COVID Clarity
There’s two things to know about me. 1) I love to run. 2) Sarcasm is my love language. Let's start with the first. For me, running is a time to relax. And have a moment to think. My path lately begins on Kirby Dr. and eventually onto the Buffalo Bayou trail. And as I was running the other day, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. A four-foot sculpture in all-cap letters that read: "EMERGE."
My first thought was, "Ah, yes. 'EMERGE.' How pithy. How extraordinary succinct. Thought-provoking. How concise. How...utterly vague. How incomplete. I have no idea what that means. Emerge from what? Should I go on a 40-day walkabout in the desert and emerge as an enlightened buddha. Emerge from the depths of the ocean like Godzilla? Emerge from a nap? Emerge from what?
And as I kept running, I came across yet another sculpture. This one read, "LISTEN." Listen to the birds. Listen to the snail climbing up a tree. Listen to the sweet melodic noises of cats fighting in the alleyway. Listen to your suspension give out as you drive your North Braeswood. Listen to what?
To be fair, I understand full and well that Buffalo Bayou Partnership., the erectors of these statues, probably intended that the viewer would be enticed toward introspection. Reflection. But quite frankly, I have no clue. Because, my point being, one-word statements like these don't communicate effectively. So much gets lost in interpretation. Especially if the voice inside your head sounds more like Larry David and less like Tony Robbins.
And as I began losing hope that any sign along this path would bring me the sweet satisfaction of verbal clarity. Jackpot! As I glanced above the underpass I noticed these striking words: “CAUTION. NEVER HANDLE GROUNDED BATS.” Oh, yes, this was good. Followed by another sweet gem of exactness: “STAND BACK DURING BAT FIGHT.” Now, these words meant something! These words were poignant! Don't entangle yourself in bat altercations. Don't touch the bats. Don't bother the bats. Leave the bats alone. Don't get involved in bat business.
And while this may be self-evident to some, let me be abundantly clear: We. Are. Humans! And if we're really digging in here, handling bats was how this entire COVID thing started in the first place. So yes, easily the most informative, striking sign I've seen in quite a while. An exquisite piece of art. Bravo Waugh Drive Bat Colony. Bravo.
And I share this narrative because I’ve been thinking a lot about communication. For instance, what happens in the exchange of dialogue. When we conceptualize ideas, think about them, put them into words, and then send those words to another person. Who, then, has the cumbersome task of interpreting those words and performing actions based on their interpretation of those words. That’s a lot of steps. And one might think that with the myriad of channels by which we exchange ideas - that our communication would be more straightforward. More fluid. More exact. But in my humble opinion, that's not really the case.
Despite the amount of time we’re spending on our computers and phones, communication has become more complicated than ever. So much is getting lost right now. Even Zoom - the frontrunner of social software - the one we now cleave to like the golden calf as we wait for Moses to relieve us from this plague. Yes, even Zoom has its hangups. One person freezes. We miss what they say. Someone speaks over them. Someone can't figure out the mute button. Our internet goes out. But the cherry on top is the lack of body language. But let’s not get too hasty. Nobody is ready for full-body Facetime…
And I know I'm not the first to say it, but it begs saying aloud: Not being in person is hard. Really hard. I’m sure you can hear it in my tone. And it’s hard because we are humans. Because we’re social beings. Spoken language evolved from our need for clarity. So now the question becomes, what do we do? What to make of all this? Our parsha this week, parshat Devarim, begins as such:
“These are the words that Moses addressed to all Israel...”
Concerning this introduction to the book of Deuteronomy, our sages remark that “[Moses’] intention with these words was not to...give new mitzvot. Rather explain those mitzvot which required explanation...The Torah here elaborates on what it stated briefly elsewhere.” [1] Meaning, the book we find ourselves in is really just a comprehensive recap. A lucid explanation of what’s already been pronounced.
The Torah here is identifying the central ingredient of effective communication. It’s simple: If it’s worth saying once, it’s worth repeating a hundred times.
Because good communication comes with a smattering of redundancy. It means dispelling vagueness and providing context. And in the spirit of repetition, I was fortunate enough that Rabbi Lyon published his blog yesterday - and let the record show that I was already going to dig into the topic of words - but his message is worth saying aloud.
“Imagine the words and instructions that Moses wanted the Israelites to know and do before the end of his days. [His] words would affect the legacy of our people to this very day. Our own words will not likely be as indelible, but it doesn’t mean that they can’t leave a meaningful impression, too. What speeches and instruction would we leave our families, friends, and co-workers?” [2]
Fantastic question, Rabbi Lyon. It’s a good thing I have you on speed-dial. But in all seriousness, the phrase everyone is using is “Uncertain Times.” Which is why, now, more than ever is a fantastic moment to over-communicate. Over elaborate. Be long-winded. I’ll probably regret saying that. Be generous with your words. Like Moses, repeat yourself until you’ve dispelled uncertainty in the hearts and minds of your audience.
Because Moses didn’t leave us with two-syllable words, he left us with the entire Torah. And our rabbis continued this tradition and left us with even more words. More explanation. More depth. More precision. Which is why I stand here this very evening with only the following messages: NEVER HANDLE GROUNDED BATS. STAND BACK DURING BAT FIGHT.