Blindspots

While driving my father-in-law down to his treatment last week, he commented quietly, "I have become an expert in the use of my side mirrors so I can navigate in and out of any kind of traffic." I mused on this seemingly random but instructive statement for some time before it dawned on me that it makes him nervous when I turn to look over my shoulder before I pull into an adjacent lane on the freeway. Why do I do that instead of simply using my side mirrors? Because every driver has a region of visual field that won't see an advancing car: a blindspot. This is why some vehicles like commercial trucks, have wide angle mirrors. They can't see when little cars creep up beside them. They see very well from their vantage point, high above the other vehicles around them. But they still can't see the length of their truck without those special mirrors, or looking out the cab window.
There are things in life that we can't see, period. If we laid awake nights trying to think about what we are missing, chances are that we still couldn't see some things.
I remember a Korean classmate I had at the University of Minnesota. She was an extremely bright and generous woman whose company I liked. She was, however, a good 15 years younger than I was. And in her culture, you can't have true friendships with people who are much older or younger than yourself. I didn't know that. We studied together and I invited her to lunch a couple times. She always politely declined. Until one day I asked her why she didn't want to join me and another (older) classmate for lunch. It was a posh restaurant and it was my way to thank them for studying statistics with me and helping me through those painful classes. She became quite worked up, in an understated kind of way. Her face flushed, she told me that it was "impossible" to be friends with me. Because of our age difference. Because it was unheard of in Korea to be considered equals. Because she had consistently shown me respect in accordance with my age. "You have?" I was nonplussed.
"Haven't you seen how much respect I have shown you?" She was quite exercised now. I was almost speechless. I told her that I thought of her as a very respectful person but that I did not recognize any particular thing that she had done. She then began to regale me with the ways she had been deferent to me.
One way she had done this was to use both hands, palms up, when handing me objects. It is the deferent manner of handing things to older people. "It's rude to hand someone something with one hand. Especially the left hand."
I froze as I tried to remember if I had ever done this. I was sure I must have and I tried to tell her that I didn't understand Asian ways so I apologized for not being more respectful of her. This was like pouring gasoline on fire because she was trying to be deferent to me due to my age, while I apologized to her for being hierarchical and not leveling the ground more.
I had a big blindspot. So did she. We could not have understood the other's viewpoint unless we had that conversation. But it had a huge impact on both of us. A couple weeks later she refused to study with me one day. That was a big step for her. It wasn't a convenient time, and rather than deferring to my request, which she typically would have done, she declined. I was surprised but relieved. I could trust her in a new way now.
I started handing her pencils with both hands, palms up. It drove her crazy.

People are full of blindspots, especially people of faith. Christians. We espouse a great deal and while we cling to what Jesus Christ has done for us in His death and resurrection, we aim to obey Him and live holy lives. But we still can't get it all right.
I know someone who fasts and prays often, whose faith is strong and comfortable reposing in God. And she will turn on you and have you for lunch if you comment on her political party. (And today, election day, would not be a good day to test my observation about her!) Or the man who is busy studying the Bible with people who are hungry for the Word of God, only to come home and devour everything in sight in his refrigerator. The man who is out on the lecture circuit, enthusiastically championing the role of parents in nurturing their children, while his own children are home for weeks at a time without any appreciable input from him. The man who agonizes with God to give him the right words to say to his students, but who has not one diplomatic bone in his body.
We privilege one particular distinct "good" thing while turning a blind eye toward an equally problematic behavior. Just when we think we get one thing nailed down, we see with new eyes, somehting else that is undone in ourselves. Perhaps this is why it does not do for us to judge anyone else. Changing by beholding takes a long time, and the shadows always seem to hold surprising things.