotional wounds. Some people are more skillful at tending those wounds, but everyone has wounds. No one gets through life without needing something. Some people are more skillful at getting those needs met, but everyone has needs. When we wear masks that hide our wounds and our needs from others, we have very little chance of having those wounds healed or getting those needs met. We walk around thinking that we're fooling people into accepting or loving us, thinking that we are safely hidden behind a false self we've created, carrying our unhealed wounds and our unmet needs within us.

Of course, we still want to have those needs met, and we still feel pain from those wounds. If we aren't willing to be vulnerable and let other people see those wounds and needs, we try other ways to get what we want from people. We play emotional games in our relationships and in our communities. We try to manipulate people or bully people into doing what we want, while keeping ourselves from feeling vulnerable. Or maybe we try to make the masks we wear as appealing or entertaining as possible, so that people will give us the love and acceptance we want without us having to reveal our true selves. This gives us the illusion of having power -- keeping our real wants and needs secret while figuring out how to make other people give us what we want or need. How much simpler would it be to just tell people what we want or need?

When you think about it, though, people aren't actually accepting or loving us when we play these games or wear these masks. People are responding to our tactics or the false self we show them, but they aren't responding to our real selves. They can't. We keep our real selves hidden. So, we keep the illusion in place that our real selves are unacceptable or unlovable or shameful because we never give anyone the chance to see who we really are. We're too busy playing games. And before we beat ourselves up too much about that, it's worth acknowledging that we have really good reasons to hide who we really are and show up in masks.

No one wakes up one morning and just decides to hide who they really are from everyone around them. We learn what's acceptable and what isn't from other people's reactions -- usually our parents or other significant people in our lives when we're very young. We start evaluating ourselves based on other people's fears and judgments, and at a certain point we shift from being honest about who we are to being very concerned about who other people want us to be. Instead of learning about what we need in order to live fully, we create an illusion of ourselves to try to accommodate everyone else. Maybe we create multiple illusions of ourselves for different relationships.

Sometimes, we encounter communities that encourage us to be vulnerable and self-disclosing, and then those communities betray us. Some organizations want people to be self-disclosing so that shame can be used as a weapon to keep people loyal. Religious organizations are especially practiced at turning people's vulnerability against them, using fear and shame to reinforce beliefs about human weakness and depravity so that people will remain convinced that they need the religious institution. Perhaps other relationships come to mind in which vulnerability and self-disclosure proved to be detrimental. Often, this is because the self-disclosure was one-sided. The priest rarely confesses to the parishioner, for instance.

Our society is constructed around this practice of creating a false self -- an avatar of sorts. We rarely engage in relationships directly because we're convinced that it isn't safe. Instead, we engage in relationships through the filter of a public avatar we've created to keep ourselves safe while enticing or compelling others to give us what we want or need. One-sided self-disclosure is often risky because other people are still committed to playing emotional power games to get what they want from us, and our self-disclosure would seem to put us at a disadvantage in such games. So, there are two responses to this reality that will help us heal our wounds, get our needs met, and live more fully.

First, we can recognize that our self-disclosure removes us from the emotional game. Other people may still want us to engage by their rules of manipulation or persuasion, but our willingness to be vulnerable and honest about our wounds and our needs actually puts us in an entirely different arena. The best reason not to hide who we really are is because we aren't afraid or ashamed of who we really are, and getting rid of our fear and shame opens the pathway for us to commit our time and energy toward things that really matter rather than playing emotional power games.

Of course, dismantling our fears and shame are life-long practices, and we can't wait until we're over all of our fears about who we really are to set our masks aside. Instead, as we develop a willingness to show up authentically, to let people see our true selves, we have the opportunity to build more evidence that our fears and shame are unfounded. We also have to recognize that other people's reactions are usually based on their own fears and beliefs. It's helpful if we can find others who are willing to set aside their masks, too, so that our journey toward authenticity isn't a solo venture.

