He has told you, O
man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and
to love kindness, and to walk humbly
with your God?
-Micah 7:8
This command weighs down heavily on those who walk the
border of twilight.
Plato defines justice as "minding your own
business," that is, "having and doing what is your own, what
naturally belongs to you." This is a reasonable definition, when you stop
to think about it, since it involves going about one's vocation diligently,
remaining loyal to one's friends and family, and not meddling with or
aggressing against other people. It
seems a helpful concept, one which can be readily applied to the Christian
life, that is, until the disconnect emerges between the "do" and the
"don't" of justice.
This conflict is sure to arise in the minds of those who
walk the border. Justice demands that
each of us "mind our own business" in that we must fulfill our
responsibilities to friends, family, coworkers/employers, teachers/students and
the like, showing respect towards all people and investing in the lives of
others as our relationships with them require.
But justice also demands that we "mind our own business" in
that we stay out of affairs in which we have no responsibility or right to
interfere.
So where is the line between what is "our
business" and what is not? How are
we supposed to tell whether that personal problem our friend is having is
something we can help with or not? How
do we know whether our interference will be helpful or harmful? Who tells the parent when his child is old
enough to make his own decisions - and thereby to make his own bad ones? Who tells the concerned friend when his
counterpart desires his presence and when he wants to be left alone? Who tells the philanthropist if he will be
greeted as a long-awaited hero or rebuffed as a condescending fool? How are we supposed to "mind our own
business" when we don't know what our business is?
Kindness also seems a straightforward concept, until the
lines between cruelty and kindness become blurred in the perpetual twilight of
the border. Bring the light into the
realm of darkness, and we might well sear the eyes of the dwellers therein with
a blinding glare. Those encouraging words
we speak to our friend might seem helpful, but to them they may be shallow and
empty, attempting to lay a happy veneer over their deep pain. Well-meaning attempts to give advice backfire
when the recipient lashes out at out failure to comprehend the depths of his
suffering. Trying to "just be there
for someone" flies back in our face when we realize that he really just
wants us out of his life completely. Experience
can be no guide, for words and actions that encourage and comfort one person
might offend another. Kindness doesn't
mean much when every kind act we perform could very well feel like a punch in
the gut to the recipient.
Finally, the high and commendable virtue of humility is sure
to bring peace and unity to any community, but not to those who walk the
border. For if humility, as C.S. Lewis
writes, is not thinking less of ourselves but merely thinking of ourselves
less, then border-dwellers have little ground to stand on when considering this
command to be "walk humbly."
To think of others instead of ourselves is surely an admirable goal, but
on the border of twilight, to think of others necessarily means that we must
also consider our own roles in their lives: whatever we can do to assist the
sufferers for whom our soul pines. But
pride lies in waiting whatever we do.
For to aid the suffering, in a sense, is to put ourselves in a superior
position to them, able to help them due to our superior understanding of their
situation. To withdraw from the
situation, on the other hand, is to distance ourselves from the suffering, once
again placing ourselves in a "superior" position, one free from the
brokenness of others' lives. Even to
suffer with the suffering, to sit by their side and to listen to their
complaints, is to assume that they want us there, that their affection for us
transcends their pain, which in many cases is a dangerous assumption, founded
in pride and not in reality.
Justice, kindness, and humility: three commendable virtues,
good in themselves and beneficial in practice.
But confusing concepts for those who walk the border. For although we may be able to identify and
define justice, kindness, and humility, we cannot discern the feelings of
others, the depths of the labyrinths of their minds, the backgrounds behind
their situations, all of the factors that influence the application of these
virtues. How are we supposed "to do
justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God" when we
don't know what is just, what is kind, and what is humble? Therefore this Scriptural instruction becomes
a burden for us, a cause for confusion, a catalyst for conflict, a cognitive crisis
for us when we don't know the difference between kindness that heals and
kindness that can kill.
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