Today we don’t share the kiss of peace, but shake hands. It seems sensible, less challenging. But it’s less free too, and perhaps it risks one of the subtle perversions of Christianity that exercised Illich. For a handshake holds the other at a distance. We can see their eyes, and so assess them. It’s a calculated greeting – not acting freely towards another, but only insofar as is appropriate. It wasn’t the greeting of the good Samaritan.
There is a merchant on Ninth Street. His name is Sol. He is, I believe, from Sierra Leone. When we meet each other, we often embrace. I call him my friend, he calls me his brother. I feel honored to know him.
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