Life cannot be read apart from its scars.

It tends to take very little for me to be annoyed with people and though I am still young I see how this condition can increase with age.  In any event, I remember a person years ago who simply annoyed me. It is long enough ago and insignificant enough of an experience for me to not remember many details. However, I certainly remember being annoyed. I probably perceived him to be arrogant and impatient or perhaps rude in some way.

At one point in watching him I remember noticing a scar on the back of his head. It was not large.  It did not draw attention to itself.  Indeed it may well have come from his attempts show-off in front of people.  However, it also made me pause.  This is an important moment for understanding, reading, the world around us.  A scar demands that we pause, that we withdraw our imposed judgment (interpretation) and remember that whosever voice we are trying to hear has already been imposed upon. A scar rages against our stereotypes and abstractions.  It echoes of violation and transgression.  A tearing not meant to be.  This person, this text, is singular not manufactured.   Recognizing our distance and our difference may remove those insulating readings which only fortify our beliefs.

Christ’s resurrection was complete with scars. His scars rage against any attempts to smooth or simplify his message. Sensitivity to scars allows our reading to respect the voice of our texts. It testifies to that elusive space, presence, which allows boundaries to be crossed and understanding to occur.

“There is a crack in inside of everything . . . that’s how the lights gets in.”

- Leonard Cohen