This week I had dinner with a compassionate, diverse, and endlessly fascinating small group of people. (Outside, all vaccinated, etc.) It felt like a special moment because it's been so long since I've had the opportunity to do that. One of the men at my table is a leader in Idaho's health care system. He is a wise, compassionate, intelligent doctor. I thanked him for his work in our community. His response will stay with me for a long time. He said, "Well, doctors signed up for this." He then paused to gather his emotions which were spilling over. He said, "The people to thank are the people who are pushing the food carts, cleaning room-they are the heroes; we couldn't serve the people in Idaho without THOSE people."
As the conversation unfolded, in the glory of an early fall evening, the perfect temperature, tucked in a lovely outside courtyard, the conversation turned to the impact and nature of childhood friendships. Two gentlemen, including the good doctor, shared memories of attending Jewish Seder meals. The doctor said something that I'm still pondering and inviting you to join me in considering. Even as a child, he understood there was a horizontal and vertical element to those long, lively meals.
He made a cross with his hand tracing a horizontal and vertical line. He went on to explain the horizontal element as the people around the table, the present moment, those that were breaking bread together, debating and laughing, lingering over a long, shared meal. I was curious what the vertical element was; being a Jewish Seder, I thought he would say, YHWH. I was surprised when he identified the vertical element as the generations before who had shared the same meal. He was connecting the history, the voices of ancestors that echo and inform to the present moment. As a young boy, he felt that he was not only a part of the moment; he was being invited into an ancient ritual still unfolding.
All week I've been considering; what is the vertical and horizontal element of my daily life? There is a horizontal and vertical element in our ordinary quotidian lives. It's not only present at ritual meals.

Horizontal
The horizontal is the present moment. It's found in the people before us. The people we are talking to, interacting with in person, on social media, even in the conversations and debates we engage in our heads after hearing or seeing something challenging. Horizontal relates to the horizon; it's wide, long, spacious, and also, according to the dictionary, implies "of equal status." This is truer than true in every conversation we interact with people with equal, fallible, glorious, human being status.
Vertical
The vertical axis has been the idea that I'm pondering. What is the vertical axis in my daily interactions? Am I often aware of the vertical? The vertical axis of interaction is the unseen influences, both generational and the things we read, listen to, and invite into our hearts. The vertical is often unrecognized. I'm not sure what people are reading, listening to, steeping in, both presently and in the past. Seen or unseen, it's there. We are a product of every moment of our lives. I'm coming to believe that the vertical axis is where our invitation to compassion, grace, and love resides.
What would happen if we saw the horizontal and vertical in every interaction with the eyes of our hearts? Would we listen differently? Would we be able to show more kindness? Would we be able to listen wider?
In a world that rewards and encourages reactive approaches on the macro and micro-level. (Isn't that what social media is, the like and comment feature invites and rewards split-second reactive interactions.) The challenge is to invite a pause and reflection before reacting.
Considering the horizontal and vertical elements that we all move within asks us to look with eyes of grace and listen with discerning ears. It is an invitation to slow down, to pause, to look wider, before engaging. It is an invitation to remember when we stand before another person, we stand in their presence and their history.
I would love to know what ideas spark in your mind as you consider the horizontal and vertical elements. What have I missed? Please share your ponderings and questions in the comments!
I know that the idea of horizontal and vertical is something I need to ponder; I haven't worked it all out yet. Maybe it's an invitation for you too to consider the horizontal and vertical elements of every sacred interaction.
This is an old podcast, one I listened to years ago. It still echos in my mind, and it is timely to share this week. If you are looking for something to listen to while out for a slow walk, consider this episode on The Days of Awe by Sharon Brous.
A few months ago, I listened to this podcast; I think it relates to every interaction's horizontal and vertical elements. I'm slowly reading My Grandmother's Hands. It's challenging and healing.

Recently Finished:
The Madness of Crowds by Louise Penny
I love Louise Penny and the seemingly magical town of Three Pines. The Inspector Gamache series by Louise Penny are mysteries, but so much more; a mediation on kindness, virtue, human nature, and finding hope in the darkness. The Madness of Crowds is her latest, which was released just a few weeks ago. It includes themes from the pandemic and the challenges of groupthink. I love to consume these books in audiobook form. If you saw me over the past week, I probably had my earbuds in listening to this story and visiting my "friends" in Three Pines. It was a five-star read (listen) for me.
A Book I'm Loving:
Reimaging the Ignatian Examen by Mark E. Thibodeaux, SJ
In my Spiritual Director training, we've been dipping our toes into Ignatian Spirituality. I just finished a book on Ignatian decision-making and loved the ideas and principles. They are so practical and helpful. There is so much wisdom in ancient practices that have stood the test of time! I love this book because it expands the traditional Examen into 34 different ways to reflect under the eyes of God. If you are looking for a daily practice, this book is a helpful tool.
(I try and pay attention to words or phrases that stand out to me in my reading and listening. There is a spiritual practice called Florliledgium that collects short, interesting pieces {words that “sparkle” up} and put them together. This is kind of like that. Watching for things that sparkle. Gathering them and seeing how they work together and what message, mantra, or new idea might arise.)
A Practice:
Read slowly.
Notice if a word or phrase stands out to you.
How do the words make you feel?
Is there an invitation?
(I’m sharing in italics the lines that stand out to me in these passages. Maybe it’s the same, or maybe it’s different, there is much food for thought in each of these passages)
"There is a time to listen to the whole and a time to listen to the part, a time to listen for how things go together and a time to shut out everything so we can hear what lives beneath our masks."
-Mark Nepo
For us to transform as a society, we have to allow ourselves to be transformed as individuals. And for us to be transformed as individuals, we have to allow for the incompleteness of any of our truths and a real forgiveness for the complexity of human beings.
angel Kyodo williams
"The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them"
― Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island
"The only reason we don't open our hearts and minds to other people is that they trigger confusion in us that we don't feel brave enough or sane enough to deal with. To the degree that we look clearly and compassionately at ourselves, we feel confident and fearless about looking into someone else's eyes."
― Pema Chodron
A prayer for reconciliation
by Pádraig Ó Tuama
Where there is separation,
there is pain.
And where there is pain,
there is a story.
And where there is a story,
there is understanding,
and misunderstanding,
listening
and not listening.
May we-separated peoples, estranged strangers,
unfriended families, divided communities-
turn toward each other,
and turn toward our stories,
with understanding
and listening,
with arguments and acceptance,
with challenge, change
and consolation.
Because if God is to be found,
God will be found
in the space
between.
Amen.