This brings us to the second response, which is meaningful, authentic community in which people practice mutual self-disclosure. If the agreement of the community is that people are expected to show up as their true selves and not project some idealized avatar, it becomes easier for everyone to set the masks aside. Ideally, mutual self-disclosure is part of a community's covenant with one another, or is in some way part of its stated identity. If this agreement is clearly stated and not just assumed, a community can hold one another accountable -- hopefully because they sincerely care about contributing to wholeness in one another's lives. So, "You seem like you're hiding something. Is there more you want to say?" becomes more of an invitation than an accusation or interrogation. And, "What do you really think?" is a question that can be taken at face value rather than a coded message that your acceptability is based on your willingness to agree with an authority figure or with the herd. Likewise, it becomes easier to say, "It seems like you're trying to persuade/bully/manipulate me a little bit here. What do you actually want or need from me?" Imagine a community that practiced communicating that honestly, directly, and respectfully with one another!

None of this means that all your problems will be solved if you are more self-disclosing. Showing up as your true self doesn't guarantee that your emotional wounds will be healed and all your needs will be met. It just increases your chances. People can't really know what you need from them unless you tell them. And hiding your emotional wounds and your needs from other people pretty much guarantees that they won't be effectively addressed. Pretending you don't have wounds or needs doesn't make them go away. Being willing to show up as your authentic self is a more reliable path toward being fully alive. Since this would constitute new behavior for a lot of us, practicing letting others see your true self in a community where other people are committed to the same level of authenticity and vulnerability is better than developing this new behavior all on your own.

Mutual self-disclosure in community leads to greater ability to be confidently authentic in other areas of your life, and it helps to prevent members of a community from engaging in manipulation, bullying, and enticing others while neglecting their actual wounds and needs. Meaningful, authentic community requires mutual self-disclosure. There are a few other necessary ingredients, as we'll continue to explore in the weeks ahead.

What Blessing Means

Honesty is a big part of finding a genuine sense of belonging and creating authentic community. Intentional and honest communication helps build authentic connection between people. When we choose to use words that have vague meaning -- especially when we know that other people often mean something different by the words we choose -- we compromise our ability to communicate honestly and clearly. This is why I've written elsewhere that it doesn't make sense to "define the word God however you want to," as some communities suggest, because that word already means something in our language. There are other words that have other meanings, so it makes sense to find some word that actually means what you want to say, clearly and honestly.

Bless is a word that gets a lot of use in American society. We are expected to say, "bless you," when someone sneezes. Someone often offers a public blessing before a dinner or sporting event. When people want to express gratitude, they often say, "bless you," as well. And of course, there are sarcastic uses of the word, like the euphemistic, "bless your heart," when what is really meant is closer to, "I'm baffled by how you even function in the world." An evangelist once quipped that the silence must be deafening when someone sneezes in a room full of atheists, implying that there is no other response to a sneeze other than to offer a theistic comfort. When we set aside sarcasm and consider what we actually mean, though, there may be better choices.

None of this is to imply that we should avoid any word altogether. If we are thoughtful and intentional about what we are saying, every word can be useful. When we are thoughtless or deceptive in some way, we most likely aren't creating the kind of community or world we most value. So, let's explore what the word bless actually means and see if there are other, more accurate ways we might express what we actually mean.

A blessing, by definition, is an appeal for divine approval. Whether it is formulaic or spontaneous, to bless something is to "confer or invoke divine favor." In the case of sneezes, back around 600 CE, a sneeze was thought to be the first sign that someone was infected with a plague, so asking for God to bless an individual who sneezed was, in essence, praying for supernatural aid to make an infected person healthy. In the case of this "Justinian" plague, about half the population of Europe died anyway. Even further back in human history, though, it was believed that the soul vacated the body when a person sneezed. Although it may only be for a brief moment, people feared that demons could enter the vacant, soulless person, so a petition for God to bless a sneezer was intended to attract the supernatural's attention to an imminent threat of demon possession. In this case, it would appear that asking for blessing is quite effective, as no person has ever been objectively demonstrated to be possessed by a demon.

A blessing spoken before a sporting event, on the other hand, is perhaps intended to express gratitude to a supernatural and to appeal to that supernatural for the safety of the players. Oddly, whether or not there are any injuries in the course of the competition seems not to be a reflection on the supernatural in question. A great many Christians in the United States also believe that their god influences the actual outcome of sporting events, so an injury on the other team might be seen as favor from their barbaric divine. Either way, the blessing is an appeal to some external supernatural.

