Maybe it’s just a Southern thing, or maybe not. but it was the way I was raised back up in northeast Tennessee in the Holston Valley nestled in the womb of the Appalachian Mountains.
What it is, is the tendency to smile, nod, and greet people — even strangers — on the sidewalks or in the stores. It’s not uncommon for people to add a verbal greeting, such as “Good morning.” Or the greeting might actually be a question like, “How are you?”
Now, no one expects an answer to that question. Not a lengthy one anyway. The answer might be something like, “I’m fine, thank you.” It’s a greeting, not an invitation to therapy.
If one sees someone who just shot their own toe off, they still might say, “Good afternoon, how are you today?” The person with the blood gushing from his toe just might smile through gritted teeth, holding back tears, and reply, “I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are you?”
Yet, we are not always “fine.” And once in a while, people see through our politeness and our automatic meaningless responses and press into the forbidden territory that is our inner selves.
Some years ago, I received a phone call from a friend, also a priest, who, when I said, “Hello,” said, “Hey, Father David, it’s Father Kurt. How are you? The Lord has placed you on my mind for the last several days.” I responded as expected in accordance with the prevailing culture by saying, “Hey Father Kurt. I’m fine, thanks.”
There was a moment of silence. Then he said, “That’s a damn lie. The Lord wouldn’t have had me praying for you for several days if you were ‘fine.’ Unless, that is, ‘fine’ means ‘Frustrated, Insecure, Neurotic, and Exhausted.’”
He followed up by asking, “So, are you ‘fine,’ or are you ‘F.I.N.E?’”
Startled, I was quiet for a moment and decided to be truthful. “I guess I’m F.I.N.E.”
A very good and therapeutic discussion followed and closed with him praying for me. He was asking me how I was and, thankfully, pushed through the casual automatic answer to get to the heart of how I really was.
Sometimes we are not “fine,” or “okay” or “doing great.” And while we might respond to the question by saying, “I’m blessed,” there are times we feel anything but “blessed.”
Recently, at a local meeting of the Marine Corps League, a presentation was given on a program helping combat veterans with traumatic brain injuries, or TBI. One the presenters was an Army veteran, the other, a youthful, fit looking retired Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant. Not just a Marine, he was a former Force Recon Marine and a sniper. I counted seventeen separate ribbons on his uniform, not counting his multiple awards.
He said, “Sometimes the most courageous thing a man can do is ask for help.”
Not long ago, a friend of mine, a fellow bishop, called me and said, “Hey, how are you doing?” I almost responded with the normal casual lie. The temptation was great.
Most men (I can’t speak for women) avoid, at all costs, looking like they are “not fine.” Instead, I replied, “Well, since you’re asking…” What followed was an hour-long conversation.
Most people are not perfect, most families are in some way dysfunctional, and most professions have their own share of disappointments and shortcomings. Henry David Thoreau wrote, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” If that is true, then most men (and, I suspect, women too) are not “just fine.”
In 1967, The Beatles wrote and recorded, “With a Little Help from My Friends,” with the refrain stating, “I get by with a little help from my friends.” There are truths that resonated and caused this song to hit #1 on the charts three times with three different artists.
The truth is that sometimes we just barely get by. The truth is that, however tough and self-reliant we think ourselves to be, we need a little help. The truth is that we need friends. The truth is that, sometimes, we are not fine and telling a little causal lie is not the best thing to do.
Sometimes, with people we know we can trust, when they ask, “How are you?” we need the courage to say, “Well, since you’re asking…”
[David Epps is the Rector of the Cathedral of Christ the King (www.ctk.life). Worship services are on Sundays at 10:00 a.m. and on livestream at www.ctk.life. He is the bishop of the Diocese of the Mid-South (www.midsouthdiocese.life). He has been a weekly opinion columnist for The Citizen for over 27 years. He may be contacted at [email protected].]
