Language

Buna Ziua!

Most people who know me know that I like quotes. I like to quote books, movies, and television shows. After all, "Nobody tosses a Dwarf!" is the perfect thing to shout before jumping from platform to platform on a ropes course. And who doesn't appreciate a quiet "My precioussss!" during a lesson about possessive pronouns? If I don't know the exact wording of a quote, chances are I'll look it up - either in a book or online.

There's one quote in particular that has been on my mind recently, a rather lengthy one from a television show called Babylon 5. It first occurred to me last Tuesday as we were hiking up to the ropes course, and I haven't been able to dislodge it since. Its relevance surprised me, given the fact that the show takes place on a space station 150 years in the future and under circumstances not at all similar to the ones I've found myself in recently. But I suppose that only proves the speaker's point. So here's the quote (yes, I had to go look it up) along with a few of my own thoughts.

"The Universe speaks in many languages, but only one voice. The language is not Narn or human or Centauri or Gaim or Minbari." The language is not English or Spanish or German or Chinese or Romanian.

"It speaks in the language of hope." It's easy to look around here and see only problems. Trash everywhere. Polluted water. Stray dogs. But there is also beauty. The guys and I have nicknamed a large part of Straja "Rohan" because it looks just like the horse-country from the books we all love. There have been times when I've looked at a hill and thought "That belongs in the Shire" or at a river and seen not the trash on the banks, but the beauty of the water. There is beauty. Hope. Especially at Viata camp, the atmosphere is one of hope. Of what could be rather than what is at the moment.

"It speaks in the language of trust." As far as trust goes, it was fairly easy for me to trust the kids at camp. After all, I had nothing to lose. No one they could tell would care about the time when I . . . [insert embarrassing story here] . . . or that when I was eleven, I . . . [insert personal, emotional story here]. And what's the worst that could happen if they dropped me during a trust fall? That log was maybe four feet off the ground.

No, I was much more impressed by how much they learned to trust each other. As the week progressed, they became more and more of a group. The night before camp ended, most of them stayed up until five in the morning, just talking. Sharing. The next morning, when asked to give the group a "trust rating," I said that, because of language differences, I hadn't gotten to know all of them very well individually. "But, as a group," I added, "I trust you." We spoke the same language that day - the language of trust.

"It speaks in the language of compassion." While we were at the ropes course, there were several times when a member of our group would wait for a good five or ten minutes before jumping from a platform or continuing along a rope. It didn't matter how long it took. There was encouragement, but not pressure. Nobody rushed them beyond their ability. Time wasn't the issue. Compassion was.

I would add that we all speak in the language of smiles and the language of laughter. I don't tend to talk a lot, but I smile often and laugh easily, and that does wonders for communication. We speak in the language of joy and the language of song. I joined in every camp song I could, and even learned from Dragos, one of our leaders, that one particular song called "Hey, Angelo" didn't mean anything in Romanian, either. Almost all of it was absolute gibberish. It was a language all its own - a language we all spoke.

"It is the language of the heart and the language of the soul." I think G'kar's words speak for themselves here.

"It is the voice of our ancestors speaking through us..." At the beginning of the week, we went to an Orthodox church. On the way, there was a tunnel painted on the inside with pictures of various saints. A calendar filled an entire side, each day with a saint. These pictures were a silent reminder on the way to church that our voices were joined not only with whoever else happened to be in that building on that particular Sunday, but with so many of our ancestors in faith, all speaking together as one.

"...and the voice of our inheritors waiting to be born." A reminder that we will not be the last to inhabit this world. That there will be more. That life will go on, whether thanks to or in spite of us.

"It is the small, still voice that says, 'We are One.'"

"No matter the blood, no matter the skin, no matter the world, no matter the star, we are One." No matter the country. No matter the language. No matter the age. We are One.

"No matter the pain, no matter the darkness, no matter the loss, no matter the fear, we are One." There has been - and still is - pain here. Loss. Fear. And sometimes I feel so naive coming in and trying to understand that. But then I remember that I've had my own pain, darkness, loss, and fear. And, though it's not the same and doesn't span nearly the same scale, it's there.

"Here, gathered together in common cause, we agree to recognize this single truth and this single rule: that we must be kind to each other." I would add that we must trust each other. That we must respect each other. That we must help each other and be willing to accept help in return. I know the latter is harder for me. It's harder for me to accept kindness as genuine than to help someone else. But it's just as important. Just as necessary.

"Because each voice enriches and ennobles us, and each voice lost diminishes us." Even the voices we disagree with. Even the voices we just can't stand. Even the voices that seem so hopelessly tone-deaf that we can't bear to be anywhere near them. Each voice enriches us in some way. Each voice has its own strength.

"We are the voice of the Universe. The soul of creation. The fire that will light the way to a better future." The last line about fire couldn't describe the IMPACT program here any better if it was intended to in the first place. These kids are the future of Romania. Everyone involved in the program can see it. They are changing this country for the better. Lighting the way to a future that will be better.

"We are One. We are One." This last line is repeated by two different characters - one of whom wrote the speech for the other.

When I looked up this quote and saw that the word "one" was continuously capitalized, a thousand different images came to my mind. In the Gospel of John, Jesus prays that we will all be one, as He and the Father are one. In the book of Corinthians, Paul describes the Church as many parts, but one body. Knowing the two characters who say this line in the show, I don't think I'm pulling the parallels out of nowhere. And I don't think the comparison is unwarranted.

Neither Jesus nor Paul nor Sheridan nor G'kar was suggesting that we are all one huge, shapeless mass of unison, all the same, blending into one huge clump of something. We are "one" in the sense that we are united, not in some sort of one-size-fits-all concept. I am not the same person as anyone else, whether in Romania or back in the United States. We are not identical, and no one is suggesting that we should be.

There's a song that I've known since I was little - a church song based on Paul's words. I think it says what I'm trying to much better than I ever could:

We are many parts.
We are all one body.
And the gifts we have,
We are given to share.
May the spirit of love
Make us one indeed.
One the love that we share.
One our hope in despair.
One the cross that we bear.

We are One in a way that can never be fully expressed in words - by me or by anyone else. We are One. We need each other. We are connected in ways that we never imagined.

We are One. In pain. In despair. In hope. In joy. We are One.

We are One.

Godspeed,
Beth