In uncertain times, we feel a stronger need to belong. What does it take for a circle of friends to become a real community?
A significant tension runs through contemporary Western culture, which values individualism and emphasizes the separateness of each person, their personal dignity, freedom and rights. As a result, something resembling an invisible and simultaneously impenetrable boundary emerges between me and others. I will never be able to fully understand them, and they will never fully understand me. Not only are our inner worlds inaccessible to one another, but also this inaccessibility is rather fundamental. We exist “next to each other” rather than “together,” “in relation to” rather than “for one another.” We can work together, help each other in different situations, and even save each other, but our bond is marked by a kind of anxiety: “can I really rely on you?” And “what can you expect from me?” This is the price we pay for personal freedom.
And yet, in the individualistic culture of the West, there is also some room for a search for rooting, connection, and thus, the opposite of separateness. This need develops especially whenever a crisis—economic, humanitarian or otherwise—arises. With it come the questions: What do we owe to others? What is the extent of our responsibility towards them? What is this responsibility based on and what form should it take? No man is an island, of course. But what does that really mean? The answers to these questions vary. Sometimes they sway towards community egoism, most often national egoism, but they can also go in a different direction: towards identifying with a small group, a selected environment and particular people. They may be grounded in history, religion or a specific world view, but can also be a spontaneous response to a new situation that calls for solidarity.
I intend to focus on small communities—rather than nations, civic societies or the European community—because large communities are frequently the subject of reflection, criticism or affirmation, while smaller ones do not receive much attention. The phrase “small communities” is generally used in reference to religious groups. I extend this concept to other types of communities which want to build a bond that cannot be reduced to specific benefits. Such communities can organically resolve the problems that plague their members, but relationships form around more than even the most noble common interest. Besides the family, which today can be defined in many ways, these are various circles of friends, local neighborhood or aid groups.
My experience is quite special. For over thirty-five years, I have been part of a community formed around people with intellectual disabilities. Our group is part of a wider movement, but on a daily basis it lives primarily by the issues and needs of a dozen or so people for whom it was created. In the past, we led an active community life, seeing each other almost every week and going to summer and winter camps. Today, we meet less frequently, we organize trips only in the summer, but the relationships we built over decades and the sense of belonging to this group remain very strong.
The community to which I belong has a clear core—these are the people whom we first gathered around, the reason our community came to be. This is not the case in every community. Sometimes at the center of the group there is a single leader, sometimes a specific idea, value or goal, and sometimes simply existing ties. The center of our group is unique because people with intellectual disabilities are not always able to communicate their needs and expectations directly. This requires us to be extremely mindful. We make many decisions on their behalf, but we must be careful not to treat anyone as a protégé who is expected to adapt to the rules set by others. We do not conduct therapy—we form a community of friends who, above all, are happy to be together. We are focused on relationships, which we nurture and try to grow.
I am often asked what a small community needs to remain viable. In five points, I have collected my observations—cautious hints, rather than ready-made recipes.
First: Responsibility
Those who want to create a community should be responsible to one another. There can be no personal conflicts between them because that would not only prevent cooperation, but also tear the group apart. It is important that community members are able to respond to someone’s call, request, need—even if these are not uttered. Then, the community does not have to make every issue public in order to collectively consider it. There are issues and areas that can and should remain hidden, private. On the other hand, however, the community can be compared to an ongoing conversation, in which it is natural to ask questions and expect answers. The basic question with which a person comes to the community—although one that is rarely formulated directly—is: “Am I worth anything, is there anyone in this world who values my life?” The community should answer this question in the affirmative.
When such an answer is given, a responsibility is born. A community is made up of people who are both right for each other and willing to be responsible for each other. It is undone by the lack of continual commitment: today I am here, tomorrow I might not be. Today, many people have a problem with making decisions, and feel resistance to commitment; they cannot say not only what they will do the next month, but even the next day. If the community is to survive, it must be treated as something binding. Otherwise, it will be impossible to build relationships with other members of the group. The point is not excessive formalities—the community is not somewhere where attendance will be monitored like at school. It is about something more internal, a kind of existential decision that makes us reevaluate our personal hierarchy of values.
Second: Openness
This refers to assuming an attitude of welcoming and trust. Not only approving the differences, but also seeing a value in them. In my community, some people do what they have to do very quickly, others, much more slowly. As a result, a certain rhythm of community life is established, which is defined by neither a “rush” nor “tardiness.” We try to perceive each of us as valuable, even if we find it difficult to reconcile some of each others’ characteristics at first.
