I’ve always thought that I’m safely within the bounds of
orthodoxy when I say that the Christian faith is about loving God and loving
others.
I was wrong.
I realized this as I read an article about the brilliant
poet Percy Bysshe Shelley. (And yes, I understand that this is essentially a
declaration that I am a hopeless literary nerd.) The author said that, like
many genius intellectuals, Shelley had a fatal flaw: “He loved humanity in
general but was often cruel to human beings in particular. He burned with a fierce
love, but it was an abstract flame and the poor mortals who came near it were
often scorched. He put ideas before people and his life is a testament to how
heartless ideas can be.”
I’m an idealist. I love ideas and the power they have to
shape our thinking. That’s one important reason why this blog exists. So this
concerned me, because I never, ever want to be like that.
That’s when I realized that Jesus was very specific when
naming the second-greatest commandment. It’s not “love others.” It’s “love your
neighbor as yourself.” And he got even more specific when pressed to explain
what that meant, telling the Parable of the Good Samaritan. It’s not “love
humanity.” It’s “love the guy you walk right past who needs your help.”
Clearly, Jesus wasn’t talking about loving others in some
vague, abstract sense. He was talking about loving the person right next to
you. The kid with the runny nose who keeps wiping it on his sleeve. The student
who raises his hand and argues with everyone just because he likes being right.
The waitress who glares at you as if you’re inconveniencing her when you
politely request a new glass of water because there’s a dead fly in yours. That
chatty coworker who doesn’t seem to understand that you have other things to do
besides listening to a travelogue about her Alaskan cruise.
That’s what loving your neighbor means. And that’s a lot harder.
When you can zoom out to humanity in general, you can see all the good things
about our species: consciousness, progress, self-sacrifice, unity.
Take a look at the commercials during the Olympics for a
good example of this. Because, in a vague sense, the entire world is working
toward a noble goal alongside each other, the ads often exalt the universals:
our admiration of hard work, love for moms, drive to succeed, and so on.
But then when you listen to interviews with individual
competitors, American or otherwise, things get slightly less feel-good and
rosy. These are people. Admiration of hard work was the force that kept the
teenager from having a normal life. Love for mom, sure, but watch his parents
in the stand shouting in frustration when he gets a silver medal. And that
drive to succeed? Sometimes it comes out in overly competitive jabs at
teammates.
When you look at humanity, it’s easy to love. But then you
look at humans, and it gets much harder.
And I think I know why, at least for myself. The farther
back I zoom from people, the more they look like me. When I get close enough to
see faces, I can also see differences of opinion, ugly habits, hypocrisies, and
annoying quirks.
And sometimes I forget that I have a lot of those too.
It doesn’t mean pretending that people are inherently
lovable, because they’re not. But neither am I.
Love God. Love that person right next to me. That’s what it’s
all about.
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