God is in the Nod

Man wishes to be confirmed in his being by man, and wishes to have a presence in the being of the other. Secretly and bashfully he watches for a YES which allows him to be and which can come to him only from one human person to another. - Martin Buber, I and Thou (1923)

It was a cold Sunday morning, and my friend and I were on one of our adventures. We had planned to hit our regular 7:30am meeting in the West End, but when we got there, a member was out front, sending people away. There was some kind of water issue and the church was closed. We decided to drive across town to the 8am meeting in Vanier instead.

Two others were already there when we arrived. A member I recognized and a newcomer. I had been to this location many times before. The space was located in what could be called a recovery room. It was dedicated to hosting meetings. The chairs were already set up and the walls adorned with slogans. Today, however, it was empty of people. No one except us four had shown up.

None of us were regular attendees here. For a moment, we stood there staring at each other, not sure what to do. In my head I was debating, "Oh well, maybe time to go home!" But then instinct kicked in. My friend suggested what we were all thinking. We might as well just start. How many does it take? Two. At four, we were ahead of the game.

Three of us sat down in a haphazard circle while the newcomer fumbled with the coffee maker. I noticed his hands were shaking. The filter basket slipped, water and grounds spilling everywhere. We smiled at each other. Someone suggested he ask the community centre staff to help clean up. We grabbed some Twelve and Twelves off the front table and started reading Step One.

As we read, more people filtered in. A group member, apologizing for being late. Someone I hadn't seen in years, just coming back. Another fellow. And finally, a woman visiting from the U.S. Seven of us now. An odd assortment of people who would never have crossed paths otherwise. The last words were read aloud, "Then, and only then, do we become as open-minded to conviction and as willing to listen as the dying can be."

A long silence followed. I stared at my feet, uncomfortable with the awkwardness of the ad-hoc gathering, a small group I mostly didn't know. But the silence was finally cut by one willing voice, and momentum built as we slowly went around the room. With each share, I became more at ease. I understood the fear and hope of the newcomer. I felt the shame and humility of the one returning. I heard the hard-won wisdom of those who had come before me, and of those whose story somehow mirrored my own. After the first round, a pause. Then we went again, deeper this time. We met each other's eyes. We nodded.

I don't remember what anyone said that day except for one line. The woman was reflecting on her experience of arriving at the meeting that morning. She was describing the connection I felt. She looked around the circle and said an expression I had not heard before, "God is in the nod."

I'm not religious. I don't even use the word god to describe my higher power. But that line resonated. I knew instantly what it meant. We all did. It named what had just happened between us. The wordless recognition, the unearned belonging, the YES that Buber says can only come from one human person to another. We don't truly exist just by breathing or thinking - we come alive in relation to each other.

After the meeting, my friend spoke with the one who was just returning. The newcomer's sponsor offered to drive the woman to her hotel. I chatted with the group member about something he had shared. For someone who has long suffered from loneliness and terminal uniqueness, it's these unscripted, unremarkable, wonderfully ordinary moments of togetherness that keep me coming back. Spirituality, for me, has always meant connection. And connection often arrives in the simplest of gestures. Just a nod across the room that says "I see you, you belong here too."