Who do you not understand? A teen who prefers to text the person next to her rather than engage in face-to-face conversation. Neighbors playing loud music across the fence. A co-worker whose vote cancels yours in every election.  A relative that turned his back on the faith you both practiced as children. All of us can think of others that inspire the thought, “Why would they do that?”

What do you do with those you don’t understand?

Lesson in an Amusement Park

These and other questions followed me home from my recent vacation. After several days at sea, my family finished up our time together with two days at Disneyland. I hadn’t been there in years, and I looked forward to revisiting favorite places and exploring new ones. I definitely wanted to see Small World. Years ago, my 6-year-old grew ever more anxious as we moved from ride to ride.  Small World with its singing dolls was the only attraction to quiet her. We visited it at least 10 times that year.  Now that daughter, the mother of children of her own, joined me on a pilgrimage to the site that soothed her frightened soul so long ago.

If you’ve never seen it, the ride carries you by boat through a winding steam in a pavilion of dancing dolls. Dressed in international costumes and surrounded by stylistic scenes, they represent the peoples and cultures of the world. As they dance and sing, they remind us that,

It’s a world of laughter a world of tears.

It’s a world of hopes and a world of fears.

There’s so much that we share that it’s time we’re aware

It’s a small world after all.

Followed by almost unceasing repetition of the song’s chorus…

It’s a small world after all

IIt’s a small world after all

It’s a small world after all

It’s a small, small world.

So why the questions about getting along with others after my visit to Disneyland? The dolls’ clear message is a reminder to be mindful of the common hopes and fears shared by everyone we meet. Yet, the display itself has a Disneyesque sameness. Whatever their costume, hair style or skin tone, “pretty” and “cute” radiate from dolls of similar size and shape.  

And yet, the attraction gives momentary recognition to the divisions that separate us. The song’s second verse offers this encouraging message, “though the mountains divide, and the oceans are wide, it’s a small world after all.”

“The distance between our hearts is far greater than geography,” I thought.  My mind wondered to the range of people I encounter and their many behaviors that baffle me. Who do I not understand? And when I don’t understand them? How do I respond?

Photo credit: Audra Dooley

Lesson from a Toolshed

So much depends on the mindset I bring to questions like these. Thinking about the differences between people, I recalled CS Lewis’ description of “looking along” and “looking at.”   In his essay “Meditations in a Toolshed,” he describes a dark shed and a ray of sunlight breaking into the darkness through a crack above the door. Standing to one side, he studied the yellow light beam filled with dancing dust particles against the blackness of the unlit shed. Then, changing perspective, he gazed along the beam of light looking beyond the crack above the door to see the green leaves of a tree against a clear blue outside sky.

“Which is real?” He wondered. The line of yellow against the black, or the green tree against the blue sky? It all depends on whether we look at the light beam or along it. Lewis goes on to apply this principle to so many of the complex experiences we face. He concludes that neither way of viewing is always superior to the other if we wish to understand our subject well. In each case we must examine the thing from more than one perspective and consider the breadth of our information before making judgments.

But too often I don’t do this. I think of a colleague passing me in the hall without greeting me. “He’s rude,” I decide. Or I remember a friend who disagreed with my idea in a committee meeting. “What’s the good of a friend if she won’t defend me,” I complain. When I hear news that I agree with, I’m quick to discredit anyone who sees the same news as an injustice. When I align myself with a cause I believe in, I’m tempted to cut off friendship with someone who works against that cause.  Too often I rely on things I learned long ago and automatically reject new information no matter its source. And when I am uncomfortable, I’m tempted to draw conclusions quickly without asking, “What else is part of this picture?”

Lesson for Here and Now

Why it’s hard to consider another’s viewpoint is a good question for another day. But for now, let’s return to Disneyland and the dancing dolls.  “Though the mountains divide, and the oceans are wide, it’s a small world after all.” When I’ve known success despite hardships, it’s easy to conclude that life offers good things to those, like me, who work hard and make my choices. If I have overcome illness, or enhanced my skills, I’m likely to advocate for self-help strategies when others face problems without recognizing that they may encounter Rocky Mountain size obstacles that I know nothing about. If I look along my experience and see green leaves and a blue sky, I may fail to see circumstances that leave my friend staring at a glimmer of light in a dark shed. With limited perspective we’re likely to draw overly simplistic conclusions.

Remembering our shared connection can open our hearts to the hopes and fears common to us all. Galatians 6:2 advises us to “Carry each other’s burdens and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Until I remember that my neighbor needs encouragement and support like I do, I may not even notice the load they carry. But as I remember the laughter and tears that come to us all, I’ll recognize that there is much that we share, and that they, despite our differences, are a part of my small world, after all.  Living faith fully asks us to set aside the hostility that divides us to recognize the gifts and the needs of the others that God places in our lives.