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19.6.12

The Unanswerable Question

"How are you?"

It is a question we ask more frequently than other questions in the course of our day (if we are among other people), and despite how easy it might be to dismiss The Question, it is perhaps among the most important questions we ask.

Let us consider, briefly, alternatives to The Question.  This will, I hope, illustrate the meaningfulness of The Question.  Classical journalists may tell you that there exists among the realm of interrogatives a canon called the Five Ws and the H:  Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How.  Our Question employs H, but we could replace H with any of the Ws.  In so doing , what is gained, and what is lost?
 

  • "Who are you?"  A deep question, one that most people ask, or at least should be asking.  Even Rango, a chameleon, asked himself this question.  Be warned, though, that this weighty query requires a thoughtful, prepared response, and may not even be answerable, at least for a while.
     
  • "What are you?"  Aside from the obvious response, "a human," an answerer could respond with ethnicity, occupation, vocation, religious affiliation, gender, or personality type, to name a few possibilities.  While "What are you?" is, in an appropriate context, an important question, asking it as often as we ask The Question would distance people, as though the questioner were peering at the answerer through a magnifying glass.
     
  • "When are you?"  Of the W and H questions, this one appears the easiest to answer.  If you were to ask me this question now, I would be tempted to say, "I am currently at 6:52 pm, Pacific Standard Time, on Monday, June 18, 2012 AD/CE, on the western calendar."  But such an answer does not do justice to the question.  Although you and I likely do not perceive to have the time to explore the nature of time now, I will say that according to writer Madeleine L'Engle, time expresses itself in two dimensions:  chronos, "our wristwatch and alarm-clock time" (recall how I was tempted to answer "When are you?", for example), and kairos, "God's time, real time."  Chronos flows in one direction, like a river, whereas kairos branches in many directions, like a tree.  (For more on this subject, read L'Engle's Walking on Water and A Wind in the Door.)  So, while chronologically I am now at 7:04 pm, same day, same year, and same calendar, I may also be, kairologically,  five weeks or ten years ago or maybe even two months into the future.  So, answering this question is not as easy as it might seem.
     
  • "Where are you?"  People do not often ask this question in person because the location of the answerer is usually apparent.  However, if one is eating lunch at a table and someone has noticed that one's lack of speech among the surrounding people, the perceptive and curious person may ask this variation of the question: "What planet have you been on?"  In such a case the quiet one might respond with the following in jest:  "Remind me, what's the name of this planet we are on right now?"
     
  • "Why are you?"  Answering this question would require knowledge of the chain of causes which led to one's conception.  How could the questioner expect one to have such knowledge?  That would be similar to asking, "Why are babies made?"  If taken back far enough, that would be like asking "Why did God make the universe?",  unless you are really merely asking,  "Why are you the way you are?"  But asking "Why?" risks being interpreted as disapproval.  To avoid this possible negativity, the questioner might best ask "Who are you?", or better yet, The Question.

Usually when someone asks us The Question, we do not answer directly, but rather we respond to an alteration of The Question: "What are you feeling?" or, in different words, "What mood are you in?"  That is why we answer with "Fine," "Pretty good," "Can't complain," "Sick," or something else.

The Question, though, is potentially grander than "What are you feeling?"  We ask "How?" to discover a process.  For example, "How do magnets work?"  "How do you make a lemon pie?"  "How do you spell 'midwestern?'"  If asked literally, The Question seeks knowledge about the process of someone's becoming who they are now.  What is the story of how and why you are you?  What decisions did you make or not make to become who and what you are?  What roads did you travel to get here?  What significant events occurred, what significant people have you met along the way?  What have you been thinking and feeling to put you in the state you are in at this moment?  One might translate The Question into "How do you come to be who/what/when/where/why you are now?"  or even simply "Tell me your story."

Beyond process, we ask "How?" when we are caught up in wonder.  Let's say someone has built an amazing castle out of Legos. The impressed observer will ask, "How did you do that?"  The architect might answer, "I put the pieces together based on this booklet and what I thought would look cool."  If the observer is seeking to learn how to design a stunning castle, the architect's lack of specifics would likely not fulfill the observer's desire.  To be fair, though, how can the architect adequately explain the process of making something beautiful?  Wonder often escapes words.   If wonder could be put into words, I suppose that all the web pages in the world could not contain those words. To answer slightly more satisfactorily, the architect might need to speak in poetry.

Yet it is possible that the observer asks "How did you do that?" not to learn a process, but to express awe.  Giving an answer may only diminish the observer's admiration.  When interpreted as an expression of wonder, "How did you do that?" echoes rare moments when I have been so filled with unearned, unexpected joy that I have asked myself, "How can this be happening to me?"  In these moments I do not expect, or maybe even want, an answer to such a question.

Thus, asking The Question points to a glory which connects, involves, and transcends the questioner and answerer.  

How are you?

2 comments:

Alec Ellis said...

Hey Josh, can you add a link so I can follow you? I was looking around and I didn't see it. This way I know when you post. Thanks, miss you.

Josh Seligman said...

The honor would be mine Mr. Ellis!