By Jim Nichols

It is unfortunate that John Donne in 1624 did not use gender-neutral language, but the power of his short poem remains the same. He is writing about the interconnectedness of humanity and, specifically, the impact of loss.

On a high shelf in a spare bedroom, we have several photo albums. If I were to peruse through them chronologically, I would see a condensed version of my personal history. I would glimpse the family before the births of certain people and before the loss of others. If I were to make a similar journey through our junior and senior high as well as college yearbooks, I could remember a similar array of people. 

It is not a unique American view, but certainly one of high prevalence — “Every individual is independent.” I contend that this is a gross exaggeration of the truth. Frederick Buechner notes, “. . . the story of any one of us is in some measure the story of us all.” Two illustrations come to mind.

My mother died of cancer when she was fifty-two. She and my father had a strong marriage for over 30 years. He subsequently remarried and until he died, he had a positive 16-year second marriage to a fine person. Lots of people do not even have one good marriage; my father had two.

An unexpected (to me) thing happened as this second marriage unfolded; my father changed a bit. These changes were not necessarily negative, but unanticipated by me. The style of his clothing was somewhat different as were the types of food he liked or did not like. He occasionally used swear words such as “hell” or “damn.” My father would never use such words. It was odd.

As I tracked these changes in him, it occurred to me that the person I knew as my father was a person who was married to my mother; now that he was married to another person, he was a slightly different person. His marriage to my mother had influenced who he was.

With a smile on my face, I have wondered just who I really am. How much of “me” is a result of the person to whom I am married. Again, this is not a negative, but curious. 

Indeed, contrary to the opinion of many, we are not all that “independent.” 

I steal my second illustration from my preacher friend. In a sermon he was describing the personality differences in his three young sons. One of them is generous. He shares well and accommodates his brothers in their play and interactions and, as a result, the other two show more generosity.

The second boy is courageous. When you are a child, there are many things to learn and often the learning event can cause initial hesitation at trying it. This boy just marches ahead and, as a result, makes his brothers braver.

The third son has an imagination that stimulates both good and bad ideas but also plants seeds of creativity in the other two. They would not be the same without him.

Which is really the point of the illustration. If any one of the three brothers were not there, neither of the remaining two would have the same capabilities, tendencies, or initiatives. They are independent children but overlap in their intra-personal influences.

Although both illustrations have a family aspect to them, the point extends to all the connections we have with one another. As I look through those old photo albums, I see the people who have, frankly, shaped me to be who I am today. When I listen to my life as a whole, they are there hiding, teaching me what is important and what is not, what is to be valued or not, and what type of behavior will bring the most good and happiness to the world.

Making an application to faith is not difficult. One cannot know God by oneself. A friend in the faith may drive me crazy in ways, but that friend is also nurturing characteristics in me, many of them positive. If those friends gather in a community such as a church group, it is reasonable to suggest that we each need the church to help us see God. 

Jim Nichols is a retired Abilene Christian University biology professor and current hospital chaplain