We also sometimes use the word to indicate human approval. When we go to someone and say, "I want your blessing on this plan," we aren't always asking for the other person to invoke divine favor, we just want to know that the person approves of what we want to do. "I give my blessing," expresses one's personal approval. "Lord, give us your blessing," requests approval from a non-entity.

In addition to reflexive answers to sneezes, asking for divine favor, and expressing approval, blessing is also synonymous with conveying gratitude. When I hand food to a panhandler, the response is often, "bless you," or more even more accurately, "God bless you." This always strikes me as odd, that this person who has literally nothing but the clothes on their back, believe that they have the ear of a divine being enough to invoke favor on my life, but not enough for that divine being to meet their actual physical needs. I've decided to believe that these individuals don't actually realize that it would be more appropriate to say what they actually mean, which is, "thank you."

It's the subject of the sentence that makes the whole affair murky. When we say, "bless you," we are actually leaving out the subject of the sentence. It isn't a command, like, "Close the door." When a sentence is a command, the unstated subject is always "you." (You) close the door. But not (You) bless you. The unspoken subject in the case of a blessing is "God." (God) bless you. And I can accept that some people sincerely mean to invoke their imagined supernatural when they offer a blessing, even if I'm confident that their petition isn't being heard by anything superhuman. The problem is that they fail to honestly express what they mean, and that actual human connection suffers as a result.

Human connection may only suffer a little bit in the case of a compulsory sneeze response, but it suffers much more when people are unable or unwilling to vulnerably express gratitude and say, "thank you." Consider the unspoken subject of the sentence, "Thank you." It isn't a command: (You) thank you. That doesn't make any sense. It's actually a very personal expression: (I) thank you. "I feel gratitude for you," must seems worlds more vulnerable than, "May God bless you." When I express my gratitude clearly and honestly, I'm conveying my own emotions, my own connection to you, perhaps even my own need for you as a fellow human being. When I ask that God bless you, it's out of my hands. I don't have to reveal my feelings or my needs. The idea of a god makes a safe and convenient veil behind which people hide their own values and ideas.

Again, if someone has thoughtfully considered what they mean to say and decide that they authentically and sincerely want to request that their deity of choice show favor in a particular situation or on a particular person, the words "(God) bless you," seem quite appropriate, even if they always keep a safe barrier between people. For example, if a principal wants to tell their students, "God bless you," that seems to be an expression of that individual's beliefs and hopes for their students. It's that part that conveniently goes unsaid that bothers me. If a principal hopes for great things in the lives of their students, it's irresponsible to leave it up to a supernatural. Saying, "I will work really hard so that your time in this school prepares you for success in life," is more vulnerable, but it's a much more compelling commitment than, "I hope someone up there is looking out for you, because I don't have a clue how to help you and you kids are just a mess." It's fine to hide behind a theistic veil, but unless some convincing actions accompany that blessing, a blessing in and of itself accomplishes nothing in terms of human well-being.

I contend that when we are grateful, we can tell people that we are grateful.  When we hope for people's safety, we can say, "I care about you and hope you stay safe."  When we want our team to win, we can just say, "I want my team to win."  Even when we choose to be blindly patriotic, we can just say so without making petitions to a supernatural to favor the part of earth we happen to live on more than other people in other parts of the planet we all share.  When we are honest and clear about what we mean to say, we create more authentic connection with the people around us. This is even true of invocations before sporting events or other public celebrations. Rather than "invoking" a supernatural's favor, one can easily invoke a sense of gratitude, and the shared values and common purpose for people to be together. This might be a little more work that a typical "blessing," but saying something meaningful, clear, and honest is worth a little bit of effort.

The real question, though, is: What do we say when someone sneezes if we're trying to be authentic, honest, and clear? The truth is, there are already many other things that people say in response to sneezes that have integrity with their deepest values without invoking anything supernatural. One could take Penn Jillette's approach and say, "That's funny," although some people may not find that particularly connecting. In Spanish, people say salud; in German, people say Gesundheit; and in Irish, people say sláinte, all of which essentially mean "good health," which is a way of expressing, "I hope you stay healthy," without invoking divine providence.

In fact, many cultures have traditional responses to sneezing that have more to do with a person's health than with divine petitions. On the most vulnerable end of the scale is the typical Vietnamese response, which translates to, "Are you alright?" On the most honest end of the scale is the typical Australian Aboriginal response, which is basically, "You have released nose water!" Some cultures hold to the superstition that a sneeze means someone is talking about you behind your back, and in Japan it's common for people to ignore a sneeze altogether.

