We Few, We Happy Few

In one of William Shakespeare’s most famous monologues, Henry V calls his war-fighting men to take courage as they prepare to face the overwhelming French army on the battlefield. It is not merely a call to overcome fear but rather to taste of one of life’s most exquisite delights; the relational intimacy of shared identity and purpose.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother…
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here…

Knowing One Another in the Now

This is not about the bravado of blood and war. This is about standing alongside others, a selfless giving of yourself to a purpose greater than yourself, received and embraced, known and declared my brother, my sister, my friend. At our very core resides the inherent desire to be truly known by others and have others to be known by us. Absolutely essential to knowing is having shared experience. From my youth, I have heard my father talk of true intimacy as knowing one-another in “the now.” It is one thing to recount to someone that you felt afraid, but it is quite another for them to experience you in those vulnerable moments as you cry out, freeze, cower, or courageously rise up.

This is distinct from what I refer to as positional-intimacy. This refers to those important times where we are in a position to lend unidirectional comfort or counsel to someone in their time of need. This can be a vulnerable experience for these individuals who, in a very real sense, are emotionally naked before us. We who are emotionally ‘clothed’ then bear an important responsibility to cover them with dignity. As a physician, I am privileged to sit with many individuals in their most vulnerable moments of pain, fear, grief, anxiety, and despair. Almost universally, patients apologize to me if they cry during our visits. Crying is by no means offensive but it is a moment of unintended, one-sided intimacy for the patient. In their apology, they are saying “I’m sorry for putting you in a position where you have to respond to this right now.” I have often reassured patients that while I recognize the vulnerability of crying, it is a right and honest response to the circumstances, and that in the context, it is safe and good to share that emotion.

Passive Intimacy

Also different, but moving more vulnerably inward, is what I refer to as passive intimacy. This is where we can dabble in expressing emotion and being known without real relational risk. Who of us has not been moved to laughter, tears, or cheers while reading a book or watching a movie? These stories invite us into the intimate spaces of people’s lives. We come to love and care for these characters; sometimes seeing them as dear friends, or at other times seeing ourselves in them, either as we are or as we would like to be. In either case, there is an experiential knowledge of these characters as we are invited into their circumstances. Perhaps more subtle is the opportunity for us to be vicariously ‘known’ as we see the characters express the same longings, love, and emotions that lay deep within us. The characters either reflect our flaws, affirming that we are still okay, or they express themselves in ways that we wish we could. In any case, there is typically clear movement towards a fulfilling purpose— finding or restoring love, friendship, rescue, justice. Quite literally, as I write these words, Howard Shore’s film score for “Lord of The Rings: Fellowship Of The Ring” plays through my headphones and I feel an odd mix of comfortable melancholy as I imagine my friends (and perhaps myself) trekking with a hurried and purposed step across a beautiful and dangerous landscape. It’s a story of purpose, belonging, dependence, failure, and redemption.

In this life, true depth of intimacy is found not only in the experience of observing others, or in the passive stirring of our emotional depths, but in the experience of a shared knowing, acceptance, and belonging (identity), and purpose—all testifying that we matter. While this has always been elusive in the human experience—‘we few, we happy few’— in many ways, we have lost touch with the critical importance of this element of living. We have replaced this core desire that truly satisfies— living with purpose, with others— with the transient pleasures of comfort, entertainment, drink, food, sleep—all amazing delights for which we should be thankful! But in and of themselves, these each soothe only for a moment, leaving us wanting and needing more. And when indulged to excess, they leave us feeling emotionally and physically bloated and sick. Living with relational purpose, however, touches the core of who we really are. It satisfies without indulgent regret.

The Importance of Relational Purpose

While living with relational purpose is most often a choice (‘he who chooses to risk bleeding with me on this day), circumstances do on occasion require it of us. It is during these times that we are reminded of how necessary and satisfying it is. In his book “Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging,” author Sebastian Junger discusses the findings of social scientists through history as they have studied the impact of war and other calamities on communities. The surprising finding is that as the individuals of those communities, having personally lost so much, banded together to survive and recover, there was a consistent reduction in depression and suicide rates in those communities. On many occasions, it was also noted that surrounding communities, not directly impacted, had increased rates of depression. One of the clear implications is how important having a sense of purpose and belonging is.

Junger also served as a journalist in Sarajevo, Bosnia when the city was under siege by Serbian forces during the civil war that started when the former Yugoslavia broke apart in 1991. Over the course of three years, 70,000 Bosnians (20% of the population) were killed or wounded by Serb forces. The devastation was unimaginable and 1/2 of all children witnessed someone killed and 1 in 5 people lost a family member. Returning to Sarajevo 20 years later, Junger was surprised to discover a common longing among those who had been there during the siege. He writes “I returned to find people talking a little sheepishly about how much they longed for those days. More precisely, they longed for who they’d been back then.” He goes on to say, “For a former soldier to miss the clarity and importance of his wartime duty is one thing, but for civilians [to miss those times] is quite another.”

To make this point, Junger tells of his interview with Bosnian journalist Nidzara Ahmetasevic who was injured during the siege when she was 17 years old. She describes that during that time her neighborhood of 60 families created a huge cooperative of shared food, ovens, shelter. They planted community gardens and collected water together. Nidzara recounts that the teens lived a sort of communal life of their own, sharing music, food, concerts, jokes, and conversation. She remembers, “The love we shared was enormous.” Junger tells us that she hesitates, then qualifies her statement as she recognizes her nostalgia, “The siege was so terrible. It was so hard. But, you know what? We all kind of miss it…we were better people during the siege. We helped each other. We lived more closely. We could have died for each other. And now, you know, it’s peaceful. It’s- we’re a wealthy society. And everyone just lives for themselves. And everyone’s depressed.” When asked if people had been happy during the war, Ahmetasevic answered, “We were the happiest…and we laughed more.”

When Joy Returns

One of the great challenges of our current circumstances is that a pandemic has necessarily separated our communities. Rather than banding together, we are forced apart, hidden, covered, even suspicious… we are afraid. Though uncertain of the nature of the journey ahead, there will come a day, when we will gather again. It will be different, for a while, and we will be careful. But we will need each other—much will have been lost and the need will be great.

What history has proven is that joy will not be restored when our accounts are full, the shelves are stocked, school is in session, employment assured, and travel resumed. Yes, let us hope for these things. But if they are to be our source of satisfaction, we will soon enough judge them for their insufficiency, inconvenience, or demands.

Rather, let this time be a reminder to carefully choose what we long for most — to know and be known; to be embraced and called brother, sister, and friend; and to live with a shared purpose greater than ourselves. To choose otherwise is to risk awakening ‘accursed that you were not there.’

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either one of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

               – Ecclesiastes