The other night, I was at a party and I overheard some people talking about a friend of mine. "I don't understand that person." They said, "Eventually it's just hard to empathize with them." The tone of the conversation was almost one of exasperation, or perhaps what is left behind when exasperations cease. It was... dismissive, and understandably so. When we cannot relate to another human being, we have a very hard time keeping up relationship with them. Outside the boundaries of empathetic relationship, all human interaction is reduced to theatre. When we stop caring for the actor, we merely watch to see what their ridiculous character will do.
I was thinking about this yesterday as I walked aimlessly around Queen Anne. This person they were talking about is a friend of mine, and I don't use that word lightly. I understand why they're hard to empathize with, they're kinda weird, and I like that about them (to anybody reading this, don't worry, it's not you). The thing that was bothering me was that, while at this party, other friends of mine were so dismissive of this person who I value, and worry about, and pray for.
"It's a problem of the inherent value of humanity!" the eternally indignant ideologue within me cried, "If we only valued one-another and related to one another with true love, this kind of thing would never happen!"
"The problem is human limits." the newfound apophatic mystic mused, "We cannot fully empathize with everyone we come in contact with. We can only contain so much in our social world, we have to make cuts somewhere and somehow. But why do we do it with disdain?"
"The issue here is our societies' inherent selfish individualism and continued turn towards isolation." The dying sociologist rasped through clenched teeth, "if people fail the tests to be allowed in the ingroup we must force them to the outgroup. This process is made much easier if we demonize the individual in question."
And then it hit me like a brick to the sternum. I won't say it was the voice of God, but I will say that it wasn't my idea.
"You do the same thing."
I saw a parade of faces float through my mind, each one with a red mark on their forehead where I had stamped them, or had I wounded them? Each one I had tried to empathize with, had tried to have good relationship, had tried to love. But, somehow it got too hard. Either by distance, by the natural change that comes from growing up, or by some traumatic moment that ended our friendship, I stopped empathizing. I chose to stop empathizing. The actors I once valued, worried about, prayed for, became nothing more than characters that pranced about on the stage. Not to mention the many many people who I never even attempted to know.
How could I have done this? The ideologue was shocked into silence, the mystic shamed began to mumble the Jesus Prayer, and the sociologist smugly turned on his deathbed and smiled.
Then, another realization.
God never does this. The situation I found myself in at that party, of overhearing a friend referred to in such a dismissive manner, this is the situation that God is placed in every single time we pray. We humans are mysteries to one another (which makes me wonder why it's so hard for us to understand God as mysterious as well), but we are not mysterious to God. If you've ever been privy to a secret that explains why Person X did what they did, and Person Y rips them apart in your presence, but you don't say anything because this is something that Person X needs to tell Person Y themself, then you have the smallest bit of empathy with God.
God is not dismissive of any of his children, nor does he disown. God stands steadfast outside of our little group-making and play-watching, and embraces every actor. God remains backstage, uninterested in the comedy or tragedy of the night, and he heals.
A few different philosophers and writers have mentioned that empathy is a true test of humanity. Human beings, and human beings alone, can feel another entity's pain (for an example watch Blade Runner or read the book). Perhaps, in this we are not identifying the cognitive process that makes us Homo sapiens but rather a spiritual indicator of the image of God.
I was thinking about this yesterday as I walked aimlessly around Queen Anne. This person they were talking about is a friend of mine, and I don't use that word lightly. I understand why they're hard to empathize with, they're kinda weird, and I like that about them (to anybody reading this, don't worry, it's not you). The thing that was bothering me was that, while at this party, other friends of mine were so dismissive of this person who I value, and worry about, and pray for.
"It's a problem of the inherent value of humanity!" the eternally indignant ideologue within me cried, "If we only valued one-another and related to one another with true love, this kind of thing would never happen!"
"The problem is human limits." the newfound apophatic mystic mused, "We cannot fully empathize with everyone we come in contact with. We can only contain so much in our social world, we have to make cuts somewhere and somehow. But why do we do it with disdain?"
"The issue here is our societies' inherent selfish individualism and continued turn towards isolation." The dying sociologist rasped through clenched teeth, "if people fail the tests to be allowed in the ingroup we must force them to the outgroup. This process is made much easier if we demonize the individual in question."
And then it hit me like a brick to the sternum. I won't say it was the voice of God, but I will say that it wasn't my idea.
"You do the same thing."
I saw a parade of faces float through my mind, each one with a red mark on their forehead where I had stamped them, or had I wounded them? Each one I had tried to empathize with, had tried to have good relationship, had tried to love. But, somehow it got too hard. Either by distance, by the natural change that comes from growing up, or by some traumatic moment that ended our friendship, I stopped empathizing. I chose to stop empathizing. The actors I once valued, worried about, prayed for, became nothing more than characters that pranced about on the stage. Not to mention the many many people who I never even attempted to know.
How could I have done this? The ideologue was shocked into silence, the mystic shamed began to mumble the Jesus Prayer, and the sociologist smugly turned on his deathbed and smiled.
Then, another realization.
God never does this. The situation I found myself in at that party, of overhearing a friend referred to in such a dismissive manner, this is the situation that God is placed in every single time we pray. We humans are mysteries to one another (which makes me wonder why it's so hard for us to understand God as mysterious as well), but we are not mysterious to God. If you've ever been privy to a secret that explains why Person X did what they did, and Person Y rips them apart in your presence, but you don't say anything because this is something that Person X needs to tell Person Y themself, then you have the smallest bit of empathy with God.
God is not dismissive of any of his children, nor does he disown. God stands steadfast outside of our little group-making and play-watching, and embraces every actor. God remains backstage, uninterested in the comedy or tragedy of the night, and he heals.
A few different philosophers and writers have mentioned that empathy is a true test of humanity. Human beings, and human beings alone, can feel another entity's pain (for an example watch Blade Runner or read the book). Perhaps, in this we are not identifying the cognitive process that makes us Homo sapiens but rather a spiritual indicator of the image of God.
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De-lurking. Hi Tyson :)
ReplyDeleteI still love your writing, but you probably shouldn't come live with us. No offense.