Basically, say what you mean to say, not just what you are in the habit of saying, and you will more effectively create satisfying connection with people, find an authentic sense of belonging, and build meaningful community. When we are willing to examine our automatic responses, like using the word bless when we really mean something else, we will also get better at saying what we mean in the rest of our speaking. And if you really want someone to feel "blessed" -- to feel the actual sentiment behind what you are speaking into their life -- take some personal responsibility for acting on that wish for their well-being. If you aren't willing to do that, maybe the most honest thing really is not to say anything at all.

John 21: Second Chances

The postscript to the gospel of John was created with at least one clear purpose -- to redeem a leader in the early Christian movement from an embarrassing episode of disloyalty. There is some debate as to whether this final chapter of John was written by the same author as the rest of the book. At this point, there are only four or five actual complete copies of the gospel of John from the 4th century or earlier, and even among these there are apparent discrepancies. Whoever added this chapter to the end of the narrative, however, apparently felt it was necessary to address some concern in the community.

After the resurrected Jesus character prompts a miraculous catch of fish, he asks Peter to affirm his devotion three times, mirroring the three-fold denial of Peter earlier in the story. The Jesus character then foretells how Peter will die (a detail that could not have been included by the author until after this early sect leader's death), and he also mentions how the author of the preceding 20 chapters will die. The author of this postscript mentions one rumor that is being debunked here, although he does so in a way that reassures the reader that it is alright if a community leader dies.

Symbolism is prevalent here, which is one indication that this is not a report of actual incidents but a story with a metaphorical meaning. The exact number of fish caught is clearly symbolic and not actual, and many people have put forth theories about what that number might signify. There's no point in offering such a theory, however, because there is no way to prove or disprove any clever ideas about the number 153. Fishing and not catching anything until the Christ-figure shows up is also a hearkening back to previous stories, locating the tale within a larger context of Jesus stories. And of course, the three-fold redemption of Peter is highly symbolic, and some commentators have picked apart what fine distinctions might be made between "sheep" or "lambs" and "tending" or "feeding." Maybe the author had some specific nuanced differences in mind, but unless we discover some explanation written by the actual author, we shouldn't put too much stock in a "scholar" who claims to have solved a riddle that doesn't even necessarily exist.

There's no telling what sorts of rumors, myths, and doubts threatened the community for whom this epilogue was written. Obviously, if they were expecting that the leader of their community would remain alive -- at least until a mystical Christ figure returned -- it would have been something of a shock when that leader died. That could have shaken their worldview and their faith. The author of this story may have felt it necessary to remind people that they had made up this business about having a near-immortal leader, and they were simply wrong. It's a fair reason to write such a tale, if one wants to keep a community united in purpose and focused on promoting a particular set of beliefs and values.

It isn't hard to excuse first-century people for believing in supernatural beings and Christ figures that would return from Heaven and make everything wonderful for them. What's a little tougher to grasp is how twenty-first-century people still believe in something like a rapture event, and base life decisions around a delusional (and somewhat narcissistic) conviction. There are people in the United States today who make decisions about politics, finances, and who they are entitled to hate, based on an expectation that we would deem utterly insane if they were expecting Odin or Athena or aliens riding the tail of a comet instead of Jesus. None of that is really what this chapter is about though.

This chapter, should we want to make it meaningful, offers a lesson about the mutuality of second chances, and it suggests something about life that we have a hard time accepting. Regarding the primary interchange between Peter and Jesus, there is the one who has betrayed, and the one who has been betrayed. They both have to do their part in order for reconciliation to occur. The betrayed (the Jesus character) sets aside any animosity or resentment, and the betrayer humbly expresses regret and a renewed willingness to love.

Sometimes we find it very challenging to reconcile, no matter which side of this conversation we find ourselves. When we feel unloved, it feels vulnerable to reach out to someone and ask, "Do you love me?" It seems like a needy, co-dependent kind of question. Yet, in this story, we see it asked in a very straightforward manner, almost as if it is bringing things back into focus. What matters at the end of the day? Let's start there and see how we want to move forward, given everything that has happened. 

