Everything is of one piece. Whenever we don’t take that seriously, we pay a price.
The renowned theologian, Hans Urs Von Balthasar, gives an example of this. Beauty, he submits, is not some little “extra” that we can value or denigrate according to personal taste and temperament, like some luxury that we say we cannot afford.
Like truth and goodness, it’s one of the properties of God and thus demands to be taken seriously as goodness and truth.
If we neglect or denigrate beauty, he says, we will soon enough begin to neglect other areas of our lives.
Here are his words: “Our situation today shows that beauty demands for itself at least as much courage and decision as do truth and goodness, and she will not allow herself to be separated and banned from her two sisters without taking them along with herself in an act of mysterious vengeance. We can be sure that whoever sneers at her name, as if she were an ornament of a bourgeois past, whether he admits it or not, can no longer pray and soon will no longer be able to love.”
Here’s a simpler expression of that. There’s a delightful little African tale that highlights the interconnectedness of everything and illustrates how, if we separate a thing from its sisters, we soon pay a price.
The tale goes this way:
Once upon a time, when animals still talked, the mice on a farm called a summit of all the other animals. They were worried, they lamented, because they had seen the mistress of the house buy a mousetrap.
They were now in danger. But the other animals scoffed at their anxiety.
The cow said that she had nothing to worry about. A tiny little contraption couldn’t harm her. She could crush it with her foot.
The pig reacted in a similar way. What did he have to worry about in the face of a tiny trap?
The chicken also announced that it had no fear of this gadget. “It’s your concern. No worry for me!” it told the mice.
But all things are interconnected and that soon became evident.
The mistress set the mousetrap and, on the very first night, heard it snap. Getting out of her bed to look what it had caught, she saw that it had trapped a snake by its tail.
In trying to free the snake, she was bitten; the poison soon had her feeling sick and running a fever.
She went to the doctor who gave her medicines to combat the poison and advised her, “What you need now to get better is chicken broth.” (You can guess where the rest of this is going.)
They slaughtered the chicken, but her fever lingered. Relatives and neighbors came to visit. More food was needed. They slaughtered the pig.
Eventually, the poison killed her. A huge funeral ensued. A lot of food was needed. They slaughtered the cow.
The moral of the story is clear. Everything is interconnected, and our failure to see that leaves us in peril. Blindness to our interdependence, willful or not, is dangerous. We are inextricably tied to each other and to everything in the world.
We can protest to the contrary, but reality will hold its ground. And so, we cannot truly value one thing while we disdain something else.
We cannot really love one person while we hate someone else. And we cannot give ourselves an exemption in one moral area and hope to be morally healthy as a whole.
Everything is of one piece. There are no exceptions. When we ignore that truth, we are eventually going to be snake-bitten by it.
I emphasize this because today, virtually everywhere, a dangerous tribalism is setting in.
Everywhere, not unlike the animals in that African tale, we see families, communities, churches and whole countries focusing more or less exclusively on their own needs without concern for other families, communities, churches and countries. Other people’s problems, we believe, are not our concern.
From the narrowness in our churches, to identity politics, to whole nations setting their own needs first, we hear echoes of the cow, pig and chicken saying, “Not my concern! I’ll take care of myself. You take care of yourself!” This will come back to snakebite us.
We will eventually pay the price for our blindness and non-concern, and we will pay that price politically, socially and economically. But we will even pay a higher price personally.
What that snakebite will do was captured in Von Balthasar’s warning: Whoever ignores or denigrates beauty will, he asserts, eventually be unable to pray or to love. That’s true too in all cases when we ignore our interconnectedness with others.
By ignoring the needs of others, we eventually corrupt our own wholeness so that we are no longer able to treat ourselves with respect and empathy and, when that happens, we lose respect and empathy for life itself – and for God – because whenever reality isn’t respected, it bites back with a mysterious vengeance.
A Missionary Oblate priest who serves as President Emeritus of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio.