Part 2 of the Sermon...
Practice the Presence of PeopleWhy is all of this important? Because its absolutely central to framing our relationship with God. Allow me to explain. In the account of the story of Moses who asked to see God's glory, God promises to “cause all my goodness to pass by” (Ex 33:19). But what is God's goodness? Well, in the same verse, God tells us: “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” Moses is engrossed in the goodness of God and it turns out to be mercy and compassion. God's goodness is not an abstract ideal. It is not a feeling that warms us up inside. And it is certainly not something we can control or possess absolutely. God's goodness is active compassion and mercy, a certain kind of disposition towards the Other. While in our desire for the Infinitely Desireable, we are apt to conceive of it as something to be enraptured by, something that causes us to forget everything else in the world. But the humble God of Philippians 2 who “empties himself,” deflects our desire to simply gaze upon the face of God, because what is really near to God's heart is showing compassion and mercy. In our desire for God, God turns our gaze to our neighbor, to consider how we might show compassion and mercy. Indeed, God could not be called good unless he diverted our desire for him into attention to the needs of the Other. True Religion, is to tend to the needs of the fatherless and the widow. Like the God who empties himself, my being/existence is grounded in my dis-interestedness in my own existence, in my “non-being,” in the emptying of myself for the needs and interests of others.
In this chapter, Pete Scazzero suggests that we not only practice the presence of God, as Brother Lawrence long ago coined; rather, we must “practice the presence of people.” He writes:
Loving well is the essence of true spirituality... God invites us to practice his presence in our daily lives. At the same time, he invites us 'to practice the presence of people,' within an awareness of his presence, in our daily relationships. The two are rarely brought together. [179]
Here, Scazzero makes use of the thought of Jewish philosopher, Martin Buber. In his book, I and Thou, Buber points out that most of our lives are spent treating people like objects, like an it. Like freshmen biology students dissecting frogs, we objectify and dehumanize people, we reduce them to what they can do for us. My neighbors exist to mow their yards to increase my house's property value. The cashier exists to hand me my purchase and run my credit card. My professor exists only to give me the information I need to get the grade I want. But in fleeting moments, we encounter a person not as an It but as a Thou. We relate to them, acknowledge them rather than treat them as an object of knowledge. And in that moment, a sacred space is created between us. In that relation, while allowing the Other to be themselves – to be beyond our comprehension – we encounter the Eternal Thou. Buber writes,
“I know nothing of a ‘world’ and a ‘life in the world’ that might separate a man from God. What is thus described is actually life with an alienated world of It, which experiences and uses. He who truly goes out to meet the world goes out also to God.” (95) The primary way we interact with God is through other people. We might put it thusly: To love your neighbor as yourself is how to love the Lord your God with all your heart. We don't practice God's presence and practice the presence of others as if they are two different disciplines. They are irrevocably connected. To practice the presence of people is to practice the presence of God. If you really believed this fact, how would it revolutionize the way you view the world, view people?
Scripture points us to this reality, but it seems that our sermons have missed it. Jacob, after stealing his older brother's birthright, flees for his life. Only many years later does he come into contact with his brother, Esau. Jacob, feared the worst – that perhaps, Esau would kill him or his family. But when it became evident that Esau was not going to repay evil for evil, that they could live in harmony with one another, Jacob exclaimed: “To see your face is like seeing the face of God” (Gen 33:10).
By our ethical actions toward the Other, we enact God's presence. When we bless those who persecute us, we incarnate the God who has mercy on whom he will have mercy. When we love others and practice hospitality we realize the God who has compassion on whom he will have compassion. When we do everything we can to live at peace with one another, we exhibit the God who is slow to anger and abounding in love. And when we feed the hungry, clothe the poor, and care for the stranger, we care for Christ, who told us that “as much as you've done for the least of these, you've done it for me.”
