Waving to Each Other

Making meaningful connections in a disconnected world.

Art by Dreya Novak

I just finished listening to an audiobook recommended to me by my sister in law, the librarian, after my recent post about introverts. It is the story of a shy introvert “shintrovert” who dedicates a year of her life to doing extroverted things because she just cannot bear to live her life believing that there are things that she cannot do because of her nature. It is called Sorry I’m Late, I Didn’t Want to Come by Jessica Pan.

Some of the stories are humorous like when she tries to get over her fear of talking to strangers by asking random Londoners if there is a Queen of England, and if so, what is her name? Her fear was having these strangers think ill of her based on these most basic questions. But really, what is the worst that can happen? A random person will think something unfavorable about her? So, what?

 In England, apparently, no one speaks on public transportation so the fact that Jessica initiates conversation at all is already boundary-breaking. Over the course of the year, she persists, through three rounds of stand-up comedy, performing a story without notes at the Moth, taking a trip on her own without a planned out itinerary, talking to people at weddings, taking and enjoying improv classes, using dating apps to find friends and doing one of the scariest things besides stand-up, hosting a dinner party.

Her coach teaches her a maxim that weaves through the book: Nobody waves, but everyone waves back.  I found that to be quite profound and a good reminder that many of us feel too self-conscious to put ourselves out there to initiate conversation even with people we know. In terms of talking to strangers, it’s much harder now that everyone has their eyes glued to a device and ears covered by ear buds. But likely this is just a societal response to what we’ve deemed acceptable when waiting in line or riding to work.

Also challenging to an introvert is the insistence of engaging in small talk with lots of people when often introverts want deeper connections with fewer people. I’ve thought about how I’ve dealt with my own shyness and how many times I have to chit chat and how rare it is to actually go deeper with people. The author of the book trains herself to transition surface conversations to more authentic ones by genuinely asking a reflective question, validating the feelings and opinions she hears and sharing something of value of her own. What often gets in the way is the act of being vulnerable with another person.

Rabbinical school was one of those instances where it felt like I was expected to go deep with people without always feeling sure that it was advisable or supportive. It is painful for me to say this now because that time was one of great growth, and I hold so many teachers and students that I learned with in such high regard. But in reality, it was not easy for me to navigate.  I was once publicly accused of being too reserved by a fellow student, and it really took me by surprise. However, building a real relationship with someone does not just happen on its own. It takes time and effort and I wish that rather than expressing frustration at me that he would have realized that as well. In addition, most of the people we encounter are not confidants or faithful friends.  We have weak ties with most of those we interact with, and they are not inherently problematic relationships, as my fellow student implied.  In fact, we need these relationships, and the pandemic has really shed a light on how much we have missed them.  

However, I find that making new friends now is so much harder than when I was younger. Could I really use an app to find friends? But do I really have the time or energy for that? We are always rushing around, trying to keep all the balls of our lives in the air, especially now, and it often does not feel possible to look around for more. I call this my tunnel vision, keeping my head down and focusing so I can get through each day. But if I wave, will someone wave back?

The Torah portion this past week is from the book of Leviticus, which is known for being almost entirely composed of laws. There are commandments for how we act as a community such as: If your brother/sister becomes poor (more literally: becomes lowered) and their hand falters, you should support them as if they were a stranger or resident alien; and they shall live with you.” (Leviticus 25:35) We have a responsibility to help those in our midst who fall into hard times, the text teaches. Rashi, the great French commentator of the 11th century, brings a teaching from the Rabbinic imagination on this verse from Sifrei to help explain what it means to support another.

“To what may this situation be compared? To an excessive load on the back of an donkey. So long as it is still on the donkey’s back, one person is enough to take hold of it (the load) and to keep the donkey up. But as soon as it has fallen to the ground, not even five persons are able to set it on its legs. (Sifra, Behar, Section 5 1).*

While the text might be focused on people losing their financial footing, I immediately thought about what happens in life when we start to lose our emotional footing.  When our load starts to feel too heavy, what we really need is for someone to notice us wobble and to intervene before we fall all the way down. In those moments, it likely does not matter the type of relationship we have with the person who stops to ask us how we are doing and wants to hear a real response; maybe that person is one we consider a ‘weak tie’, someone situational in our lives with whom we do not have a long history or a deep connection. Or perhaps that person is a family member, or a friend, new or old.

Rather than being concerned about whether I have someone to talk to on the phone on a daily basis or to go out for drinks with, I think about the people in my life who are watching my back and will pay attention when I start to lose my balance. I want to be that person for others as well, and I do what I can when I notice that I have not heard from someone in a while, or they are not in their usual spot.

No one wants to wave, but everyone waves back. No one wants to ask for help. No one wants to show weakness. No one wants to feel vulnerable. But I also know that most of us want to be asked; most of us want to offer support; most of us want to respond in a time of need. That is what we can do for each other.

 No one wants to falter, but please trust that we won’t let you fall.

*Thank you to R. Shawn Fields-Meyer and the incredible women in her weekly parshah class for inspiring me.