A community should ensure openness, both internally and externally. A community when it cuts itself off from the outside world and closes in on itself. But it decomposes even faster when it ceases to be open with its own members. When you have to renounce too much and bend too much to the expectations of others, the community ties begin to get tangled and then break. Unanimity can be a strength, but it can also lead to destruction, and impoverishment. The community should not be bogged down by constant discussions, although it should not extinguish them either; it must assume that almost everything can be negotiated and that change has a chance to bring about an improvement in the situation. One idea is not enough for the community to develop. If we hadn’t looked for new ideas in our community, we would have been in danger of getting bored with one another.
The community requires truth. However, “truth” is too often understood as a private opinion on a given matter. Without compromising the existing differences, it is necessary to look for an objective truth, which comes from the community finding agreement between various points of view. The flow of information must be efficient, but not hasty. The community is supposed to be on the side of the wealth of information, not pace.
Third: Patience
Even if the group responds positively to most of our questions and needs, it will not, most likely, become the “community of our dreams.” The community is in constant flux and never reaches a final shape. Patience means agreeing to the unknown, but also accepting the fact that not everything is understandable. I decided to highlight the importance of patience, because experience tells me that the root of most problems in building relationships with others is lack of patience.
Patience is particularly important during times of crisis. Sometimes the crisis lasts so long that it seems permanent. And it can take a variety of forms: sometimes nothing is happening, and the community seems to stand still and cannot move; there are a lack of ideas and energy. Sometimes the cause is conflicts that the group cannot resolve. However, sometimes a period of crisis results from excessive activity or the desire to reform. In that case, “better” is the enemy of “good.” Patience allows us to see that not everything needs to be perfect, that even the “imperfect” can give the community what it needs.
Patience also prevents us from constantly criticizing and correcting others. It is better to base relationships with others on incomplete knowledge rather than excessive curiosity. There are limits to interfering in someone’s life. Many of us—perhaps even most of us—have a natural, often unconscious, tendency to impose on others our own way of seeing the world and our own expectations of the world. Patience and honesty teach us to recognize and rein in this tendency. Others will reveal themselves to us when they want to.
Fourth: Compromise
Thanks to compromise, individuals and different opinions do not dissolve the group, but revive it. In the community the ability to forgive is important. With different opinions and characters, it is not difficult to run into greater or lesser tensions. Sometimes one can say one word too many. Sometimes, too many of these unnecessary words accumulate. Even the most loving people can hurt each other badly. Efficient mechanisms for forgiveness—this is what a community truly needs.
The word “mechanisms” should not shock us in this context. The point is that when we are closed off in our pain or anger, something from the outside can open us up. Forgiveness does not come easily, and the presence of third parties, their advice or pressure, usually do not help. It is good if the group, realizing that there is tension among its members, has ways to defuse that tension. That can be achieved by a joint trip, a meal, or a movie. Some are helped by collective prayer or moments of silence shared together. In such moments, it is important that those who are not directly involved in the conflict remain discreet.
Fifth: Celebration
When we talk about celebrations, we typically mean various rituals that we practice with more or less regularity. Even a carnival is a kind of ritual: it comes at a certain time, it has its particular forms, which it celebrates and repeats. However, “celebrating community” is a little different. It should run in tandem with the rest of the group’s activities. It is something like a constant awareness that the community is something real, and one has to enjoy its existence.
Celebrations could be compared to an allegorical scene from Renaissance paintings depicting the pool of youth: people enter it old and weak, and come out young and full of energy. The community needs constant renewal—participants should appreciate it whenever they can, and celebrate it, as it were, “on an ongoing basis.” Of course, it should also have its special days—celebrate birthdays, name days, anniversaries—but what is much more important happens in between, a certain dimension of “festivity” that permeates everyday life.
Positive words are a significant manifestation of such “everyday celebrations.” We say too little to each other. My friend with Down syndrome, Magda, has a unique way of doing this. Once, seeing a volunteer leaning over a book, she said: “Kasiu, reading suits you very well.” Of course, not everyone has the same talent as Magda, but it is good to realize that such moments are of great value in building relationships. A good, warm, tender word gives what we do together an additional flavor. It is not about shallow exaltation, but about deeply experiencing the joy of being together.
Having written all the above, I now think about how many other observations remain unspoken. Shouldn’t I write that the foundation of every community is delight? What about love? What about joint action? Still, I leave you with these unfinished remarks as a way of encouragement, a starting point for my own reflections. Maybe they will be helpful in thinking not only about small, but also larger communities. It is often difficult to tell what has a greater impact on what: “large” over “small” or vice versa.
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