Modern Life”
In this deeply personal reflection, I explore the connection between Don McLean’s song “Vincent” and the timeless struggle for true communication. Inspired by McLean’s portrayal of Vincent van Gogh’s life and spirit, I delve into the story behind Vincent’s ear, the phrase “Give me your ear,” and the frustrations of feeling unheard.
The story weaves together moments from my own rideshare experiences, where breakdowns in communication—from a friend on a phone call to challenges with AI-powered platforms—echo the same disconnect Vincent might have felt with Rachel. I explore how Vincent’s paintings convey his silent spirit, and how McLean’s lyrics, “They would not listen, they did not know how, perhaps they’ll listen now,” resonate with our modern world of noise, miscommunication, and isolation.
Through vivid storytelling, I invite readers to consider how often we fail to truly listen to each other—and what we might learn if we did. This reflection is a call to slow down, listen deeply, and reconnect not only with each other, but with the words and spirit of Jesus Christ, who invites us to listen with open hearts.
The Story
As I travel around picking up rides for my rideshare job, I often listen to Casey Kasem’s Top 40. One particular day, while driving, I heard the song “Vincent” by Don McLean—the one that begins with “Starry, Starry Night.” Casey shared the story behind the song, explaining that McLean wrote it as a tribute to Vincent van Gogh’s famous painting. Until then, I’d never really understood why Vincent cut off his ear, but Casey told a version I hadn’t heard before. He explained that Vincent had a prostitute friend named Rachel who reportedly said to him, “Give me your ears.” According to this version, Vincent, perhaps out of spite or some deeper struggle, cut off his ear and presented it to her. It’s a strange story, and I wonder: who can truly know what happened besides Vincent and God?
When I’ve heard about Vincent’s actions before, I always thought, What a foolish thing to do. Many say he suffered from psychological disorders, and it’s easy to see the struggle reflected in his life and work. But in his song, Don McLean tries to bring a bit of dignity to Vincent’s story, singing, “They would not listen, they did not know how, perhaps they’ll listen now.”
That line struck me deeply. My mind exploded with scenarios. I thought about the phrase “Give me your ear,” commonly used to mean “listen to me.” But in Vincent’s case, according to that story, Rachel demanded both ears. This made me think about how, often in life, people are so desperate to be heard that they drown out others, speaking over them, assuming they know best, and failing to truly listen. We see this play out in everyday conversations where one person thinks they understand while the other is just trying to be heard. This pattern was reflected in Jesus’ interactions with the Scribes and Pharisees. They wouldn’t listen. Perhaps they never would.
McLean’s lyrics highlight that many people don’t know how to listen—they just declare their ideas. This resonates with me because so many of us, even when we think we understand someone, really don’t. We’re not of the same mind, and Vincent expressed this tension in his paintings. McLean picked up on this and used his song to capture the spirit of Vincent—the raw honesty, the rejection he faced, and the way his paintings communicate his spirit. Vincent’s actions may seem extreme, but they reflect a deeper, common feeling: Don’t tell me what to do. Please listen to what I’m trying to say.
It’s fascinating how each person interprets events like this through their own lens. McLean’s interpretation of Vincent’s story is different from mine, shaped by his own background. My perception, too, is shaped by my experiences, just as everyone else’s is. This is similar to how people engage with the words of Jesus Christ: we each bring our own lives into the interpretation. Before today, I saw Vincent van Gogh in a different light. Now, I see his story as a metaphor for so many aspects of life.
For example, just this past week, I gave a friend a ride. During the trip, his girlfriend called him, asking for help with the garden hose at his house. He tried to explain over the phone, but she couldn’t understand. Eventually, he said, “I’ll show you when I get home.” I could hear his frustration building. This disconnect—this inability to communicate—has so many possible solutions, depending on how much light or darkness each person carries. Maybe Vincent experienced a similar frustration with Rachel.
I’ve even heard my own wife say, “Clean out your ears!”—another sign of communication disconnect. Vincent’s case might have been an extreme response, but the spirit of disconnect exists in all our lives. We all live different experiences, and the only way to understand each other is by truly listening. But perhaps we never will?
That very day, I had two more experiences of this same kind of disconnect. I was driving for Lyft, but it was slow, so I turned on my Uber app. I got a ride right away, dropped them off, and then got another ride. While driving to the pickup location, I received a notification from Uber: “No smoking while riders are in the vehicle.” I thought to myself, Does this mean smoking is allowed otherwise? I arrived at the pickup location 15 minutes early, so I waited. The timer didn’t start until the scheduled pickup time, so I waited even longer. I tried calling and texting, but there was no response. Eventually, I canceled the ride. How many drivers would tolerate this?
This is where I see the problem with AI-driven systems. Like Vincent, there’s no obligation for the system to communicate or listen. Will Uber destroy itself by relying solely on AI and ignoring human communication? Is this what’s happening to businesses today—mirroring Vincent and Rachel’s story?
I believe these kinds of miscommunications have existed throughout history. Words change meanings to fit cultural needs. Even though people might speak the same language, their definitions are shaped by their environments, leading to disconnects.
I also had a rider who didn’t speak any English. It reminded me how difficult it is to connect when you don’t share a language. This situation mirrored Vincent and Rachel’s story—except even when they spoke the same language, they didn’t truly understand each other. “They would not listen, they did not know how. Perhaps they’ll listen now.”
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