Do You Let Others See You?
There is a shot in Schindler’s List of a Jewish family stuffing precious rings, necklaces, and jewels into carefully cut cubes of bread to avoid confiscation from the German soldiers. The most valuable items they have are placed within the most perishable, fickle items they have.
We could call it ironic when the highest and the lowest of value meet together. But it is in fact the best armor. Perhaps Lao Tsu’s famous maxim, “Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak,” applies here.
But what is the reason why? Why should the highest and the lowest meet? Because what that Jewish family and a great war general are both tapping into is the power of impression, and further still, the shortage of human attention. Ask yourself, how many people do you know really look deeper? How many people see?
I find I do the same thing. I place valuable jewels within a container that cannot match its value. Oftentimes it is in humor. I will often lay something extremely personal about myself tucked away behind the layers of a clever clip or witty remark. A psychoanalyst — or any shmoo off the street — might ask the same question: Why?
“Seek me and you will find me.”
This verse was always interesting to me. It is a guarantee. I love guarantees. Few things get me more excited than a guarantee of getting something I really want — so long as I do really want it. I suppose I am saying the same thing but for myself. To the people that I lay little personal jewels within pieces of bread, I ask: Are you paying attention? Or, in Alfred Borden’s words, Are you watching closely?
It is a test, of sorts. It is also a game. Dangling pieces of bread in front of people, wondering if they will look close enough to spot the sparkling jewels just under the crust’s surface. Or if they even care.
Is it a defense mechanism? Possibly. But it is also a compromise. A compromise in vulnerability. Spilling any of our guts to anyone is a risk beyond measure. It is foolish to walk around with all your valuables out in the open, for everyone to see. Burying valuables where no one is used to looking is the ultimate test of loyalty. Do you believe in me enough to give me the benefit of the doubt, that what I might be saying is more valuable than it seems?
It is also an invitation. I feel strange putting myself in the same company as God, but I admit I feel similarly to the way he does. Seek me and you will find me. Is this not what we are saying when we place something valuable within something seemingly invaluable?
Attention is the most precious of human gifts. When someone looks at you, listens to you, understands you, and can feel the balance that the weights of your soul press down on — is there anything better than that? Why should we pursue that cheaply, with rubies strewn about our neck to tell people, “Come, look at me, look at me! Look at my jewels! Now, don’t you want to give me attention?”
Yet, how will you know that any of those people are giving you attention BECAUSE they are curious about you? When we seek attention we may find it, but it will often be worthless attention. How much more valuable is the attention of a seeker who, through muck and mire — or an inch of sourdough bread — excavates the real treasure buried slightly beneath the veneer?
But the next question looms large. Do we only risk exposing ourselves — through vulnerability, honesty, and personal expression — when we have a guarantee that the person before us has offered valuable attention? Do we only open up when the battle is over? Do we only swim when the water is warm?
Are we being arrogant to bury ourselves so far back that it becomes impossible to know us at all?
The danger is that we fake being our “real” selves for so long that we forget our own identity. Honesty is not a negotiable behavior for health. And yet, there are pieces and sections of our Being that not everyone does or should have access to.
And yet, when an eye looks at those chunks of bread, are we always to judge that they do not care when they let us pass? Perhaps, from time to time, we should cut open a chunk of bread just slightly, and let the flash of a glistening red ruby or pure green emerald be seen.
The question we have to ask ourselves in the midst of hiding beneath bread is — How many people am I missing out on because I conceal the bread deep within my chest?
The answer may not be “all” or even “many.” But even if it is “some” — or “one” or “two” — perhaps that is still too many. And yet, most people are not willing to look beneath even our top layer. So, what is the answer? Perhaps Solomon can help us. “A time for ____, and a time for ____.” The only question left for us to ask, then, is: Is now the right time?
