You and Me

What follows is one of my favorite sections from Martin Buber’s I and Thou:

The Brahmana of the hundred paths relates that the gods and the demons were once engaged in a contest. Then the demons said: “To whom should we offer our sacrifices?” They placed all offerings in their own mouths. But the gods placed the offerings in one another’s mouth. Then Prajapati, the primal spirit, bestowed himself upon the gods.

For Buber—and I offer the idea broadly—the central shift that all individuals must make is to transform what he terms an I-It approach to others into the I-You so that we are joined together in this life we share rather than traveling as islands separate from the main.

To not only see the other, but to bond with the other in a way that validates, recognizes, honors one another beyond objectifying or idolizing. Spirit to spirit, if you will allow.

Getting at the idea from another angle, the philosopher Immanuel Kant proposed that rational human beings should be treated as an end in themselves and not as a means to something else. The very fact of our shared humanity is enough worth in itself. We are each of us a valued You, not merely a material It.

That we are one of more than 6 billion individuals, each someone who has not been before, will not again be a part of this earthly realm—well, to my way of thinking, a compelling reason to stand before each other in awe: You! No, You!

Several times over the years, I joked with friends and family that I hoped I would not drop dead over a stack of essays or tests that demanded grading. Wishing that my last vision would not be the pile of papers and thud!, my head down, eternally at rest.

Perhaps the image strikes you as morbid or grotesque or even perverse, or maybe amusing. Stay with me idea-wise. Since we do not know when our last breath may come, and since we do not know if someone may be there with us—friend, stranger, kin, clerk, judge, or helpmate—there and then, if ever were it to be so, a moment calls for I-You rather than I-It.

I have found—and this may seem like an aside—that to ask of folks at service centers or checkout counters, service technicians or assistants of some sort or another, how they are doing, how their day goes is often met by surprise. Anyone, really. I can hear the shift in their speaking tones. More often than not, I will see it in their demeanor. Buber’s I-You is at work. In both directions. No longer am I merely a work order, a shopper, a blood donor. No longer an It.

For a week, a day, chance the connection. Consider each encounter as the final moment in the passage. We may be all that we have.

Besides, we do know this idea to be true at its core. The only question is must we wait for earthquakes and floods and tornados and hurricanes.

May I then, finally, offer a gentle tweak. You-Me, Baby!