Lost

We were lost.

Less than an hour in Paris, and we were already asking for directions.  Our goal, as you might assume, was the Eiffel Tower.  Our questions, needless to say, were spoken in English.

The first few people we asked basically ignored us. We eventually found our destination (it is, after all, a tower) but at the time we were unimpressed with what we considered a lack of courtesy. 

Now, before continuing, it is important for me to emphasize that during our stay in France seven years ago, we asked literally dozens of people dozens of questions, from the asinine to the complex.  Most of those questions were answered quickly, pleasantly, and, crucially for our monolingual brains, even in English.  But, yes, a few Parisians seemed rude.  At the time we felt a bit offended.

Reflecting back on that experience, it occurs to me that being offended, at its core, has as much to do with our own expectations for behavior as the behavior itself.  We were offended when our questions—which we thought were fairly reasonable—were ignored.  We were offended because our expectations—as travelers, as guests—were not met. 

On the other hand, however, one might also find it a bit offensive for someone to visit a place called France without knowing any French.  After all, we had already taken the time to travel across an ocean.  How much more trouble would it have been, really, to practice a few basic phrases, or, at the very least, not leave our translation guides back in the United States?

All in all, though, our brief visit left us with very fond memories. Unfortunately, recent events have stirred up those memories for all the wrong reasons.

As I write this, Paris remains on edge.  Most of France and much of metropolitan Europe is on edge.  Parisians, along with almost everyone else on the planet, have been reminded, again, that we live in very uncertain times.

We occupy a brutal world.

Those who murdered the journalists at Charlie Hebdo last week carried out their crime because they were offended.  Their religious beliefs had been insulted by a satirical magazine that has earned its reputation.  Many news organizations, such as the New York Times and National Public Radio, have even chosen, due to their graphic content, not to display the intense cartoons that have incited so much anger.

Such is the nature of satire, however.  Without being offended on occasion, how can we be sure of our beliefs in the first place?

For example, when the late night comedian insults my own religious beliefs, I have a choice.  I can turn off the television.  I can, perhaps, even boycott the products advertised after he’s done talking, particularly the ones I do not use.  If I’m feeling especially quixotic, I might even write a column about how offended I am, and how his insults represent merely the latest in a cultural barrage fueled by increased religious insensitivity.

Whatever.

Regardless, I do not threaten him or his family.  I do not take up arms.

Why?  Because ultimately his words, like all words, are between him and God, and the God I believe in doesn’t need my help censoring people.

Being offended is one of the litmus tests of a free society. Free people speak their minds, even when those minds offend.

That particularity is an element of our modern world that terrorists and their handlers don’t get.  After all, it’s OK to be offended.  It means you’re alive.  It means you’re real, and that maybe even your convictions are real.

Years ago, a young man from the Middle East had an interesting take on the concept of being offended.  He taught that even when someone strikes us, we ought to ignore our basic human impulse to strike back.  We should even, crazily enough, turn the other cheek.  We should love those who harm us; pray for those who wish us ill will.

These are good ideas, because we now live in a world where that basic human impulse to seek revenge can literally kill each and every one of us.  These are the ideas that can lead all people, regardless of language, regardless of background, in the right direction.

Without these ideas, we are all lost.