In the classic novel A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens depicts the aristocracy and peasantry of pre-Revolutionary France as a people saturated in secrecy. His imagery is as masterful as it is symbolic. During the darkest hour of a cold winter night, fellow travelers know one another only by a small exposure surrounding their eyes while the rest of the person remains hidden beneath layers of clothing. Likewise, he describes every household as an enigma to the next. Residents live in total seclusion from their neighbors, and even the members of each family - mothers and fathers, sons and daughters - keep tight the lock on their respective rooms to avoid being known by their closest loved ones.
Dickens's fictional world isn't difficult for me to imagine. In fact, scenes like his are all around us. I believe that his imagery fits twenty-first century America equally as much as pre-Revolutionary France. Yet, I question why secrecy seems so inherently attractive, especially in the face of accusations like those facing Monsieur Manette. Is it coincidence that the guilt of sin drives us to solitude, but scripture clearly teaches the value of confession within the community of believers? When asked by the pharisees "Teacher, which is the great commandment in the law?," Jesus' response intimately intertwined one's relationship with God to one's relationship with others. It is as if Christ believed that when we choke out our relationships here on earth, our relationship with the heavenly Father suffers too.
Soren Kierkegaard explicates the connection between our relationships to God and to others perfectly: "To love God is to love oneself truly, to help another person to love God is to love another person; to be helped by another person to love God is to be loved." Perhaps this winter we will remember that every person wrapped securely beneath layers of clothing, whether woven wool scarf or soiled jacket, has a story worth knowing and is of utmost value to the only one whose opinion really matters.
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