Building Bridges

Whenever I am asked to speak to a group, my favorite part is the question and answer time  that follows my remarks.  That is when I, the speaker, become the listener, and I always learn something. This was my experience last week when I spoke on the joy of writing to residents of Compass Park.  

Because several of my books are centered on countering religious extremism, I wasn’t surprised when an audience member asked for my view of the war between Israel and Hamas.  I’m not sure my response offered anything new to the debate, because the audience seemed to be as o date on this tragedy as I am. 

However, I won’t forget the conversations I had with two residents after my talk.  One resident, Bruce, asked if I was familiar with Carl Jung’s definition of “relationship.”  My ears perked up, as I consider the psychoanalyst Jung to be one of the most original thinkers of the twentieth century.  But, as I confessed to this resident, I had never read Jung’s understanding of relationship. 

Jung’s insight is that we can’t have a relationship with someone we totally agree with.  Instead, with those people, we simply mirror one another.  When we are with them, we are really just with a version of ourselves.

Jung’s insight is that we can have relationships only with people who differ with us.  That thought reminded me of a river and a bridge.  Being with those who think like us is akin to standing with others on the same side of a raging river.  For a relationship to be established, one side would have to meet and converse with those on the other side of the river, those who think differently than we. To do that, the two sides would have to build a bridge.

As if our country and world aren’t already divided, the Israeli-Hamas conflict is dividing us even further.  How tempting it is to talk with people whom we agree with on this war and demonize those who support the other side. Trauma and war foster separation and demonization; neither trauma nor war ever builds bridges.

Then, as I was packing up to leave Compass Park last week, another thoughtful audience member approached me and lamented the prevalence of darkness in our current world.  Where, she asked, do I see light?   

Her question about where light can be found in our dark world deserved more than feel-good response from me.  I promised that I would give more thought to her question and offer my response in this column.

Having pondered her question further, I believe Carl Jung’s insight is at least part of the answer.   Gathering with those with whom I already agree is just to be in the darkness together.  It is only when we risk meeting and talking with people we don’t agree with that there is the chance of light.  I say “there is the chance” because meeting with people we don’t agree with can also lead to shouting and  violence. 

But I will stick with the metaphor of the river.  If we yearn for light, we should look for light not on our separate banks, but on the bridge.

A theologian whose name I have sadly forgotten once wrote that if we wish to build  relationships with those who have different viewpoints from ours,  both sides need to enter the conversation with a willingness to have their minds changed. 

Maybe that is what is required in this time of division and discord.  The willingness to have our minds changed is the toll we must pay to walk across the bridge.