And in the story, the response is accepted, with a clear and direct way that it can be demonstrated. You do love me? Alright, here's what you can do to demonstrate that. This isn't quite the same as saying, "Prove it." We all have different things that really speak love to us. Some people appreciate receiving tokens of affection, some people find acts of care most meaningful, and some value words spoken sincerely. The Jesus character is being direct about what means love to him. This means that he knows himself well enough to clearly express what he finds meaningful.

He also gives Peter a chance to reconsider. Are you sure? I don't need platitudes. Just be honest. There doesn't seem to be any shame in the repeated question, although we might imagine feeling shame if we were on the receiving end. Before long, though, the Jesus character is done asking questions. He leaves the matter alone and the relationship moves forward. If Peter had said, "I can't (or won't) do what you want me to," we might imagine Jesus smiling gently and saying, "Alright. I understand." Can we imagine ourselves doing the same?

If we can imagine ourselves in this process, we have a clear example of how to invite reconciliation.

(1) We take the first step toward someone who has done something that we've interpreted as a betrayal or an unloving act.

(2) We bring things back into focus by asking questions foundational to the relationship. "Do you love me?" or "Is there any point to moving forward with us?"

(3) We clearly state what we want or need. "This is what means love/friendship/collaboration to me."

(4) We allow space for the other person's sincere response and trust them to speak truthfully. And we accept the outcome, whether or not reconciliation is possible at this time.

We can still have boundaries and accept people's sincere responses. We can enforce the consequences of having our boundaries trampled and still be loving people. The people who are closest to us are the ones most likely to challenge our boundaries, and sometimes this is even a way that we grow beyond our comfort zone. There is nothing about this exchange, though, that suggests we ought to be naive or willfully oblivious to someone's dangerous behavior. We care for ourselves and for the people around us when we set clear boundaries and allow there to be consequences.

Sometimes we find ourselves on the other side of this relationship -- on the side represented by Peter in the story. We discover that we have acted or spoken in a way that isn't aligned with a best possible version of ourselves. We have treated another person in a way that doesn't reflect our deepest values. Peter is patient, too. He is sad, and yet he doesn't have an angry outburst. He doesn't feel the need to defend himself when the question comes a second or third time. He answers sincerely, and (as far as we can tell) he accepts the terms offered by the Jesus character. "If this is what love means to you, I'm willing to do it."

He can say this, because what the Jesus character wants is not dissonant with what Peter wants for himself. If Jesus had asked him to do something harmful to himself or others, we would see it as manipulation or coercion -- fear-driven behavior. When we set aside our own deepest values in order to prove something to someone else, this is not healthy. When we can see reflected in someone else's request our own vision of a best possible version of ourselves, we can more confidently agree to how love or partnership can be meaningfully expressed and received.

This story is necessary because of Peter's legendary place in the hierarchy of the early Christian sect. There are a lot of traditions about Peter, including that he was the first pope. Where history has failed to leave clear evidence, people have invented traditions, and it simply would not do for the inaugural leader of the Christian movement to have a blemish on his record. The story of Peter's denial of Jesus was too much for people to accept alongside the favorable traditions and legends they had invented around this figure. He needed a redemption story to balance out a widely known story of significant failure.

In our own lives, we need stories of second chances, too. We will inevitably fail in our endeavors and in our relationships. Especially if we are committed to growing and learning how to create the relationships and lives we most want. Learning new things almost always means experiencing some failure before we get the hang of a new way of being. Strong relationships and healthy communities are not defined by a lack of conflict or painless co-existence. Strong relationships and healthy communities are places where failure is safe, because people are willing to clean up messes and seek reconciliation. Being connected to other human beings is going to painful, not all the time, but sometimes. It's important for us to have a way to reconnect when we don't live up to a best possible version of ourselves.

I also said that this chapter suggests something about life we have a hard time accepting. It's about our mortality. The Jesus character tells Peter essentially that he needs to do what's important while he has a chance. We are limited in terms of the time have. The people in our lives who are important to us aren't always going to be here. And it's alright for us to keep living after people close to us have died. We must. But while we have the opportunity, may we do what needs to be done and say what needs to be said in our relationships, and may we do what needs to be done and say what needs to be said to journey toward our own personal creative life dream. We may have a lot of time. We may have a little. The point is to use it well.