As I was falling asleep last night I thought this might be a good time to say a thing or two about openness to other cultures. Dealing with social anxiety issues, I thought that this immersion might not come easy for me. That hasn't felt like the case.

I don't know when I approach someone here whether they speak English, or would want to. Last night I noticed some people walking to the other side of the street to avoid me. Without any familiarity with the language or customs I definitely am a Gaijin. But I don't care. I'm here to learn something about people different from myself and I'm open to offering something of myself if the opportunity presents itself.

I feel more relaxed than I can remember feeling in recent memory.

The Japanese people have a history of insularity which derives from inhabiting an archipelago. Their language has roots in Chinese, but is uniquely theirs even though they are in close proximity to China and Korea. Nonetheless, because of their population and the premium on land, they have few natural resources and are, in some ways, at the mercy of the nations with which they trade. A rigid uniformity and rebellion from what are considered norms are equally obvious, even as I casually observe.

What happens when a person or a people become too insular? I know that when I am afraid to reach out that I feel like I'm missing out. I lose opportunities for discovery, and miss out on unique expressions of humanity and charity. Worse yet, when I withdraw I begin to increasingly treat people with suspicion. My focus becomes narrow in every way.

Communities of people are capable of adopting the dynamic of withdrawal and suspicion. We see it in individuals and, historically, in nations. There is no doubt that the church mirrors this dynamic at times. It is possible that the value of preserving the substance of Christ's teaching can be transferred to an attitude or hermeneutic in dealing with other cultures and with pluralist realities.

Syncretism was a known reality in Old Testament cultures. The desire to preserve the authenticity of belief has logical roots even if you disagree with the substance or nature of belief. Everyone struggles with this issue, but we all understand the desire to be true to one's beliefs. So it shouldn't be surprising that ancient Israel, especially when it was at war or in exile, desired to preserve the kernel of its faith. Nor should it be surprising that supposedly divinly-inspired scripture would record elements of the lengths a religious community would go to to preserve itself. This preservationist attitude, when existing alongside fear and suspicion, risks abandonment or paying lip service to the impusle to really evangelize.

If syncretism has its origins in war it may also have some root in xenophobia, which can be a contributing factor to war. A person could make the argument that fear of "other" might be a part of the human condition. It sometimes feels part of my condition. Fear of others results in closing ourselves to something God has made. We have to consider this every time we critize culture generally or vaguely rail against "secular and pluralist culture", which only sounds more specific. God didn't make culture, but if people comprise culture then we have to be cautious in how we evaluate the product of something God has made.

Whether or not Vatican II was ever fully implemented or if there were two strands of influence in its documents, considerable attention is paid in Gaudium et Spes equating the interests, both high and low, of culture and the church.

Whether we are talking about syncretism or xenophobia, humanity is reeling from the effects of war, of many types and durations. A type of cultural PTSD causes us to approach our relationships with other cultures and communities with an unconscious hermeneutic of war. We start dialogue assuming we risk getting hurt. We forge relationships which have fear at their root so that when something hurts us or doesn't go our way we can more easily point out that our efforts never work. We might never say it, but sometimes we treat the people we serve like they are an enemy.