I and Thou
I have a favorite reading that my students generally hate. “I didn’t understand a word of that reading” or "That guy makes no sense" are the kinds of things they tell me the day we’re supposed to discuss it in class. And I don’t blame them. The first time I read it (and the second), I had the same reaction. The guy's nuts...
What I assign is a short selection from Martin Buber’s I and Thou…and it really is the stonewall of impenetrable readings.
My first encounter with Buber’s book came years ago after hearing it mentioned three or four times in a few weeks. People always seemed to be citing it, yet I couldn’t find anyone who’d actually read the thing. So I checked it out of the college library and sat down to read. About three pages in, having not a clue what he was talking about, I was (thankfully) interrupted by a student knocking on my office door. The next day I was heading to a conference, so I brought the book along and went to work on it again once my seatbelt was fastened and we hit thirty-thousand feet. But with the peanuts and announcements from the flight deck, I struggled through the same few pages and gave up, still clueless. I had a two-hour layover, so I got myself settled at an empty gate and tried again…and suddenly I got it. I mean, I really got it. I had one of those made-for-TV-moments where the world paused, sounds faded, and I had a blinding flash of the Buberian obvious. The guy wasn’t an idiot; he was a genius!
Feel free to give the book a shot if you like. In the meantime, here’s the gist of what Buber wrote (back around 1923): We human beings live in relation. We are always either I with an It or I with a Thou. Mostly, it’s the former. Most of the time, it’s me engaging a world of “its.” Me in relation to my chair. Me in relation to the floor. Me in relation to the big piece of chocolate cake waiting for me in the fridge. And people can also be its. To my students, I’m a grading ogre. To my kids, I’m a wallet. To my wife, I’m an inconvenience. To Stana Katic I don’t exist. Me in relation to Its.
But once in a while—just once in a while—we have moments where the world stops, and we are authentically, genuinely ourselves, present in a moment with "Thou." Rather than try to explain, I’ll give you an example: I had a colleague in another department who’d seemed a decent sort, and we said passing hellos for a couple of years. Then one day we were both in the student commons avoiding grading by applying fried foods liberally, and we started a conversation that lasted for over an hour. We were honest and genuine and found ourselves connected in ways that surprised us both. In those moments we became friends. Our relationship was changed in every way because of that time of being authentically present with one another.
Buber said we can have these I/Thou moments with nature, people, and spiritual things (as in, God, the ultimate Thou). He talks about sculptures and trees and music, but for now, let’s stick with people. Buber wasn't just saying "have a nice conversation--you'll like it." He said our willingness to be present in the moment--of being willing to be authentic and open with one another--was the most pressing concern of humanity.
Through World Wars and personal encounters, to Buber, the most important thing about being human was our ability to engage in authentic encounters during moments where we have “both will and grace.” We don’t skim over the surface or try to win an argument or stare at the gorgeous eyes of someone we think is hot. No—we’re just us, allowing someone else to just be them--for a while. Such moments happen all too rarely. Mostly we’re distracted and stressed and thinking about the past or the future. We’re so seldom “right here, right now” as our phones buzz us with texts and with so many blog posts and TikTok videos out there demanding our attention.
Buber understood that we need I/It to live. We need texts and clerks and to hurry sometimes and to quickly analyze our surroundings to ensure we’re safe. But without I/Thou moments of authentic connection, we aren’t truly alive. THOSE are the moments we don’t forget. THOSE are the times we love. Those are the experiences that make our lives worth living, the things that make us human.
My encounter with Buber’s I and Thou continues, now decades after my first awkward reading of it. It's changed my teaching (as in, what’s more important—getting them to memorize facts or help them have moments of being present and engaged with something that has grabbed them and is holding on?), and it's changed my relationships. The way I spend my time is different as I try to be open to the call of each moment. I can’t make I/Thou moments happen, but I can make them more likely. I can stop what I’m doing and tune in to my daughter when she’s talking about her day at work, really listening to her for a few minutes rather than letting myself be distracted. I can do the same with colleagues or students, seeking to be present in the room with them rather than somewhere else in my head.
Don't get me wrong--I’m distracted plenty. But Buber has provided a kind of soundtrack that runs in the back of my mind, telling me not to let the moments go by unnoticed. I will not have this moment again. Neither will you. Right here, right now. Time moves so quickly, and opportunities pass us by without pause. Being thoughtfully, authentically present and open makes moments more substantial, and they stay with us far longer than if we let them pass unnoticed.