Shalom

The Hebrew word ‘shalom’ is one we often associate with peace, but as translated words often don’t, this singular definition doesn’t fully encapsulate all the word evokes. In English, we often associate ‘peace’ with ‘the absence of conflict’, but this Hebrew word does so much more than that. It implies peace, but in the way of wholeness, completeness, well-being. ‘Absence of conflict’ only begins to get to the root of what it means.

Shalom has become a cozy word for me; even when I speak it I breathe a bit easier and feel my body begin to relax. It’s a word that feels good in the mouth with its softness; the mouth stays open during its breathy beginning, on to the subtle flick of the tongue against the roof of your mouth in the middle, all the way to the finale where there’s a soft finality as your lips gently close to mark the completion of all the meanings embodied in this single word.

Try it out. It’s good, right?

The thing about words is we can’t have a concept without its opposite existing. There is no wholeness without brokenness.

For a while now I’ve been interested in the Japanese art of kintsugi. If you’re not familiar with kintsugi, it translates to “golden joinery”. It’s the process of taking broken pottery and repairing it with lacquer mixed with gold, silver, or platinum.

When a piece finally reaches its breaking point, it’s not put out to pasture, but it is redeemed. We will inevitably break and crack, but we are not permanently damaged; we always have the potential to do the repair work to become whole again. We are broken, but with the ability to seek shalom.

So, yes, we see this very obvious metaphorical connection with shalom and kintsugi and brokenness and wholeness and repair, but that’s not what really gets me about kintsugi.

What gets me about kintsugi is that the cracks aren’t hidden, they’re highlighted. They’re made blindingly obvious with a metallic shimmer; as if flaws are meant to be on display or something.

And guess what? I think they are.

Our flaws and battle wounds and the ways we have come out on the other side are the most beautiful things about us. These ‘breaking’ events have the potential to give us true wisdom and empathy. They make us better humans if we’re able to embrace them and work through them.

If we suppress the cracks and pretend they don’t exist, then we remain in this broken state. The cracks begin to define us when we hide them deep inside, because we believe we are the shame we hide. (And you’re not. Trust me, you’re not.)

It’s only in the act of the honesty and vulnerability of admitting our flaws (With safe people. Always with safe, trusted people.) that we can move through toward the Divine act of kintsugi-ing our beings back together.

And yes, we are constantly in a breaking and repairing state. This side of heaven we will not be a finished product. But sometimes a kintsugi-ed aspect of ourselves gets sorted out enough that we get to use that story to help others along and seek their own shalom. (I could digress and talk about ‘tov’ here, but I’ll save it for another meandering journal entry.) I view that as an act of putting our mended pottery on display, or maybe even giving it to an honored guest to use at dinner.

Pottery that has been broken and undergone the process of kintsugi is more beautiful than the original. It has depth and layers and a history. It’s been loved and adored and used and broken and repaired. Its existence speaks to its value, because someone took the time and effort to make it whole again. It’s worth showing off after the work has been done.

If a piece of pottery is worth the process of kintsugi and achieving a state of shalom, then so are you. So am I.