Respect for Self, Respect for Others
Now, there may not be orphans and widows at your every turn. Too often, when we speak of love, we only think of the Mother Theresas of the world, as if the kind of love God wants us to practice is so grandiose that only a small few can achieve that state. But all of us are called to be an emotionally mature adult, for in each day of our lives there are people we are called to love, to treat as a Thou. For we enact our infinite responsibility even by the most mundane of acts, like holding the door open for someone else. As Victor Hugo said in Les Miserables, “There are many great deeds done in the small struggles of life.”
Throughout the chapter, Scazzero paints a helpful picture of what it looks like to be an emotional infant, child, adolescent, and adult. These characteristics can essentially be divided into two groups: how we view ourselves and how we view others.
Being an emotionally mature adult involves a healthy respect for yourself, appreciating the gifts and abilities God gave you. The one who is emotionally immature is not comfortable in his own skin. As a result, he looks for others to care for things he ought to be able to handle himself—he often lacks the confidence to do so. He has an addictive personality—he's looking for something else to make him complete. He unravels quickly from stress and disappointments. He has difficulty communicating his needs and wants because he doesn't know what they are. He is threatened and alarmed by criticism.
The emotionally mature adult, however, recognizes the significance of being a part of the Body of Christ. This is not just a metaphor. This is reality. Metaphors don't have skin and flesh, but we incarnate God's love to the world by our blood, sweat, and tears. I am my own body. Your body is an extension of who you are. Your body shapes your personhood. This is your body and no one else's. These are your hands and feet for serving others, your gifts for contributing to the church. The body is not an inhibitor but is our vehicle for interacting with God's world. We have to learn to be comfortable in our own skin, comfortable with the shape and size of our body, comfortable with the gifts God has given us if we are to adequately serve others. And together, our bodies make up the body of Christ.
If you want to have a practical list for the emotionally mature adult, just look at the list of behaviors in Romans 12. Loving well is not simply an intellectual pursuit we perform with our minds. Romans 12:1-2 is so often preached upon all by itself as if the “renewing of our minds” is completely detached from the rest of this passage. But Paul tells us that the renewal of our minds is really the renewal of our entire way of being in the world. It has a physical component, an active component. Our flesh and blood are a part of who we are and are a part of our emotionally healthy spirituality.
As a result, the self comfortable in her own skin is in tune with her emotions and can clearly communicate her thoughts and feelings without becoming adversarial. She takes responsibility for her attitudes and actions. She is capable of accurately assessing her strengths and weaknesses – she knows her limits, her personality traits, her emotional makeup.
When we are comfortable in our own skin, we can rightly relate to others. Why is this the case? Because only then are we comfortable enough to disagree with others and to be ourselves. When we are comfortable with our own opinions and views, and with our own spiritual journey, we can be relaxed around those who think differently from us, who are critical of us, whose spiritual journey does not look like our own.
In his encountering with others, the emotionally immature adult uses others as a means to an end and can hardly see the world from the perspective of others. Because he is not confident about his own beliefs and opinions, he is easily hurt, often interprets disagreements as personal offenses, and is apt to go on the defensive. He keeps an account of the things he does for others and expects them to pay him back. He is critical and judgmental of the spiritual journey of others, comparing his journey theirs.
The emotionally mature adult not only healthily disagrees and communicates well with others, she respects others without feeling the need to change them. She appreciates others for who they are, accepting the good and the bad about them. She can resolve conflict maturely and gives people the space to make mistakes. Rather than ignoring conflict, she pursues true peace as much as is possible and sees the potential good in conflict. She is a good listener. She gives people the benefit of the doubt and is careful not to hold tightly onto assumptions about others. She clearly communicates the expectations she has for others.
There is a lot to think about here. What would it look like to be a church full of emotionally mature adults? Each of us probably need to reflect specifically on some of these characteristics and ask ourselves how we are still emotionally immature.
Allow me to end with this: In 1914, the newly appointed Pope Benedict XV called Catholics “to appease dissension and strive” in order that “no one should consider himself entitled to affix on those who merely do not agree with his ideas the stigma of disloyalty to faith.” Do we treat others with honor and respect, giving them the benefit of the doubt, or do we use our faith journeys as the litmus tests for everyone else?
